His Rebellious Lass (Scottish Hearts 1)

“Yes. Anxious indeed to get the matter settled, don’t ya know. No point in dawdling when one’s mind is made up, eh?”

“And you are so very sure Lady Bridget would be amenable to this arrangement?”

Davenport waved his hand in dismissal. “Women never know what they want. It’s up to men to guide them and tell them what’s what. I’m certain once she understands that marriage to me is in her best interest, she will consent.”

Cam leaned back and laced his fingers together, resting on his middle. “And you are also so very sure that I agree a marriage to you is in her best interest?”

“Naturally. The gel isn’t getting any younger, and from what I saw at the house party, she is a little light on the ton idea of English womanhood.” He shook his head. “Breeches and shooting will make it hard to get her off your hands.”

Davenport leaned in farther, tapping the desk with his finger. “I have an old title. My estate is not flushed with coin, but steady enough. I am discreet in my liaisons, so she would never be embarrassed by me parading my mistresses in public.”

“So you intend to keep a mistress when you marry? No clinging to marriage vows?”

Davenport threw his head back and laughed. “We all know wives are for breeding and mistresses are for passion. Of course I would keep a mistress. That is the way of it, eh?”

He leaned back, a smug smile on his face that Cam itched to slap off. “Not much more a chit can ask for, don’t ya know?”

A life filled with beatings and a husband possibly bringing home the pox from sleeping with whores? Davenport truly thought there was not much more that lively and spirited Bridget could hope for in life. The conversation was making him sick to his stomach.

“And your deceased wife? Was she happy with all the wonders of being married to you?”

For a moment Davenport looked surprised, then a tad nervous. Did he think that Lady Davenport had not told Bridget, her closest friend, how she’d been treated by her husband?

There was a good chance he did not think so, because oftentimes women who were subjected to such treatment somehow got it into their heads that they were the cause of their husband’s ill humor. If only I hadn’t said that, or mentioned this, he would not have struck me, so why complain? And that fact had only been reinforced by what Bridget had relayed to him.

After Bridget had told him about Lady Davenport, he’d read as much as he could on the subject. Unfortunately, there was not a great deal of information to be had. He finally unearthed the little bit he had learned from a physician. Even the doctor had been reluctant to admit he’d seen women who’d been battered by their husbands.

Worst of all was the accepted belief that a man had the right to put his hands on his wife in anger, and if he did, it was no one’s business. Something Cam had never agreed with. As far as he knew, his father had restrained himself when it came to his wife. He never learned what it had been, but apparently his mother held some sort of sway over his actions where she was concerned.

“I can assure you Lady Davenport was quite content in our marriage,” Davenport said, breaking into Cam’s thoughts. “It was regrettable that she was unable to bear me an heir. That was indeed a great sorrow for her.”

If he had to sit and listen to any more nonsense spew from Davenport’s mouth, he would lose control. Best to get on with it so the man could leave. He reached out across the desk. “I will take your information and have my man of business look it over.”

Davenport’s brows rose. “I thought we would go over the documents together.” He looked around as if he missed something when he came in. “You said your man of business and solicitor would be here also.”

Cam offered him a tight smile. “I have another appointment soon, and it would be best if my man could go through this at his leisure and offer insight to me.”

With a great deal of reluctance, Davenport handed him the portfolio. “When shall we meet to draw up the contracts?”

Cam stood, announcing the interview had ended. “Give me a week or so.”

Davenport rose. “A week?”

“Or two.” Cam walked toward the door and opened it. If he didn’t rid himself of the bloody dastard, he would smash him in the face.

Once Davenport was well on his way out the door, Cam returned to his desk and stared at the papers Davenport had left. “Croft!”

The footman returned. “Yes, my lord.”

“I must leave for an appointment. Please send a note to Mr. Dunston and ask him to attend me first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Cam opened the folder and paged through a few sheets. Then he closed it with a snap and shoved it into his middle drawer. He had to get out of the house. The taint of Davenport was still in the room.

…

He was pleased to see Hawk, Bedford, and Templeton seated in a comfortable grouping of chairs near the fireplace when he arrived at White’s.