Chapter Ten

Bridget immediately tensed. She did not take lectures easily, especially when they were about her behavior and came from her pompous guardian. Deciding an offense was better than a defense, she went on the attack. “I refuse to be lectured regarding Lord Chadwick. I believe I handled the situation quite well myself.”

“Is that so?” His brows rose, but he said no more.

“Yes. I put an end to his pawing and left him writhing on the ground in pain.” She raised her chin and regarded him.

“And then what?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You said you handled it quite well. However, when I found you, you were completely turned around, with a torn bodice, and no idea how to remove yourself from the gardens without causing a scandal.”

“I would have thought of something.”

The smirk on his handsome face was his only answer. “Seeing that your attempt to distract me has failed, may I now proceed to remind you of a few things with regard to Society?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

His smirk turned to seriousness. “You may relax. I do not intend to lecture you, Bridget. You are a woman grown, and I am sure, in most circumstances in your life you’ve been able to take care of yourself. However, just as I would no more drop you into a den of wolves—the animal kind—without the proper protection, pushing you into an unfamiliar life in London among men who are desperate for wealthy wives, or just a good—” He ran his palm down his face. “I just need to point out that what you did was reckless and could have ended up with you married to that despicable man.”

“First of all, no matter what happened, I would never marry Chadwick. Second, I didn’t go with him to the garden on purpose, believe me. He had escorted me to the Prince’s Pavilion to enjoy the fireworks. After they had ended, he extended his arm to accompany me again, and I assumed we were returning to the supper boxes.”

“Which is precisely why I have already spoken to your chaperone.”

They both looked over to the now lightly snoring Mrs. Dressel.

“A proper chaperone would never have allowed the situation to occur. I know you are fond of Mrs. Dressel, but I am afraid she is useless as a companion for a young lady in Society.”

“Hopefully, you did not tell her that.”

“No. I would not hurt her feelings, but we must consider hiring someone else and possibly pensioning Mrs. Dressel off.”

They both sat silently for a few moments.

Cam cleared his throat. “Also, you should never trust a man you don’t know or already have doubts about.” He leaned forward and reached across the space, taking her hands in his. “Even though you are at the great age of one and twenty years, you are a babe when it comes to the intricacies of Society.”

“I hate Society. I never wanted to be a part of it. I managed to avoid it for three years.” To her dismay, her eyes filled with tears. “Please stop this compromise you offered and just leave me be for the next eighteen months until I inherit my father’s money.”

Cam leaned back in his seat and sighed. “Ah, if only I could do that, Bridget. Even if I were dishonorable enough to turn my back on my duties as a guardian, what would you do with yourself until you turned three and twenty? You cannot be involved in your project without the protection of a man while you wander the streets of London, helping abused women. Either a husband or a guardian would have to be involved.”

“But you said you would help me.”

He grinned. “And I will, since you have managed to interest me in ill-treated women’s plight. However, that was the contingency of my compromise. I would help you if you made an effort to find a man you could tolerate over the breakfast table.”

She raised her chin with all the dignity of a queen. “So we are back to that again?”

“I’m afraid so. I know you to be a person of honor, so I have no doubt that you will hold up your end of the bargain. But on another note, here is something to cheer you up. We have been invited to a house party in the country at the estate of Lord and Lady Banfield. There will be men for you to look over, horses to ride, games to play, and picnics in the woods.”

“Hmm. Suppose I skip over the men to look over and spend my time riding? I haven’t had a good run since I arrived in England.” She loved the frustrated look on his face. She actually liked the man and loved more than anything to tease him and give him trouble. Someone as stiff and rigid as Lord Campbell needed to be poked every once in a while. She was more than happy to fill that role.

“There you have it. Something to keep you happy while you hold up your part of the bargain.”

“Ah, yes. The bargain. I get what I want, and you get what you want, is that correct?” She hoped her mischievous smile gave him a sleepless night.

…

Toward the end of the afternoon, two days later, Cam’s carriage rolled to a stop in front of Banfield Manor. It had been a tedious one-day drive; the distance not being so great to allow for an overnight stay.

Bridget had spent most of the time either working on her cursed embroidery that she was no good at or gazing out the window. She couldn’t read while she rode. It made her nauseous.

The scenery had been splendid, the trees all turning a beautiful orange, red, and yellow. Autumn was her favorite time of the year. It also felt wonderful to be away from the city. She didn’t know how people remained there year after year.

She would take the country any time. The air was cleaner and smelled better, and the view was certainly nicer on the eyes. While she desperately missed the peaks and valleys of Scotland, the English countryside was beautiful in its own way, with its rolling hills dotted with grazing sheep.

A footman immediately opened the carriage door, allowing Cam to step out. He turned to assist her out of the vehicle.

“Welcome to Banfield Manor.” Lady Banfield approached them, her hands extended. “I am so happy you were able to join us.”

Bridget had met the woman at another event and found her to be quite pleasant. She and her husband, while not a love match, had obviously grown fond of each other over the years. She was plump and cheerful to his tall, angular frame.

Lord Banfield strode up beside his wife. “Good to see you, Cam. Not used to you tolerating these things.”

Cam smiled. “Quite so. I used to make it a point to avoid the marriage-minded mamas.”

Lord Banfield tossed his head back and laughed. “But here you are now.”

Cam turned to Bridget, took her hand, and placed it on his arm. “Yes, well my ward needs to enjoy some pleasant events, with her exposure to London Society being so limited.”

“I understand you are Scottish, my lady.” Lord Banfield regarded her as if he expected her to whip out a tartan and drape it over her body. Except she was from the Lowlands, where kilts were not an everyday staple as they were in the Highlands now that they were no longer outlawed.

“Yes, I am, my lord.” She wanted to add and proud to be, but decided, in the name of gracious guest manners, she would bypass the comment.

“Well, then. Welcome to our home, and Lady Banfield will be happy to see you to your chambers.” He addressed Cam. “Please join us in the drawing room after you are settled. Several of the guests have gathered there for tea and drinks.”

Bridget and Cam followed Lady Banfield into the house and up the stairs. Bridget got only a mere glimpse of the entry hall, which seemed large, airy, and invitingly decorated. Once at the top, they turned to the right and trooped behind Lady Banfield down a lengthy corridor, past several closed doors. She stopped at one on the left. “This is your chamber, Cam. Lady Bridget’s is farther down in the women’s section.”

They left Cam to clean the road dust from the trip, and Bridget and Lady Banfield proceeded to a door on the right side. “And this is your chamber, Lady Bridget. I hope you are comfortable here. I believe your lady’s maid has already unpacked some of your things.”

“Thank you. You are very kind.”

Lady Banfield nodded. “Please join us for tea when you are settled. Unless you prefer a sleep-in before dinner. If you’d like to join us, merely ask any one of the footmen to show you where we are.”

“Thank you once again.”

Bridget turned to take in the room. A nice size, the chamber had pale-rose and green window coverings and bed hangings. The rose carpet under her feet was plush and matched the paint on the upper part of the wall, with wainscoting on the bottom.

“Will you be changing for tea, milady?” Fiona shook out one of her gowns and placed it on a shelf in the armoire.

“Yes. I would love to get out of this gown. If there is something not wrinkled, I will don that one and refresh myself before joining the others.”

After Fiona unfastened and removed her gown to find something for her to change into, Bridget moved to the window and looked out at the expanse of Banfield Estate. Even though she was expected to “look over” the men at the party for a potential husband, she was happy to be here, with the smell of the country air, fresh grass, and the light scent from the stables coming in through the window.

She turned to Fiona. “You did bring my breeches, did you not?”

…

The next morning, Cam strode from Banfield Manor, heading to the Viscount’s renowned stables for a morning ride. He breathed in the cool, crisp air, remembering how much he enjoyed the country. After the bill to help the veterans passed, he would retire to the country for a while and spend the time there occupying his hours as a gentleman farmer. A role he relished more and more each year.

Perhaps I am getting old.

Somehow, the life he’d planned did not seem as appealing as it once had. In his push for Bridget to marry to avoid a lonely old age, he’d begun to question his own decision not to do that very thing.

He surely didn’t object to having a warm, willing woman in his bed every night—someone like Bridget, he was annoyed to acknowledge—but he refused to reproduce. He still wanted his bit of revenge on the man who had revered his title above all else. Also, the fact that he did not seem to have his father’s nastiness had never been a strong enough reason to dissuade him from remaining childless.

Until recently.

Shoving those uncomfortable thoughts to the back of his mind, he entered the stable to choose a horse to ride. He’d promised to meet Bridget, who was anxious to race through the countryside, as she’d put it.

He was finishing tacking Delphi, the horse he’d chosen, when Bridget arrived at the stables, and Cam almost swallowed his tongue. “What the devil are you wearing?”

She looked down at her body, covered in a man’s shirt and breeches that outlined every single curve of her arse and legs. All the blood left his head and proceeded to his lower parts.

“Go change into something appropriate.” He turned quickly, not wanting to torture himself further.

“What? We’ve been through this before, my lord, you will not dictate to me how to dress.”

He turned back and had to grit his teeth to suppress the urge to grab a blanket from the tack room and throw it over her before anyone else entered the stable.

“Lady Bridget, ladies do not ride in breeches. You surely have a proper riding outfit that will accommodate a sidesaddle nicely. Please go change into it. I am asking, not ordering.”

“I don’t have a riding habit. And I don’t ride sidesaddle.”

Good Lord, the situation was worse than he thought. “You ride astride?” Although he’d heard rumors of a few ladies of the ton—the more daring ones whose husbands seemed to dote on them—known to ride astride, he’d never seen such a sight.

She nodded, her cute little chin sticking out. “That would be correct. I never learned to ride sidesaddle and I am of the opinion that it is stupid and dangerous.”

Cam ran his palm down his face. “This is unbelievable.”

“Nevertheless, I intend to ride this morning. If you do not wish to be seen with the likes of me, I will go alone—”

“You will not go alone. These are unfamiliar grounds, and you could very well get lost or into some other type of trouble.” The woman caused him more indigestion than a spicy meal.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you ridden here before, Lord Arrogant?”

Ignoring her insult, he answered. “No.”

She smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you concerned about getting lost or into trouble?”

“Of course not. That’s ridiculous.”

“Why is it a ridiculous scenario for you to get lost or into trouble, but an issue for me?”

His jaw tightened to the point where he thought it might snap. “You. Are. A. Woman.”

Her eyes flashed and she leaned forward, her fisted hands again at her waist. “I. Know. That.”

“Excuse me, my lord, will the lady be requiring a mount?” The stable groom looked between the two of them glaring at each other, his face bland, as a good servant’s should be.

Cam was tempted to forbid the groom to tack a horse for her, but Bridget was not the sort of person to accept his edict and return to the house. In fact, based on the look on her face, he was afraid she was about to swing her fist at him.

Bloody nuisance of a woman.

Since it was quite probable others would be arriving soon for a morning ride—most likely men, because most proper ladies remained abed with their chocolate until mid-morning—he decided it was best to get her away from the house and off where she would not be seen. “Yes. The young lady will be requiring a mount.”

Bridget brushed past him. “I should like to choose my own horse, if you please.”

Cam dropped his head. “Of course she does.”

At last, they rode peaceably side by side toward a large acreage behind a field of fruit trees. Banfield had a productive and well-tended estate. Looking around, Cam felt a bit of unease at the neglect of his own estate. He really needed to spend more time there. The regular reports from his land steward were encouraging, but a man needed to see for himself how things were proceeding. Plus, the construction on his bathing room should have started by now, and he wanted to view the progress.

Without saying a word, Bridget kicked her horse’s sides and took off. Cam grinned and chased after her. They cantered through the field, the sun warm on their backs, the air pleasantly scented with autumn foliage.

“Let’s take that wall.” Bridget pointed to a stone wall about half a mile distant.

“That seems a bit high,” he shouted back.

She rolled her eyes. “Are you afraid you’ll fall, my lord?”

He hadn’t meant the height was a problem for him, but for her. She seemed to enjoy placing herself in precarious situations. She must have been quite a trial for her father. He was beginning to understand why the man had thought she needed a guardian. “No. I am not afraid, but you are not familiar with that horse,” he hollered as they continued to race toward the barrier.

Cam held back a bit to watch Bridget as she sailed over the wall. Shaking his head, he followed her over, then rode the distance to where she had slowed her horse to a trot and then a walk to cool him off.

“Very impressive, Bridget. But still foolhardy.”

She patted her horse’s neck and snorted a very unladylike sound that caused him to smile. “On my father’s estate I used to take jumps riding bareback.”

He felt his face pale at her confession. “Your father allowed you to ride that way?”

“He didn’t know. Our stable master taught me to ride and used to look the other way when I would jump on my horse without a saddle.” She sighed and looked out at the grounds. “I do miss Scotland.”

They picked up a trot again and headed toward the village, tucked away in a valley, looking peaceful and serene.

“Isn’t that lovely?” Bridget turned to him, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling with happiness. Ignoring the scene in front of them, he instead watched her, trying very hard to keep his eyes on her face and not travel down to her bouncing breasts and glorious legs.

“Indeed, it is.”

“But ’tis not Scotland.” There was definite sadness in her tone, and her expression changed.

“Do you miss it so very much?” He hated the desolate look on her face and tried to understand. He’d never thought about being uprooted from his home and deposited in another country. Of course she would miss her homeland. Watching her touched him in a place he’d kept well-hidden for years. He wasn’t even sure if there was a word for it and didn’t want to examine it too much, anyway.

They continued their ride and after about ten minutes, they turned the horses and headed back. “Let’s take the wall again,” Bridget said.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. You were lucky the first time.”

“Lucky? I just told you how experienced I am at jumping.”

He immediately regretted his words. The worst way to discourage Bridget from doing anything was to allude to a lack of skill.

Without another word, she threw him a pointed look and barreled toward the wall, taking the horse over with grace, then flying off the saddle, into the air, as the horse landed.

“Bridget!” Cam raced to where she had fallen and jumped from his horse. He went down on one knee next to her, his heart thumping. “Are you well?”

The annoying chit was holding her middle, rolling on the ground, and laughing.

Laughing!

His heart had traveled to his throat when he saw her sail through the air. He stood and bent to pull her up by her forearms, right into his face. “You little fool. You could have been killed.”

He shook her, the smile still on her face, her breath coming in gasps, her eyes snapping with humor and life. Before he gave a thought to what he was doing, he crushed her against his chest and covered her mouth with his.