His Rebellious Lass (Scottish Hearts 1)

Webster’s brows rose. “Your ward? Why do you have all the luck, Campbell?” He took Bridget’s hand and bent over it, kissing the air above her glove. Fortunate for him. Had he placed his lips there he would have received a not-too-gentle reminder that Cam was watching him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Bridget. I can’t imagine why Cam has been hiding you all this time.”

“I assure you I have not been in hiding. I have only just arrived in London.” Cam was pleased to see Bridget’s strained smile. Apparently, she’d seen through the man immediately.

“Indeed? Then perhaps you would enjoy my escort to view the sights of this wonderful city.”

“She’s busy,” Cam growled.

Webster frowned. “I haven’t mentioned a date yet.”

“No matter. Whatever date you choose I can assure you my ward will be busy. Do I make myself clear, Webster?”

Chapter Six

Bridget smiled inwardly at Campbell’s words to Mr. Webster. It was probably the first time she was grateful for his presence. Not that she couldn’t handle the repulsive man if she’d been forced to, but as she was attempting to behave like a lady and give this compromise of her guardian’s a chance, ’twas better if he dealt with Webster. Besides which, she imagined kneeing a gentleman in his groin in polite company was not well done.

Campbell gripped her elbow and moved them away from a glowering Mr. Webster. She continued to experience an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach and a pounding heart when they touched. It annoyed her to no end, because she had an uneasy inkling as to what that could mean and preferred not to give it credence.

He directed her to a small group of guests standing near the French doors. “Good evening, Lord Preston, Lady Preston.”

Preston and his wife were of mid years. She had retained whatever beauty she’d had in her youth, but Preston had apparently spent too many hours sitting at the dinner table, his waistcoat tightly stretched over his stomach. Otherwise, he was a cheerful-looking man, with a receding hairline and chocolate-brown eyes.

“May I present to you my ward, Lady Bridget MacDuff.”

Bridget gave an acceptable curtsy right before Lord Preston took her hand and bowed over it. “I am pleased you were able to join us this evening, Lady Bridget.”

“We were unaware that Cam had a ward until he sent along his note.” Lady Preston smiled warmly at her, putting her immediately at ease. An excellent hostess.

“It was all rather sudden, actually,” Bridget said.

“You must tell me all about it.” Lady Preston glanced sideways at Campbell. “Given his reputation, I cannot imagine anyone naming him guardian to a beautiful young lady.” Recognizing her faux pas, she quickly added, “Not that I think he would do anything improper—no, not at all—but I find it amusing, if nothing else. Now it is he who will have to be concerned about a young lady’s reputation. Ironic, is it not?”

Bridget studied Campbell as he spoke with Lord Preston. Truth be known, the situation was rather humorous, which probably had a great deal to do with his reluctance to serve as her guardian. If only he had turned that reluctance into a mission to sever their relationship. But apparently Papa had made sure that could not happen, even though he had known her stance on marriage. Whatever had he been thinking?

Preston waved his hands about, discussing some Parliamentary issue with Campbell, while Bridget and Lady Preston chatted about typical British subjects: the weather, the traffic in Town, the latest fashions, and who Bridget must meet, now that she was entering Society.

Campbell broke from his conversation after a while and introduced Bridget to others in the room. She seemed to catch the attention of several men, but most of them were more interested in the expanse of skin above her neckline than in speaking with her. She was tempted to remind Lord Bassinger that her face was above her neck.

They were soon summoned to the dining room, where the buffet table had been laid out with various offerings. Guests took informal seats at the table wherever they wished.

Bridget found herself between Mr. Blackmore and Lord Bassinger, who had almost tripped in his attempt to take the seat next to her. Lord Devon sat across from her, the only man she’d met that night who hadn’t studied her bosom. Newly married, she’d learned, Lord Devon and his wife were obviously a love match, based on the way they stared at each other as if no one else was in the room.

At one time Bridget would have wanted to roll her eyes at them, but for some reason she felt a twinge of something different. Similar to envy. Which was absolutely ridiculous. She knew what she wanted in life, and it was certainly not a husband. Besotted or not.

Lord Campbell sat across the table from her, about three places down. He exchanged conversation with the two ladies on either side of him, but every time Bridget looked his way, he was looking at her. The scowl on his face confused her, since she thought she was doing a fine job of socializing as he’d requested, in order for him to hold up his end of their bargain.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you will join us in the music room, we will serve tea there and enjoy the talents of our guests.” Lady Preston stood and smiled at everyone.

The group rose from the table and followed their hostess to the music room.

It was a lovely room, with warm brown wainscoting and green-and-white striped paper on the walls. Musical instruments of various types were scattered about the room. Chairs had been set up in rows for those who were not performing.

After tea had been served, Lady Preston clapped her hands. “Who will be our first performer of the evening?”

Bridget had never attended an event such as this. Apparently, a musicale in this house meant the guests entertained one another, rather than having a professional singer or one of the hostess’s young female relatives perform. An interesting concept.

“I will be happy to play the pianoforte, if Lord Campbell will turn the pages.” A young girl who had been introduced as Lady Edith, niece of the Pres