That evening, Bridget stood studying her reflection in the cheval mirror of her dressing room. Her figure hadn’t changed at all over the years. Other women may have considered that a blessing, but to her, it was a sign of failure. Her inability to provide Rupert with a son had eventually torn their marriage apart. And then he had become cruel.
There was a slight hint of crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, but that was to be expected. Time never stood still.
“Not exactly how I expected to be making my formal reentry into polite society,” she whispered.
Instead of appearing on Tristan’s arm at the opera and then doing her best to retreat quietly into the background, she was going to a party with Sir Stephen Moore while on the hunt to unmask a blackmailer.
She had chosen a dark green silk gown for the occasion. It was the closest thing she had to black. Respectable widows made their reentry into society with slow, measured steps, knowing that each one would be noted and judged.
A rap at the door saw her maid enter the room. “Lady Bridget, Sir Stephen Moore has arrived and is waiting in the foyer.”
Bridget nodded. “Please tell him I shall be down shortly.”
Alone again, she turned back to the mirror, grateful that her calm exterior did not betray her feelings of apprehension. What if they didn’t succeed in finding the person who was trying to destroy her family? Or worse still, if they did and the blackmailer felt threatened enough that they made good on their promise to take their accusations against Lady Linton public.
I must trust Stephen. This is not the first time he has dealt with such a situation.
After picking up her evening shawl from a nearby chair, Bridget took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. Fearful or not, she was going to do everything she could to defend her family.
There was movement on the staircase, and Stephen glanced up. The vision of loveliness which met his gaze had him staring in wonder.
Lady Bridget Dyson was a rare creature. She stirred strange emotions within him, ones he couldn’t quite discern. There was lust, obviously. A man would have to be half-dead not to react to such a beautiful woman. But there was definitely something else.
What is it that you do to me?
He shook himself from his musings as Bridget reached the ground floor. Stepping forward, he dipped into a low bow. “Lady Bridget. You look absolutely divine.”
A smiling Bridget met his gaze as he righted himself. “I was about to say the same thing of you, Sir Stephen. I honestly don’t think I know a single man in all the ton who can do justice to an evening jacket the same way you do.”
He chuckled. “The skills of a good tailor. It is all in the cut of the cloth. Underneath all this, I am actually four feet three and slight of figure.”
When Bridget laughed at his jest, Stephen’s heart swelled. He hadn’t been lying when he told her he was looking forward to spending time in her company. Tonight, had been on his mind all day.
She took his offered arm, and they walked toward the door. Bridget leaned in and whispered, “Someday you will have to show me what is under your jacket.”
Not while you are still a client. But if we can unmask the blackmailer, who knows. I am sorely tempted.
He could offer her a private liaison, but nothing more. Unlike Harry, he wouldn’t do anything rash like falling for his client. Or heaven forbid—marry her.
A short, passionate affair could be just what the enticing widow needed to set her back into society. And Stephen was more than willing to be the man for the job.