“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.”
Lady Madeline nodded slowly, the hope fading in her eyes and her lips pulling taut. She looked over Bridgette’s shoulder to where Bridgette assumed Lord Chesterfield was standing, her expression somewhat crestfallen.
“I am sorry,” Bridgette murmured, now wishing that she had not said a word — only for Lady Madeline to squeeze her hand, draw in a breath and give herself a slight shake.
“Not at all,” she said, firmly. “I am glad to know it. Thank you for being so honest with me, Bridgette.”