Page 5 of The Blind Duchess and Her Rakish Duke

A loud bout of laughter followed, and Bridget wondered what he looked like when he laughed. Were his lips full or thin? Were his teeth even, or was there an endearing, barely noticeable crookedness to them? Was he tall or short? What was the structure of his cheekbones like or his jawbones? She wondered all those things which she would have had the answer to so easily if only she could see.

“Are you having fun, my darling?” Bridget heard her father ask, but she wasn’t certain if he was asking her or Sarah, for they were both darlings to him.

“Bridget…” Sarah whispered, indicating that the question was indeed meant for her.

“Yes, Father,” she replied with the only words that came to mind, the only words that would not make her family feel bad. If she said anything else, they would feel guilty for not paying more attention to her, and they would endear to rectify that. This would steal even more precious moments away from them and make the time all about her. That was the last thing she wanted. “Although I have been stepped on far more often than I hoped I would be,” Bridget continued, and she chuckled a little nervously, hoping no one would notice her nerves.

“I fear that I am to blame for that,” Joseph intervened, “and to make up for my clumsiness, perhaps you would allow me to take you to the ballroom floor and show you that I can be much less inelegant when I move.”

Bridget’s mind did not seem to register the true meaning behind his words at first. Only when Sarah’s fingers pinched her ever so gently by the elbow skin did she float down from the height of her thoughts.

“A dance?” she asked as if trying to convince herself that she truly heard him offer, and that she did not just imagine it.

“Yes,” Joseph confirmed. “Would you do me the honor?”

Before she could say anything else, she felt Sarah guide her hand towards Joseph’s. Touching him felt like touching soft spring grass at noon. It provided comfort, warmth, delight, and joy. Despite all this awkwardness, she knew she would not refuse him.

One dance. Just one dance. What harm could it do?

Chapter 4

Joseph could feel Bridget’s hand trembling in his. He slowed his pace as they moved towards the ballroom floor, all the while endeavoring to make his assistance seem invisible to an objective observer. She felt like a bird with a broken wing in his hand, and he was overwhelmed by a sudden need to keep her safe from the rest of the world.

At the same time, he could not help noticing how beautiful she was, how poised and how graceful. Her every move was planned ahead, even in a situation such as this one when she was being led by someone. She appeared to be an intelligent and elegant woman who demanded respect. Relying on someone else must have been difficult for her to accept.

“Your sister must be of great help to you,” Joseph said, hoping to spark a conversation.

“She truly is,” Bridget nodded, allowing a long, thick curl to fall down by her right ear. When they finally stood facing each other, he could see she was not just beautiful— she was mesmerizing. Her every move was calculated, yet she flowed effortlessly. Her blue eyes with that thin veil of white only made her appear more alluring and more wonderful, like a creature that did not belong to this world at all.

“But I must admit,” she suddenly added, “when I am home, I am much more independent. It is only new places and especially crowds which force me to rely on others.”

He could understand this. Without her sight, she could not see the placement of objects and people around her. She had to rely on her mind to memorize those things and then bring them back up to the surface when she was in need of them. Being in a place for the first time meant there were no memories to bring up, and she was helpless.Helpless.The word echoed in his mind, and he squeezed her hand more firmly with his. The first notes of the waltz had commenced.

She was helpless. She was vulnerable. She was blind. She needed help every single day of her life, yet one look at her was enough to ascertain that she was refusing to bow down to the misfortune that had befallen her. Her daily struggles, although very real to her, seemed like an easy feat to the untrained eye, the ungrateful seeing eye.

All the couples on the dance floor, including themselves, swayed to the sound of the orchestra playing. His entire body tensed in an effort to lead her powerfully, so she would not make a mistake or turn to the wrong side, but to his complete and utter shock, Bridget need no guidance. She danced beautifully. The elegance that graced her movements could only compare with the finest dancers he had the pleasure of dancing with, and they could all see perfectly. Bridget could not which made her skill all the more astounding.

She flowed easily to and from him, swirling and allowing him to lead only when she herself wished to be led. The way she danced would have anyone believe that her eyes were in perfect working order. She smiled, her long arms stretched and ending alongside his. All he could do was watch her as she flowed like a dream.

When the music allowed him to place his hand on the middle of her back, he felt as if he were touching fire itself. Her own hand would nest on his shoulder, only to leave him again. He wondered how she would burn in his arms with no prying eyes around them and how that sweet paleness of her neck that was so close to his lips would taste. He tried to banish the thoughts, but it was impossible. The fantasy was now forever imprinted into his memory.

“You dance beautifully.” He couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He was too surprised, too shocked, and too mesmerized.

“You seem surprised.” She seemed to barely be able to stifle a grin.

“I… Perhaps I had best admit and say yes,” he replied, realizing that with this Lady only the truth would do. Nothing else.

As they whirled, a sudden realization struck him. How wonderfully they fit together and how natural she felt in his arms. He wondered if she would feel the same way in his arms in the bedchamber. He wondered what sounds she would make as he proceeded to disrobe her and shower her angelic body with kisses. The thought drove him crazy, and it would not let him be. He tried to remind himself that she was not like those other ladies that would keep him company during cold nights. She was unlike anyone he had ever met. He knew that kissing her would be an unforgettable experience.

“Honesty will get you far in the world, Your Grace,” she said lightly.

“Joseph,” he corrected her. “I am His Grace for everyone else apart from friends and the people I’ve stumbled into clumsily and rather inelegantly.”

He spun her, catching a glimpse of a most breath-taking smile. Fighting the urge to kiss her right then and there had become the most difficult struggle he had faced. Then, they returned to the line in a whirl. He could sense her revolting less against his trying to lead her through the steps. She was being less resistant and more pliant. A wicked thought was immediately born regarding all the other things he could show her and lead her in.

“Joseph,” she repeated his name, and it sounded like the sweetest choir of angels.

Joseph Turner hated balls. He hated dances. He hated the social customs that dictated the rules in a place like this. Those things he knew and expected. What he could not expect was that he would actually start enjoying his time here, and it all had to do with the Lady in his arms.

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