“Richard would never do anything improper,” Lucy insisted. “I promise you.”
“He is in love with her,” Kate said.
Gregory said nothing. Vindication had never fe
lt less sweet.
Lucy looked from Kate to Gregory, her expression almost bordering on panic. “No,” she whispered. “No, you’re wrong.”
“I’m not wrong,” Kate said in a serious voice. “And we need to find them. Quickly.”
She turned and immediately strode toward the door. Gregory followed, his long legs keeping pace with ease. Lady Lucinda seemed momentarily frozen, and then, jumping into action, she scurried after them both. “He would never do anything against Hermione’s will,” she said urgently. “I promise you.”
Kate stopped. Turned around. Looked at Lucy, her expression frank and perhaps a little sad as well, as if she recognized that the younger woman was, in that moment, losing a bit of her innocence and that she, Kate, regretted having to be the one to deliver the blow.
“He might not have to,” Kate said quietly.
Force her. Kate didn’t say it, but the words hung in the air all the same.
“He might not have—What do you—”
Gregory saw the moment she realized it. Her eyes, always so changeable, had never looked more gray.
Stricken.
“We have to find them,” Lucy whispered.
Kate nodded, and the three of them silently left the room.
Ten
In which love is triumphant—but not for Our Hero and Heroine.
Lucy followed Lady Bridgerton and Gregory into the hallway, trying to stem the anxiety she felt building within her. Her belly felt queer, her breath not quite right.
And her mind wouldn’t quite clear. She needed to focus on the matter at hand. She knew she needed to give her full attention to the search, but it felt as if a portion of her mind kept pulling away—dizzy, panicked, and unable to escape a horrible sense of foreboding.
Which she did not understand. Didn’t she want Hermione to marry her brother? Hadn’t she just told Mr. Bridgerton that the match, while improbable, would be superb? Hermione would be her sister in name, not just in feeling, and Lucy could not imagine anything more fitting. But still, she felt…
Uneasy.
And a little bit angry as well.
And guilty. Of course. Because what right did she have to feel angry?
“We should search separately,” Mr. Bridgerton directed, once they had turned several corners, and the sounds of the masked ball had receded into the distance. He yanked off his mask, and the two ladies followed suit, leaving all three on a small lamp table that was tucked into a recessed nook in the hallway.
Lady Bridgerton shook her head. “We can’t. You certainly can’t find them by yourself,” she said to him. “I don’t wish to even ponder the consequences of Miss Watson being alone with two unmarried gentlemen.”
Not to mention his reaction, Lucy thought. Mr. Bridgerton struck her as an even-tempered man; she wasn’t sure that he could come across the pair alone without thinking he had to spout off about honor and the defense of virtue, which always led to disaster. Always. Although given the depth of his feelings for Hermione, his reaction might be a little less honor and virtue and a little more jealous rage.
Even worse, while Mr. Bridgerton might lack the ability to shoot a straight bullet, Lucy had no doubt that he could blacken an eye with lethal speed.
“And she can’t be alone,” Lady Bridgerton continued, motioning in Lucy’s direction. “It’s dark. And empty. The gentlemen are wearing masks, for heaven’s sake. It does loosen the conscience.”
“I wouldn’t know where to look, either,” Lucy added. It was a large house. She’d been there nearly a week, but she doubted she’d seen even half of it.
“We shall remain together,” Lady Bridgerton said firmly.