Julie Garwood (29 page)

“Fine! We will dance and then take our leave.” Bradford took hold of Caroline’s elbow and pulled her toward the ballroom.

Caroline smiled, realizing that she had just won a small victory. “Thank you, husband,” she said, trying not to gloat.

“One dance,” Bradford insisted as they joined the set about to begin.

“Yes, Bradford.”

Her mild acceptance didn’t fool him for a minute. As soon as the dance ended, Milford suddenly appeared and demanded the next set with Caroline as his partner.

Bradford reluctantly agreed. His mood improved when he saw that Rachel and Nigel were taking their leave. He didn’t want another encounter tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Then he would have a short discussion with the vile woman and get some answers.

Caroline danced with most of London and was quite exhausted by the time the midnight dinner was finished and the dancing resumed. Bradford was content to watch his wife. He even found himself smiling a time or
two over the stir his beautiful wife was causing. She held herself with a dignity and confidence that pleased him. And twice, when he least expected it, she turned from her partner and smiled at him.

Bradford noticed that Terrence St. James was always hovering near his wife, and so was a buck named Stanton for that matter. He kept his patience and added them to his growing list of dandies he would have to have a short talk with.

“You’re frowning again, Brad. Still thinking about Rachel?”

Bradford shook his head. “Just watching the studs lusting after my wife,” he remarked. He sounded bored but Milford knew, from the look in his friend’s eyes, that he was irritated. “I will talk with some of them before the night is over.”

Milford shook his head. “You’ll have to speak to every man here,” he commented. “Look, Caroline is following her father onto the dance floor. She’ll be fine for a few minutes. Now would be a good time to have our discussion, don’t you agree.”

Bradford nodded and followed Milford out of the room. He paused, long enough to put the fear of God in Stanton’s eyes, and then continued. Milford was acting very nonchalant, but the fact that he had brought up the matter of his information twice now told Bradford it wasn’t just another false lead. They found the marquis’s study, stared the couple who had sought a moment’s privacy out of the room without exchanging a single word, and then shut the door.

Caroline finished the set with her father when Charity rushed up to her with breathless anticipation. “Uncle, if you will excuse us, Caroline and I would like to have a word together.”

Caroline meekly followed her cousin across the room. “This alcove affords enough privacy,” Charity declared. She held her spectacles in her hands and put them on when she was seated next to Caroline. “I had
thought we could talk on the balcony but we would freeze, of course.”

Caroline smiled and patted her cousin’s hand. “Don’t be nervous, Charity. In two days you will be married to the man you love and everything will be wonderful.”

“Is it wonderful?” Charity whispered the question and then frowned over it. “I do wish Mama was here. I’m frightened about … well, you know
what
about, and I have grave misgivings.”

“Charity, it will be fine.” Caroline felt vastly superior and then recalled how frightened she had been on her own wedding night. She felt herself blush. “Paul doesn’t expect you to know how,” she explained with growing embarrassment over the topic. “And it is really quite nice.”

Charity smiled. “I do like it when he kisses me,” she admitted. “And I know that you wouldn’t lie to me. If you say that it is wonderful, then it must be.”

Caroline smiled, hoping that Charity wouldn’t ask specific questions, and was thankful when her cousin stood up and removed her spectacles. “You’ve made me feel so much better.”

Charity disappeared in a flutter of pink satin, no doubt in search of her intended, and Caroline had just stood up when the tall and lanky Terrence St. James appeared and begged her for a moment of her time.

Caroline declined the invitation. It wasn’t at all proper, as the alcove completely hid them from the view of the crowd. Besides that fact, Caroline didn’t want to talk to the dandy. His looks didn’t conceal his attraction for her and she was irritated by it. She was, after all, a married woman!

“I only wanted to ask your permission to meet while you are here in London,” St. James stated. “Now that you are married, a diversion …” He shrugged, leaving the rest of the sentence undone.

Caroline couldn’t believe the man’s gall. “I will
ignore your insult this time,” she said. Her voice was as frigid as the look in her eyes, and she pushed her way past him with a shiver of disgust.

“But you do not understand,” Terrence whispered behind her.

Caroline pretended she hadn’t heard him, spotted her father in a group across the room, and immediately threaded her way to his side.

She contained her anger, thinking that she understood exactly what the odious Englishman had in mind. She decided to speak to Bradford about the disgusting morals of some of the men she had encountered and then put the matter aside.

Caroline spent several minutes looking for Bradford after a short dance with Paul, and he suggested that her husband might be in the library. Caroline went off in that direction. She had already told her father that she was tired and would be leaving soon. Now all she had to do was collect her husband and be on her way. Rachel Tillman and Terrence St. James had both put her in a pensive mood and she only wanted to leave the noise and the frivolity. Most of all, she wanted to be held by Bradford.

Caroline wasn’t aware that Terrence trailed her until she had knocked on the door to the library and opened it to peek inside. The room was empty and Caroline was about to turn around when Terrence all but shoved her inside and shut the door behind him.

“Get out of my way,” Caroline demanded. She was angry enough to bring him to his knees and became more furious when St. James shook his head.

“I am extremely wealthy,” he began. “I could give you—”

Caroline’s patience was at an end. She pushed him out of the way and started toward the door when St. James’s voice turned sour. “I’m really not wealthy at all,” he remarked as he blocked her path. “And I’m being paid a considerable amount to put you in a
compromising position. Your husband is a jealous man, my dear.”

“Yes, he is,” Caroline answered. She backed away, thinking to make her way to the desk and grab the candelabra to use as a weapon. “Jealous enough to kill you.”

“Never with such a crowd,” he returned.

“Why?” Caroline asked. “Why are you doing this?”

“The money, of course,” Terrence returned with a negligent shrug. “Rachel will pay up tomorrow. She really is quite upset with you, my dear.”

Caroline reached the desk and turned, but she wasn’t fast enough. Terrence St. James was on her, twisting and turning her until her arms were pinned against her sides. His hold was steely with purpose. “I won’t mind kissing you. You’re quite delectable. It’ll be worth a punch or two from your irate husband.”

Caroline stood rigid in his arms. She no longer struggled but waited for her opportunity. Terrence’s legs were far enough apart for what she had in mind and as soon as he relaxed, she would do just what her cousin Caimen had instructed her to do to break a man’s hold.

“My husband will believe what I tell him,” Caroline boasted.

Terrence shifted his legs and Caroline immediately put her right foot between his feet. The sound of voices reached both of them at the same instant. Caroline opened her mouth to scream and Terrence swooped down to silence her with his mouth.

The door opened just as Caroline was about to raise her knee and hopefully inflict excruciating pain upon her captor.

She wasn’t given the chance. Bradford’s rage proved quicker than lightning. Terrence St. James was ripped from his hold on Caroline and thrown over the desk with such speed that Caroline was dazed by it. She got out of the way just as Terrence’s feet flew by her face.

Caroline couldn’t see her husband’s face, as his back was turned to her. He was watching St. James try to get back on his feet. Caroline turned to the door, where Milford stood, obviously blocking anyone’s entrance.

St. James finally stood up, only to be knocked back down with one powerful thrust into his midsection.

Caroline rushed around to Bradford’s side and finally saw his expression. A chill of apprehension shot down her spine. He was looking at her and his face showed his outrage, his disgust, and his disdain.

“What are you thinking?” Caroline whispered the question and waited for her answer.

“Be silent!”

The cold demand appalled Caroline. She was so undone by the anger in his voice and the look on his face that she started to cry. Dear God, did he actually believe that she had welcomed the horrid man’s advances? She shook her head, denying it was true, denying that he could think so little of her.

St. James proved to be as stupid as he was greedy. He once again struggled to his feet. Bradford turned back to him, grabbed him by the throat, and with one hand slammed him up against the bookcase.

Terrence looked like a dangling puppet, straining against Bradford’s hold while his face slowly turned a blotchy red. Caroline tried to push her husband’s hand away, but without success. She turned to Milford and begged him to interfere.

“Don’t let him kill him,” she demanded.

Milford’s answer was a shrug of indifference. Caroline brushed the tears from her eyes and turned back to her husband. “Bradford, you’ll be hanged if you kill him. And he has yet to tell you what he was doing,” Caroline argued.

“I know damn well what you were both doing,” Bradford cracked back.

Milford did interfere then. “He isn’t worth the trouble, Brad. Throw him out with the garbage.”

“And just what were we doing?” Caroline asked. “Tell me, Bradford. Say what you’re thinking.”

Bradford’s expression slowly changed until he looked almost bored. He let go of his captive and watched him crumble to the floor.

St. James wasn’t dead. Caroline listened to his gasps for air as she waited for her husband to answer her.

“Brad, listen to your wife. Caroline, explain what happened here,” Milford stated, trying to play the role of mediator.

“I won’t explain anything,” Caroline stated. Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. Her hands were clenched into fists, the only show of her anger. “You saw what happened. Draw your own conclusions. My husband already has his answers. Don’t you, Bradford?” She started toward the door but Bradford stayed her with a light grip on her arm.

“I believe that you were innocent in this,” Bradford finally said. His voice was clipped and still terribly cold. “Stay here until we’re ready to leave. Milford? See to the carriage.”

“You see to it,” Milford returned. He wasn’t about to leave Bradford with St. James. He knew, from the ramrod posture, that his friend wasn’t completely over his fury yet.

Bradford muttered an explicit remark and left the room.

Milford walked over to Terrence and nudged him with his boot. “I suggest you crawl out of here before Bradford gets back.”

Caroline stood in the center of the room, her gaze downcast, and St. James took a wide path to get around her.

Milford watched his departure and then walked over to Caroline. He put his hand on her shoulder to offer comfort and frowned when she jerked away.

“Tell me what happened,” he implored. His voice was soothing, his aim to calm her.

Caroline shook her head. “You would only tell Bradford,” she whispered.

“And would that be so terrible?”

His voice, so tender and caring, pulled at Caroline. She trembled and clasped her hands together in an effort to stop. She wouldn’t allow the comfort Milford offered, knowing instinctively that any show of kindness would completely destroy her composure.

“I would like to go home now.” She moved back another space when Milford tried to touch her again.

The agony in her tone shamed him. She held herself erect with dignity and her expression was controlled, but the pain still radiated in her tone.

“Bradford will be back in a minute,” Milford said. “Caroline, he has just told you that he knows you’re innocent. He’s only angry with St. James.”

Caroline shook her head, stopping Milford’s explanation. “Not at first,” she contradicted. “He believed the worst …”

“When he calms down—”

“I don’t want to go home with Bradford.” Caroline’s statement interrupted Milford’s earnest reply.

“That’s too damn bad.” The harsh remark came from the doorway, where the Duke of Bradford stood.

Caroline refused to look at him. She felt her cape being thrown over her shoulders and then she was hauled up against Bradford’s side.

They didn’t speak a single word to each other all the way home. Caroline used the time to calm her anger. She could feel Bradford’s glare and still refused to look at him.

Her heart was shattered and she had no one to blame but herself. She was, she decided, a fool. He couldn’t hurt her like this if she hadn’t fallen in love with him. She had trusted him with her heart and was now feeling nearly destroyed because of it. His unreasonable jealousy and his distrust were both unfounded and so
illogical that Caroline didn’t know how to combat either, how to protect herself. She remembered how he had turned on her when Claymere had stolen the ill-wanted kisses the night of her father’s dinner party. His wrath had been directed at her as much as at Claymere. Tonight she had witnessed that same look for the briefest of seconds. The fury had been directed toward her.

By the time they had arrived back at Bradford’s townhouse, all Caroline wanted to do was lock herself in her bedroom and cry. She felt like a wounded animal seeking a safe sanctuary.

Bradford watched Caroline start up the steps to the bedrooms and demanded that she follow him into the library to discuss what had happened.

Caroline just kept on going, completely ignoring her husband’s order. She made it to her bedroom door before Bradford jerked her around to face him. “Didn’t you hear me? Into the library!”