Harris let out a slow whistle. “I am no great reader of minds, my friend, but there is definitely more to this story than what you are telling me.”
He waved his hand. “There is no reason for your concern. I will work it out.”
After a few moments, Cam leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs, his cup of coffee forgotten. “Actually, to tell you the truth, I really messed this one up. I don’t think there is a solution here.”
“Can I help? I’ve been married ten years, and we still speak with each other.”
Leaning back, Cam rested his booted foot on his knee. “This will never pass your lips, and I am asking this only because I trust you and figure, with your medical training, you might know the answer.” He took a deep breath. “Have you ever known, or heard of, a woman not possessing her maidenhead except for the obvious reason?”
“Of course,” Harris said immediately, frowning. “’Tis more common than most know.”
Cam’s brows rose and his stomach sunk. “Indeed?” He dragged his hand down his face, feeling as if he’d been smacked over the head with a board. Which is probably something that needed to be done. He’d messed things up horribly, had made sure his wife knew he didn’t believe her, or trust her, and then let her sail out the door as if he didn’t care at all.
So far from how he actually felt that he was sick to his stomach. He broke into a sweat at the thought of Bridget never forgiving him, of living her life without him. He sucked in a deep breath. “I am apparently one of the most.” His shaky laugh fell flat.
“Yes. Women who ride, especially like my wife, who rides astride in breeches, can lose it in that way.” Harris regarded him as if he’d lost his mind.
“Your wife, too?”
Harris nodded. “Or a woman could be born without one.”
Cam dropped his head back and cursed at the ceiling. “Bloody hell.”
“Don’t tell me that is the basis of Lady Campbell vacating the premises this morning?” Harris looked at him as if Cam were without a soul.
He hesitated, but there was no reason to make himself appear any better than what Harris’s opinion of him must be at the moment. “Yes and no. I think that had something to do with it, but also
my high-handedness about other things might have made the situation worse.”
“High-handedness? Surely you jest,” his companion said with a grin, apparently in an attempt to inject some humor into the conversation.
Cam scowled at him and cleared his throat. “I sort of told her I would no longer support the women’s house she is so devoted to unless she married me.”
Harris stared at him with a pitiful look and groaned. “Not well done, my lord. It appears you have some significant groveling to do.”
…
It was three days after Bridget had moved into what she’d named The Sanctuary. She’d just finished drawing sketches of each room, noting where furniture would be placed. She’d also made a list of staff she would need when the renovations were finished. Because the women worked long hours every day, it would make their life easier if they had to take care of only their own spaces, which kept her from having to hire more than one maid.
She’d already had two women knock on the door, asking about the house. One of them inquired if she would accept women with children, which she had planned on doing, but after it had been brought to her attention, she realized she would need a nanny or governess for the little ones.
It was difficult turning them away with the news that it would be a while before she could accept boarders. There was still so much to work out, and she still needed to consider how to keep the women safe and their husbands unaware of their location.
All things to think about, which was good. Because it kept her mind off the disaster her marriage had become.
Here she was away from her husband, who seemed to be quite content with the arrangement. She’d been foolish, no doubt. Rash and childish. She should have demanded they talk it all out. His threat to deny her the women’s house if she did not marry him had angered her, but the main reason she’d left was to protect her heart.
She truly did not want to live day after day with a man who resented her, or who felt as though he had to direct every moment of her life. But was she so certain he did resent her? Could he grow to love her?
And then there was the matter of him not believing she’d never lain with a man before. What it had come down to was a lack of trust.
She looked up from where she sat on the floor, going through the sketches again, when Marvin, one of the footmen Cam had sent with her, entered the room. “My lady, Lord Campbell has arrived and requests a few minutes of your time.”
Dumbfounded, Bridget just sat there staring at the man. Cam is here?
Before she gathered her thoughts enough to answer, her husband strolled into the room. “Good morning, wife.” He grinned in the way that set her heart to pounding.
She didn’t even scramble to rise from her very unladylike position, still trying to process the idea that Cam stood here right in front of her. “What…what are you doing here?”