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“No, indeed. You need a caretaker.” He ran his fingers through his hair. He would be a laughingstock if he brought Lady Bridget with him dressed this way. Then he had an idea. She hoped he would leave her here. That was most likely her plan from the start. Well, two could play at this game.
“Very well. If you wish to present yourself this way to your peers, then so be it.” He extended his arm and she hesitated, her face a picture of surprise. Then she narrowed her eyes and stiffened her back. She tugged the shawl closer to her body and took his arm.
“Lead the way, my lord.”
She tripped over her own feet three times before they reached the carriage. He had no desire to look at her footwear, but he was sure it was some sort of clunky slipper. Wearing unnecessary spectacles probably made maneuvering worse. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d borrowed his brother-in-law’s shoes and stuffed rags into them.
He glared at her the entire ride to Lord Benson’s house. Lady Bridget stared out the window, never meeting his eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was regretting her decision to wear the outfit. Lord, she could at least take off the mobcap and spectacles.
It took all his control to not whip those items off her himself, but he was determined to see it through. If she could brave the crowd dressed like that, he could as well.
After the short ride, the carriage drew up to their host’s home. A footman opened the door, and Cam turned to her. “Do you wish to return home and change your attire?” He softened his expression. “I know what you’re trying to do, Bridget, but I doubt very much if you really want to meet new people looking like this.”
She stared at him for a few moments, then her jaw tightened as she whipped the mobcap off her head and removed the spectacles. “I’m ready.”
Afraid if he made a comment, or even breathed a noticeable sigh of relief, that she would put the horrible articles back on again, he merely stepped out and turned to assist her. He glanced down when she lifted her skirt and was greeted with huge, ugly shoes that surely she’d borrowed from someone.
…
Bridget handed her shawl to the man at the door and raised her chin. Without the spectacles, shawl, and mobcap she looked almost normal. Cursed man. She’d been certain he would not allow her to attend dressed as she was and would leave her behind. But he’d called her bluff.
Now that the worst part of her outfit was gone, she wished for better shoes. She’d swiped the ones she wore from Mrs. Dressel and stuffed the tips with handkerchiefs. It did make her walk strangely, but the effect was not as great as the rest of her outfit had been.
She grinned, thinking how the group would have reacted had she indeed shown up with cap, spectacles, and shawl. Well, she must think of other ways to prevent Lord Campbell from dragging her to these events, or do something to keep away the men to whom he wanted her to marry. Thankfully, the days of a man forcing a woman to marry had ended, but he could certainly make her life miserable until she conceded. Which she would not do.
A few of the guests gave her questioning looks, but Lord Campbell smoothly passed it off as her still being in mourning. They made their way around the room, with her guardian making introductions.
How she hated these events, which was precisely why she’d convinced Papa that he needed her at the estate in Scotland, not waltzing through the ballrooms of London. Since the last few years of his life he’d not felt well, and his condition had deteriorated monthly, he hadn’t had the energy to dissuade her.
She eyed a footman holding a tray of drinks, but truth be known, she would love a Scotch; the hairdo she’d forced Fiona into giving her was causing a headache.
“Would you care for a sherry? Or perhaps champagne?” Lord Campbell leaned in, startling her for a moment as his spicy scent surrounded her. Bergamot, leather, and something completely male. Her heart sped up at his nearness and the warmth coming from his body. Whatever is the matter with me?
“Ah, I would much rather have a Scotch.” She backed up a bit, giving herself room to breathe.
“I don’t believe our host has your favorite beverage available.” He smirked at her, the first time since his sister’s house that he wasn’t scowling at her. When his face was relaxed and he had that rakish smile and teasing green eyes, he truly was a handsome man. She’d already noticed women glancing in his direction, and a few who were throwing him obvious invitations.
“Then I’m afraid champagne it is.”
“My lord, may I beg an introduction to your lovely companion.” A gentleman stood at her elbow, eyeing the area below her chin, which was futile, considering her bosom was covered up to her neck.
Lord Campbell stiffened, then said, “Lady Bridget MacDuff, may I present to you The Earl of Chadwick.” He added, “Lady Bridget is my ward.” Although Lord Campbell was polite, she got the impression this was not one of the gentlemen whom he wanted her to marry. His demeanor was rigid, and a bit of coldness had crept into his voice. Lord Chadwick, however, did not seem to notice. Or care.
But she did, and it was time for the next step in her campaign to annoy her guardian.
She held out her hand and smiled brightly. “My lord, what a pleasure to meet you.”
Chadwick’s eyes lit up, and he moved in closer. Bridget had to grind her teeth to keep from moving back. The man was obnoxious, but if it would irritate Campbell, she would put up with him.
The earl leered at her. Actually leered. “And certainly a pleasure to meet you, my lady. Where has Campbell been hiding you?” He bent in closer until they were toe-to-toe, but unlike Campbell, this man’s scent repulsed her.
She batted her eyelashes. “I haven’t been hiding at all.” She turned to her guardian and gave him a sweet smile. “Have I, my lord?”
She wanted to burst into laughter. It appeared she was not the only one grinding her teeth. His lordship’s lips were tightened into a thin line, and his flashing green eyes narrowed. He bent toward Chadwick and lowered his voice. “Back up, Chadwick. You’re taking away all the lady’s breathing room.”
“Surely you don’t plan on keeping this lovely woman to yourself? You did say she was your ward? Not well done, Campbell.” Chadwick had backed up, but something about his manner told her he didn’t care too much for Campbell’s insinuation.
“I will be happy to get that champagne for you.” Campbell grabbed her elbow and practically dragged her to the nearest footman holding a tray of drinks. He took a glass and handed it to her. “Stay away from Chadwick.”
