by Lucy Adams
“I suppose that would be a wise consideration,” he admitted, softly. “I shall have to be all the more on my guard.” His brow furrowed. “What shall you do, Lady Callander? You cannot stay here alone.”
She drew herself up. “I am well able to remain secure in this house,” she told him. “The staff are very protective and I shall ensure that — ”
“I will have gentlemen from the League come to stand guard,” he interrupted, before she could say anything more. “You cannot be permitted to stay here with only your staff, even though they might do all they can to look after you.” He sighed and closed his eyes, his jaw working hard. “I cannot understand who it is that has tried to end Sarah’s life, but I am sure that they will try again if they discover that she still lives.”
A shudder passed over Bridgette’s frame but she did not allow herself to look anywhere other than Lord Millerton’s face. When he smiled quietly at her, clearly trying to reassure and encourage her, she could not help but return it. A long heavy sigh caught her and she let out her breath slowly, dropping her head for a moment and taking in a deep breath so as to steady herself.
“The poor girl,” she said, softly. “I wonder how she knew you would be attending here.”
Lord Millerton looked a little embarrassed. “I might have made mention of it during our visit,” he said, as she looked up at him in surprise. “I did not imagine that anyone would use such a thing to their own advantage. When she sat in the carriage, she was so eager to speak to me but I did not have the opportunity to hear more until….”
Bridgette shook her head, her lips pressed together. “I shall pray,” she said, simply. “I shall pray that she recovers and that she is able to tell you whatever it was that she wanted.”
“She was afraid.” Lord Millerton’s eyes were hard, his expression one of anger as he looked down at the lady in the bed. “She did not have the chance to tell me what she was afraid of, however.”
“Perhaps she was afraid for herself, given that she had just run away from Madame Bereford,” Bridgette suggested, as Lord Millerton looked up at her. “That must have taken a good deal of courage.”
Lord Millerton sighed heavily and rubbed one hand over his eyes. “What makes it all the worse is that, when I saw her with Madame Bereford, I had the distinct impression that Sarah could do nothing nor say anything that would be contradicted by Madame Bereford,” he said, shaking his head. “She appeared to be quite afraid of her.”
Bridgette felt her heart surge with sympathy. So many considered these ladies to be victims of their own poor choices but there were some who had no choice in the matter. Was that the case for Miss Sarah? Bridgette let her eyes rove over the lady’s painted face. Frowning, Bridgette turned to pick up a damp cloth — one that had been used to wipe away the blood from the lady’s chest and shoulder and then thoroughly rinsed — and used it to wipe the lady’s face. There were some splatterings of blood on her cheeks, the rouge and the dark marks around her eyes slowly being pulled away by the water in the cloth.
She gasped.
Lord Millerton frowned. “What is it?”
“The poor creature has been beaten,” Bridgette whispered, pointing to the dark purple and blue bruise that had emerged from whatever had been painted over the top of it, hiding it away from prying eyes. “And it looks to be very recent indeed.”
His jaw working furiously, Lord Millerton narrowed his gaze, his hands gripping the side of the bed. “We cannot know who did such a thing,” he told her, as calmly as he could. “It might have been one of the gentlemen who attend such a place.”
“It might have been Madame Bereford,” Bridgette suggested, as Lord Millerton’s eyes darkened all the more. “Perhaps that was whom Sarah was running from. What she meant when she spoke of being afraid.”
Lord Millerton nodded, his color rising. “Either way, we can do nothing other than wait,” he said, softly. “Wait until she is pulled towards death or life.”
“Let us hope it is life,” Bridgette replied, just as a maid came in, a tea tray in her hands.
“My lady?”
Bridgette waved a hand. “In the drawing room, if you please,” she said, hastily. “And have someone sent up to sit with Sarah. I intend to hire someone to care for her, but a maid will do for the moment.”
The maid nodded and hurried from the room, leaving Bridgette and Lord Millerton alone again. They held each other’s gaze for a short time, an unspoken understanding between them. They each felt the frustration of being so close to something, so near to an answer, only to have it pulled from them. Their hearts both ached with sympathy and compassion for the lady before them, not judging her character based simply on her profession but rather seeing her as a scared young lady with very little opportunity waiting for her. She had been afraid, Lord Millerton had said, and that tugged at Bridgette’s heart.
“I should go,” Lord Millerton said, as he began to walk towards the door. “I should go to speak to Lord Monteforte and Lord Watt, before we meet tomorrow evening.”
“Of course.” Bridgette fell into step beside him, casting an anxious glance back towards Miss Sarah. “Do you think she will recover?”
Lord Millerton could only shrug. “I could not rightly say, Lady Callander,” he said, quietly. “But I will pray that she does, for all our sakes.”
“Oh, Lady Callander, I am so very glad to see you!”
Bridgette smiled despite the anxiety in her heart as Lady Madeline clutched at her hand, the soiree well underway.
“You are quite well, I hope?” Lady Madeline’s eyes were roving over Bridgette’s face, and Bridgette lifted one shoulder.
“There is someone ill within my household, that is all,” she said, as Lady Madeline’s eyes widened. “But I hope she will recover.” Putting a warm smile on her face, she reached out and pressed Lady Madeline’s hand. “Now, what is it that troubles you?”
“There are simply far too many gentlemen here this evening, who are all far too eager to make their acquaintance with me,” Lady Madeline said, sounding quite distraught. “I should be grateful, I know, but I find it quite wearisome having to engage in banal conversation and so I have avoided them as best as I can.”
Bridgette let out a small chuckle. “I quite understand,” she said, with a wry smile. “I confess I have avoided Lord Mayfair’s conversation this evening, even though he continues to wander in my direction.”
Lady Madeline pressed one hand to her heart. “If only they would understand that we are simply not interested in them,” she said, dramatically. “Although I have noticed that a particular gentleman is paying you some very close attentions, Lady Callander.”
“Oh?” Bridgette felt a small blush catch her cheeks but quickly tried to suppress any sort of embarrassment. “What can you mean?”
Lady Madeline waggled a finger. “Lord Millerton was very attentive to you the last time we saw each other,” she said with a teasing smile. “And this evening, I have already seen you engaged in conversation with him on two separate occasions.”
Bridgette wanted to protest, to state that she had been talking to Lord Millerton of serious matters only but knew that she could not. Lady Madeline did not need to know anything of what she had been discussing with Lord Millerton and certainly could not know of Sarah, who was still lying, unconscious, in Bridgette’s guest bedchamber.
“He is interested in you, I think,” Lady Madeline said, a flicker of interest in her eyes. “You do not turn away from him as readily as you do others.”
Trying to find what would be a reasonable answer, Bridgette spread out her hands. “That is because I find him interesting,” she answered, not untruthfully. “And you?” she asked, desperate to change the subject. “Do you find any gentleman of your acquaintance to be of particular interest?” She expected Lady Madeline to laugh and wave a hand, throwing the question aside, and was, therefore, rather surprised when the lady considered the question carefully, tilting her head to one side and allowi
ng her gaze to rove about the room.
“I confess to you, Lady Callander — Bridgette, I mean — that Lord Chesterfield has been very attentive of late.” Her lips twisted and her eyes darkened just a little. “That could, of course, mean very little given that he is something of a flirt and likes very much to engage in the company of ladies such as myself without having any specific intentions.”
“Lord Chesterfield,” Bridgette repeated, rolling the name across her tongue and trying to work out if she knew the fellow. Her expression brightened. “Ah, yes, I recall him now. You introduced me to him, I believe.”
Lady Madeline nodded. “I did.”
Bridgette recalled a bright, rather loud gentleman, whose eyes she had considered to be kind. Her smile lingered as Lady Madeline let out a huff of breath, her eyebrows lowering.
“You do not want to be intrigued by him, I surmise,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye. “And yet, you cannot help it.”
“As I believe I said before, Bridgette, I know of his character and find his inclination towards flirtation and his assured confidence in himself to be most infuriating,” Lady Madeline said, a little too sharply. “And yet…..” Her expression softened and she shook her head to herself. “I cannot quite understand it myself and it irritates me more than I can express.”
Still smiling, Bridgette allowed herself a small shrug. “Then might I suggest, Lady Madeline, that you permit his attentions and see what might become of it all,” she said, quietly, as Lady Madeline let out a huff of breath. “You cannot tell where such a thing might lead.”
“And yet I am still entirely disinclined towards matrimony,” Lady Madeline said, firmly. “I am quite determined.”
Bridgette, who silently thought that an attraction towards a gentleman, which might soon turn to regard would remove all barriers to such a thing, remained silent and simply smiled.
“Oh, Bridgette, you must help me,” Lady Madeline cried, going from determined to anxious in only a breath. “Will you speak with Lord Chesterfield? Will you tell me your opinion of him, just as we have previously agreed?”
Having not expected to be thrust into such a situation so quickly after their agreement, Bridgette was startled for a moment at the fervor that poured from Bridgette’s lips, only to nod her agreement, smiling warmly as she did so. “But of course,” she said, thinking to herself that it might be an adequate distraction from her own thoughts as regarded Lord Hazelton’s death and the now very ill young lady lying in her sickbed. “Is he present this evening?”
Lady Madeline nodded, biting her lip and showing such a state of vulnerability that Bridgette was quite surprised to see her so. Lady Madeline always exuded confidence and assurance and so to see her now, looking quite anxious and a little unsure was something of a startling transformation. Bridgette guessed that there was more to Lady Madeline’s considerations for Lord Chesterfield than she wanted to admit, perhaps even to herself, which made her all the more eager to help her friend.
“Then I shall allow you to speak to him first and, thereafter, I shall go in search of him and converse with him also,” Bridgette declared, as Lady Madeline let out a small exclamation. “And I promise to give you the most honest of opinions later this evening.”
“Very well.” Lady Madeline lifted her chin and pushed all the anxiety from her face with an ease of manner that Bridgette envied. “I shall let you know the moment I am free of him.”
It took at least half an hour before Lady Madeline moved past Bridgette and gave her a small smile and knowing look. Bridgette, excusing herself from her present conversation as best she could, stepped away and began to meander through the room, smiling at one person and then the next as she continued to look for Lord Chesterfield. Frowning to herself, she took another turn around the room, trying to find the gentleman and wondering where Lady Madeline had been speaking with the fellow, when her gaze suddenly snagged on two gentlemen talking quietly in the corner, one with his back to her and the other, from what she could see of his face, seeming to be Lord Chesterfield.
Bridgette did not move directly towards them, knowing that it would be noted that she had plainly gone towards Lord Chesterfield. Instead, she quickened her steps towards the footman who was standing a little closer to the gentlemen and picked up a glass of champagne from his tray, murmuring her thanks as she did so. Then, she moved back towards the wall, with Lord Chesterfield and the other gentleman now a little behind her.
“The shipment is late.”
She frowned, wondering why two gentlemen would be discussing business at a soiree. Then, a small smile touched the corner of her mouth as she thought of what she could say to Lady Madeline about such a thing. Lord Chesterfield was clearly hard working, if he had come to a soiree but still found himself discussing business matters!
“It does not matter if it is late,” she heard the second gentleman say. “It only matters if all the cargo is accounted for.”
“I am sure it will be quite safe,” Lord Chesterfield replied, sharply. “This is not the first time I have brought in precious goods.”
Bridgette was surprised, lifting her glass to her lips and taking a small sip of her champagne. What sort of goods was Lord Chesterfield involved in? If they involved such great risk, then that was not a wise investment.
“We may have a slight issue with cargo already brought in,” the second gentleman muttered, a little darkly. “I have tried to remove it but I believe it still lingers.”
Lord Chesterfield sucked in a breath and Bridgette felt a sudden tingling running down her spine, as though she stood close to danger and ought to be doing all she could to hurry away from it. Was Lord Chesterfield involved in something untoward?
“Lady Callander, how good to see you this evening!”
She started violently, her champagne swirling dangerously in her glass. “Lord….Windsor,” she said, quickly trying to hide her surprise at his sudden arrival. She knew him from the League, having been introduced to him last Season, but was still a little astonished that he had come over with such a clear intention to speak to her when they were not particularly well acquainted. “Good evening.” She did not dare say what she had been doing, not wanting him to think ill of her for eavesdropping on another conversation. Lord Chesterfield and the other gentleman with him were still speaking but as Lord Windsor continued to enquire after her health and asked if she would be eager to dance with him later. Confirming with a small smile, Bridgette turned to excuse herself, only to see Lord Chesterfield coming towards her. She pasted a broad smile on her face and curtsied, noting, with interest, that the gentleman he had been speaking to was now hurrying away, his face turned from her so that she could not tell his identity.
“Good evening, Lord Chesterfield,” she said, with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. “How good to see you this evening. I do hope you have been enjoying the soiree thus far?”
Lord Chesterfield did not smile. Instead, he eyed her with a sharp gaze, as though he was attempting to push through skin and bone to look into her heart and know her true intentions.
Bridgette felt another prickle of unease run down her spine but forced her expression to remain as open and as welcoming as she could manage. Waiting for him to speak, she allowed a flicker of a frown to cross her brow, which, for whatever reason, seemed to jolt Lord Chesterfield from his own thoughts.
“Forgive me, Lady Callander,” he said, with a small, tight smile. “I have been caught up with business matters these last few days and confess myself to be distracted by it even now.”
Bridgette put one hand to her heart, her eyes widening in evident surprise. “Goodness!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the rest of the guests in the room. “And here, in the middle of this wonderful soiree?” She tutted lightly. “You must not permit yourself to become so caught up with such things when there are wonderful occasions like this going on all around you, Lord Chesterfield.”
“So speaks someone who has very little understanding of such matter
s,” Lord Chesterfield muttered, his insult driving straight into Bridgette’s heart. “You may think of nothing other than dancing and pretty gowns, Lady Callander, but we gentlemen have a good deal more responsibilities than that, which, I am well aware, you cannot have any real understanding of.”
Bridgette blinked rapidly, a ball of anger settling in her stomach and sending heat right through her. Her hand holding her glass tightened, her free hand balling into a fist. She did not know what to say, finding his manner greatly changed from when he had first spoken to her. He was not jovial and outgoing, but instead, appearing to be quite hard and insulting, without showing any consideration for what she might think of him.
“I think you will have to excuse me, Lord Chesterfield,” she said, tightly, dipping into a curtsy she did not want to make, before turning her back and walking away stiffly. She saw Lady Madeline looking at her anxiously and felt herself inclined towards hiding away from her friend, not wanting to tell her the truth but knowing that she had promised to do so. With a great sigh, she turned towards Lady Madeline, lifting her chin and fighting down the anger that still burned furiously within her.
“Well?” Lady Madeline asked, her hands reaching out to grasp Bridgette’s free one. “What did you speak of? What do you think of his conduct?” Her eyes narrowed just a fraction. “He was not flirtatious, was he? Or overly complimentary?”
Bridgette hesitated, knowing what she wanted to say but fearful that she might see the light fade from Lady Madeline’s eyes if she did so. What could she say? Could she really be truthful when she felt so much anger towards him?
“Please, Bridgette.” Lady Madeline’s eyes were fixed to hers but there was a new seriousness in her expression. “Please, do tell me the truth.”
Bridgette let out a long, slow breath, forcing herself to choose her words with great care.
“Lady Madeline, I do not want to upset you, but I fear that Lord Chesterfield does not allow anyone to see his true nature,” she said, honestly, quickly telling Lady Madeline all that had been said. Seeing how Lady Madeline’s expression became one of horror, Bridgette’s shoulders slumped and she let out another sigh, squeezing Lady Madeline’s hands. “I do not want to tell you the truth of my considerations, but neither do I want to hide it from you,” she finished. “I think that Lord Chesterfield is a changeable sort, who does his best to hide his true nature from everyone around him, including you. For whatever reason, I saw a little of it this evening, and what I did see not only angered me, but greatly upset me also.”