Page 41 of A Wounded Duke's Passion
Laughter and footsteps flitted into the air, and Anthony’s face became awash with panic. Bridget froze. She knew how this would appear. They would both be ruined, and that was not a part of the plan. She was not supposed to be ruined.
Anthony disappeared abruptly, slipping behind an overgrown hedge. Bridget remained where she was, gasping for air and trying to understand how the man who she was pretending to court had kissed her so earnestly in the garden. They were only pretending.
Except they were not.
That had not felt like a couple who was pretending to be in love. It had felt like two people who desperately wanted one another.
Anna and Mr. Russell rounded the corner, their eyes bright. “Oh, Bridget!” Anna exclaimed. “I did not know that you had decided to take a turn about the gardens, too. Where is your chaperone?”
Bridget forced a smile and adopted what she hoped was a neutral expression. She needed to give her sister and Mr. Russellthe impression that she had simply wandered into the gardens on her own, and there was nothing at all amiss. Certainly, she did not want them to suspect that anything untoward had occurred.
“I did not feel as though I needed one just to wander the gardens,” Bridget said. “Besides, I wanted to be away from the crowd for a little while. You know that I do sometimes enjoy solitude, dear sister.”
“Much to our father’s dismay,” Anna said, giving her sister a small grin. “You look a little flushed, Bridget.”
Of course, her sister would notice that. Bridget strongly suspected that having her own red face pointed out to her would only make the problem worse, too. Bridget swallowed hard, as an even worse thought came to her. What if her sister and Mr. Russell had seen the kiss exchanged between Anthony and herself?
Surely, if Anna had seen something, she would not approach it in such a coy manner,. While Anna often made teasing remarks about bedroom intimacy and finding men attractive, she would never make those jests before near-strangers. She would privately tell Bridget directly what she had seen.
If Mr. Russell had seen, however, that was reason for concern.
“You look as though you have spent too much time in the sunlight,” Anna said. “You know that our mother will be terribly vexed if you ruin your fair complexion.”
Bridget withheld a sigh of relief. “You are quite right. It is probably for the best that I return to the pavilion.”
“Ah, Bridget!” Anthony’s voice came from behind. “There you are!”
Bridget turned around in time to see Anthony emerge from around the corner, looking far less flustered than she. “Here I am,” she said.
They were only pretending. She did not need to fall in love with Anthony. That was not the aim, and surely, whatever transpired between them had just been the two of them getting a little too invested in the performance that they had put on all afternoon.
It meant nothing. She must remember that.
“I thought to see if you wanted to join the others in playing any games,” Anthony said. “That sounds like a lovely respite to me.”
“I agree,” Bridget said.
When he offered his arm, she took it without hesitation. Neither Anna nor Mr. Russell seemed aware of the scandalous scene that they had missed. Bridget sighed in relief, and she was not entirely sure what the source of it was. If she and Anthony were pretending to be in love, he must have kissed her in the hopes that someone would see. That could not be right, though. They had not been escorted by a chaperone, and if they had been caught, it would have been to the detriment of them both.
Bridget did not understand what happened. Why had he kissed her? More confusing was that she had returned his kiss. She could have pushed him away and reminded him that she was a lady. She could have sent him away before he stepped closer to her, but she had not. Worst of all, she could not even bring herself to regret the kiss, despite being unable to understand all the feelings that flooded her entire being. She wanted him to kiss her again.
She wanted him to touch her. Her light grip on his arm was not enough, and she found herself feeling frustrated at how much more intimate their contact could be. Bridget let out a low shuddering breath.
“It seems as though we all have an interest in art,” Mr. Russell said.
“We do!” Anna exclaimed. “I heard you mention that you once enjoyed painting, Your Grace. Perhaps we could all have an outing together. We could visit a park and paint.”
Bridget looked askance at Anthony, whose jaw tightened. “Perhaps,” he said after a moment. “I would need to think about it.”
“Are you so embarrassed by your paintings?” Bridget asked, keeping her voice light.
She needed to act as though everything was fine, and that meant she needed to participate in the conversation.
“I am not,” Anthony replied. “In truth, I have sentimental reasons for not wishing to paint any longer.”
“Oh. I did not know.”
“Now, you do.”
