“Has your man of business found someone to look over the house yet?” Lord Dunmore asked.
“Yes. He has been busy working on another assignment for me, but he did find a Mr. Carter who is quite knowledgeable in these things. From what Dunston told me, Carter will be inspecting the house this week.”
“Excellent. This is quite an undertaking, Lady Bridget. I applaud your compassion for the downtrodden.” Cam’s brother-in-law regarded her warmly.
The talk in the carriage soon turned to Parliament, because men just seemed to find the subject of new bills to be drawn up, introduced, and then sponsored, fascinating.
With Constance content to merely gaze out the window at the darkness, Bridget’s thoughts turned to Cam’s compromise. It occurred to her recently that Cam had not thrown any men in her path in a while. In fact, the way things stood it was almost as if he were courting her. They’d attended social affairs, spent time at the museum the week before, and now the theater. She gazed at him across the space. Did she want him to court her?
He was certainly a fine specimen of a man. Aside from looks, title, and wealth, he was kindhearted and protective of those under his care. Too protective? Sometimes it seemed so, although she could not complain about how he treated her. He’d even capitulated on the breeches—as long as no one saw her—and had allowed her to go hunting with the men.
She grudgingly admitted to herself, if she were forced to marry, he would be the best choice of all the men she’d met so far. Of course, there was nothing forcing her to marry, and even if she were to consider that ghastly state, it would be only because she was in love with the gentleman, and he with her.
She snorted. And she was most assuredly not in love with Cam.
Of course not.
No reason to even believe so.
The thought was ludicrous.
She pushed away the uncomfortable voice inside her, laughing its fool head off.
Chapter Seventeen
The play was well underway when Cam realized he hadn’t been paying much attention to the actors on the stage. Instead, his mind had wandered—as it frequently did—to Bridget.
Things were certainly not working out as he’d planned when he’d first inherited his ward several weeks before. His goal at the time had been very clear. Get the girl married off, shake hands with the poor sap she snagged, and then return to his life. However, he had not counted on the very challenging Lady Bridget, who was not a woman such a strategy would fit. At their first meeting, before he’d even had a chance to open his mouth and make sense of the whole thing, she’d argued with him about independence, freedom, and breaking her father’s will.
He smiled as he remembered the nonsense at the start of their relationship with her dressing and behaving like a candidate for Bedlam, leading them to their compromise. Truth be known, he’d never in his life compromised on anything. As a member of the aristocracy, he expected obedience and had always received it.
Until Lady Bridget.
At this point, he was troubled more by his feelings for her. If she’d been a coy, biddable young lady, he could have easily married her off and gone about his business. But every day, her courage, strength, humor, and compassion altered the picture he’d had of his ward.
He remained determined to never marry nor continue the line. Let his father spin in his grave at the idea of the title passing back to the Crown if no obscure relative could be found after Cam’s death. Justice for the little boy who’d cried inconsolably as his puppy had been thrown into the raging waters of the river.
But now he wondered how it would feel to release the anger and need for revenge and live a normal life.
Wife.
Children.
Love.
His body angled perfectly to study Bridget instead of the stage. He took in her demeanor as she sat enraptured with the performance, every emotion and feeling visible on her face. No subterfuge in her dealings with the world. So very different from most women of the ton.
Heat rose to his face when she turned to him, her brows raised. “What?”
“Nothing. I’m just enjoying the play.” He waved toward the stage. “Kean is wonderful in this part.” For as distracted as he’d been, he hoped it was correct and Edmund Kean had been the actor spouting the lines he’d been ignoring.
She tilted her head slightly and gave him a slow nod, a knowing smile on her lush lips. “Yes, he is.” Still grinning, she turned her face back to the stage and was immediately engrossed in the performance.
Cam ignored the slight chuckle from Constance on his other side.
The lobby was quite crowded as they descended the steps from their box to the lower floor. Cam thanked the heavens that he’d seen the play so many times he could at least keep up an intelligent conversation about it while he and Bridget strolled the lobby during intermission.
“Would you care for a refreshment?”