Page 57 of A Virgin for the Beastly Duke

“I am better, Father.” She glanced at Harry, supposedly guessing that he had informed them about the poisoning. “And I am happy to see you both.”

Mortimer had listened to Harry’s retelling of the events without remark, and it was difficult to tell whether he blamed him as Andrew most certainly did.

“Bridget,” Andrew said, his voice low. “Who poisoned you?”

“I do not know. Can we talk about this at another time?” She winced again, and Harry was tempted to drag her brother out of the room.

“Do you want to leave Grayfield?” he continued without any consideration for her well-being.

“Andrew,” Mortimer warned.

“Why would I want to leave my home?” Bridget sounded incredulous, her pale face tight with a frown.

“Because you are not safe here.” Andrew gave Harry a reproachful glance. “And the duke is incapable of protecting you.”

Bridget swiftly pulled her hand from his and stood, with some effort, going to stand beside Harry. When she swayed, he immediately wrapped a hand around her shoulders to steady her. She was still not well on her feet. Cato woke from his slumber on the chair she had left and began to growl at Andrew.

“That is enough, Andrew,” Mortimer said firmly. “Can you not see that your sister is unwell?”

“Forgive me,” Andrew murmured to no one in particular, moving as far away from Cato as he could.

“You know nothing about what Harry did to protect me,” Bridget said stiffly. “You judge what you do not know, and speak ill of a kind and gentle man. I will not allow you to disrespect my husband or blame him for the unfortunate incident.” She leaned against Harry.

“I beg your pardon, Bridget,” Andrew muttered.

She ignored his apology. “And while you are in our home, you will speak softly and carry yourself with grace because my head aches like the devil!” She turned to her father. “Father, thank you for coming to see me but I would like to be alone now. Please.”

Mortimer nodded solemnly. “We will see you when you are feeling better, my dear.”

Upon their departure, she wrapped her arms around Harry’s midriff and buried her face in his chest.

“Harry, I—"

“Shhh.” He gently removed her arms from around him and picked her up, walking into her bedchamber and laying her on the bed. “Do not speak,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “Rest.”

She still spoke. “My brother has not mastered his temper.”

“It is a very difficult thing to control. I understand his reasons.” He ran his fingers along her temple and she closed her eyes.

“Stay with me, Harry.” Her whisper sent ripples of tenderness through him.

He would stay with her as long as she would have him. Removing his boots, he climbed onto the bed and pulled her into his arms, his fingers tangling in her hair.

He was yet to tell her about the viscount of Lore, his suspicions, and the rider that had followed him to Ipswich, because he did not want to worry her while she was recovering. However, he was going to tell her about a decision he had made.

“I am going to Daventon to see the tenants,” he said softly. She pulled away to look up at him, worried. “I can no longer ignore my duties.”

“But you did not ignore this duty.” She touched his jaw, the light touch shrouding him in warmth. “It was necessary.”

Lord, she is perfect!He could feel his heart beating in a different manner, and she was the reason. Bridget saw and called to the man that he could be; the man who had hope and could love.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked.

“Yes, I would love that.”

She closed her eyes and nestled into him. A moment later, her soft, steady breathing told him she had fallen asleep.

Bridget was feeling better the following day, almost as well as she had felt before her illness, and she decided to have dinner with Harry, her father, and her brother.

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