Chapter Thirteen

Lord and Lady Banfield were holding a ball to end the house party. Gentry from the surrounding area had been invited, and they would arrive after the final dinner for the houseguests.

Cam glanced down the table at Bridget, who sat between Lord Melrose and Mr. Trentham. She appeared to be enjoying herself, despite having confessed to him on their morning ride that although she dearly loved the country, she was more than ready to return to London and get away from the “gossiping magpies.”

He’d been taken aback by the skill Bridget had displayed at the hunt the day before. She had every reason to be proud of her ability. The more time he spent in her company, the more difficult it became for him to think of a man suitable for her. The woman had a great deal to bring to a marriage in addition to her fortune.

He ran over in his mind the men who’d shown interest in her so far. Too somber, too eager, too odorous, too cold, too obnoxious, or the worst of all, too overbearing. He used to think if he found anyone willing to take her off his hands, he would be more than happy to sign the marriage contracts.

Then he got to know her, and every man whom he’d considered was simply not good enough. He wanted a man who wouldn’t stifle her enthusiasm for life, but at the same time protect the woman from herself. She also needed a man who would gladly work with her on her project. Someone who would cherish her character and encourage her kindness and caring for others. Someone who would not mind passing on all the Season’s events that Bridget so disliked and would spend time in the countryside that she loved.

Someone who would approve of breeches on a woman and enjoy the sight of her shooting and riding astride. Someone who would grow to love her.

Someone like me.

The thought rattled him to his core. He would never marry, which was precisely why he needed to reconsider some of the men he’d dismissed. Perhaps one or two of them were not so terrible after all.

The dinner came to an end, and with the ball beginning shortly, Lady Banfield passed on the usual custom of the women having tea in the drawing room, so both the men and women left the dining area to gather in the ballroom.

Davenport headed in Bridget’s direction, and Cam followed. As far as he knew this was the first time he’d approached her since the house party had begun. He was thankful he’d warned Bridget about Davenport’s interest, or she might have spat in his face right there in their hosts’ ballroom.

“Good evening, my dear. Don’t you look lovely?” Even the sound of his voice set Cam’s teeth on edge.

“My lord.” Bridget executed a barely acceptable curtsy, which Davenport seemed not to notice, since he smiled brightly at her.

Bridget glanced at Cam, but he shook his head slightly. If they did things his way, he would destroy Davenport much better than anything Bridget could do.

“I would be most honored if you stand up with me.” He leaned in closer, and Bridget eased back.

Instead of answering him, she stuck her arm out with the small white card and pencil dangling from her wrist. “No waltz, please. They have already been promised.”

“How unfortunate.” He took the pencil and wrote his name next to a cotillion.

“If you will excuse me, my lord, I see Lady Banfield is searching for me.” Bridget hurried off before Davenport could notice that Lady Banfield was deep in conversation with Mrs. Breakstone and not searching for anyone.

“I would like to arrange an interview when we return to London, Campbell. I want to get this proposal moving.”

Yes, time to kill another wife.

Cam attempted a smile, which he was sure came out more like the distaste he felt. “Excellent.” He slapped Davenport on the back, almost sending him to the floor. “Bring around your financial records Tuesday next. Say, ten o’clock. I will have my man of business and solicitor with me.”

“Yes, indeed.” He moved closer to Cam. “I understand the chit comes with a bit of blunt herself.”

Bloody hell, he wanted to punch the man in the jaw. But this was a better way. When he was through with Davenport, he would have to leave London, possibly even England, in disgrace.

“I will discuss my ward’s financial situation during our interview. Now if you will excuse me, I believe the music is about to begin, and I must fetch Lady Bridget for our dance.”

As he turned to walk away, Davenport grabbed his arm. “I’m a little concerned about your attachment to my future wife. I don’t want to be marrying the gel and find out she’s already in a family way. You know what I mean?”

If he weren’t so determined—now more than ever—to ruin Davenport, he would drag the cretin outside and pummel him until there was nothing left but scraps. Instead, Cam took a deep breath and yanked his arm free. “No need to worry, Davenport.”

He stalked off in Bridget’s direction. Rather than a dance, what he needed was a round of boxing at Gentleman Jackson’s.

“What is wrong?” Bridget asked. Cam took her hand and walked her to the dance floor as the music began.

“Davenport.”

“I saw you speaking with him. What did he say that upset you?”

He looked down at her upturned face, and something very strange happened to his insides. Even though it was all a farce, the mere thought of the likes of Davenport putting his hands on Bridget in any way at all, but especially in bed, brought out a protectiveness he’d never felt before. This was not good.

“It truly doesn’t matter what Davenport says. Nothing uttered from his despicable mouth is worth noting.” He moved them into a turn and pulled her closer to avoid crashing into another couple. He didn’t release her. It felt too good having her in his arms, so close to his body.

The sweet smell of lemon and lavender drifted from her hair. She was warm, soft, and all woman. Too much of a prize for her to accept just anyone. He must be exceedingly careful of the men who wished to pay her court.

“I think after we return to London, we should view the second property my man of business found for your women.”

Bridget grinned, her eyes lighting up. “Yes. That would be wonderful. I do want to proceed with the purchase of a building. It will most likely take some time to make it habitable. I fear some of the women who would benefit from it might be dead by their husbands’ hands before we can harbor them.”

“We shall leave early in the morning and reach London after dinnertime. I will dispatch a note to Dunston first thing the following morning and a note to you on the day and time for our perusal of the property.”

When the dance ended, Cam took Bridget’s hand and placed it on his arm. “I think a stroll about the gardens would be nice. I find it is quite warm in here.”

“Yes. A very good idea.”

What wasn’t a good idea was walking away from the main garden area and stepping up into the gazebo, hidden among a copse of trees. They sat side by side, enjoying the cool night air.

Bridget ran her hands up and down her arms.

“Are you chilly?”

“A bit.”

Cam shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

…

Bridget inhaled deeply as she was immediately surrounded by warmth and the spicy scent of Cam’s jacket. She tugged the sides together. “Goodness, this feels wonderful.”

“Perhaps we should return inside?”

“No. I find it stifling in ballrooms.” She grinned. “In fact, I find it stifling just about anywhere except outdoors. I do so love the countryside. Once I have my house for women well established, with a competent staff to see to their needs, I hope to purchase a house for myself in the country.” She grinned at him. “In Scotland.”

“Ah, but if you find the man of your dreams, you will be retiring to his estate in the English countryside, with no need to buy your own house.”

She sneered. “There is nothing dream-worthy about a man. Only nightmares.”

Cam laughed. “Surely you don’t believe that to be true?”

“Frankly, I never thought about it one way or another until Minerva’s marriage and subsequent troubles.” She shook her head and lowered her voice as if they could be heard. “You know he even tied her—naked—to the bed one time and left her there for a few days with the bedchamber window open. It was January.”

“Didn’t the staff question her absence?”

“He told them she was ill and only he was to attend her.”

“And they believed that? Even her lady’s maid?”

“When your paycheck depends upon it, you believe anything.”

Cam must have thought he’d mumbled the curse, but she heard it. “What brought on these events, did she ever say?”

“Minerva was unable to bear Davenport an heir. He blamed her for that and even told her if she didn’t produce a son within a year he would kill her and marry another.” Her lips quirked. “That is precisely what he is doing, is it not?”

Wishing to move beyond the sad story of her friend, she held the jacket closed as she pointed at the clear sky. “Look at that star. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yes. Beautiful.”

She turned toward him at the sudden deepness in his voice to find him staring at her. She licked her lips, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. His hand reached up to touch her lightly on the cheek. “So very beautiful.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, the air between them crackling and snapping as if a thunderstorm were imminent. “Kiss me, Cam.” The soft-spoken words barely made it past her lips.

He pulled her closer and, cupping her face in his large hand, he lowered his head, at first only barely touching her lips with his. He brushed his lips back and forth until she was about to scream with the teasing. Just as she prepared to demand he kiss her properly, he covered her mouth with his, no gentleness or holding back. Almost of their own accord, her hands slid up his chest, covered only by his waistcoat, and gripped his strong shoulders. He pulled back a bit, nipping at her lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, then with a groan, again covered her entire mouth.

He slid his tongue along her closed lips, and she opened, allowing him entrance. He swept in, touching all the sensitive parts. She tangled with him, enjoying the sparring, relishing the tingling in her breasts and between her legs.

Cam gripped her hips and moved her onto his lap. She shifted so she straddled him, not caring that her gown rose above her knees. Something hard pressed up against her core, similar to the last time they’d kissed. She slowly realized what it was. She’d seen enough of animals to recognize the male part of reproduction. Apparently, she was affecting him as much as he was doing the same to her.

His fingers fisted in her hair, and he tugged her head back, staring into her eyes with so much heat the intensity almost frightened her. Several of her pins popped out, causing her heavy curls to fall and skim her shoulders, bouncing down her back.

He released her mouth and kissed the soft skin beneath her ear, moving his mouth along her jawline, scattering small kisses. “This is wrong in so many ways.” His moaned words only spurred her to take his head into her hands and cover his mouth with hers.

Slowly his hand crept up her back, around to her front, until he was cupping her breast, massaging the softness, flicking his thumb over her nipple. A soft moan escaped her as his thumb kept stroking until she wanted to tear her gown and undergarments off so she could feel his caresses skin to skin.

“Tell me to stop, Bridget.” His voice was hoarse with need.

She shook her head. She didn’t want all these new and wonderful feelings to end. If anything, she wanted more. Much, much more. She must be a wanton; that was the only explanation for her behavior.

Cam pulled away from her mouth and rested his forehead on hers. They were both panting as if they’d run a race. “We must return to the ballroom before we are missed.”

She kissed him along his jawline. “No one is paying us any attention.”

“Davenport probably did. He was concerned that you and I…”

Bridget leaned back to look at him. “That you and I what?”

He waved his hand between them. “Most likely this very thing.” His hand dropped to his side, leaving her bereft at the loss of his touch.

“’Tis no concern of his.”

“No. But we don’t want to discourage him at this point in our plan.” He wrapped his arm around her to keep her from falling, while he reached down and picked up a few hairpins from the floor. “Although I must admit my last conversation with him had me thinking there might be a faster—and more painful—path to revenge.”

Bridget took the pins from his hand and did her best to rearrange her hair so it wouldn’t look quite so disreputable.

Cam leaned against the gazebo wall and crossed his arms as he watched her. “I told Davenport I would set up an interview with him to discuss marriage contracts after we return to London. He is to bring his financial records with him.”

“Is that normal?” She held a few pins between her teeth as she continued to twist her locks, attempting to anchor them again.

“Yes. A man must look out for the women under his care. I did the same for my sisters. After I have my hands on the information, I will find a way to ruin him financially as well as socially.”

“How?”

Cam grinned. “I have a lot of friends who should be willing to help. Especially when I relate your story to them.”

Bridget sighed and climbed off his lap. Her skirts swirled around her ankles, and she immediately felt the loss of his warmth. She pulled his jacket closer around her body. “I sincerely hope so. It has troubled me ever since Minerva’s death that he remains free and unpunished for what he did.”

Cam took her hand in his and led her down the steps back to the garden pathway. “Do not fear, my sweet. Believe me when I tell you that he will have his comeuppance. I promise.”

“Then Minerva can rest in peace.”