Bridget accepted the glass of Scotch whisky from Cam and took a very large swallow. Probably much more than a lady should imbibe, but so-called true ladies didn’t drink spirits anyway, so how she consumed it didn’t matter.
Relishing the blessed silence, Bridget just stared at the small table in front of her while Constance fixed herself a cup of tea. After she had it precisely how she wanted it, she took a sip, then placed the cup on the saucer and looked at Cam. “Now then, Brother, perhaps you can enlighten me as to where that baby came from.”
“I have no idea who that baby is, who the mother is, and why the screaming banshee is in our possession.”
“Thank you. That certainly explains it all quite well.” She took another sip, her placid expression completely at odds with the mood in the room.
“Bridget?”
She took a deep breath. “As you know, I am searching for a suitable place to house women who are ill-treated by the men in their lives. In our search, we visited a building today that seemed like a good choice. Before we could enter, a woman ran up to us, shoved the baby into my arms, and told me to take care of it because ‘he’ threatened to kill it. Before we could question her any further, she disappeared.”
“There is no way a story such as that could be made up, so I have to assume it really happened. Why did she choose you, of all people?”
“She heard through some convoluted chain of friendship and relations that I would be there this morning to view the house with the intention of purchasing it.”
“What will you do now?”
Bridget sighed. “I have no idea. I cannot bring the babe to a foundling home. I assume—and dearly hope—the woman will one day come back for the child.”
“Soon.” Cam took the last swallow of his brandy and placed the glass on the table in front of them. He cleared his throat and regarded his sister. “I don’t suppose you could keep the child until we get this straightened out.”
Constance laughed softly. “To answer your question, yes. As much as I would love to see you dealing with a small baby, dear brother, I would never subject the child to such a horror. Nanny will be able to take care of her, and I’ll see that she secures the services of a wet nurse.”
; He dipped his head. “Ah, grownup sisters are truly God’s reward for putting up with their screeching and annoying behavior when they were children.”
Constance’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, Cam, ’twould not be wise to incur my disfavor right now.”
Cam stood and took her hand, kissing her knuckles. “I will forever be in your debt.” He turned to Bridget. “I have another appointment this afternoon with someone important to our cause, so if you will excuse me, I will return tomorrow morning to attempt another visit to the potential women’s safe house.”
“Yes. That is fine. I do not feel up to making another attempt now.”
“Now is a good time for a cup of nice hot tea.” Constance began to pour before Cam was even out the door.
As much as she enjoyed the whisky, it was also making her drowsy, so tea would be just the thing to wake her up. Perhaps it was the drink that loosened her tongue, but Bridget asked, “Why is Cam so set against marriage?”
After the question was out there, she immediately wanted to bring it back. Especially with the look of interest on Constance’s face.
“Not that I care, you see, I’m just curious.”
“Uh-huh.” Cam’s sister sipped more tea and tried to hide her smile behind her teacup. “Before I tell you my thoughts on that, can I ask you the same question? Why are you so set against marriage?”
Just like her brother, Constance was no fool and had seen more in Bridget’s innocent question than she had intended. Except, truth be known, it wasn’t an innocent question, but her curiosity had gotten the best of her.
“I prefer independence. I want to do some good with my father’s money and help women so they don’t end up like my friend Minerva.” She had told Constance that story when she’d first talked about the shelter she was planning to establish.
“I also want to travel and not be restricted by where a husband wants to go and what he wants to do.” She grinned. “I’m afraid I’m not the docile woman a man would want as a wife.”
“You think all husbands want a biddable young lady?”
Bridget snorted. “Of course. Don’t you think so?”
Constance shrugged. “I imagine a few do, but it’s impossible to say all men want the same thing in a wife. Some want beauty, some money, some meekness, but other men want a woman who will challenge them, be a partner rather than a submissive puppet.”
Bridget shook her head and drank some more tea. “Do you know any?”
Her hostess smiled. “I do, in fact. My own husband. As much as we loved each other when we married, we had quite a few rows before he understood I would not be honoring the ‘obey’ part of the marriage vows.” She laughed outright. “I insisted on being a part of whatever major decisions had to be made. He takes care of his Parliamentary duties and his estates, and I run the household. When it comes to the children, we decide together what is best.”