“And, while I am demonstrating more emotion than I have in my three and thirty years, allow me to finish with this: I love you, Lady Bridget.”
He smiled slightly, nervously, at her as the crowd in the ballroom burst into applause and cheers. Bridget thought her heart might explode with love for this man. She waited impatiently for him to make his way through the crowd to her.
And just when she hoped the worst was over, there was Lady Francesca before her.
“Are you not forgetting something? About your sister? I’ll tell everyone. I may not be able to make an announcement but I can whisper here or there . . .”
“Can we discuss it later? I am in the middle of a devastatingly romantic moment,” Bridget said. Darcy was standing before her now and she very badly wished to feel his arms around her.
“I shall handle this one, Bridget,” Amelia said, coming to stand beside her. “You go off with your Looord Darcy.”
“And what about your brother?” Lady Francesca challenged, turning to Darcy.
He reluctantly turned to face her and gave her the Darcy stare, the one that would probably cause God to question his own righteousness.
“What about my brother? I daresay you wouldn’t compromise your own reputation to whisper about unfounded rumors of things which proper young ladies oughtn’t know or speak of.”
Francesca was speechless. But then again, Darcy had made it plain that there was nothing more to say. And then Lord Fox was there, linking arms with his sister. “I’m sure my dear sister has nothing to say about our good friend Rupert.”
Chapter 26
Darcy loves me. Darcy. Loves. Me. And everyone knows it.
Lady Bridget’s Diary
The next day, the duke summoned Bridget to an interview. It sounded so dramatic and forbidding. An interview. With the duke. In truth, her dear brother, James, said, “We need to talk,” and she followed him not to his study but down the stairs and into the kitchens.
Luncheon had already been cleaned up and the preparations had not yet begun for dinner, so the place wasn’t overrun with activity. They took seats around the large prep table and availed themselves of the cake Cook had left out. Bridget even made them a pot of tea.
“Darcy was just here,” James said after she had settled in with a cup of strong tea with two sugar cubes and a generous slice of cake. She was ravenous after last night.
“I know,” she replied. “I watched from the window. I also knew he was planning to see you.”
“I presume you also know why.”
James looked at her and she couldn’t help but blush, partly with happiness and partly with embarrassment. God, if her brother knew . . . Best not to think about that and focus on what truly mattered.
“He wishes to marry me,” she said softly. It was so strange and magical to say those words, and even better to know them to be true. Even sweeter because she was happy about it, deliriously so.
“And what about you, Bridge?”
“I wish to marry him as well,” she said. Of course after last night, she now had to, but truly, she was well aware of the consequences—marriage, or spinsterhood—and she decided he was worth the risk. She wanted to marry him with all her heart.
But James was looking at her intently now, as if trying to discern if she really meant it—or worse, if he was going to allow it. Or, Lord above, was she supposed to have a talk with her brother about feelings and why she truly must marry Darcy? She’d much rather not. “So now that we have agreed to the match, I best let Josephine know. She’ll want to start planning.”
She stood to leave. James grabbed a handful of her skirt.
“Not so fast, little sister.”
She slunk back into her chair and nervously met her brother’s gaze.
“Ever since we arrived, you have called him Dreadful Darcy and thought he was the embodiment of everything you despised about England. Amelia said you kept an ongoing list of things you disliked about Dreadful Darcy in your diary.”
“Amelia! It’s one thing if she reads my diary, but she’s not supposed to gossip about it!”
“Never mind that now. You also fancied his brother. So much so that you asked me to lend him a thousand pounds. I’m just curious; what has changed?”
Very well, that was a fair question.
“It so happens that he is not the worst. Not at all. And I hadn’t known until it was almost too late,” Bridget explained. “You know how he went out and found Amelia. He is so protective of his brother. And he helped me find my diary when it was missing. He is so good.”
He was also a good kisser, amongst his other talents, but her brother didn’t need to know that.