Page 21 of A Virgin for the Beastly Duke

“I wish to apologize on behalf of everyone,” the vicar said ruefully.

Mr. Belmont took her arm and started to lead her away. That was when she noticed that her companions looked just as overwhelmed as she was feeling.

“I-I did not know they felt thusly about the duke,” she said as Mr. Belmont led them back to their carriage.

“The situation cannot be explained simply, Your Grace. If I had known you would be visiting the village, I would have offered to accompany you.”

She glanced behind her at the village square. Some of the people had returned to their activities, while some glared at her. A shiver went through her right then. “Does he know the extent of their displeasure?” she asked Mr. Belmont.

“I do not believe he does.”

“I tried, many times, to persuade him to see them, but he is too stubborn,” Belinda said, shaking her head.

Bridget decided that she would speak to him about it. When they returned to Grayfield, however, she could not find him anywhere.

To distract herself, she decided to go to the gardens to see how she could revive them, and Sarah accompanied her.

The grass was overgrown, covering the stone paths that must have once been lovely, and Bridget’s spirits became a reflection of the garden. There was not a single bloom to be seen, and she began to wish she had not come to the garden to find occupation.

“I do not believe it is entirely the duke’s fault that the tenants are unhappy,” she said as they walked.

“I believe that, too, Your Grace,” Sarah said, addressing her formally now that they were outside. “I heard that every venture he invested in to save his fortune failed. Some say a curse was placed upon him.”

“I do not believe in curses, but I know that I must speak to him about this. I want to help.”

“Do you know the reason he refused to visit them?” Sarah glanced at her as she asked.

“I am uncertain, but I will hazard a guess and say it is because of his face.” He had flinched in the greenhouse when her gaze lingered on his face, then his mood had changed when she asked him to accompany her. Bridget had great cause to believe he was hiding. It was the only reason she could think of for his behavior.

A soft sigh escaped her, and her eyes moved around the dead garden, searching for something to brighten her spirits. Something yellow called her in the distance, and she squinted. Flowers? Gathering her skirts, she quickened her steps toward it.

They were flowers! Bushes of marigolds were clustered in one part of the garden as though they knew of the misfortune that had befallen the other plants and sought to protect themselves from it.

A wide grin spread across her face. Finding life where she thought she would not, lifted her spirits, and she turned to Sarah, saying, “I must cut some of these for the duke.” Lord knew the man was in dire want of color and happiness in his life.

“I shall fetch a basket and a pair of scissors,” Sarah said, hurrying down the path they had come.

When she returned, Bridget carefully cut several blooms and placed them in the basket, her smile broadening by the moment. In the castle, she found a beautiful porcelain vase and arranged the yellow and orange flowers, then decided to take them up to Harry’s chambers. She hoped he would be pleased when he returned and saw them.

Cradling the vase with one arm, she opened the door that joined their bedchambers and stepped in. Her nostrils were instantly filled with his scent. He was not there, but she felt as though he was. The chamber was in shades of deep blue and brown, and she thought it suited him.

The fireplace mantle seemed like the perfect place for the flowers, and she started toward it. Movement to her left caught her eye and she paused in time to see Harry walk out of his dressing room completely naked.

Bridget froze, and so did he.

Chapter 9

“Bridget,” Harry murmured with his usual confidence, seemingly unconcerned about his nakedness.

She stood there, the vase in her hands, and her eyes on his body. His figure was perfection, every inch of it, and her body was starting to respond in a manner that she had never felt before. He began to walk toward her, his muscles tightening and releasing with every step, drawing her further into the trance that she was already in.

His hand came over hers, and a shiver ran through her, touching her most intimate regions. Harry took the vase from her and went to place it on the fireplace mantle.

“These are lovely,” he said. “Are they from the garden?”

“Yes,” Bridget whispered, her lips dry. She was unable to keep her eyes from moving down his body, settling on his prominent member.

His chuckle snapped her eyes up to his face, and her cheeks burned. Suddenly very shy, she turned away. Harry tucked a finger under her chin and turned her face to his.

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