He gave her a curt nod. “I have come to make notes to send to the man I have hired to begin renovations.” He clasped his hands behind his back and wandered the room, looking at the walls and ceiling, checking the windows and shutters. She twisted and turned to follow him with her eyes.
“I will add to my list to bring in painters and secure some furniture.” He continued his perusal as if everything between them was perfectly normal and she hadn’t walked out on him the day after their wedding.
She shook her head, still trying to understand. When she shifted to stand, he was by her side in a flash, reaching out to help her up. His grip was strong, warm, and solid. She studied his face, but nothing showed there. His mien was as blank as a poorly done portrait.
“Why are you really here, Cam?”
“I told you. As your husband, this is my investment as well as yours. I imagine you have not had a great deal of experience in setting up a household from nothing.” He took her hands in his and stared into her eyes. “I want to help.”
She hated the fluttering in her stomach and the increase in her breathing at his nearness. The arrogance she was so very familiar with was missing. He looked almost contrite. Very un-Cam-like.
“Why?”
He brushed a wisp of a curl that had come loose from her hastily arranged hairdo behind her ear.
The back of his warm hand brushed her cheek. “You are my wife. It is my duty…”
She pulled her hand free and walked out of the room, mumbling under her breath. Botheration. He was still concerned with his duty. Would that always be the motivation for everything he did for her? Duty?
Cam chased after her and caught her arm as she reached the first step of the staircase. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to say that. I want to help because I am as anxious as you are to see this project finished. As I told you, I have already introduced bills into Parliament to help the downtrodden.”
She was so confused. He looked sincere, but that word “duty” always popped up. “I don’t want to be your ‘duty,’ my lord.”
He shook his head. “No. I want to do this because I…because I want to help.”
What was that hesitation? Was he about to say something else? No matter, he had at least come to her. “Very well. I must admit I feel a bit overwhelmed.”
He looked around the bare space, and once again he took her hands in his. “There doesn’t seem to be a comfortable space here. Shall we return to our house and go over some suggestions? I do have a few ideas.”
She stiffened. Was he here only to get her back to his house? Was all this a plan to undermine her leaving?
Almost as if he read her thoughts, he put his hands up in surrender. “I have no motive other than to help you. We decided to do this project together, and I want to carry through. I want to carry through. I don’t feel like it’s merely a duty.” He extended his hand to her, a slight smile on his handsome face.
She gazed at his hand. Since she was miserable without him and wondering if she’d made the right decision to leave without trying to talk it over, everything inside her screamed to place her hand in his.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cam released the breath he’d been holding when Bridget placed her delicate hand in his large one. First battle won.
And a battle it would be. He’d been so adamant about doing the right thing, the honorable thing, that he’d totally ignored Bridget and her desires, treating her more like a possession than the wonderful, loving woman she was.
Everything he’d learned about women from the time he’d been a youth flew out of his muddled head when she was around him. Most likely, if he’d handled the idea of them marrying a bit more like a lover and less like a gaoler, she might have been more amenable to the idea.
A fool, him.
Now that he’d gotten her to agree to accompany him to their townhouse he felt a bit more settled. But not so settled that he would make the same mistakes again. She needed to feel cherished and cared for, not smothered and ordered about like a servant.
He assisted Bridget into the carriage after locking up the women’s house. He wanted more than anything to sit alongside her and pull her onto his lap, but common sense prevailed, and he took the seat across from her. Take it slow. He had all the time in the world. They would be married for the rest of their lives and, depending on how this went, it could be wonderful or horrific.
God, how he’d missed her. Why had he ever imagined that marrying her would be a duty? Merely a responsibility and a way to restore his good name? He’d been fooling himself for quite some time.
“You are an ass, Cam.” Harris’s comment had broken the silence when he’d gone into more detail with the physician about the problems he and Bridget were having. “Yes, an ass. And a dunderhead, a muddleheaded featherbrain,” the good doctor had added.
“Well, thank you so much, my friend. Perchance you might be a bit clearer in your observation. Don’t hold back on my account.” He ran his palm down his face, knowing he was correct
.
“Time to get down on your aristocratic knee and beg your bride to take you back. Grovel, my man. Grovel. Works every time.” Harris grinned, obviously enjoying Cam’s distress. Blast the man.