“But won’t it look suspicious? Won’t I be ruined if I am alone with a man?”
“I think we can all agree that it would be much better if the gossip were about you and someone as proper as Darcy here, rather than the truth,” Josephine said. She punctuated it with a look at her as if Bridget were batty to refuse to take this opportunity. In fact, the duchess looked as if she was glad of this opportunity to foist one of her unmarried girls on the company of an eligible bachelor.
“We’ll take my curricle, which shall allow us to cover more ground than on foot,” he said.
“It is acceptable for you to be out together if you are in an open carriage and not gone for very long,” Josephine said. “It will simply appear to be a social excursion. In fact, it shall probably provide an excellent distraction for the ton.”
Chapter 12
It seems that I shall be spending the day with Dreadful Darcy, roaming the city in search of my wayward sister. Horrors. But no worse than French lessons.
Lady Bridget’s Diary
Once they were both ensconced in the curricle, Darcy cracked the whip and they were off. It went without saying that searching for missing siblings in the company of Lady Bridget Cavendish was not how Darcy had intended to spend his day. He was an important man, a busy man, and he had matters of vital importance requiring his attention.
But after Rupert confessed what he had confessed, everything had changed. Parliamentary matters could wait. An issue regarding a drainage ditch on their Lincolnshire estate could wait. He needed only to find his brother so they could find the blackmailer and ensure Rupert’s secret was safe.
Nothing else mattered.
Which was why he was in an open carriage with none other than Lady Bridget Cavendish of the American Cavendishes, fueling rumors that there was some romance between them. It was better that the ton speak of them, rather than Rupert. Or Amelia.
It was only logical.
And yet, Lady Bridget had brought a book. They were supposed to be searching all the faces in the crowds or at the very least, giving the appearance of a suitor calling upon a lady. He hated what it suggested about his company and her interest in him that she had brought a book.
He hated that he hated that.
There was no reason for him to care in the slightest what Lady Bridget, the girl who fell, thought of him.
“Well, I tried, Lord Darcy,” she said, heaving a sigh. “My apologies that you are now embroiled in my family’s affair and stuck spending hours with me when surely you have more lordly matters to attend to.”
“Lordly matters?”
“Yes, such as stomping around your various properties, issuing orders to servants, answering extremely important correspondence with very important Persons of Quality, and generally putting on airs.”
“Is that what you think I do all day?”
“You and every other lord I’ve met since I have arrived.”
“Let me assure you that I am able to spare a few hours from my important work of strolling around my properties and answering my correspondence to search for missing siblings. After all, it has been impressed upon me that nothing is more important than family.”
He glanced at her, to see how she took his reference to their earlier conversation when she dared to do what no one else in the haute ton would do: chastise his behavior.
“I am glad you have your priorities in order,” she replied. “Where do you think Rupert has gone off to?”
“He is not with his . . . friend,” Darcy said. He’d gone to call on Frederick Croft but Croft was not at home. Not that Darcy could say that to her. “I thought he might have spoken with you.”
She was quiet for a long moment, while they traveled the length of Curzon Street. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her tapping her fingers on the book—that book—in a nervous manner. Something was vexing her.
“Do you think they are together?” she asked, finally.
Ah. Of course. She was nervous that her sister had run off with the man she fancied herself in love with.
“I have no idea. But it would be for the best if she were with him.”
“How could you say that?” she asked angrily.
“Because I am thinking rationally. It is vastly preferable that she be in the company of Rupert, who will respect and protect her, rather than some nefarious creature who would use her in the worst ways imaginable.”
“Well, when you phrase it like that . . .”
“Furthermore, if it were discovered or suggested that they were together, they could marry to avert scandal.”
It was the truth. It was logic. It was reason. And it was, according to Lady Bridget, a personal affront.
“How could she do that to me?” There was no denying the anguish in her voice.