Chapter Twenty-Four

Cam released the breath he’d been holding when Bridget placed her delicate hand in his large one. First battle won.

And a battle it would be. He’d been so adamant about doing the right thing, the honorable thing, that he’d totally ignored Bridget and her desires, treating her more like a possession than the wonderful, loving woman she was.

Everything he’d learned about women from the time he’d been a youth flew out of his muddled head when she was around him. Most likely, if he’d handled the idea of them marrying a bit more like a lover and less like a gaoler, she might have been more amenable to the idea.

A fool, him.

Now that he’d gotten her to agree to accompany him to their townhouse he felt a bit more settled. But not so settled that he would make the same mistakes again. She needed to feel cherished and cared for, not smothered and ordered about like a servant.

He assisted Bridget into the carriage after locking up the women’s house. He wanted more than anything to sit alongside her and pull her onto his lap, but common sense prevailed, and he took the seat across from her. Take it slow. He had all the time in the world. They would be married for the rest of their lives and, depending on how this went, it could be wonderful or horrific.

God, how he’d missed her. Why had he ever imagined that marrying her would be a duty? Merely a responsibility and a way to restore his good name? He’d been fooling himself for quite some time.

“You are an ass, Cam.” Harris’s comment had broken the silence when he’d gone into more detail with the physician about the problems he and Bridget were having. “Yes, an ass. And a dunderhead, a muddleheaded featherbrain,” the good doctor had added.

“Well, thank you so much, my friend. Perchance you might be a bit clearer in your observation. Don’t hold back on my account.” He ran his palm down his face, knowing he was correct.

“Time to get down on your aristocratic knee and beg your bride to take you back. Grovel, my man. Grovel. Works every time.” Harris grinned, obviously enjoying Cam’s distress. Blast the man.

“Go to your wife. Make up. Say things she wants to hear, not the numbskull things you’ve been tossing at her.”

Harris had been right, and he’d wrestled with the idea on the soggy trek home. He needed to make the first move. It was during that long walk that it had smacked him in the face like a wet cloth.

He loved her. He truly did.

It was that simple, and amazing how it all fell into place after he admitted he did not want to spend his life without her. She was his wife, but instead of ordering her to return home, he would woo her. Show her how much he cared and wanted her for his marchioness.

All the reasons he’d given himself as to why he didn’t want to marry and have children seemed like excuses to avoid the commitment when he’d dug deep enough to be honest with himself. His sisters showed no nasty streaks, and he had every reason to believe any child of his would be loved and cared for, because he was nothing like his father in any way. He even found it in his heart to forgive the man. He’d been a miserable human being and had foisted all his anger and disappointment in life on his family. The late Marquess of Campbell was to be pitied.

As they rode through the heavy London traffic, he remembered the curiosity in her face at his sudden arrival at the house. He smiled at the memory of her puzzlement, feeling more lighthearted than he had in days. Hell, in weeks.

Once they came to a stop in front of their townhouse in Mayfair, he jumped from the carriage and turned to assist her. He took her arm and then ascended the steps to a smiling Dobson, who held the door open. “Good afternoon, my lord, my lady.”

“Good afternoon. Please have Cook send in a light repast to the library.” Cam took Bridget’s hand after she was freed of her coat and bonnet. With their fingers intertwined, they walked the short distance from the entrance hall to the library.

Cam led her to the settee in front of the cozy fire and returned to his desk. With the shaft of papers he’d been working on for a couple of days, he joined her. “I have some ideas here.” He took a quick glance at her. “If you like them, that is.”

Bridget continued to stare at him as she took the papers from his hand. “You have been working on this?”

“Yes. As I told you, I want to help. But you are in charge,” he quickly added. He waved at the papers. “These are some ideas about needed furniture and where to obtain it.”

She studied the documents, flipping the pages as she read it all. “Impressive.” She smiled and laid the papers on her lap. “Frankly, I could use the help. I’ve been so busy trying to do everything and remember all that is necessary to get the house up and running that I haven’t had time for much else.”

“Do you have a budget?”

“Budget?”

He tried not to smile. Bridget’s heart was definitely in the right place, but at least she acknowledged that she needed help. After years of managing his various estates and overseeing his stewards and man of business, he had quite a bit of experience and ideas on how to go about setting up the house.

No matter how many mistakes she made, he would still allow her free rein and support her. This was her dream, her project, and he would never again threaten to take it away from her. “Perhaps we can work on one together?”

She seemed relieved. “Yes. That is a good idea. I am quite adept at hiring staff, because I did that duty for my father when he was alive. I might also have some skill in decorating and furnishing, but the finances baffle me. We also need to come up with an idea on how, and who, to approach about donating money. And how to keep the house hidden from unwanted visitors.”

He rested his back against the settee and casually rested his arm along the top. When she didn’t move away, he began playing with the hair that had fallen from her chignon. Bloody hell, even that little bit of contact made him hard.

Take it slow.

They put their heads together while enjoying the light meal Cook sent in and worked out a reasonable budget. He had to try very hard to keep quiet and let her discover things he saw right away.

The long clock in the corner struck seven. They both looked up, surprised. “Oh, my. I had no idea it was that late.”

He took her hand and held to it his mouth, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Stay for dinner?”

She hopped up and shook out her skirts. “No. I think it best if I return home.”

He climbed to his feet, holding in his temper. “This is your home.”

“Don’t do this, Cam.”

He took in a deep breath. She was right. Rushing her would not serve his purpose. “May I offer a suggestion?”

“What?” Her eyes narrowed.

“It is apparent we need to discuss much more. Also, you will be busy with the contractor. I can help, if you allow me to seek out furnishings. Even though the prior owner left some items, you will need many more beds to accommodate all the women you hope to help.”

“I would accept that.” She stretched. “Can you arrange for your carriage to return me?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “I have never been comfortable with you spending the night in that neighborhood, Bridget.”

“You sent two footmen with me.”

“Yes. But they’re not me. You don’t realize how dangerous the area is for a woman like you.”

“Me? What about all the women we expect to house? Do they not count?”

“You are a lady of Quality. It is apparent from everything about you, from your well-cut clothing to your expensive half boots. Anyone looking to make a few coins would go after you much quicker than any of the other women in the neighborhood, who are trying to stretch every sixpence they earn.”

She raised her chin. “There is a lock on the door.”

How to make her understand no lock on the door would prevent someone with nefarious purposes from climbing through a window. “What if I spent the night there also?”

Bridget shook her head furiously. “No. It does me no good to move out of your house—”

“Our house—”

“—if you are going to follow me there.”

Her cheeks flushed a bright red, and her breathing increased. He hated having to back off, since everything protective in him rebelled. But he could not undo all the good that had come from today. He dipped his head. “Very well.”

…

Bridget was still unsettled from the day. She’d barely gotten over Cam jumping in to help her. The most amazing part of the day had been how he’d allowed her to take the lead and hadn’t foisted his own ideas and opinions on her.

She dared not, in her foolishness, allow herself to think he’d done that because he cared for her. Perhaps the entire thing had been his way of strengthening his honor and position in Society, because it would soon become known that she had left him the morning after their wedding. Even with the old Season far behind them and the new Season months away, gossip spread among the ton like an overflowing river.

The ride to the women’s house was quiet as she went over the happenings of the day. Cam spent the time gazing out the window and watching her. She could never allow him to spend the night at The Sanctuary. There was no doubt in her mind that if he did so, he would end up in her bed. As small and uncomfortable as the dilapidated old thing was.

Not that she would have not wanted him to, but there were still too many unsaid words and hurt feelings between them to allow that to happen. If only he wasn’t so handsome and affected her in such a way that she lost all good judgment when he was near. And if he kissed her! Well, it was better if he escorted her home and returned to his house.

Our house.

He’d been certain to mention that, but the women’s house felt more like home than Campbell Townhouse.

The carriage stopped in front of the building, and Cam flipped his coattails back to reveal a pistol tucked into the waistband of his pants. He stepped out, looked around the surrounding area, and then reached in for her.

She shivered, whether from the threat of danger, the cold, or his touch, she didn’t know. He grabbed her elbow and hurried her up the stairs. Once they were inside, he went from room to room and checked the windows.

Next he huddled with the two footmen and, after a lengthy discussion, walked over to where she stood. “Are you certain you don’t want me to stay?”

Yes, I desperately want you to stay, but if you do I will fall under your spell and lose myself again.

“No. I will be fine.”

He wrapped her in his arms, the scent of starched linen, horses, and male emanating from him. He lowered his head and took her lips in a kiss that started soft and then turned to fiery passion. By the time she pulled free, they were both panting.

“I will be back tomorrow.”

She nodded, still dazed from all the emotions and feelings running through her body. With a tap on the tip of her nose, he walked out the door, closing it softly. His voice rang out. “Lock the door.”

She hurried over and flipped the lock then leaned against the wood, her eyes closed.

…

The next morning, Bridget rose from the only bed in the house and wandered to the window that looked out to the street below.

She frowned at Cam’s carriage parked in front of the building. She checked the small clock on the table next to her bed. Seven o’clock. He was up and about this early?

She performed a quick wash and dressed then hurried down the stairs, still pinning up her hair. She unlocked the door and stepped out just as Cam was leaving the coach. From the look of him he hadn’t been home all night.

His gait was a bit crooked, like a man who’d slept crouched up. His hair was a mess, his clothes wrinkled, and the shadow of a beard covered the lower part of his face. She placed her hands on her hips and regarded his sorry-looking self with a smirk. “Have you been here all night?”

He flashed that crooked smile that always set off butterflies in her stomach. “Guilty.”

She pushed the door back to allow him to enter. “Why?”

He stepped inside and pulled her into his arms. “I tried, I really did. I made it all the way home, and before I could have the carriage returned to the mews I had visions of you being kidnapped again, and I turned right around and came back.”

“I have been here alone for three nights.”

“Not alone. The footmen were here, and they both had guns. I wanted to give you time away from me, hoping you would allow me back into your life if I left you to think things over. But I could no longer stand not being here to see to your protection myself.” They made their way to the empty drawing room and closed the door against the footmen. Whatever needed to be said between them did not need an audience.

“Is Davenport still locked up in the basement at the inn?”

“He was released after the magistrate spoke with him. Those small-town justices are in awe of lords, regardless of their wrongdoings. However, instead of making him wallow in debtor’s prison, I escorted our nemesis to Southampton where he boarded a boat. I stayed until it left the harbor with instructions to the captain that Davenport was not to leave the ship until it docked on America’s shores.”

He cupped her face with his warm hand. Shivers started again. She must really see that the fires were lit soon. “Just one day without you was enough to tell me what I’ve been fighting for months.”

She sucked in a breath. “Yes?”

“’Twas no duty or hardship to marry you, Bridget. I love you. I’ve probably loved you for quite some time. I don’t want us living in separate houses. I don’t want to command you and ignore your wishes. It won’t be easy for me. I am used to being obeyed without question, and I will need you to show me how to change.”

She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Why not put the money that came to me with our marriage in my name? That would be a start.”

The laughter in his eyes warmed her. He pulled her into his arms. “Done.”

“What?”

“I already did that.”

She was stunned. He really did want to change, and that made her love him more. However, there was still one thing that troubled her. She drew back and stared at him. “What about your charges of my lack of virtue?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I was so wrong. So very wrong, but even if the situation had been what I thought, it doesn’t matter. As long as I am the last man to hold you in his arms and love you, that’s enough for me.”

“Oh, Cam.” Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice hitched. “I love you, too, and want a marriage like you described. We should be partners, not just in this endeavor, but in life.” Bridget ran her palm over his rough beard and tugged his head down for a kiss.

And her world exploded.

They tore at each other’s clothes until they were skin to skin and lying together on the pile of garments they’d shed. He took her with love and caring, with fire and passion, showing her with his hands and mouth how much he loved her.

And with my body, I thee worship.

She loved him back, exploring him with her hands and mouth until they both lay exhausted, flat on their backs, hands entwined, staring at the ceiling.

“Will you come home?”

“To our house?”

“Yes, wife.”

“Indeed, husband.”