Page 63 of A Wounded Duke's Passion
He deliberately turned away from her, determined to spend the rest of the recital listening to Bridget’s playing. Why would he wish to gossip with Lady Hastings when he could listen to the incomparable Bridget?
“She does play well,” Lady Hastings said mildly.
“She plays far better than well,” Lady Victoria said. “It is quite apparent that Lady Bridget is a very accomplished lady.”
Indeed, she was. Anthony dug his nails into the palms of his hands and fixed his eyes on Bridget. As he listened, the tension slowly left his muscles. If he just kept gazing at her, he could still pretend it was only the two of them in the world. He could pretend that Lady Hastings did not sit behind him with the thinly veiled threat of having spoken to Bridget ringing in his ears.
As the last notes of the song lingered in the air, Bridget gazed at him with such intensity that Anthony’s breath caught in his throat. A polite applause rose from the crowd as Bridget stood and dropped into a perfect curtsey. She left the pianoforte and went to sit beside Lady Whitfield.
“I must congratulate Bridget,” Anthony said.
He left his seat and crossed the room to where Bridget was, just as Lady Rose went to the pianoforte. Bridget met his gaze, as he approached. He saw her intake a sharp breath, her breasts rising from within the bodice of her gown. Anthony lowered himself into Lady Rose’s chair.
“You were brilliant,” he said without preamble.
He searched her face for any sign of hesitation or disgust at his presence, but he found none. Surely, whatever Lady Hastings had told Bridget could not be so terrible. Anthony longed to ask, but he could not with so many of the ton surrounding them.
“Thank you,” Bridget said. “I am glad you enjoyed listening to my music. I take great pride in it.”
“It showed with every note.”
She ducked her head and gazed at him from beneath her eyelashes. “I am glad you thought so.”
Anthony smiled. Lady Rose began to play, releasing a flurry of notes into the air. “I think I am going to get some air,” Anthony said deliberately. “Your playing was so splendid that it left me breathless.”
Bridget laughed. “That was a terrible jest, Anthony.”
He winked. “I try. I hope you understand that my feelings are nonetheless sincere.”
“I do.”
His heart was in his throat. This was brazen, but being so near her awakened all the desires deep within him. He just wanted to talk to her. He just wanted to ask her about what Lady Hastings might have said, so he could tell Bridget the truth.
“Well, I shall see you later,” Anthony said, “after I enjoy some air. The rose gardens are beautiful.”
“They are,” Bridget said.
He gave her a final, soft smile. Her eyes were heavy with desire, and Anthony knew she understood the silent question. He would leave it to her whether or not she cared to join him.
Anthony took a shuddering breath as he left the room. He sensed that Bridget’s eyes remained on him, even though Lady Rose was playing beautifully at the pianoforte.
He left the ballroom and set a brisk pace toward the rose gardens. How long would he wait for Bridget? He could not decide, but even the smallest amount of time would feel as though it were an eternity while he waited for Bridget to arrive.
Chapter 29
Bridget felt a delightful tingle sweep through her as she recalled the intensity of Anthony’s eyes on her. Throughout the entire performance, she had thought of Anthony. She had thought of Lady Hastings’s claims at first, but the more she played—delightfully aware of Anthony’s gaze upon her—the more she lost herself to her music. The world drifted away, taking with it all her worries.
Anthony had been nothing but honorable. She did not need to doubt his loyalty. How could she when he had proven that he deserved her trust? And surely her body would not awaken so when she thought of him if her growing attraction was something that she ought not indulge in. She burned for him, and a dull ache tingled between her thighs.
When she could bear it no longer, Bridget silently left her seat and carefully wove through the crowd. Rose was still playing and would not immediately notice her absence, and Anna was too engrossed in her conversation with Mr. Russell to realize that her sister was absent.
She entered the gardens and found him at once, standing before the rose bushes. Bridget cleared her throat. She hurried to him, her heart beating so loudly that its echo reverberated inside her skull.
“Anthony,” she said, her voice heavy with all the longing that she had tried so desperately to hide.
He turned and faced her. “Bridget.”
As they stared at one another, Bridget’s toes curled inside her slippers. Even if she had doubts about Anthony, she ached to have him kiss her once again. The fact that he was only pretending to court her had no bearing on her desires.
