The man had overestimated the value of his holdings, both property and investments, by a large percentage. He’d also failed to include the tremendous amount of debt he owed to just about every merchant with whom he did business. His vowels for gambling debts were ponderous. In all, Lord Davenport needed a great deal of money to continue his life as he’d been enjoying it, and needed it now.
Cam leaned back in his chair and regarded Dunston. “I want you to buy up all his vowels.”
Dunston’s eyes grew wide. “My lord, why would you do that?”
“As leverage to get him to leave the country. Abandon his estates, never to return. A punishment better suited for him than hanging for murder.” He’d told Dunston a bit about Bridget’s friend and the poor girl’s horrendous time with Davenport. He would see the man leave in disgrace, hoping that brought some satisfaction to Bridget.
“Very well, my lord. I shall see to it immediately.”
“Then I want you to seek out the merchants he is in debt to and offer to pay their costs to obtain an arrest warrant for debt.”
Most merchants were reluctant to do so, since the cost was dear, and they didn’t want to lose business by being known among the ton as the merchant who wouldn’t allow debts to linger until eternity.
“Once that is accomplished, bring all the notes and writs to me, and we will set up a meeting with Lord Davenport.” He would love to have Bridget present to see to his downfall, but as he had no idea how Davenport would react, he didn’t want to be distracted by concern for her welfare. They already knew the man was capable of violence.
Feeling as though he’d put a good, solid plan into action, he dismissed Dunston and prepared to meet Bridget to view the building for her women. Hopefully, they would not be presented with another child to deal with. Maybe she should consider opening an orphanage instead of a safe house.
…
As he and Bridget arrived at the building, Cam did a cursory glance to see if the woman who’d thrust the baby into their arms was lingering about. No sign of her as they climbed the steps and he opened the door to usher Bridget inside.
“Oh, this is perfect!” Bridget twirled in a circle in the entrance hall. Although she hadn’t seen very much, he did think it was a much better option than the first one. For one, it was in a better neighborhood but still accessible to the area where a working woman would be employed.
It was also much lighter, due to the large windows in the four rooms on the ground floor. A trip up to the first floor revealed another four rooms, with a two-room attic.
“Ten rooms in all. That will accommodate so many women.” Bridget almost clapped her hands in glee, causing him to smile at her enthusiasm.
“Before we become too excited, I want to have Dunston secure the services of someone who can inspect the building for things we can’t see: rot, leaks, problems such as those.”
“Yes. I suppose it’s wise to do that.”
They turned at a knock on the door. “Stay here.” Cam headed to the door and opened it.
Of course, Bridget did not stay where he told her to but was right behind him, peeking over his shoulder. A woman stood at the door, twisting her fingers. She had the mien of someone who had lived through difficult times. Undernourished body, faded but clean clothing, and wrinkles on her face, even though he would guess her age to be only in her twenties.
“May I help you?”
Their visitor must have spotted Bridget, because she seemed to relax and addressed her remarks over his shoulder. “I hate to disturb you, my lord and my lady, but I understand there is the possibility that this house will be rented to women?”
She obviously preferred to speak with Bridget, so Cam stepped aside. “Won’t you please come in, Miss…”
“It’s Mrs. Barker, my lord.” She crossed over the threshold and looked around, her eyes wide. “This is a grand place, indeed.”
Bridget smiled warmly at Mrs. Barker. “How may we help you?”
Mrs. Barker sighed. “I am seeking work. I had a place with Mr. Venti, the tailor, but his son is now old enough to help out in the shop, so he dismissed me.”
“I am sorry to hear that, but how can we help you?”
“Two of my friends mentioned that you were going to open a house for women who need to get away from”—she glanced at Cam then back at Bridget—“their men. Is that true?”
The hopefulness in the woman’s eyes tore at his stomach. He recognized the signs of someone wishing to escape brutality.
“Yes, that is true. However, we haven’t even secured a house yet, although I must admit this one seems quite suitable.” Bridget glanced around the place again.
“You see, milady, I was hoping if you did open this house that you might be needing someone to work here. You know, cooking, cleaning, washing up, that sort of thing.”
Bridget cast a bleak look in Cam’s direction. He could almost read her mind. She wanted to do something for the woman, but they were nowhere near being in a position to hire anyone just yet.
“I’m a hard worker, ma’am. I put in twelve to fourteen hours a day for Mr. Venti. He was real pleased with my work.” She fished around in her pocket. “I have a note right here he gave me.” She held it out. “I don’t read myself, but he said it was a good reference.”
Bridget took the note in her hand, again silently begging Cam with her eyes to do something.
Something inside him warmed toward this unfortunate woman, and he knew he had to help her. “Mrs. Barker, have you ever worked in a household, doing the things you mentioned, cooking, cleaning, and so forth?”
She nodded, glancing quickly at Bridget. “I’ve kept my own home for many years now.”
“Are you married?” Although she’d introduced herself as Mrs. Barker, she could be a widow.
“No, sir. Widowed. I live with my brother.” She stumbled at the last part, confirming his suspicion. Her stilted words immediately caught his attention.
“Your brother?”
“Yes, sir.” She began twisting her hands again. “He likes his drink and has a hard time holding a job, my lord. He depends on me for the rent and food.”
Another woman suffering at the hands of a man who should be caring for her. He’d joined Bridget on this project completely oblivious to the problem so many women faced, but was learning a great deal about the plight of women who had nowhere to turn. Cam lowered his voice. “And what happens if there isn’t enough money?”
She shrugged, which told him all he needed to know.
“Mrs. Barker, this home for women, which we are not sure yet will be this very building, may not be ready for weeks or even months. However, I would like to offer you a position in my household in Mayfair. I’m not sure just what duties that would include, but I will introduce you to my housekeeper, Mrs. Bromley, who will find a place for you.”
Instead of relief, she showed more agitation. “Oh, is it far, my lord? How will I travel back and forth? I don’t have the money for a hackney. I guess if it’s not too far, I can walk each day.”
He shook his head. “No, Mrs. Barker, the position is such that you will live there with the other servants.”
Her eyes grew wide. “I don’t think my brother will like that.”
Cam was absolutely certain the brother would not like that, which was precisely why she needed to move into his house, where she would get decent food and be safe. “Nevertheless, that is my offer. You take the job and move into my house.”
…
Bridget had to force her eyes not to tear up at Cam’s words. He had obviously sensed the woman was being ill-treated by her brother, and he wanted to save her from that. She broke into a bright smile in an attempt to soften Cam’s terse statement. “Mrs. Barker, I can assure you this is a good opportunity for you. Lord Campbell is an honorable man, and you will have a nice room to stay in, hot meals three times a day, and even time off.”
Her tightened features relaxed a bit. “That sounds heavenly.”
“No.” She shook her head. “He is usually at the pub this time in the afternoon.”
His lips tightened, but he addressed her warmly. “Excellent.” He waved his hand toward the door. “Lead the way, Mrs. Barker.”
After a short ride, Bridget and Cam sat in his carriage in front of Mrs. Barker’s home while she retrieved her things. “That was quite sweet of you.”
His eyes grew wide, and he pressed his palm to his heart. “Egads! Please don’t ever say that where anyone can hear it.”
“Why not? That was a nice thing you did for Mrs. Barker. It’s obvious her brother makes her work and turn the money over to him so he can drink it up. From the looks of it, he doesn’t even leave her enough to feed herself.”
“That may very well be, but you see I must maintain my reputation of being arrogant and overbearing. Isn’t that what you’ve accused me of?” The twinkle in his eyes and his smirk captured a wee bit of her heart.
“Ah, but you are also arrogant and overbearing.” She was tempted to tell him she knew about his experience with his father but didn’t want to get Constance in trouble. The man must have been a horrible person to treat his own son—and heir—in that despicable manner. That still did not explain Cam’s absolute abhorrence of marriage, but while she did not favor the state of wedded bliss herself, she was not one to question his motives.
Bridget gazed out the window as Mrs. Barker hurried from the door, glancing around, most likely expecting her brother to pounce upon her at any moment. Bridget dropped the curtain and turned to Cam. “That house seems to be the perfect spot for our project.”
“Indeed it does. Perhaps we should settle on it if Dunston deems it acceptable. We’ve returned from our last two visits with a baby from one and a distraught woman from another.”
Bridget grinned. “Yes, it appears we need to buy it soon so all those poor souls can stay there instead of returning with us.”
The driver opened the door of the carriage, and Mrs. Barker climbed in. She was flush-faced and panting. “I’m ready, my lord. I want to again thank you so much for this. I promise I will work very hard for you.”
“I am sure you will.” Cam tapped on the ceiling of the carriage, and they were off.
Bridget noted that the lines on Mrs. Barker’s face relaxed, and she never looked back. The poor woman’s life must have been a nightmare.
…
Three nights later, Bridget awaited Cam’s arrival. Tonight they were attending the theater. She was excited to see Edmond Kean perform. Considered the best actor of the day, one could always count on a pleasurable evening when he treaded the boards.
She still got a warm feeling inside when she remembered how Cam had rescued Mrs. Barker. And despite what he’d said, it had been sweet of him to do that. It was too bad he was arrogant and overbearing.
Her feelings toward him had changed from when she’d first set eyes on him. He was no longer that stranger who wanted to rule her life and force her into marriage. Perhaps he didn’t wish to rule her life, but he did hold the purse strings for her project. But then, even in that, he’d compromised so she could move forward without having Papa’s money in hand.
“Lord Campbell has arrived, milady.” Fiona entered her bedchamber, carrying freshly washed linens.
“Thank you.” Bridget tugged on her gloves and left the room.
Lord and Lady Dunmore were accompanying them to the theater, which made it unnecessary for her companion to attend. They’d gone shopping earlier that afternoon, and Mrs. Dressel had collapsed into her bed before Bridget had even bathed and dressed for the evening. She must consider Mrs. Dressel’s future. It had become apparent that either her age or health was not permitting her to fully complete her duties.
After they were all piled into Cam’s coach, Bridget asked, “How is Mrs. Barker getting on?”
When Bridget had told Constance the story at tea that afternoon, her hostess did not seem surprised at Cam’s actions. Constance also related that the baby was doing well, eating and sleeping like a little one should. Nurse was a bit discombobulated with having no name to call the little girl, so she had begun to address her as Catherine, the name of her favorite sister.
“Mrs. Barker is doing quite well. Mrs. Bromley assigned her to the kitchen. Cook reports our newest employee is a hard worker and doesn’t complain, no matter which task she is set to.”
“I’m glad. Hopefully, her brother won’t find her.”
Cam shook his head. “I doubt it. But even if he does, he is not her husband to demand she return to his home. He can make noise about it, but when it comes to the law, as a widow and of age, she is a free person.”
“Has your man of business found someone to look over the house yet?” Lord Dunmore asked.
“Yes. He has been busy working on another assignment for me, but he did find a Mr. Carter who is quite knowledgeable in these things. From what Dunston told me, Carter will be inspecting the house this week.”
“Excellent. This is quite an undertaking, Lady Bridget. I applaud your compassion for the downtrodden.” Cam’s brother-in-law regarded her warmly.
The talk in the carriage soon turned to Parliament, because men just seemed to find the subject of new bills to be drawn up, introduced, and then sponsored, fascinating.
With Constance content to merely gaze out the window at the darkness, Bridget’s thoughts turned to Cam’s compromise. It occurred to her recently that Cam had not thrown any men in her path in a while. In fact, the way things stood it was almost as if he were courting her. They’d attended social affairs, spent time at the museum the week before, and now the theater. She gazed at him across the space. Did she want him to court her?
He was certainly a fine specimen of a man. Aside from looks, title, and wealth, he was kindhearted and protective of those under his care. Too protective? Sometimes it seemed so, although she could not complain about how he treated her. He’d even capitulated on the breeches—as long as no one saw her—and had allowed her to go hunting with the men.
She grudgingly admitted to herself, if she were forced to marry, he would be the best choice of all the men she’d met so far. Of course, there was nothing forcing her to marry, and even if she were to consider that ghastly state, it would be only because she was in love with the gentleman, and he with her.
She snorted. And she was most assuredly not in love with Cam.
Of course not.
No reason to even believe so.
The thought was ludicrous.
She pushed away the uncomfortable voice inside her, laughing its fool head off.
Chapter Seventeen
The play was well underway when Cam realized he hadn’t been paying much attention to the actors on the stage. Instead, his mind had wandered—as it frequently did—to Bridget.
Things were certainly not working out as he’d planned when he’d first inherited his ward several weeks before. His goal at the time had been very clear. Get the girl married off, shake hands with the poor sap she snagged, and then return to his life. However, he had not counted on the very challenging Lady Bridget, who was not a woman such a strategy would fit. At their first meeting, before he’d even had a chance to open his mouth and make sense of the whole thing, she’d argued with him about independence, freedom, and breaking her father’s will.
He smiled as he remembered the nonsense at the start of their relationship with her dressing and behaving like a candidate for Bedlam, leading them to their compromise. Truth be known, he’d never in his life compromised on anything. As a member of the aristocracy, he expected obedience and had always received it.
Until Lady Bridget.
At this point, he was troubled more by his feelings for her. If she’d been a coy, biddable young lady, he could have easily married her off and gone about his business. But every day, her courage, strength, humor,
and compassion altered the picture he’d had of his ward.
He remained determined to never marry nor continue the line. Let his father spin in his grave at the idea of the title passing back to the Crown if no obscure relative could be found after Cam’s death. Justice for the little boy who’d cried inconsolably as his puppy had been thrown into the raging waters of the river.
But now he wondered how it would feel to release the anger and need for revenge and live a normal life.
Wife.
Children.
Love.
His body angled perfectly to study Bridget instead of the stage. He took in her demeanor as she sat enraptured with the performance, every emotion and feeling visible on her face. No subterfuge in her dealings with the world. So very different from most women of the ton.
Heat rose to his face when she turned to him, her brows raised. “What?”
“Nothing. I’m just enjoying the play.” He waved toward the stage. “Kean is wonderful in this part.” For as distracted as he’d been, he hoped it was correct and Edmund Kean had been the actor spouting the lines he’d been ignoring.
She tilted her head slightly and gave him a slow nod, a knowing smile on her lush lips. “Yes, he is.” Still grinning, she turned her face back to the stage and was immediately engrossed in the performance.
Cam ignored the slight chuckle from Constance on his other side.
The lobby was quite crowded as they descended the steps from their box to the lower floor. Cam thanked the heavens that he’d seen the play so many times he could at least keep up an intelligent conversation about it while he and Bridget strolled the lobby during intermission.
“Would you care for a refreshment?”
Bridget shook her head. “I am a bit parched, but I think I would rather continue our walk than have you wrestling the other men to gain a glass of warm lemonade. I really do not like sitting still for so long.”
His Rebellious Lass (Scottish Hearts) Page 14