Charming Miss Atherton

Epilogue

Epilogue

As expected, Baroness Cudley's masquerade ball was the sensation of the season. Not only did the hostess design the most unique party ever, but it was also the place where one could learn the latest ton gossip before it became common knowledge.

When pressed about the exclusivity of her event, Baroness Cudley was uncharacteristically modest. She did inform everyone smugly who dared to ask about next year's soiree that an invitation issued one year did not guarantee an invitation to the next.

Since the ball, Baroness Cudley's residence had a constant slew of callers from those desperate to gain her favor as well as those who wish to remain in it. Many who felt the Baroness's manners were coarse and beneath them had even condescended to be friendly, proving yet again that her power and influence extended far beyond the confines of her rank.

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Meanwhile, the entire English countryside was on fire spreading the word about the new Duchess of Derby. Invitations of all kinds flooded the foyer of Chesilton Hall respectfully requesting the audiences of Lord and Lady Derby. Bridget was overwhelmed by the amount of public support that their union generated. Everywhere she went people tipped their hats and tried to engage her in pleasant conversation.

The sudden change in public opinion shocked Bridget. It was disconcerting to see how fickle people could be. When news of her so-called indiscretion reached the public, Bridget had very few friends. And now, she had more than she could count on one hand. It was strange to see the sudden change in people who had declared to hate and despise her, now professed to be an admirer. She owed much of the change to her husband's popularity and rank - which he humbly denied whenever she brought it up.

Despite feeling vindicated, Bridget wondered what had become of Mr. Briggs. She had expected him to confront her after the marriage announcement, but he was nowhere to be found. In fact, no one had seen or heard from Mr. Briggs, Lady Ellen, or Miss Daphne Smythe since the evening of Baroness Cudley's ball. It would be months before Bridget would learn what happened to them and grant her the closure that she so desperately yearned for.

Bridget's face darkened with intense concentration. The ball of yarn wrapped around the long ivory knitting needles looked like a spiky snowflake. Still, Bridget was not quite ready to admit defeat. A low amused chuckle coming from the direction of the door alerted Bridget that she was being observed. She immediately tucked the needlework in the large wicker basket by her chair and pulled her book from its hiding place. She looked up and her face brightened as Ripley entered the library. He studied her with a mocking expression.

Even after seven months of marriage, she was hard-pressed not to blush when Ripley gazed upon her with his striking blue eyes. She outstretched her arms to him in welcome. He approached treading lightly on the ancient, but well cared for, Persian carpet that lined the wooden floors of Bridget's favorite sanctuary. Ripley knelt before Bridget and gingerly placed a hand on her swollen belly. Bridget smiled the knowing smile of an expecting mother and covered Ripley's hand reassuringly with her own. He looked up at her, a slight frown darkening his eyes. Bridget laughed and her eyes sparkled. She knew precisely what he was thinking without having to actually say the words.

"How easily frustrated you are," she murmured lovingly.

Ripley's frown upturned into a sheepish smile. "Can you blame me? The baby goes quiet when I am near."

Bridget cupped Ripley's face with her small hands. "She will speak to you soon."

Ripley glanced up at his wife, amusement dancing in his eyes. "She?"

Bridget shrugged nonchalantly. "Everyone wishes their firstborn to be male. I understand why., it's important to have an heir The only problem with that is that it puts a lot of pressure on the wife to birth the more desirable sex. So I thought, why not hope for the other? That way, if it be a girl, we are already prepared to welcome her arrival. And if the baby is born a boy, then we'll be pleasantly surprised."

Ripley laughed. "You are incredible, Lady Derby."

Bridget reached for her husband's hand and pressed it to the hollow of her cheek endearingly. After everything that he had done for her, the sacrifices that he had made, it was strange for her to hear him call her incredible. He obviously did not see himself as clearly as she did. And it still made her breath catch when Ripley looked at her in that special way.

Ripley stroked her cheek with his thumb. "What are you thinking?" he asked tenderly.

Bridget smiled against the light pressure of his hand. "I was thinking that I must have done something good to deserve you."

Ripley leaned closer, enabling Bridget to catch a whiff of his woody masculine scent. "You have," he murmured silkily, his voice as smooth as liquid gold to her ears. He pulled away a fraction to gaze into his wife's honey-brown colored eyes. "You do good every day."

"Not every day," Bridget replied sourly.

Ripley smiled and traced a circle on her inner arm. "The tenants might disagree."

Bridget offered a half smile. She had been spending a lot of time bringing baskets of food to the needy and caring for the sick.

"A letter came for you today," Ripley said suddenly. "But I am reluctant to give it to you. I do not wish you to become distressed in your condition."

Bridget rolled her eyes. "Do not be silly. A letter could not cause me any harm."

Ripley pulled a piece of fine parchment from his pocket and studied it skeptically. "I am not as confident as you."

"Who is it from?"

"I cannot be certain but the wax seal bears the Manchester family crest."

Bridget held out her hand. "Please."

Ripley fingered the letter before surrendering it to his wife.

Bridget reached into her wicker basket and plucked one of her knitting needles from its hiding place to break the wax seal. The letter was a few weeks old, sent from abroad.

Your Grace,

Please accept my sincerest compliments to you and your husband on the occasion of your marriage. Lord Derby is a fine man. And I am certain that his wife and partner are of the same quality. Although you and I have only met briefly, and under less-than-pleasant circumstances, I have always felt that we could be friends.

And as a friend, I felt it my duty to make the necessary apologies to you on behalf of my late husband, Mr. Briggs. I was young and naïve when I married my late husband. I did not realize until it was too late that my husband was of a jealous and callous nature. He made my life miserable. I accepted my lot believing it to be my punishment for making such a foolish match.

Were he still alive, I might have never learned that he was responsible for the public humiliation that you endured prior to marrying His Grace. It was not until he was cold in his grave that my cousin, Miss Daphne Smythe, confessed everything.

To explain, my husband had taken a fancy to my cousin last season. Daphne always had numerous admirers so she did not think much of it. As it was, she had her heart set on marrying Lord Ripley. But when you and Lord Ripley arrived in Town together after your unfortunate accident in Reigate, Daphne realized that her chances to marry Lord Ripley's heart were uncertain because of his building interest in you. It was then that my husband offered to create a scandal about you in exchange for her favor. You know the rest that followed.

I can only say that I am sincerely sorry for any pain that my husband's actions have caused you. I hope that by informing you of his death, you will be comforted in learning that he no longer has the power to inflict pain upon others. And as far as my cousin, for her involvement, her family has had her exiled to the Americas.

I only hope in time that you both can find it in your hearts to forgive us. Until then, I remain yours faithfully.

Lady Ellen