His Rebellious Lass (Scottish Hearts)

by Hutton, Callie

  “How fortunate for you, my lord. But please do not concern yourself with my dotage. I shall be quite content. I assure you.”

  They remained silent for the rest of the ride. There was a distinct change in the neighborhoods as they wended their way through the city. The area they entered was certainly not as bad as some, more of a workingman’s district.

  The houses were not as elaborate as the upper classes, but tidy and well-kept. This would be a perfect place for her house. The women she sought to aid would come from an area such as this. If she was able to keep the place a secret, they would be safe from husbands, yet able to continue their employment.

  Cam had made an excellent point of a husband being able to find his wife at her job if she fled, but they would face that problem once they had a definite facility. Hiring a man for the door would be helpful. For now, she was just excited to be able to supply a place where women could be safe.

  The carriage rolled up in front of a small townhouse with an overgrown garden. Cam stepped out and turned to assist her. She shook out her skirts as she eyed the building. Yes, if the inside was suitable, this would be a very good place for her purpose.

  She took Cam’s arm as they walked up the first few steps.

  “My lady!”

  Bridget turned to see a young woman racing down the pavement, clutching a dirty bundle in her arms. The girl reached them, so out of breath she could barely speak. “Please, my lady, you must help me.”

  “What is it?”

  “You are the lady who is setting up a house for women to hide from their husbands? I heard Gertrude speak of you. She is sister to a lady’s maid who is friendly with Fiona.”

  “Yes. That is my intention, but how did you know I would be here?”

  “My cousin’s wife’s sister is related to the sister-in-law of Mr. Dunston’s scullery maid.” She stopped to take a much-needed breath of air. “She sneaked a look at his papers, since she knew he was helping you find a place.”

  Bridget’s head was spinning with all these connections that had led this distraught woman to her. “What can I do for you?”

  She held out the bundle. “Take this, please.”

  Bridget took the bundle as the woman stepped back. “I must go now. But if I don’t leave her, he will kill her. He promised he would.” With those hurried words, she dashed away and around the corner, leaving Bridget and Cam staring open-mouthed.

  The bundle moved, and Bridget pushed aside the filthy blanket to see a baby, its deep blue eyes staring up at her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cam looked down at the ragged bundle in Bridget’s arms. “What the devil!”

  “Yes. Precisely.” Bridget jiggled the baby when it started to wail. “We must get the mother back. I can’t take this baby. What will I do with it? I have no idea how to care for it.”

  When he continued to stare at the child, Bridget said, “Cam! Go find that woman.”

  “Yes.” Finally mobilized, he hurried down the steps and followed to where she’d gone around the corner. He came to a screeching halt, his eyes sweeping the area. No sign of her. He continued on down, checking alleyways and stores. She’d completely disappeared.

  Bloody hell. What would they do now?

  He returned to where Bridget bounced the now screaming child in her arms.

  “No luck.” He shook his head.

  Bridget wiped sweat from her forehead. “Cam, we must do something.” She looked from the baby to him. “Why is she crying?”

  “How the devil would I know?” He scowled at her. “You’re a woman, you should know these things.”

  “Oh, is that right? Please be assured, my lord, that knowing why a child is screaming its lungs out is not some magical understanding women are born with.” Her voice grew louder and louder to cover the child’s screams.

  “Well, it is certainly not something that men are born with.” He continued to eye the child as if he expected it to lunge up and bite him on the nose.

  “No. Only the necessary equipment to create them.”

  Despite the racket, his jaw dropped. “Lady Bridget! You say the most outrageous things.”

  A few people stopped to stare at the three of them. “We are beginning to draw attention to ourselves. Let’s go inside.”

  Bridget’s jaw tightened as the baby continued to scream. Lord above, she had strong lungs. “That won’t solve anything. She’s probably crying because she’s hungry.”

  “So feed her.”

  “With what? I’m not producing any milk.” She jiggled the baby.

  He massaged his temples with this index finger and thumb. “Oh, right.” He fumbled in his pocket for the key to the house and opened the door. The three of them entered, the echoes from the baby’s cries even louder than her wailing outside.

  “We have to do something, like find a wet nurse.” He felt quite clever coming up with that solution.

  “Yes, wonderful idea. Now who do we know who has recently given birth? We’ll just waltz right over to her house and plop the child in her lap and say, ‘feed her.’”

  “There is no need to get nasty, Bridget.”

  “I am not nasty.” She shifted the baby to her other arm, which did not ease the child’s suffering at all. “I suggest we lock up the house, return home, and seek assistance from your sister. She certainly knows more than we do about babies.”

  Cam ran his fingers through his hair. “We can’t keep this child. We have no idea who the mother is or how to locate her. In fact, we are not even sure the woman who thrust the child at you is the mother. Bloody hell, we could be charged with kidnapping.”

  “Language, my lord. A child is present.”

  With all the noise the baby was making it couldn’t hear what he said if he bent down and shouted in its ear. “Perhaps we can drop the infant off at a foundling house.”

  Bridget shook her head. “No. The woman, whoever she is, trusted us with the baby. We can’t just drop it off somewhere and go on our merry way.”

  Throughout the wailing and screaming, he tried to make sense of the situation. One thing was correct. Constance would be more help than either he or Bridget were. In fact, there was a nurse at Constance’s house who looked after her children. “Come. Bringing the baby to Dunmore’s is a good idea.”

  Before he could change his mind and run screaming from the entire mess, he gripped Bridget’s elbow and walked her out the door, down the steps, and into the carriage. “The door. I forgot to lock it.” He jumped from the carriage.

  “You better not run the other way, Cam. I’m watching you.”

  He locked the door and returned.

  The baby continued to scream.

  There was no way to attempt conversation, with nothing being heard but the baby’s wails. Bridget attempted to rock the babe, sing to it, shifted it into different positions, but nothing worked. Finally, she held the bundle out to him. “Here, you try.”

  “Me!” He backed up, afraid to touch the wailing wonder. Bridget slid forward on the seat until her bottom almost landed on the floor. “It’s your turn.” She dropped the child in his lap.

  Gingerly, he picked her up, and she ceased crying. The silence in the carriage was strange after all the racket. He glanced over at Bridget, both of them holding their breath. The little girl placed her fist in her mouth and sucked. When no food was forthcoming, her little face screwed up, and the bellowing started again.

  The ride to the building had not seemed very far, but the return trip took forever. Bridget took to placing her palms over her ears, and Cam jiggled, patted, talked, and even—the horror of it—sang to the baby. Nothing helped.

  As soon as the carriage arrived at Dunmore House, he shoved the baby back at Bridget and opened the door before a footman could do it. He turned and helped her down, and they hurried up the steps.

  It was quite unfortunate that Dunmore’s neighbor across the green, Lady Applefield, one of the most notorious gossips in the ton, was just descending her s
teps as they arrived. He cringed when she raised her quizzing glass to her right eye and stared in their direction.

  He hurried Bridget and the noisemaker into the house and closed the door. “Constance!”

  “My lord, may I be of assistance?” said the man at the door, who Cam probably knew, but his brain was not working quite well due to the racket coming from the baby.

  “Yes. Please find Lady Dunmore and ask her to meet us in the drawing room.”

  The man bowed and strode away, most likely trying to get as far from the noise as possible. Cam and Bridget entered the drawing room, where Bridget proceeded to walk up and down, jiggling the baby.

  “Oh my goodness. What is all this noise?” Constance stood at the entrance to the drawing room, her hands over her ears. “And where did you get that baby?”

  “Never mind where we got her. We need your nurse. I believe the infant needs nourishment.”

  Instead of hurrying away, Constance stood there, a huge smile on her face. “For heaven’s sake, Cam, only you could get yourself into such mischief. Is she yours?”

  He reared back as if he’d been slapped. “No! Of course she’s not mine. I may have my faults, but I am not in the habit of leaving children scattered all over London.” He gritted his teeth. “Just get your nurse, please?”

  With an even wider grin, Constance left them, then returned shortly with a middle-aged, somewhat plump woman dressed in an outfit that higher-level servants wore. “Oh my goodness. Look at this precious little darling.” She took the baby from Bridget, not seeming at all disturbed by the din.

  “Of course you are hungry, I can see that. Poor, sweet dear.”

  Sweet dear?

  The nurse continued to mumble soothing words as she walked from them, bringing delightful silence to the room.

  Cam collapsed onto the settee, breaking all Society’s rules by sitting while the two women stood. Within seconds, Bridget joined him.

  Just as Constance opened her mouth to speak, he held up his hand. “I need a brandy, I believe my cohort in crime here needs a Scotch whisky, and then we will tell you why we are in possession of that bundle of earsplitting joy your nurse just took away.”

  His sister grinned. “I believe I will join you with a cup of tea. I have a feeling this is going to be quite an amusing story.”

  …

  Bridget accepted the glass of Scotch whisky from Cam and took a very large swallow. Probably much more than a lady should imbibe, but so-called true ladies didn’t drink spirits anyway, so how she consumed it didn’t matter.

  Relishing the blessed silence, Bridget just stared at the small table in front of her while Constance fixed herself a cup of tea. After she had it precisely how she wanted it, she took a sip, then placed the cup on the saucer and looked at Cam. “Now then, Brother, perhaps you can enlighten me as to where that baby came from.”

  “I have no idea who that baby is, who the mother is, and why the screaming banshee is in our possession.”

  “Thank you. That certainly explains it all quite well.” She took another sip, her placid expression completely at odds with the mood in the room.

  “Bridget?”

  She took a deep breath. “As you know, I am searching for a suitable place to house women who are ill-treated by the men in their lives. In our search, we visited a building today that seemed like a good choice. Before we could enter, a woman ran up to us, shoved the baby into my arms, and told me to take care of it because ‘he’ threatened to kill it. Before we could question her any further, she disappeared.”

  “There is no way a story such as that could be made up, so I have to assume it really happened. Why did she choose you, of all people?”

  “She heard through some convoluted chain of friendship and relations that I would be there this morning to view the house with the intention of purchasing it.”

  “What will you do now?”

  Bridget sighed. “I have no idea. I cannot bring the babe to a foundling home. I assume—and dearly hope—the woman will one day come back for the child.”

  “Soon.” Cam took the last swallow of his brandy and placed the glass on the table in front of them. He cleared his throat and regarded his sister. “I don’t suppose you could keep the child until we get this straightened out.”

  Constance laughed softly. “To answer your question, yes. As much as I would love to see you dealing with a small baby, dear brother, I would never subject the child to such a horror. Nanny will be able to take care of her, and I’ll see that she secures the services of a wet nurse.”

  He dipped his head. “Ah, grownup sisters are truly God’s reward for putting up with their screeching and annoying behavior when they were children.”

  Constance’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, Cam, ’twould not be wise to incur my disfavor right now.”

  Cam stood and took her hand, kissing her knuckles. “I will forever be in your debt.” He turned to Bridget. “I have another appointment this afternoon with someone important to our cause, so if you will excuse me, I will return tomorrow morning to attempt another visit to the potential women’s safe house.”

  “Yes. That is fine. I do not feel up to making another attempt now.”

  “Now is a good time for a cup of nice hot tea.” Constance began to pour before Cam was even out the door.

  As much as she enjoyed the whisky, it was also making her drowsy, so tea would be just the thing to wake her up. Perhaps it was the drink that loosened her tongue, but Bridget asked, “Why is Cam so set against marriage?”

  After the question was out there, she immediately wanted to bring it back. Especially with the look of interest on Constance’s face.

  “Not that I care, you see, I’m just curious.”

  “Uh-huh.” Cam’s sister sipped more tea and tried to hide her smile behind her teacup. “Before I tell you my thoughts on that, can I ask you the same question? Why are you so set against marriage?”

  Just like her brother, Constance was no fool and had seen more in Bridget’s innocent question than she had intended. Except, truth be known, it wasn’t an innocent question, but her curiosity had gotten the best of her.

  “I prefer independence. I want to do some good with my father’s money and help women so they don’t end up like my friend Minerva.” She had told Constance that story when she’d first talked about the shelter she was planning to establish.

  “I also want to travel and not be restricted by where a husband wants to go and what he wants to do.” She grinned. “I’m afraid I’m not the docile woman a man would want as a wife.”

  “You think all husbands want a biddable young lady?”

  Bridget snorted. “Of course. Don’t you think so?”

  Constance shrugged. “I imagine a few do, but it’s impossible to say all men want the same thing in a wife. Some want beauty, some money, some meekness, but other men want a woman who will challenge them, be a partner rather than a submissive puppet.”

  Bridget shook her head and drank some more tea. “Do you know any?”

  Her hostess smiled. “I do, in fact. My own husband. As much as we loved each other when we married, we had quite a few rows before he understood I would not be honoring the ‘obey’ part of the marriage vows.” She laughed outright. “I insisted on being a part of whatever major decisions had to be made. He takes care of his Parliamentary duties and his estates, and I run the household. When it comes to the children, we decide together what is best.”

  “Yours was a love match?”

  “Yes, indeed. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Love in a marriage is a good thing, and should you ever change your mind, remember that.” She placed her now empty teacup on the table in front of them. “But to answer your question about Cam…”

  Bridget leaned forward. Why she cared about Cam’s reason for not marrying was a puzzle, but she found the man to be a conundrum. He had every reason to marry and marry well. He also had the visage, money, and charm to attract any woman he wanted. Most t
itled gentlemen were eager to keep the title from reverting to some unknown, distant relative, or even the Crown.

  “To understand Cam, you must first know the sort of upbringing he had. Our father was, stated plainly, a mean man. Arrogant, nasty, and in many cases, violent.”

  Violent? No wonder Cam was eager to help her set up her woman’s house. He knew firsthand what some women suffered. “Did your mother suffer also?”

  “Perhaps. We were quite young when she died, so I never knew for certain. Cam wouldn’t say. He was very closemouthed about a lot of things. Mother protected us from our father until she died, then Cam took over. He claimed responsibility for many a disaster Maryann and I caused. The beatings he took were terrible.”

  It amazed her that people of the upper classes, with money and everything in life money could bring, had such darkness in their lives. She’d been stunned by Minerva’s confession, and now to find out that the man she’d grown to care for had such an appalling childhood ripped away all her preconceived notions of life and family.

  “As horrible as that sounds, what has that to do with Cam not marrying? He has a title to secure.”

  “That’s the rub. He is sure our father’s nature and behavior have been passed down to him, and he will turn into a tyrant who will beat and abuse his children. As far as we know, there are no male relatives to inherit the title. Cam feels it would be some sort of revenge on our father if he let the title revert back to the Crown. Let the Campbell name die with him.”

  “Yet his theory about your father’s nature being handed down to his children didn’t stop you or your sister from having children.”

  “I don’t believe ‘bad blood’ or horrendous behavior is something you inherit. I see no evidence of our father’s meanness in Cam. If anything, what he suffered as a child has made him the man he is today. Caring and protective.”

  Constance reached out and touched Bridget’s hand. “He would be a wonderful husband to the right woman.”

  Oh, dear. She didn’t care for the determined look in Lady Dunmore’s eyes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cam examined the papers Mr. Dunston had presented to him. The man had done a thorough job of uncovering all of Davenport’s financial sins. Compared to the documents Davenport had provided, there were some significant differences.