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“Yes, my lord. I have a room downstairs in the cellar that has a lock on it.”
“Excellent.” He waved his hand. “Lead the way.”
As they began to move forward, he turned to Lord Ambrose, still viewing the entire spectacle through his quizzing glass. “Lady Bridget was brought here against her will. She is not drunk; she has been drugged. I would appreciate it very much if this story was not repeated.”
He knew there was little chance of that happening, but he had to at least try. A young lady of Quality, who appeared to be drunk, at an inn with a man she was not married to—who had announced they were eloping to Gretna Green—was simply too good a story to pass up.
Lord Ambrose rubbed his chin with his hand and studied Cam from underneath bushy eyebrows. “I have no intention of carrying stories, but I can assure you my wife is another matter. We are headed to London, and women simply cannot keep such things to themselves.” He looked from Davenport to Cam. “You are better off allowing them to marry. Save the girl’s reputation and all.”
“That is not going to happen.” He yanked on Davenport’s collar and dragged him forward.
“Ambrose is right, you know.” Davenport’s voice was nasal, indicating that Cam had probably broken his nose. “If you don’t allow me to marry Lady Bridget she will be ruined, and your reputation as her guardian will be called into question.”
Cam shook the man, tightening his hold on his cravat and leaned in close. “Don’t test me. I will see you dead first,” he growled through clenched teeth.
The rickety stairs to the room in the basement barely held the three men as they descended. The innkeeper held up a candle and led the way to the back of the storage area. He unlocked a door and opened it. Cam shoved Davenport into the space, and the man sprawled on the floor. “You will be released when the magistrate has arrived. You would have been much better off had you heeded my advice and left the country.”
“England is my home.”
Cam snorted. “Soon Newgate will be your home.” He turned and made his way back up the stairs, the innkeeper right behind him, still holding the candle.
Now to see to Bridget and figure out how to get her out of this mess.
Chapter Nineteen
Lady Ambrose and her daughter descended the stairs just as Cam returned from the basement.
“I’m afraid Lady Bridget is not feeling too well, my lord. She collapsed onto the bed the innkeeper’s wife directed us to.” Lady Ambrose was almost giggling in her glee to have witnessed the fall of a young lady. “I didn’t smell liquor on her, but I believe she is not quite herself.”
Cam pinched the bridge of his nose. “She has not been drinking, Lady Ambrose. She was kidnapped by Lord Davenport and apparently drugged.”
Lady Ambrose clutched her ample bosom and attempted to look distraught, though not quite making it, considering this was probably the best scandal she had ever witnessed. “Oh, how terrible for the girl. I assume there will be a wedding?”
“Not with Lord Davenport.”
Lady Ambrose threw her daughters a smug glance. “Oh, good heavens, my lord, I’m afraid the girl is ruined.”
Cam glared at the woman who was having such a wonderful time at Bridget’s expense. “Only if the story is brought to London.”
“Well, I would certainly never carry tales.” She turned to her daughters. “Would I?”
Both girls answered, “No, Mama.”
The harridan turned back to him. “So you see, Lord Campbell, there is nothing to worry about.” She tapped her chin with a pudgy finger. “Of course, these things do have a way of becoming known, no matter how much one wishes to hide them.”
Disgusted with the conversation, he bowed slightly to the ladies. “If you will excuse me, ladies, I will see that the innkeeper’s wife tends to Lady Bridget.” He strode away from them to catch the woman who had just returned to the common room, bearing plates of food. She placed them on a table with two men who were in obvious need of something to soak up the alcohol they’d drunk.
“Excuse me, may I have a word with you?” He reached her just as she made to return to the kitchen.
“Certainly, my lord. How may I assist you?”
“The young lady whom you just put into the room upstairs…” He glanced sideways at Lady Ambrose and her daughters, who watched his every move. If he went upstairs to deal with Bridget, it would only increase the weight of their story about her being ruined. Drugged and kidnapped by one man, alone and behind closed doors with her guardian. Bridget might as well put out word that she was looking for a protector for all her reputation would be worth as soon as Lady Ambrose hit Town.
“I am concerned for her welfare but, since she is an unmarried young lady, I can
not assist her.”
The landlady threw a glance in the Ambrose family’s direction and seemed to understand his dilemma. Although the measure for ruin for the working class was not as strict as it was for nobility, she seemed to appreciate the disgrace Bridget was facing. “Of course, my lord. As soon as the last of the suppers have been delivered, I will tend to her.”
