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He raised his eyes, the pain evident there. It seemed his feelings did not match his words. “You didn’t live up to your part of the compromise.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. “How?”
“Your part of the deal was to not thwart my attempts to find you a suitable husband. I have just given you an honest offer of marriage. I am young, titled, wealthy, and therefore a suitable husband. You have turned me down.”
She spun on her heels and walked to the library window. “I don’t believe this.” She turned back to look at him, her eyes rimmed with tears. “You would actually take away my dream to coerce me into marriage?”
“I don’t understand why you do not acknowledge that we have no choice. I will never permit you to marry the man who ruined you, and right now, with the way things look, no suitable prospect will offer marriage. You might get some offers, but they won’t be respectable, and I will have to call them out.”
“According to you, I am a woman without virtue, anyway, so no one will have me even without the scandal.”
“That is a separate issue.”
That stung. He still did not believe her. Wonderful. A great way to start off a marriage. He thought she’d had a lover or two and he needed to step up as her savior to stop the scandal, even though he’d continuously said he would never marry. All the best reasons to take a wife and make a successful union. She remained silent.
He took in a deep breath. “Then I’m afraid the women’s house is on hold until you reach your twenty-third birthday.”
Bridget collapsed onto the chair behind Lord Dunmore’s desk. She studied her lap for a while, pleating the fabric of her skirts with stiff fingers. She could not allow any more time to pass without trying her best to help those in need. It would take months to get a house readied, and waiting for her twenty-third birthday to even begin was unacceptable. “Very well.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “I will marry you.”
He waited for a few moments, and when she refused to add to her words, he cleared his throat. “I will obtain a special license. Today is Thursday. Shall we say Saturday?”
“No.” She drew herself up. “I will not marry you until the women’s house is secured.”
He nodded. “I will have Dunston take the necessary steps to purchase the last house we viewed.”
“Whatever you say, my lord.” She stood and smoothed out her gown. “If you will excuse me, I find I have the beginnings of a megrim.”
Cam put his hand out as she walked by. “Bridget…”
She swept past him and left the room.
Wearily, she climbed the stairs, feeling as though life was crushing her. Through no fault of her own she was now a scorned woman, left with no choices. She managed to hold her tears until she reached her bedchamber.
After gently closing the door, she turned and leaned against the wall, wrapping her arms around her middle.
She was disgraced.
Lord Campbell’s honor was being called into question.
He felt it his duty to rescue her, as if she were a princess in a tower and he a knight in shining armor.
Slowly, she slid to the floor, resting her forehead on her knees.
The worst part of the entire mess was being forced to marry a man who didn’t want to marry at all, who didn’t love her and probably never would, while she was desperately in love with him.
That realization had hit her after they’d shared a bed. She had wanted, oh so much, to accept his offer of marriage, but to commit herself for the rest of her life to a man who saw her as only a responsibility—who would eventually grow to hate her because of the trap he’d been caught in—terrified her more than the disgrace and scandal.
And the lack of faith in her virtue hurt more than it should have. It came down to one thing. He not only didn’t love her, he also didn’t trust her. He believed she was lying to him to cover up a more serious charge than being kidnapped.
…
Vows had been spoken in front of Mrs. Dressel and another witness provided by the vicar. With Bridget having no family, her friends from school scattered all over England, and both his sisters back in the country, there were no others to witness the rushed ceremony.
Cam had secured a special license, which he held until the papers had been signed and filed with the court for the purchase of the house on Southwark Street. He had graciously put the property in her name, although by law as her husband, he still had control over it. Along with her inheritance, which would now be released upon her marriage.
Which also belonged to him.
For the sake of appearances, she had pretended a happiness she did not feel. She might have fooled the vicar and Mrs. Dressel, but she took her vows with a heavy heart.
