Caroline walked over to the doors but couldn’t see through the glass panes. She pulled them open and found a stone pathway. “In the spring, this room could be quite lovely,” she remarked to her maid. “If a garden was planted, and—”
“You don’t plan to be here that long, do you?” Mary Margaret couldn’t keep the distress out of her voice.
Caroline didn’t answer. She shivered from the wind coming through the open door and quickly shut it. Dust swirled around her as she slowly made her way back to the steps.
She sat down, shoulders slumped in defeat. Lord, it would take months to make the place decent. Bradford truly expected her return after her week’s penance was up, and she now understood why he acted so certain!
“Do you want to return home?” Mary Margaret asked, her voice eager.
Caroline shook her head. “We’ll start with the bedrooms first. If we don’t kill ourselves trying to get up the steps, that is.”
The second guard, a giant of a man named Tom, overheard Caroline’s comment and immediately checked the stability of the staircase. “Sound as the day it was built,” he announced. “Bannister just needs a few well-placed nails.”
A sudden inspiration hit Caroline. “We’ll have this place spotless in no time,” she predicted with a surge of enthusiasm.
Mary Margaret rolled her eyes over her mistress’s expectations. “It will take a week just to clean one room.”
“Not if we have help! You must go into the village we passed on our way here and hire help,” Caroline explained. “And a cook as well, Mary Margaret.”
Caroline made her list and Mary Margaret set out in her mistress’s carriage. But the boast that it wouldn’t take long to clean the house proved false all the same. It took the remainder of the week, working from sunup to sundown to see it finished.
The transformation was quite spectacular. The walls were no longer a dingy brown but now sparkled with a coat of fresh white paint. The wooden floors in the dining room and main salon shone with polish.
Furniture had been found in the storage area of the attic, and the barren receiving room now looked warm and inviting. Caroline had purchased a potbelly stove and had it placed in the far corner of the main room, and when the doors were closed to the entry hall, the room was toasty warm.
But once the week was done, Caroline found herself growing restless. She had expected to see Bradford on her doorstep at week’s end, but he continued to stay away. And so she waited. It was another full week before she finally accepted the truth.
Caroline cried herself to sleep every night, berating herself, her husband, and the injustices of life in general. She finally made her decision to give up and accept the situation. She informed Mary Margaret that they would return to Bradford Hills the following day.
Caroline stood in front of the fireplace in the receiving room while she considered what she would say to Bradford. She had no intention of asking his forgiveness and felt that if she just returned to his side, he would conclude that he had won. She would have to find a way to make him understand what was in her heart.
She shook her head, knowing that he would draw all the wrong conclusions, believe that she missed the luxuries, no doubt. That was a prick against her pride and she bristled over it. But what good were her ideals and her motives if she stayed all alone? What did pride matter? She had boasted that she wouldn’t accept half measure and now admitted that half was certainly better than none at all.
Mary Margaret opened the door and announced that the Earl of Milfordhurst was there to see her. “Show him in,” Caroline said, smiling.
Milford appeared in the doorway and grinned. Mary Margaret assisted him with his heavy winter cloak and then shut the door behind him.
“You’re my very first visitor, Milford,” Caroline told him. She rushed over and clasped his hands in hers and then impulsively reached up to kiss his cheek. “Lord, you’re freezing,” she remarked. “Stand before the fire and warm yourself. What brings you here?” she asked.
“I just wanted to say hello,” Milford hedged.
“You’ve ridden all the way from London to say hello?” Caroline asked.
Milford looked a little sheepish. He took hold of Caroline’s hand and led her to the settee and then sat down next to her. “You’ve lost weight,” he remarked. “Caroline, I’m going to interfere again. I want you to listen to me. Brad isn’t going to back down. His pride is too important to him and the sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be.”
“I know.”
“You know? Then why—” Milford was caught off guard by her ready admission. “Well, that was certainly easy work. Come now, Caroline. Let’s go back to Bradford Hills now.”
“Bradford’s there? I thought he was in London,” Caroline said.
“No, I stopped to see him first,” Milford told her. “But he plans on returning to London tomorrow. You needn’t pack anything, just come with me.”
Caroline smiled and shook her head. “Milford, do you like this room?”
Milford was about to argue with Caroline but her mild question confused him. “What? The room?” He glanced around and then looked back at Caroline. “Yes,” he remarked. “Why?”
“I would like Bradford to come here and see it as well,” Caroline explained. “It’s small by his standards, but it’s warm and cozy now … and it’s a home. Maybe he would understand if he could just see—”
“Caroline, what are you talking about? I just explained that Brad won’t back down.”
“He doesn’t need to,” Caroline placated. “I’ll send a note and ask him to come for me.”
“Are you stalling?” Milford asked, frowning.
Caroline shook her head and Milford looked at her for a long minute. He made up his mind that she was telling him the truth then and said, “Well, get on with the note writing then. Lord, but you’re obstinate. No wonder Brad married you. Two peas in the same pod. You’re very alike, you know.”
“We are nothing alike,” Caroline returned. “I’m quiet and shy and he’s a yeller. I’m very easygoing and my husband is stubborn and cynical.”
“So you are the saint and he is the sinner?” Milford asked, chuckling.
Caroline didn’t answer him. “Will you spend the night here before you return to London?” she asked. “Or would that be proper?”
“It would be proper,” Milford answered with a grin. “You’ve enough guards to see to your privacy.”
Milford and Caroline shared dinner together and discussed a wide range of topics. Eventually the talk turned to Bradford, and Milford told her how they had met. He described some of the perfectly horrid pranks the two of them had played on their elders, and Caroline laughed with delight.
“What changed him so, Milford?” Caroline asked. “What made him so cynical?”
“Responsibilities forced him to grow up too soon,” Milford commented. He refilled their wineglasses and took a deep swallow. “When his father and older brother were alive, Brad was pretty much the forgotten child. His parents seemed only to have enough love for the heir apparent. Bradford was wild and undisciplined back then. He fell in love with a woman named Victoria. He was innocent about female deceptions then.”
Caroline almost dropped her glass. “He never said a word. He was really in love? Victoria who? Is she still alive? What happened? Damn the man for not telling me!” Her questions and comments tumbled out. Just the thought of Bradford, her Bradford, loving anyone other than herself was too upsetting to handle.
Milford waved a hand for silence. “As I was explaining, he was very young and Victoria professed to be as pure as any virgin ought to be. She was a manipulative bitch and everyone who was in the know understood that. Brad told his brother and his parents that he was going to marry her, and that got a reaction! Brad’s brother was as cunning as Victoria and he thought it would be amusing to show his little brother just how experienced Victoria really was. He took the woman to bed. It was a setup, of course, and
Brad walked in at just the right minute.”
“Why didn’t he just tell Bradford that she was deceiving him?” Caroline asked. “Why did he have to be so cruel?” She was appalled by the story and her heart ached with sympathy for her husband.
“He wanted to make Brad look like a fool,” Milford stated. “Victoria was well paid for her trouble. Caroline, you’ve met Brad’s mother. Granted, she has mellowed with age and loneliness, but all the same, she was always a cold fish, and so was Brad’s father. Two weeks after Bradford’s humiliation, his father and his brother were both killed. Their carriage overturned. Suddenly the duchess only had Bradford to call family but it was too late by then. He treats her like a stranger and she has no one to blame but herself.
“Since that time, Brad has only spent his time with the … professional ladies so to speak. And then he met a violet-eyed innocent from the Colonies who turned his safe world upside down.” Milford raised his glass in a toast to Caroline and smiled.
“What happened to Victoria?” Caroline asked.
“She’s probably covered with the French pox by now. Don’t look so alarmed, Caroline. Brad never took her to bed,” he said with a chuckle. “No one has heard of the woman in years.”
“You’re telling me all this because you want me to be patient with my husband.” Caroline’s soft comment brought a grin to Milford’s expression.
“You’re a good friend, Milford,” Caroline announced. “I love him, you know. But it isn’t easy. The reasons don’t matter,” she added. “The past is the past. Bradford’s stuck with me and I’m not going to give up.”
“Give up what?” Milford asked.
“My attack against his cynicism,” Caroline answered. She stood up and sighed. “It’s late and you’re probably very tired, but if you would like, we could play a game of cards.”
Milford followed Caroline into the entryway. He was tired, and a game of whist or faro wasn’t all that appealing, but he considered that Caroline had been alone for over two weeks and he could suffer through it.
“What did you have in mind?” he asked.
“Why, poker, of course,” Caroline returned. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” She walked ahead of him into the drawing room. “I’ve been trying to teach Mary Margaret but she doesn’t have a mind for cards.”
She heard Milford chuckle behind her and added, “Of course, if it offends you, we won’t gamble.”
Caroline sat down at the square table behind the settee, picked up the deck of cards in the center, and began to shuffle them as expertly as any man.
Milford let out a shout of laughter and removed his jacket. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and took his place across from Caroline. “I would feel uncomfortable taking money from you,” he admitted, hoping she would argue with him.
“I won’t,” Caroline returned. “Besides, it’s Bradford’s money, not mine. And after you lose the first few games, you just might change your mind.”
They played well into the night. When Caroline finally announced that she was too tired to continue, Milford balked. “You must give me an opportunity to recoup my losses,” he protested.
“That was your argument an hour ago,” Caroline said. She bid him good night and went up to her bedroom.
Her loneliness was always worse when she climbed into her cold bed. Then she missed Bradford more than ever. The old-fashioned mattress was lumpy with matted straw, and her back ached every time she turned.
She thought about Bradford’s past and felt a little ashamed that she hadn’t shown more patience with him. And then she finally fell asleep, holding the pillow against her chest and pretending that it was her husband.
The messenger Caroline had sent to Bradford returned late the next morning to say that the Duke of Bradford had been called to London the day before.
Milford grumbled over the inconvenience of hunting his friend down, worried that Caroline would turn stubborn and change her mind, and then kissed her good-bye and began his journey back to the city.
Caroline was also disappointed. She strolled through the rooms of Bradford Place, thinking about her husband and how she would proceed when they were once again together.
She went back to her bedroom, sat down on the bed, and considered which gown she would wear when he finally came for her. She wanted to spend one night here at Bradford Place, liking the cozy atmosphere, and then considered that her husband wouldn’t sleep more than two minutes on the horrid mattress. That thought led to another and another, and Caroline then had the most bizarre idea. She laughed with delight and raced back downstairs to put her idea into motion.
One final jab against his armor, Caroline justified when the deed was done. Just one final assault. Then she would settle down and learn to accept.
Chapter Thirteen
BRADFORD WAS IN A PANIC.
When the messenger arrived at Bradford Hills and announced that Franklin Kendall had escaped the shadows that followed him, Bradford’s immediate impulse was to go to Caroline.
When he had calmed down a bit, he canceled that idea, knowing that she was safe with the five guards he had hired seeing to her protection. There was always the chance that Bradford was being watched, too, and if he traveled to Bradford Place, he would well be leading her enemy right to her front door.
He left for London with the vow that he would tear the town apart until he found the man. Twice he had tried to close the trap, and each time his cunning adversary hadn’t taken the bait. Well, he was through with traps. He knew that the marquis’s younger brother was the guilty one, and if he had to goad him into a duel, he would do just that.
He had had the foresight to make Caroline promise that she wouldn’t correspond with any of her relatives and knew that she thought it was because of the shabby way he was treating her. That wasn’t the case at all, but he hadn’t bothered to explain to her. He didn’t want anyone to know where she was and had confided only in Milford. His friend, of course, would keep his silence.
He felt guilty over excluding Caroline from his concerns but argued that the less she knew, the less she would worry.
Bradford didn’t arrive at the townhouse until late that evening. One of the hired investigators was waiting out front and quickly informed him that Franklin had surfaced again. He had been secreted with a new mistress and had spent the entire weekend with her.
New instructions were given and then Bradford went inside. He was pacing the library when the Earl of Braxton arrived and requested an immediate audience.
Braxton looked tired and out of sorts and came right to the point of the visit. “I took a chance on finding you here. Caroline isn’t with you, is she?”
“No, she isn’t.” Bradford didn’t comment further but offered his father-in-law a drink and then sat down across from him.
“You two have an argument? I don’t mean to put my nose in the middle, but the marquis is beside himself. Franklin keeps making snide insinuations and Milo’s upset. She hasn’t been to see him or written a word and he’s feeling abandoned. He doesn’t believe the sordid lies that waste of a brother keeps making. But he is convinced that she’s ill and you’re hiding the truth from him. Always was a worrier, Milo was. Of course, she’s fit as a fiddle, isn’t she?”
The alarm was there, in his eyes, and Bradford quickly nodded his head. “Yes, she’s fine,” he answered. “We have had a difference of opinion but nothing to concern yourself about. What remarks has Franklin been making?”
“I’ll not repeat them,” the earl snapped. “He’s out to discredit my sweet daughter. Taken a dislike to her and I can’t imagine why.”
Bradford didn’t comment. He seethed with anger inside, knowing full well why Franklin was weaving his lies.
“Well, my boy, she’s got to come back to London for a visit. Milo is working himself into a lather. You’ll see to it at once, won’t you?”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that isn’t possible just now.”
“Put your pri
de aside, Bradford! Have a little compassion. You’ll have a lifetime ahead of you to fight with my daughter. Call a truce for now. Milo isn’t the strong buck you are. He has little enough time left as it is, and has waited fourteen years for Caroline to come back to him. He loves her as much as I do.”
The earl looked ready to grab hold of Bradford and shake some sense into him. Bradford hesitated a long minute, suffering his father-in-law’s glare, and then finally came to a decision. “Caroline and I have had a difference of opinion but that isn’t the reason she isn’t here with me.”
Slowly, without interruption, Bradford explained the true reason for his wife’s absence. He told how someone had pushed her down the steps at the Claymeres’ house, described in detail the carriage “accident,” quoted parts of the threatening letter Caroline had received, and ended the sordid tale with his conclusion that Franklin was behind it all.
“He has the most to gain,” Bradford explained. “From various sources, I’ve learned that the marquis is going to settle quite a bit of money on Caroline. The land and the title will, of course, go to Franklin, but without the money he’ll be strapped to keep up his lifestyle. Loretta has gambling debts that amount to a sizable fortune, and the only reason the vultures haven’t closed in on her is due to the vouchers she signed promising the money as soon as the marquis dies.
“When Caroline returned to London, the marquis changed his will and told Franklin and Loretta what he had done after the papers had all been signed.”
Braxton had slumped farther and farther into his chair during the explanation and now buried his head in his hands.
“The marquis is disgusted with his brother and his parade of mistresses, and knows all about Loretta’s gambling habits.”
The earl shook his head and began to cry.
Bradford worried over his father-in-law’s reaction and hurried to calm him. “Sir, it isn’t as bad as it sounds,” he promised. “Caroline is well protected and Franklin doesn’t make a move without me knowing it. I don’t have sufficient evidence to prove his guilt, but I thought to call him out and be done with it.”