A footman immediately opened the carriage door, allowing Cam to step out. He turned to assist her out of the vehicle.
“Welcome to Banfield Manor.” Lady Banfield approached them, her hands extended. “I am so happy you were able to join us.”
Bridget had met the woman at another event and found her to be quite pleasant. She and her husband, while not a love match, had obviously grown fond of each other over the years. She was plump and cheerful to his tall, angular frame.
Lord Banfield strode up beside his wife. “Good to see you, Cam. Not used to you tolerating these things.”
Cam smiled. “Quite so. I used to make it a point to avoid the marriage-minded mamas.”
Lord Banfield tossed his head back and laughed. “But here you are now.”
Cam turned to Bridget, took her hand, and placed it on his arm. “Yes, well my ward needs to enjoy some pleasant events, with her exposure to London Society being so limited.”
“I understand you are Scottish, my lady.” Lord Banfield regarded her as if he expected her to whip out a tartan and drape it over her body. Except she was from the Lowlands, where kilts were not an everyday staple as they were in the Highlands now that they were no longer outlawed.
“Yes, I am, my lord.” She wanted to add and proud to be, but decided, in the name of gracious guest manners, she would bypass the comment.
“Well, then. Welcome to our home, and Lady Banfield will be happy to see you to your chambers.” He addressed Cam. “Please join us in the drawing room after you are settled. Several of the guests have gathered there for tea and drinks.”
Bridget and Cam followed Lady Banfield into the house and up the stairs. Bridget got only a mere glimpse of the entry hall, which seemed large, airy, and invitingly decorated. Once at the top, they turned to the right and trooped behind Lady Banfield down a lengthy corridor, past several closed doors. She stopped at one on the left. “This is your chamber, Cam. Lady Bridget’s is farther down in the women’s section.”
They left Cam to clean the road dust from the trip, and Bridget and Lady Banfield proceeded to a door on the right side. “And this is your chamber, Lady Bridget. I hope you are comfortable here. I believe your lady’s maid has already unpacked some of your things.”
“Thank you. You are very kind.”
Lady Banfield nodded. “Please join us for tea when you are settled. Unless you prefer a sleep-in before dinner. If you’d like to join us, merely ask any one of the footmen to show you where we are.”
“Thank you once again.”
Bridget turned to take in the room. A nice size, the chamber had pale-rose and green window coverings and bed hangings. The rose carpet under her feet was plush and matched the paint on the upper part of the wall, with wainscoting on the bottom.
“Will you be changing for tea, milady?” Fiona shook out one of her gowns and placed it on a shelf in the armoire.
“Yes. I would love to get out of this gown. If there is something not wrinkled, I will don that one and refresh myself before joining the others.”
After Fiona unfastened and removed her gown to find something for her to change into, Bridget moved to the window and looked out at the expanse of Banfield Estate. Even though she was expected to “look over” the men at the party for a potential husband, she was happy to be here, with the smell of the country air, fresh grass, and the light scent from the stables coming in through the window.
She turned to Fiona. “You did bring my breeches, did you not?”
…
The next morning, Cam strode from Banfield Manor, heading to the Viscount’s renowned stables for a morning ride. He breathed in the cool, crisp air, remembering how much he enjoyed the country. After the bill to help the veterans passed, he would retire to the country for a while and spend the time there occupying his hours as a gentleman farmer. A role he relished more and more each year.
Perhaps I am getting old.
Somehow, the life he’d planned did not seem as appealing as it once had. In his push for Bridget to marry to avoid a lonely old age, he’d begun to question his own decision not to do that very thing.
He surely didn’t object to having a warm, willing woman in his bed every night—someone like Bridget, he was annoyed to acknowledge—but he refused to reproduce. He still wanted his bit of revenge on the man who had revered his title above all else. Also, the fact that he did not seem to have his father’s nastiness had never been a strong enough reason to dissuade him from remaining childless.
Until recently.
Shoving those uncomfortable thoughts to the back of his mind, he entered the stable to choose a horse to ride. He’d promised to meet Bridget, who was anxious to race through the countryside, as she’d put it.
He was finishing tacking Delphi, the horse he’d chosen, when Bridget arrived at the stables, and Cam almost swallowed his tongue. “What the devil are you wearing?”
She looked down at her body, covered in a man’s shirt and breeches that outlined every single curve of her arse and legs. All the blood left his head and proceeded to his lower parts.
“Go change into something appropriate.” He turned quickly, not wanting to torture himself further.