Page 25 of A Duchess Bound (Dukes of Dominance #2)

“ I s everything all right?” Gerard asked, walking alongside Leedway, as he searched for their host.

They had been speaking about the lady’s seminary together.

The conversation had been going well. Leedway had been eager to have another wealthy duke involved in the project, and Gerard had felt as though he was doing something meaningful.

It was rare that he experienced such a feeling, but he had liked it.

Then, Lady Bridget and Dorothy arrived. Leedway had abandoned Gerard and a few other gentlemen without warning or excuse. He had exchanged a few words with his sisters before hurrying away. Gerard had caught only a small piece of an explanation; Leedway was seeking their host.

“Bridget has a headache,” Leedway said, “so we are leaving.”

“Ah.”

That explained why Leedway wanted to speak with their host. “Shall I speak to Holloway on your behalf?” Gerard asked.

Leedway halted abruptly, looking a little startled. If Gerard had not sensed that something was amiss, he might have found Leedway’s expression comical. He looked almost as if he had forgotten that Gerard was even there.

“Yes,” he said. “That would be kind of you.”

Gerard inclined his head in silent acceptance of Leedway’s gratitude. The men parted ways, and Gerard continued his search for their host. It took some time, but at last, he found the man at the edge of the ballroom, engaging in what seemed to be a cheerful conversation with his wife.

Gerard cleared his throat. “Apologies for my interruption.”

Holloway turned to him, smiling. “No need to apologize, Layton! It is always a pleasure to speak to you.”

“Yes, well. I have simply come to inform you that Leedway is leaving a little earlier. He did not wish to offend with his departure, but one of his sisters was feeling ill.”

“I see,” Holloway said. “There is certainly no offense taken.”

“I am glad.”

“I do hope his sister is not terribly unwell,” Lady Holloway said, her face softening. “It would be especially unfortunate for Lady Bridget to succumb to illness during her first Season and be unable to attend any of the ton’s events.”

“Agreed,” Holloway said.

A small knot of frustration twisted in Gerard’s chest. Lady Holloway’s assessment made sense, but his first thought was that it would be equally unfortunate if Dorothy had taken ill during the Season.

She might be a spinster, but he saw how her face brightened when she danced.

He saw how important it was for her to watch Lady Bridget and ensure that she was not taken by some man’s rakish wiles.

“If she has fallen ill, I imagine the suitors will be as distraught as she,” Lady Holloway said conspiratorially. “She is one of the most desirable ladies of the Season.”

Holloway chuckled, his green eyes flashing with mirth. “To be young again! Do you remember your first Season, my lady? You were quite exceptional.”

Lady Holloway smiled, a faint dusting of rose spreading over her cheeks. “I do. You were insatiable and tireless in your pursuit of me.”

They looked at one another like two people who were deeply in love—as though they were newlyweds.

Holloway and his wife had been married for thirty years, though.

Even though there was no impropriety between them, Gerard nonetheless felt as though he was intruding upon some private moment. He looked away.

Despite himself, he tried to recall if his parents had ever gazed at one another like that, but he found that he could hardly remember his mother at all. She was long lost to the mists of time, just like the young footman who had once indulged him too much.

“What about your own designs for the Season?” Holloway asked. “Are we soon going to learn of a Duchess of Greenway?”

Gerard shook his head. “No, I have other concerns this Season. I am helping Leedway build a seminary for young ladies.”

“I am surprised to learn that,” Holloway said. “I had assumed that you were interested in pursuing Lady Bridget.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “Where did you get that notion?”

“Because you have been paying such attention to Lady Dorothy,” Holloway explained. “I assumed that you were hoping to charm the elder sister, so she might be more inclined to speak favorably of you to Lady Bridget.”

“It would be a clever approach,” Lady Holloway added. “Most of the gentlemen are approaching Lady Bridget, but it is obvious to all the ladies that it is Lady Dorothy who is making the decisions about which suitors are acceptable matches.”

“I imagine Leedway is also deferring to her,” Holloway added.

“I am uninterested in Lady Bridget,” Gerard said.

The moment that he had spoken, Gerard wished he had not. Holloway and his wife had provided a perfectly acceptable reason for his lingering near Dorothy, and he had dismissed it without a thought.

And why ? He could think of no rational explanation for his behavior, save that he was, perhaps, a little loyal to Dorothy. Lady Bridget’s reputation was important to her, and he had resolved to respect that.

“Why have you been spending so much time with Lady Dorothy, then?” Holloway glanced at his wife with an expression that implied he wished to ask some questions that were inappropriate for a lady’s ears.

“Lady Dorothy is beyond reproach,” Gerard said steadily. “She is a good woman with an admirable strength of will. I enjoy her conversation. That is all.”

Holloway looked unconvinced. Lady Holloway placed her hand on the crook of his arm. “I find it charming that His Grace has found someone with whom he enjoys an intellectual connection.”

Lady Holloway sounded as though she might also be insinuating something untoward. Gerard clenched his jaw and forced a smile. “If you will excuse me.”

He bowed and left their company as quickly as he feasibly could.

Something about the encounter had shaken him.

It could not be their insinuations. Given his past behavior, those were understandable.

Besides, he had been found out before. It was not as if the ton remained ignorant about why he favored ladies’ company so much.

Something about having his attachment to Dorothy acknowledged left a sour taste in his mouth, though. It was as though he expected their affair to remain secret and unnoticed forever, despite the attentions that he often paid her.

If Dorothy knew what Holloway and his wife had insinuated, she would be distraught. Gerard left the ballroom, raking his hand through his hair as he entered the gardens. A cool breeze swept over him, bringing some order to his thoughts.

He had insisted that there was nothing awry. He had not even insinuated that there was something amiss. That was more than he often did.

“Oh!” A startled, feminine cry burst from the nearby bench.

Gerard turned his head toward the sound and spied Lady Bridget seated there. It was difficult to see her in the darkness, but her eyes appeared a little swollen, as though she had been crying.

“Lady Bridget!”

Gerard looked about to see if they were alone. There were two footmen stationed nearby, but at such a distance that he doubted they could hear what was being said.

“Y—Your Grace,” Lady Bridget sniffed. “I am sorry.”

He offered her a handkerchief. She took it, delicately dabbing her eyes.

“Are you all right, my lady?” he asked.

Perhaps this was the illness that had been mentioned earlier. But if that was true, why was the lady alone? Dorothy had left the ballroom directly after her sister, and it would have been impossible for her not to have encountered Lady Bridget already.

“Yes,” Lady Bridget said. “I am fine. It is only that I—I am sorry. I should not burden…”

“You would never be a burden,” he said promptly. “Would you like me to find your sister?”

“No!” Lady Bridget snapped. “No, anyone but her. I just need a moment.”

Gerard frowned. Anyone but her …

He was beginning to suspect that Lady Bridget was quite well and that there was something else amiss.

“What has happened?” he asked, softening his voice. “Did you and your sister quarrel?”

She sniffed and nodded, crumpling his handkerchief in her hand. “I do not want to sound ungrateful, but she is…I feel as though she does not trust me to do anything myself!”

He blinked. “I am certain that is not her intention.”

“Does it matter?” Lady Bridget asked. “Whether her intention or not, that is precisely how I feel! She wants to comment upon every gentleman who asks me to dance and behaves as though I lack the sense to choose my own dance partners. If she knew that you were speaking to me now, I am certain that she would be utterly enraged!”

Gerard doubted that. For all that Dorothy kept insisting that he remain away from her sister, Gerard suspected that some part of her knew that he had no interest in Lady Bridget, carnal or otherwise.

“She acts as though I cannot protect myself, and I can. I am clever enough to determine if a man is a rake or not.”

Gerard slowly nodded. He did not quite know what to say, though.

Lady Bridget sighed. “I apologize. I am just…talking and talking. I must be boring you.”

“Not at all,” Gerard said. “My silence is not because I am bored. However, I must confess a little ignorance in how best to communicate with ladies about matters such as these. I would advise you to tell Dor—Lady Dorothy how you feel.”

His pulse jumped at the error, but Lady Bridget did not seem to notice. “I already told her,” the young woman said, sighing.

Gerard inwardly winced. “I assume that she was upset.”

“Yes. But I was not in the wrong.”

“I did not imply otherwise.”

Lady Bridget sighed deeply, her breath shuddering. “I do not know what to do. I just want to choose my own suitors and for her to leave me be. I know that she means well, but she is just doing too much.”

“Now that you have told her, maybe she will consider giving you more freedom to choose yourself,” Gerard said kindly.

“While she may have been hurt by your words, Lady Dorothy is also a reasonable, young woman. I am certain that she will think carefully about your words and consider how to make you happy again.”

Lady Bridget shook her head. “You do not know her.”

Gerard smothered a laugh.

“She acts as though she is my mother, and she is not. Besides, I do not need a mother,” Lady Bridget said. “I need a sister.”

Gerard nodded solemnly.

With a great sigh, Lady Bridget climbed to her feet and smoothed her skirts. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

His first, instinctive thought was that he ought to find Dorothy and offer her some measure of comfort, for she must be as upset as Lady Bridget. He could not, though.

Comforting Dorothy would be seen as too intimate, too compassionate for a man like him. But perhaps, he would send her a letter later and offer his support.

“No, there is nothing that I need,” Lady Bridget said, sighing. “Unless you know someone who can make my sister see reason.”

“Alas, I do not.”

Lady Bridget wiped her eyes roughly and gave his handkerchief back. He shoved it unthinkingly into his jacket. There was a part of him that found Lady Bridget to be dauntingly frustrating. How could she be upset?

He supposed that he understood how the attention might be stifling, but at least her family cared about her! She would never know what it was to be utterly alone. Not like he did.

He would have given anything to have siblings who cared for him. It was far better to have a young miss who protected you too much than to have no one at all.

“Good night, Your Grace,” Lady Bridget murmured, making no move to leave.

It took Gerard a heartbeat to realize that the imperious, young miss had dismissed him. “Good night,” he said.

He continued along the path, as though nothing had happened. Gerard furrowed his brow. He could not go to Dorothy.

But he wanted to.

He curled his hands into fists and clenched his jaw. Although he held reservations, he wanted to comfort her. Gerard told himself that he would simply check the waiting carriages and see if Dorothy might be in one. If she were, he would offer comfort. If she were not, he would have tried.

When he reached the carriages, one of the doors was already open. Feigning ease, he approached the carriage. “My lady?” he asked hesitantly.

“Your Grace?” Dorothy’s broken voice emerged from the darkness.

Gerard peered inside the carriage, his heart clenching at the sight of Dorothy, alone and disheveled. Her eyes held a weariness that made Gerard suspect she might have been crying.

“Your sister is in the gardens,” he said. “I…I am sorry that you quarreled.”

Dorothy laughed unevenly. “I cannot fault Bridget for wanting freedom.”

“But you can if she is cruel to you,” Gerard said. “I admire your protectiveness and how much you care about your family. Lady Bridget does not realize how fortunate she is to have people who care about her! So few have that.”

Dorothy’s eyes searched his face for a long moment, looking at him as though she was seeing him for the first time. “Thank you,” she said.

Gerard blinked, taken aback. “Ah. You are welcome, but your gratitude is not needed. It was simply an observation.”

“A kind one, though.”

He did not know what to say to that. Silence settled between them, and although Gerard often detested the quiet, he found this one companionable. Welcome, even.

And he did not know entirely why.