“Yes. Lord Campbell did speak with me about that. I thought you were to meet yesterday.”
Davenport shook his head. “No. Campbell sent word to change the meeting to tomorrow.”
He patted her knee, and she immediately withdrew from his touch by moving as close to the edge of the vehicle as she could without falling to the ground. Her initial reluctance returned. She should not have agreed to this ride. The fresh air suddenly seemed stale, and she wanted to return home and never set eyes upon Lord Davenport again. Whatever had kept Cam from confronting the cad with the evidence of his pending ruination worried her.
“Ah, it looks as though someone is in need of our help.” Davenport pulled on the reins, and the horses stopped behind a carriage resting in the middle of the pathway. A man stood alongside the carriage, his hands on his hips as he studied the front wheel. With it being the more secluded part of the park, whatever problem the driver had would not become evident to anyone else for some time.
“I am not comfortable with you up there while I see what the issue is.” Davenport walked to her side of the vehicle and helped her down. “Why don’t you wait by the side of the path while I see what the fellow needs?”
Botheration! This was only going to extend their time together. After he finished with this mishap, she would definitely tell him she had a megrim and wished to return home.
The thought was barely complete in her mind when her head exploded with pain and everything went black.
Chapter Eighteen
The afternoon following his meeting with Lord Davenport, quite pleased with his success in scaring the life out of the bastard, Cam arrived at his sister’s house to speak with Bridget. He hoped Davenport had begun to make arrangements to flee the country.
When Cam had presented Davenport with the evidence of his poor financial state, and all the vowels Cam had acquired that he demanded immediate payment for, or he would have the man thrown into debtor’s prison, Davenport had acquiesced and agreed to leave the country.
When he’d pressured Cam to know why he’d been set up, Cam took a great deal of delight in sharing with Davenport what Bridget had told him about the man, straight from his deceased wife’s mouth.
Of course he denied it all, but that was no matter. The deed was done, the man would be on the next ship out of Southampton, and he and Bridget could move on from this problem and get the women’s house set up.
Then what?
He shoved the next step out of his mind. He still thought marriage was not for him, and still believed Bridget needed a husband, although those two thoughts had become intertwined and muddled of late.
The door to Dunmore Townhouse was opened before he even hit the top step. “Good afternoon, my lord.” Fenton stepped back to allow Cam entrance.
“Good afternoon. Will you please advise Lady Bridget that I have arrived and will meet her in the library?”
“Lady Bridget is not at home, my lord.”
Cam came to a stop. “When did she go out?”
“Lord Davenport called for her earlier this afternoon, and they went on a carriage ride. I had thought they would have returned by now, but they are still out and about.”
“Lord Davenport?” Cam’s heart thumped, and his stomach muscles tightened. What the devil was Davenport doing here? Why wasn’t he headed for the nearest ship? And why would he take Bridget on a…
Bloody hell!
“How long ago did you say?”
“It was right after luncheon, I’m sure.”
He checked his timepiece. About three hours. With a quick nod, Cam barreled down the steps and raced to the mews to retrieve his horse. There was no doubt in his mind that Davenport was headed to Gretna Green. How he would force Bridget to consent to an anvil marriage was not something he wished to dwell upon. The man was desperate, and desperate people did desperate things.
Even though Davenport had a lead on him, they would be traveling by carriage, which was slower than a man on a horse. Cam took the time to stop by his house to pick up funds and a warmer coat. The air had turned quite chilly, and with the speed he intended to travel, it would be a cold ride. A carriage would be better to bring Bridget home in, but it would slow him down.
With brief instructions to his valet, Markham, Cam set off to run Davenport to ground.
…
Bridget awoke with a headache and her stomach roiling. She was in a fast-moving carriage and very confused. She groaned as she sat up and looked across the way.
Lord Davenport.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” She placed her hands on her head to stop the pounding.