How to Claim a Governess’s Heart - Bridget Barton Page 0,90

not even give me the time of day,” Lord John accused back.

“So what? Now you are going to claim that you somehow passed yourself off as a woman to get your manuscript accepted. How do I know you are even this supposed Constance Brown?”

“I am not Constance Brown,” Lord John replied smugly. “Miss Thatcher is.”

All three pairs of eyes fell on Bridget as she reached for the remaining page of the document. Standing up, she tried to right her dress. She would have liked to tug down her sleeves, but she was not currently wearing her jacket. Instead, she handed the documents back to Lord John and did her best to look confident.

“It’s true. Lord John told me he found out that the publishing houses were bribed to ignore his manuscript.”

“Bribed? Really? What if someone saw you and questioned what you were doing?” The dowager scolded under her breath.

“I used my mother’s maiden name and took his novel to the publishing agent. I did claim it was my own, but I can assure you that it is Lord John’s work that they heartily accepted. Your brother has real talent,” Bridget directed at the duke. “You may not agree with what he does, but he does it well, isn’t that enough?”

“So there you see,” Lord John said quickly. “Two witnesses that it is my novel that has been accepted by the publishing agent. I have won the bet. I am entitled to the full sum of my inheritance.”

The duke opened his mouth to retort with veins pulsing at his temple. Before he spoke a word, however, Lord John interrupted.

“I should warn you whether you accept your defeat and the conditions of our agreement, it matters little. The agent has also offered to cover the total cost of publishing and has already expressed a desire for a second novel. Though the funds are rightly mine, you will not prevent me by holding them from me.”

“Then why even call us here?” the duke said, throwing his hands in the air. “If you don’t need the money, then why even go through the trouble to try and prove to me that this is supposedly you. And don’t think that I trust your word or the word of a governess,” he added quickly.

Bridget flamed with indignation at the mention of her. She had never done anything to him or his family to warrant distrust.

“The funds may not go towards a publishing commission, but I do require them. I plan to use them to secure housing for myself, Betsy, and my new wife in the country where I may continue my writing.”

“Wife?” The dowager blanched.

“Yes, Mother. I have asked Miss Thatcher to marry me, and she has accepted,” he said, looking from his mother to Bridget.

Bridget was suddenly wishing that Lord John had given her a little warning that he was planning on revealing all of this before it happened. However, she knew him well enough to remember that when something excited him, he often forgot to look ahead at the consequences.

The duke let out a long mean laugh before sitting back in his seat.

“You want the funds to secure yourself and marry and keep that child? All right. You’re absolutely right. I gave my word, we struck a deal, and much to my surprise, you have won. I will have my solicitor transfer the funds immediately.”

Bridget stared awestruck at the things the duke was saying. She couldn’t understand how he would suddenly become so agreeable and seem to be laughing all the while. That was until the dowager spoke up.

“You will do no such thing! John, I forbid you to keep the girl, and I forbid you to marry her!” she pointed a long sharp finger at Bridget.

“Money or not,” Lord John said softly, “we will be married.”

He took Bridget’s hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

“She has bewitched you. She will see you ruined. How would you live without your family's support? She would turn you into a commoner just as she is. I will not stand for it in my family!”

“Bridget has not bewitched me,” Lord John chuckled at the stupidity of it all.

“I don’t know. I was once told any man willing to give up everything for a woman must certainly be under a spell,” the duke chimed in as he nibbled on a crumpet.

He was suddenly relaxed and if Bridget didn’t know better, enjoying the situation. She wondered if he was just glad to not be the one their mother’s indignation was focused

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