Page 73 of A Wounded Duke's Passion
Anthony joined them, and Lady Emily’s head snapped toward him.
“We meet again, Your Grace,” she said, bowing.
“Lady Emily,” he said.
Anthony thought of the painting with the two lovers, and he imagined placing it in his bedchamber. He imagined bringing Bridget into his chamber and seeing her eyes widen as she took in the painting.
Mr. Russell was going to propose to Lady Anna at Lady Emily’s ball. Anthony could not propose, but it occurred to him that he might speak with Bridget. He could show her how much he adored her and explain that he wanted her to be something far more than a lady he was pretending to court.
“I was telling Lady Rose how delighted I am that you will be attending my ball.”
“The delight is mine, I imagine,” Anthony said. “If I am not mistaken, your ball is the last of the Season, too.”
“It is, indeed,” Lady Emily said. “It has been quite a busy Season, and it is my intention to see that it has a satisfying end. I have invited nearly everyone.”
Anthony had the brief, unsettling thought to ask if Lady Hastings would be in attendance, but he could not ask without raising suspicion as to why he wished to know.
Chapter 33
After seeing Anthony, Bridget felt as though her spirit was restored. She imagined that he would be agreeable to her plan, or at least, she hoped. If Bridget had the choice, she would have liked to have been his forever, but if she had none, she would at least want a night of passion. She wanted a night when she could be adored, one single night where she felt like a woman who was loved and desired for something more than her potential to make an heir.
“You know,” Mr. Russell said, “I am a little morose that your father told you of my plans to propose. I thought it would be a great secret and that you would be delightfully surprised.”
“I shall be delighted nonetheless,” Anna said, her lips twitching in amusement. “And I suspect that knowing I intend to accept has not diminished your own delight.”
“It has not,” he countered, “but I had hoped to make a grand gesture, which you doubtlessly deserve.”
“You can still make a grand gesture. In fact, I would argue that you can make an even grander one. After all, you know that I will not reject your proposal, so you do not need to fear the potential humiliation of my refusal.”
Mr. Russell’s eyes shined with affection. “That is true.”
Bridget trailed them, saying nothing. She was thinking about how fortunate it was that her sister would have such a doting husband. An ache twisted in her chest. Bridget was not jealous of her sister, but watching Mr. Russell and Anna was a stark reminder of the closeness that she would never have with her husband, for she could not imagine ever loving the Marquess of Thornton.
“That will be two proposals,” Anna said, her concerned gaze turning to Bridget. “I know that our father will be displeased if you refuse, but if you do reject the Marquess of Thornton, I am sure you could…”
Bridget did not know what words her sister left unsaid. Did Anna expect that Bridget would remain unwed, a burden to her already indebted parents?
“The Marquess of Thornton?” Mr. Russell asked. “Do you mean to marry him?”
“He has asked our father for my hand,” Bridget said.
She tried not to fidget with her skirts, but she felt uncomfortable with both her sister and Mr. Russell watching her with expressions of such concern and discomfort.
“He is an… older man,” Mr. Russell said, with the air of a man who was trying to be tactful.
“He is.”
“Bridget does not wish to marry him,” Anna said. “Our father insists upon it, though. In return for Bridget’s hand, he has agreed to pay all our father’s debts.”
Mr. Russell furrowed his brow. “How numerous are they?”
“I do not know,” Anna replied.
“Perhaps I could pay some of them or offer some guidance,” Mr. Russell said.
“No,” Bridget said. “No, I cannot ask you to do that. It is not your duty to pay those debts for me.”
“But why should it be yours?” Anna asked. “They are not your debts.”
