Page 24 of A Duchess Bound (Dukes of Dominance #2)

“ Y ou seem as though you are hiding a secret,” Dorothy said.

Bridget laughed. “What secret could I possibly have?”

They were seated in the carriage together, Elias across from them.

He had been gazing out the carriage window, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, but at Dorothy’s comment, he returned his gaze to his sisters.

“You have been a little evasive,” Elias said.

“You have received no less than four letters and hastened to your room with all of them.”

“Do you share all your correspondence with us?” Bridget asked. “It is natural for a lady to wish for some privacy.”

“You also have disappeared again,” Dorothy noted. “At Lord Kastan’s ball, I noticed that you missed at least two dances.”

“Am I expected to dance every single time?” Bridget asked. “I was tired and wished to have some lemonade.”

Dorothy furrowed her brow, certain that Bridget was lying, for Dorothy had spent most of Lord Kastan’s ball standing by the lemonade.

She would have noticed if her sister had tarried there for so long.

However, Dorothy’s attention had wavered a little, for Gerard had been all too eager to speak to her.

She must pay greater mind to her sister.

As the carriage halted before Holloway House, the home of Lord and Lady Holloway, Dorothy resolved to avoid Gerard entirely.

His comments had been one thing—frustrating, sharp, and amusing all at once—but now, she saw clearly that they were a harmful distraction from what Bridget might be engaged in.

“Shall we?” Elias asked.

As far as Dorothy could discern, her brother had already decided not to pursue the matter further.

Likely, he believed that Bridget ought to make her own decisions and deserved some privacy, and Dorothy did not disagree.

It was only that her poor, lovely sister was so innocent and naive.

She did not really know the dangers that a distasteful man might present to a young lady!

“Yes,” Bridget said, sighing. “And I would appreciate it if you would both let me enjoy the ball in peace.”

“Of course,” Dorothy said.

If in peace might be rationally adjusted to indicate, ‘with my watchful eye upon you, so I can see that you come to no harm.’ Dorothy knew how alluring rakes could be, after all. And how persistent.

Her face grew hot and remained so throughout the greetings with Lord and Lady Holloway.

Dorothy knew that it was hypocritical of her to criticize Bridget, given everything that had transpired between herself and Gerard, but she told herself that Bridget’s situation was different.

She was a young, proper miss with marital prospects.

Besides, Dorothy was not quite ruined yet.

Gerard had not yet taken her maidenhood, although she had all but offered it to him.

Certainly, she had indicated that he could properly bed her if she wished, and he kept denying her wishes.

Dorothy, who stood in the back of the ballroom, fixed her gaze resolutely on Bridget. She must not think about Gerard.

“I see that you have once more resolved to be a wallflower.”

She cast her eyes heavenward, wondering what she might have done to deserve such divine punishment. It was Gerard, of course, who had spoken. Dorothy kept her eyes on Bridget.

“Shall we dance?” he asked.

Dorothy still did not look at him, but she heard the rustle of the man’s clothing and felt his presence beside her. There was a steadiness about him that she wished she had not noticed.

“No,” she said coolly. “I have been negligent in my duties in securing my sister a suitable match, and I need to focus. I have no time for dancing with you.”

“Then, I shall endeavor to help you improve your focus.”

He would leave, then. Dorothy’s chest tightened, for she did not quite want him to abandon her. Of course, that was irrational.

Ridiculous. Absurd.

“Good. That is very gentlemanly of you.”

“I know.”

She curled her fingers into her skirts. He did not leave, as she had assumed that he would.

“Do you find yourself distracted?” he asked, pitching his voice lower.

She clenched her jaw, recognizing the question for the trap it was. If she insisted that he was distracting, he would mock her. If she insisted that she was not distracted, the absurd man would doubtlessly resolve to distract her.

So Dorothy said nothing, only crossing her arms to express her displeasure.

“I must try harder, then,” he said. “The best way to improve your focus is if a man works to distract you, after all.”

The dance ended, and Bridget bowed to her partner. She did not wait so much as a heartbeat before reaching for her next partner. It was the same dark-haired man from whom Dorothy had advised Bridget to keep her distance. A shiver traced the path of Dorothy’s spine.

Was that young man the reason for Bridget’s secrecy? Who was he?

“You look especially lovely tonight,” Gerard said. “Your modiste is quite talented. The bodice of your gown frames your bosom so very nicely.”

Dorothy’s breath hitched. She looked frantically around to see if anyone might have heard, but no other lords or ladies were standing nearby.

“I want to cup your breasts as tenderly as that fabric,” he said. “Your breasts are so soft and inviting, and I am thinking about how delightful it would be to touch you right now, here in the ballroom where everyone might see.”

Dorothy forced her attention back to her sister, trying to calm her racing pulse through the sheer force of her will.

“And I would coax those lovely pink nipples into little peaks.”

She dug her nails into the palms of her hands. There did not seem to be enough air in the ballroom, and a quick, furtive glance downward revealed that the blush from her face had spread to the tops of her breasts. Dorothy’s mouth was dry.

Although only Gerard seemed to be paying her any mind, Dorothy still had the horrible notion that someone else might be watching her.

She swallowed hard. The thought should have quelled all the heat surging through her, but instead, her desire only seemed to heighten.

She pressed her thighs together, trying to force herself to maintain a stoic facade.

“I would like to bind you to my bed and have my way with you,” he murmured.

A gasp tore from her throat, and Gerard chuckled, the sound dark and amused. The image that materialized in Dorothy’s mind was so alluring and wondrous that her thighs quivered.

For a beat, he said nothing. The only sounds were the cheerful tune of a waltz and her own increasingly ragged breaths for air. She had lost sight of Bridget. Dorothy ground her teeth together, her eyes snapping over the dancefloor. There!

Bridget was dancing still, no worse for wear.

“You…” she trailed off. Dorothy tilted her head and looked askance at Gerard, grimly satisfied when he met her gaze. “You had the chance to do that, and you would not. Why did you refrain?”

“I had my reasons.”

“Of course.”

The dance ended. Dorothy steeled herself and left the wall, drawing some comfort from imagining Gerard staring longingly after her.

“Are you certain that you do not wish to speak with Lady Agatha?” Bridget asked. “I seem to recall the two of you having a common interest in embroidery.”

Dorothy shook her head and took a sip of lemonade. Bridget, who stood beside her, frowned.

“You cannot be enjoying yourself,” Bridget said, “following me around throughout the night. You must want some short respite to speak with old acquaintances.”

Bridget was clearly trying to dissuade Dorothy from watching her throughout the night, probably so she could sneak away and meet that young, dark-haired man again.

When Dorothy had asked who he was, Bridget had waved a dismissive hand and insisted that she did not know the gentleman’s name.

Dorothy suspected that her sister was feigning ignorance.

What could be the reason for Bridget’s continued secrecy, though?

Did she have reason to suspect that Dorothy would not approve of the young man?

Dorothy’s pulse quickened. If that was the reason for Bridget’s hesitation, Dorothy must devise some means of dissuading her sister from spending more time in that man’s company.

“If acquaintances care to speak to me, they will approach us,” Dorothy said. “Thus far, they have not. I imagine that many of them are more interested in searching for suitable gentlemen.”

“Some of them are already wed,” Bridget insisted, “or else, they are spinsters.”

“Nevertheless, they will approach me if they wish to speak.”

Bridget finished her glass of lemonade. “I wish to dance with Lord Edmonton.”

“A respectable man,” Dorothy said. “Let us take a turn about the ballroom and look for him.”

Bridget set a brisk pace, Dorothy following close behind.

They had gone nearly halfway around the ballroom when Bridget abruptly halted.

Elias stood nearby, drinking with some of his friends.

One of them was Gerard. Dorothy tore her gaze away, even as her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest.

“Elias, I wish to leave,” Bridget said. “I have a dreadful headache.”

Dorothy blinked at her sister, taken aback. “You said nothing to me.”

Elias frowned and looked between the two of them. Bridget conspicuously did not meet either Dorothy’s gaze or his.

“Very well,” Elias said. “We shall leave at once.”

“Wonderful. I will wait for the carriage,” Bridget said, storming away.

Elias leaned close to Dorothy. “Have the two of you quarreled?”

“No. I shall go after her. Perhaps, she will tell me what is amiss.”

“I will say farewell to our hosts,” Elias said.

Dorothy nodded and hurried after Bridget, who had nearly reached the ballroom’s entrance. By the time she reached her, Bridget already stood outside, awaiting the carriage. Dorothy gasped for air, her face hot with exertion.

“You left so quickly!” Dorothy exclaimed.

“And yet you found me,” Bridget said tightly. “Of course.”

Dorothy pursed her lips, eyeing her sister carefully. “Have I upset you?”

Bridget laughed. “Have you upset me? How can you ask that? Of course , you have!”

Dorothy started, putting a hand to her chest in surprise. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Bridget asked, her voice hitching loudly. “ Oh ? I may need a chaperone, Dorothy, but I do not need a governess! I can barely breathe with you hovering over me every minute of every day!”

Dorothy reeled. “Bridget, I?—”

“Enough!” Bridget exclaimed. “You are not my mother! It is not my fault if you do not have a life to see to. I will not let you live through me!”

Dorothy’s eyes burned with barely contained tears. She opened her mouth to speak, to offer some defense of herself, but words refused to come. Dorothy choked on her own throat.

Before she could regain her composure, Bridget sighed and shook her head. “I will find my own way home. The last thing I want is to be trapped in a carriage with you and Elias, so both of you can try to justify dictating my entire life!”

She stormed away. Dorothy did not pursue her. Instead, she stood in place, feeling fragile and torn. It was as though she were a flower, treated too cruelly by the winter frost.

Bridget had never raised her voice to anyone before. Dorothy’s blood turned to ice.

You are not my mother .

Dorothy had known that, of course, but she had devoted her entire life to looking after her siblings and ensuring that they were happy. She had cast aside her own chance for a happy, fruitful life as a married woman!

Bridget was young and romantic, often ruled by her passions. Dorothy would be foolish to take her words to heart.

But she did.