The man’s face glowed with joy and a bit of smugness. Bridget felt a twinge of longing. If she never married, she would not ever hold her own child in her arms. Would not feel the tug on her breast of an infant’s mouth or inhale the unique perfume of a newborn after its bath.
But she would have her independence. She could travel, assist women in need, grow old.
Alone.
She shook off her melancholy thoughts and smiled at Dunmore. “Congratulations, my lord. I am very happy for you and Lady Dunmore.”
“Well done, old man.” Cam slapped Dunmore on his back, then extended his elbow to Bridget. “I believe we shall be on our way, then.”
There was a slight awkwardness between them during the carriage ride, which Bridget attributed to their passionate kiss in the gazebo. She hadn’t seen Cam since their return home, and because he’d ridden his horse most of the way back while she had chatted with Fiona in the carriage, they’d not had a chance to discuss their lapse in propriety.
“Bridget, there is something of which we must…” Apparently Cam felt the tension as well.
She smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in her gown. “Yes, my lord.”
He grinned, breaking some of the strain. “My lord? Have we returned to such formal address, then?”
She lifted her chin, preparing herself for his apology. She did not regret their kiss, and if he did, then she would have to swing her reticule at his arrogant head. No woman wanted to hear that kissing her had been a mistake.
He reached across the space between them and took her hands in his. “I am not going to apologize for kissing you.”
Hmm. He must have read her mind.
“But it must not happen again. There is no future for us, because I am committed to remaining unmarried.”
“I see,” she sniffed. “It may surprise you to know I am not—as I am certain most every young woman in the ton is—yearning to become your marchioness. I have no desire to trap you or finagle a way to be compromised.”
She pulled her hand away, annoyed at his attitude. “However, I wish to point out that, while you consider it quite proper for you to remain unwed, when I declare the same, I am told how unrealistic such a thing is. How I will need someone in my old age.”
“We’ve been over this before, Bridget. You have no one in this world, while I have family members.”
How painful that statement was. Until Cam had raised the point, she’d never given much thought to her future, except for what she wanted to do for ill-treated women. It had also been her intention to travel. Husbands were oftentimes tied to their estates or Parliament, unable to take a journey. But why would he make her confront what she’d never concerned herself with before?
Perhaps because it’s true?
Maybe she would change her mind one day. Sometime in the future after she had done all the things she wanted to do.
“How fortunate for you, my lord. But please do not concern yourself with my dotage. I shall be quite content. I assure you.”
They remained silent for the rest of the ride. There was a distinct change in the neighborhoods as they wended their way through the city. The area they entered was certainly not as bad as some, more of a workingman’s district.
The houses were not as elaborate as the upper classes, but tidy and well-kept. This would be a perfect place for her house. The women she sought to aid would come from an area such as this. If she was able to keep the place a secret, they would be safe from husbands, yet able to continue their employment.
Cam had made an excellent point of a husband being able to find his wife at her job if she fled, but they would face that problem once they had a definite facility. Hiring a man for the door would be helpful. For now, she was just excited to be able to supply a place where women could be safe.
The carriage rolled up in front of a small townhouse with an overgrown garden. Cam stepped out and turned to assist her. She shook out her skirts as she eyed the building. Yes, if the inside was suitable, this would be a very good place for her purpose.
She took Cam’s arm as they walked up the first few steps.
“My lady!”
Bridget turned to see a young woman racing down the pavement, clutching a dirty bundle in her arms. The girl reached them, so out of breath she could barely speak. “Please, my lady, you must help me.”
“What is it?”
“You are the lady who is setting up a house for women to hide from their husbands? I heard Gertrude speak of you. She is sister to a lady’s maid who is friendly with Fiona.”
“Yes. That is my intention, but how did you know I would be here?”