Cam waved at a footman to bring him a drink and settled across from Bedford. “A group meeting and I wasn’t invited?” He grinned at his three friends. They’d been inseparable since Eton. The other three had all married, leaving him at sixes and sevens when it came to male companionship.
“Believe it or not, Cam, we all just happened to show up here at the same time.” Templeton took a sip of his drink. “It must be the camaraderie we enjoy.”
“Ah, but our comradeship is no longer, seeing as how we have all married, and our friend Cam is holding out.” Bedford smirked in his direction.
Cam shook his head. “No marriage for me.”
“Oh come now, Cam, don’t try to tell us you still believe that nonsense about turning out to be the sort of pater you endured?” Hawk learned forward, dangling his almost-empty glass between his spread knees.
“I do not wish to bring a child into this world and then mistreat it.”
Templeton regarded him. “I can understand your fear, but what I don’t understand is where you got the idea that you are anything like your father. In any way.”
“I agree. There is no ‘like father, like son’ behavior of yours I’ve ever witnessed.” Bedford shook his head. “You would never treat a child the way you were treated.”
“Or a woman,” Hawk added.
Cam sipped his drink and pondered what his friends said. True, he was not like his father in any way. Maybe he wouldn’t be the ogre he’d had to deal with in his childhood. Although that thought had recently drifted in and out of his head, he never faced it square on. Why that idea immediately warmed his insides and brought Bridget to mind troubled him.
“Ah, something has made you smile,” Bedford said.
“Nothing.” Cam waved them off. Until he could consider their remarks in private, he wanted the conversation far away from him. “I have most of the votes I need for my bill to assist veterans.”
His three friends laughed.
“What?”
…
Fiona stuck her head into Bridget’s room. “Milady, Lord Campbell has arrived.”
“Thank you, I will be right down.” Bridget took one final look in the mirror, tied her bonnet ribbon
s under her chin, and picked up her reticule.
She was excited that she and Cam were going to look at the second house his man of business had found. He’d told her Mr. Dunston felt this building was more amenable to what they wanted to use it for.
She was a little annoyed that she could not purchase a house outright and had to depend on Cam to loan her the money until she married—horrors—or received the funds on her twenty-third birthday. She had not met any man who appealed to her enough to give up her freedom.
Except Cam.
Who, of course, was out of the question. Not only had he made it clear he had no intention to ever marry, she didn’t think his arrogance and protective tendencies would make for a pleasant marriage for her.
She smiled. In short, she could not control him.
Cam’s and Dunmore’s voices drew her to the library where she found them chatting away. Her brother-in-law appeared to be on his way out, as well. They both looked toward the door as she entered the room.
Her breath caught at the sight of Cam, as it often did. It was not only his handsome visage, but also the way he held himself that spoke of confidence and everything an English lord should be. No sign of overindulgence marred his appearance. What amazed her more than anything was, even with all he had to offer a wife, he’d managed to escape the parson’s noose for so long.
She would love to have a conversation with Constance about where his aversion to marriage came from. Most titled gentlemen were anxious to marry and fill their nursery with an heir and a spare. Cam seemed to not care a whit about duty to his title. Not that she cared about his reasons, either, she hurriedly assured herself. It would just be interesting to know.
Bridget pulled on her gloves and looked behind her. “I’m not sure where Mrs. Dressel is. I told her to be ready by ten o’clock.”
Fiona stepped into the room. “Mrs. Dressel sent word that she is suffering from a megrim and begs to be left at home today.”
Bridget glanced at Cam. He didn’t need to say anything, with her knowing his thoughts on her chaperone. But Mrs. Dressel was such a dear, and she’d been with her from the time she’d returned from school in London a few years ago. Perhaps she could consider pensioning her off, but until she had use of her own money, she could not do that and wouldn’t ask Cam to do so, either.
“Since you are conducting business, I believe it would not be improper for you to view this property without Mrs. Dressel,” Dunmore said. “I would offer up my wife’s services, but it appears Lady Dunmore is again increasing, and she’s feeling a bit under the weather.”