His Rebellious Lass (Scottish Hearts 1)

Despite his best intentions, he kept glancing down the table to where Bridget sat between Lord Devonshire and Mr. Michaelson. Both men were single, wealthy, well-connected, and seemed to show an interest in Bridget. Either would be a perfect husband for her. He tried as hard as he could to think of a reason why one or the other would not suit and came up with nothing.

Bloody hell.

The dinner came to an end, and Lady Banfield invited the ladies to join her in the drawing room for tea, leaving the men to their port. The gentlemen stood as they exited and settled back in their seats as bottles of port, whisky, and brandy were placed on the table.

Just as Cam took a sip of his brandy he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Campbell, I would have a word with you.”

Cam looked up into Lord Davenport’s eyes. He immediately tensed, grateful that Bridget had left the room. “What is it?” Perhaps he came off cold, because Davenport seemed taken aback, but with what he knew about the man, he had no desire for niceties.

Davenport pulled out the chair next to Cam and reached for the brandy bottle. He poured a good half glass of th

e liquid, then held it up to him in a salute and downed most of it in one gulp.

“What can I do for you, Davenport?” He had no time for friendly banter with the man who had most likely killed his wife and gotten away with it.

“I understand Lady Bridget is your ward.”

What the devil was the man up to? The last thing he wanted to do was discuss Bridget with the blackguard. “Yes.”

“Good. Good. I understand you are hoping to find a match for the chit.”

“I have no idea who passed that information along to you, Davenport. While I am open to offers for the lady’s hand, I am in no hurry to marry her off.”

“Well, I would like to be considered.”

Cam almost spit out his drink. “What?”

Davenport offered Cam a smile that he wanted to wipe from his arrogant face. “Yes. I’d like to offer for Lady Bridget. I think she and I would suit quite well.”

Chapter Twelve

For the very first time in his life, Cam was speechless. This man, who had beaten his wife, then most likely pushed her down a flight of stairs to her death, wanted to offer for Bridget? He truly didn’t know whether to laugh at the man’s arrogance or ask him to step outside so he could pound him into the dirt.

Pretending ignorance about what Bridget had told him, he said, “Do you even know Lady Bridget? I have been with her the last few weeks, and your name has not come up.”

At least not in a way that makes me want to consider allowing you to continue to live, let alone marry my ward.

Davenport waved his hand. “Yes. Yes. We are old friends.” He winked at Cam, threatening the last bit of control he had.

“Care to elaborate, Davenport?”

The nitwit did not pick up on Cam’s obvious distaste. “My dear departed wife and Lady Bridget were schoolmates. The chit spent a lot of time at our house. I must say, she is quite easy on the eyes, if you know what I mean.”

Even if Cam had not known the story behind Lady Davenport and her death, he would dislike this man. He didn’t care for what he was suggesting, and his arrogance at assuming a marriage prize such as Bridget would be his for the taking was supercilious to the extreme. Deciding to have some fun with the man to indulge his dislike and desire to ruin him, Cam sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me about this you know what I mean, because I am not quite sure to what you are referring.”

“Nothing untoward, you see, but it was obvious the chit had a fancy for me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I discouraged her, of course, considering I was happily married, but no doubt she would be pleased with my offer.” He straightened in his chair and hurried on. “Naturally, it is best if we keep this between us gentlemen. You know, get your permission, draw up the marriage contracts, and then I’ll propose to Bridget.”

“Lady Bridget.”

“Yes. Yes. It’s just that I know the girl so well and all…” He grinned again, reminding Cam of the devil himself. The only thing missing were horns and a pitchfork.

Blood pounded throughout Cam’s body. This cretin, this blackguard, knew precisely why he wanted the marriage contracts drawn up before he spoke to Bridget. There was no doubt in Cam’s mind that Bridget had made her dislike of the man obvious while he was married to Lady Davenport.

After the contracts were drawn up, it was legally binding, and Bridget would be hard-pressed to get out of it. At that moment, Cam decided to destroy the man. Crush him and leave him broken and ruined. ’Twas a much better solution than violence. And he would enjoy every minute of it. Excitement more than anger had his blood pounding.