“Bloody stubborn woman and her ridiculous demands.”
Fancy expecting him to live under the same roof as her and raise a family. Hadn’t he made his position on the subject clear enough? The marriage settlements were in black and white. Even the details of where Toby would live had been covered by the lawyers.
Nothing, however, had prepared him for this sudden change of plans. Bridget had pulled the veritable rug out from under him.
She sent me away. I didn’t even get a wedding night.
Stephen lifted the bottle of whisky to his lips and took a long drink. He was alone up on the weather deck of the Night Wind, watching as the English shore disappeared into the darkness. He had barely been a husband for a full day, and his marriage was already effectively in name only.
His arm dropped, and the bottle fell onto the deck with a large thud. He didn’t bother attempting to pick it up, rather he sat and stared as the whisky flowed out and over the side of the yacht.
“I should have stayed and demanded my conjugal rights,” he muttered.
He was angry and frustrated. And to make matters worse, even in his half-drunken state, there was only one person whom he could blame. Himself.
Bridget wanted a real marriage—to have their baby born into a functioning family. And she was set on demanding that he played his part.
What even is that?
His only experience of family was that of a twisted caricature, something that if you stared long and hard enough at it, you could just discern the outline of a blood connection. Nothing more.
“I thought I might find you up here, drowning your sorrows.”
Stephen lifted his gaze in the direction of the voice. Gus stood, hands on hips, staring at him. A look of great disappointment sat on his face.
“If you have come to judge me, you can sod off. I wasn’t the one who forced me to sail with you. You should take that up with my wife,” replied Stephen.
Gus dropped beside him and picked up the empty bottle. He shook his head.
“I thought you gave things enough of a nudge last night in the coach on the road to Moore Manor. Let that be your last drink until after we have got the shipment of brandy and are headed home from France.” There was an edge to Gus’s words, one which Stephen didn’t like. He sensed something was wrong.
Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Are you expecting trouble?”
The rogues of the road didn’t lie to one another when it came to matters of life and death. It was a firm policy to which they all stuck.
“Possibly. There is a new gang operating out of Lamballe a few miles inland from the coast. Former French soldiers who, according to our friend Armand La Roche, have a number of the local authorities in their service. They are led by a man named Vincent Marec, and from what I hear, he is not to be underestimated. I am not sure how many more of these trips I am going to be able to undertake. I haven’t told any of you this before, but the last trip wasn’t without incident,” replied Gus.
Stephen sobered up somewhat at hearing this news. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Gus shrugged. “Harry and George have both been busy with their wives, Monsale his estate. And you seemed distracted after your father’s death. I figured a woman must be involved somewhere, and I was privately hoping you might have finally found love.”
Stephen stared hard at the deck; regretting having spilled the last of the whisky. This sort of conversation was difficult no matter what sort of state of sobriety he was in. Being drunk, however, would have made it a little easier.
I just wish I wasn’t feeling anything.
“You think I am wasting the opportunity that having Bridget in my life presents. Monsale has said much the same, though not in such polite terms.”
Gus chuckled. The Duke of Monsale was well known for his foul-mouthed, but still eloquent speeches. He was not one for mincing his words.
“I could tell you that how you live your life is none of my business. But then again, what sort of friend would I be if I did that? An important part of our long friendship has always been that we speak plainly with one another.”
“So, you are going to add to the chorus of opinion?” replied Stephen.
“No. I am going to ask you one question. I don’t want you to give me your answer—I just want you think. When we get back to London, you should go and talk to Bridget. She is the one who needs to hear your considered response, not me.”
Well-meaning friends were the worst. They were also exactly what Stephen needed. He had been stubbornly pushing people away, refusing their counsel.
And look where that has got you.
Stephen sighed, there was no point in delaying. “Alright, so what is the question?”
“You and Bridget have a connection. When the two of you were engaged in your affair, you were walking around like a love-struck fool. You didn’t see it, but we did. So, now that you have this woman as your wife and she is carrying your child, why on earth are you finding reasons to avoid her?”
Gus got to his feet and headed farther along the deck. He stopped to talk to the yacht’s captain, leaving Stephen alone with his thoughts.
Because I am in love with her, and I haven’t the foggiest notion as to how I am supposed to live that life. Or even if I am worthy.