Rebellious Desire

Chapter Eight

The following weeks were filled with dinner parties and balls, the days taken up with perpetual visits. Caroline visited Uncle Milo, as the marquis insisted on being called, every other afternoon, and grew quite fond of him. Uncle Franklin, the marquis's younger brother by a good ten years, was usually there. He resembled his brother in looks but his eyes weren't as warm. He was more restrained in his manner. Caroline sensed a certain strain between her two uncles that she couldn't quite put her finger on. They were very polite to each other but there was a distance between them too.

Franklin was handsome, with dark brown hair and hazel-colored eyes, but there was a coldness about him that Caroline found a little unnerving. His wife, Loretta, rarely visited the marquis, and Franklin explained time and again that his wife had many social engagements. Her presence was sought after by most of the ton, Franklin had boasted, Caroline couldn't help but wonder just who the seekers were, for she had yet to see Loretta out and about at any of the evening affairs she had attended.

The Earl of Braxton began to escort Lady Tillman to some of the special gatherings and Caroline was pleased, even though she didn't much care for the woman. It was good to see her father enjoying himself. He deserved to be happy, and if Lady Tillman turned out to be what he wanted, then so be it. She wouldn't interfere.

The incident at the Claymeres' residence faded in significance as time went on. Caroline was thankful that she hadn't confided her thought that someone might have pushed her, for now she accepted that it was all her overactive imagination. She had only been clumsy and exhausted.

But while she no longer considered herself in jeopardy from an unknown assailant, she was feeling extremely threatened by the Duke of Bradford. The man was driving her to the brink of despair.

She felt constantly off balance. Bradford escorted her to all the affairs and never left her side, making it most clear to any man who came within shouting distance that she belonged to him. She didn't mind his possessiveness, nor the arrogant way he dragged her off into corners and kissed her until she was quite senseless with desire. What totally confused her was her increasing response to him. Her physical response alarmed her, for all the man had to do was look at her and she felt her knees go weak.

Bradford had told her that he wanted her, and she had scoffed at him. Yet now, after spending so much time with him, she wanted him too. She was miserable every time they were separated and was furious with herself over it. What had happened to her control, her independence?

At least she had admitted to herself that she loved him. He, on the other hand, had never mentioned the word. Desire was only a portion of the reason she missed him when he wasn't at her side. The man certainly did have his flaws but he had his attributes as well. He was kind and generous to a fault, and had a strength of character that Caroline found unbending.

But he was also a devil! Oh, she knew what he was about, what his "game" was. Every time he kissed her, the look in his eyes was victorious. She wilted in his arms and was sure that he smiled over it. Was he waiting for her to admit that she wanted him?

Just thinking about her situation made her nerves expand to the breaking point. She would never tell him she wanted him until he told her he loved her. And if the Duke of Bradford was intent on games, then Caroline would play one of her own.

Charity, on the other hand, couldn't have been happier or more content. Paul Bleachley had duly arrived and presented himself to the Earl of Braxton and was now officially courting Charity. He was sporting a black satin eye patch that made him look most daring and was also growing a beard.

Caroline liked Paul. He was a quiet man with an easy smile and she could tell, just by the way he watched Charity, that he loved her and cherished her with all his heart. Why hadn't she settled on someone as pleasant and mild as Paul? She found herself envious of her cousin's relationship with the sweet-tempered Englishman and wished that Bradford would look at her the way Paul looked at Charity. Oh, Bradford did a fair amount of looking, but his gaze was very physical, and she didn't think he was cherishing her at all.

Braxton had decided that he would give a dinner party and had invited twenty guests. Included in the list were Caroline's uncles, the marquis and Franklin, and Franklin's wife, Loretta, Lady Tillman and her daughter, Rachel, and, much to Caroline's silent objection, Rachel's disgusting fiance, Nigel Crestwall. Bradford and Milford had also been invited, as was Paul Bleachley. It would be an early dinner, in deference to the marquis, who tired easily, and those with a stronger constitution would then depart for the opera.

Benjamin thrived under the pressure of preparing a suitable meal and had the pigeons stuffed, the fish boned, and the chickens turning on the open spit well before noon. Deighton became terribly dictatorial as he commanded the other last-minute arrangements. Caroline and Charity both did whatever Deighton suggested, since he knew what was more correct than either of them, and Charity even asked his advice about which gown he thought she should wear.

Caroline had already decided to wear the daring ivory gown. It was terribly low cut and, she hoped, extremely seductive. She planned to look the part of a temptress, thinking it high time to gain the upper hand in her relationship with Bradford. If he was going to keep her off balance, then she would return the favor. She dressed with care, growing more nervous by the minute. She vowed that it would be a perfect evening. Her plan was quite simple. She was going to make Bradford delirious with desire, drive him to the brink, and force him into telling her what was in his heart.

Charity found Caroline standing before her mirror and gasped when she got a full look at her cousin. "Bradford will be quite speechless when he sees you," Charity predicted. "You look like Venus, the goddess of love," she whispered.

"And you look just as lovely," Caroline returned with a smile.

Charity whirled around, showing off the lemon-colored gown she wore. "I feel wonderful, Caroline. Love does that, you know. Makes one quite perky."

Caroline didn't agree but held her silence. Right this minute, love was making her miserable. She tugged on the bodice of her gown, trying to bring it up just a bit, until Charity remarked that she was going to tear the thing and have to change.

Caroline sighed and accompanied her cousin downstairs and waited in the entry hall to greet the first guests. "Paul and I have decided to be married in England," she told Caroline.

"Well, of course you are," Caroline returned. "Where else would you be married?"

"In Boston," Charity answered with a frown. "But we don't want to wait, and it wouldn't do traveling together unless we are man and wife."

Caroline's eyes widened in confusion. "But you will live here, Charity. This is Paul's home. You mean only to visit the family, don't you?"

Charity was busy watching Deighton pace back and forth in front of the door and missed the expression on Caroline's face. "Paul wants to begin anew. He isn't titled so he won't be giving up anything of importance. But he isn't poor either and has grand plans. Papa will help him get established," Charity ended.

"Yes, of course," Caroline commented. "What will he do?" She tried to sound interested but suddenly felt overwhelming sadness. She didn't think she was ready to lose Charity. Her cousin was her only link with her family in Boston.

"He has already had long talks with Benjamin," Charity said in answer. "Paul wants to buy some land and become a gentleman farmer. Benjamin has agreed to help him."

"Gentleman farmer? Charity, there is no such thing," Caroline scoffed with irritation. "Not in the Colonies. It takes hard work and that's the truth of it. Farming is backbreaking work, every day of the week."

"Paul's up to it," Charity replied. "He is slowly regaining the use of his injured hand, and you know that my brothers will also show him the way."

"Yes," Caroline said with a sigh. She was still dwelling on Charity's comment that Benjamin would help. She had no right to think that he would remain in England with her. Why then did she feel she was being abandoned?

The bell sounded, indicating that the first guests had arrived, and Caroline forced a smile on her face. Deighton paused at the door, turned, and gave both Charity and Caroline a last look of scrutiny. He nodded his approval, schooled his expression into his bored look, and turned back to open the door. The evening had begun.

Bradford was one of the last to arrive. Caroline muttered her displeasure over his tardiness as soon as she greeted him, and then realized that it wasn't a very good start to her perfect evening. But then, his reaction to her dress wasn't very positive either. Instead of telling her how lovely she looked, he suggested in a harsh whisper that she go back upstairs and finish dressing.

"I am dressed," Caroline argued.

They were standing at the edge of the foyer. Milford had joined them and he, too, turned to hear Bradford's reply, "She looks just fine to me, Brad," Milford announced, staring at Caroline with appreciation.

"The gown is lacking a top," Bradford stated. "Go up and change into something more suitable."

"I will not," Caroline replied emphatically.

"You aren't decent," Bradford growled. Milford started chuckling, and both Caroline and Bradford turned and glared him into silence.

Then Caroline turned back to confront Bradford. "I am as decent as you are in those breeches."

"What's wrong with my breeches?" Bradford demanded. He was caught off guard by her absurd remark.

"They are entirely too tight. It's a wonder you can sit down without injuring yourself," Caroline answered. She slowly looked him up and down, secretly admiring the way he looked. Lord but he was handsome! And terribly distinguished looking too, in his formal evening black, Caroline considered.

Milford started laughing again. "May I escort you into dinner?" he asked Caroline as he offered his arm.

"I would be delighted," Caroline answered. She placed her hand on Milford's arm and gave Bradford a chilling look. "When you remember your manners, you may join us."

Bradford stood there, baffled by their conversation. How had she put him on the defensive so quickly, so effortlessly? he asked himself. And didn't she have any idea of the temptation she caused by her dress? He doubted that there was a man there who wasn't as affected as he.

Caroline ignored Bradford all through dinner. She sat on Paul Bleachley's left and conversed with him and with Milford, who was seated across from her. Bradford had taken the chair on Caroline's right. She didn't even glance his way.

Bradford didn't like being ignored. He barely touched his food, although the comments concerning the dishes were quite favorable. He noticed with some satisfaction that Caroline wasn't eating much either.

He fought the urge to take off his jacket and put it over Caroline's shoulders and promised himself that he would beat Nigel Crestwall to a bloody pulp if he continued to leer at Caroline.

Bradford decided, halfway through dessert, that he had been patient long enough. He had thought, in the beginning, to proceed slowly, to give her time to accept him, to come to terms with the fact that she would belong to him. Now he admitted that he lacked the patience to continue. It was time to have a little talk with Caroline, and the sooner the better.

Caroline tried to concentrate on Milford's remarks about the opera they were all going to directly after dinner, but her attention kept turning to Loretta Kendall, Franklin's wife. The auburn-haired woman was making a spectacle of herself in her admiration of Bradford, and Caroline thought that if she didn't quit her flirting very soon, she would do something positively horrid. She considered dumping one of the raspberry tarts down the woman's dress. Heaven only knew the gown was low enough to accommodate a fair number of tarts.

Dinner was finally over and the ladies stood to take their leave. The men would stay to share a drink together, but Bradford broke with tradition. He wasn't in the mood to socialize with anyone but Caroline. He followed her out the door, grabbed hold of her elbow, and requested a word with her. He was acting very formal because Lady Tillman and Loretta Kendall were watching him.

Caroline gave a curt nod and said, "If it is important," for the benefit of the ladies listening. She led the way to her father's study on the first floor, silently fuming at the way Loretta was goggling Bradford.

"Please leave the door open," Caroline requested in a haughty voice.

"What we have to discuss shouldn't be overheard," Bradford announced. His voice sounded grim. He slammed the door, leaned against it, and stared at Caroline. "Come here."

Caroline frowned over the harsh demand. Why, he was actually commanding her! Was she no better than a serving girl in his eyes? Obviously not! Caroline held her temper, thinking that she had just about reached her limit of endurance.

And she had hoped for a perfect evening. Perfectly horrid was a far better description, and it wasn't even half done. She still had the opera to get through. Bradford would be to blame if she lost control of her temper. First the arrogant man arrived over an hour late, next criticized her beautiful gown, then flirted outrageously with a married woman, and now had the audacity to demand her obedience.

In answer to his command, Caroline leaned against the edge of her father's desk, folded her arms in front of her, and said, "I'd rather not, thank you."

Bradford took a deep breath. He smiled, but it didn't soften his gaze at all. "Caroline, love. Do you remember telling me that I didn't know when I was being insulted?"

Caroline nodded. She was caught off balance by the question and the mildness in his tone. "I do remember," she replied with a smile.

"I now suggest that you don't know when you should be afraid."

Caroline quit smiling. Her eyes widened with actual alarm when Bradford began to walk toward her. "I'm not afraid," she lied.

"Oh, but you should be," Bradford stated in a whisper.

She didn't stand a chance. Before she could even decide which direction to run, Bradford had her by the waist and was pulling her toward him. He never took his eyes off her. When she was plastered up against his chest, her face tilted up to him, he said, "You have flaunted your charms, allowed every man in the house an ample view of your body, ignored me, and now try to bluster your way out of obeying me. Yes, my love, I believe this is one of those times when you should be afraid."

He was furious. The telltale muscle in the side of his cheek was twitching, a sure indication that he was having extreme difficulty keeping his temper in check.

Caroline was astonished by his remarks. She couldn't believe how he was trying to turn the tables on her when he was the one who had behaved so dastardly.

"I haven't daunted my charms," Caroline began. "Loretta's gown is far more… flaunting than mine. And you are the one who has flirted, Bradford, not me. Don't you dare glare at me like that. You flirted with a married woman, or did you forget that she was married?"

She didn't wait for his answer but continued, "I did ignore you, but only after you insulted my dress. That was probably very childish of me but I wanted this evening to be perfect and I overreacted to your horrid comments."

"Why?" Bradford's expression was guarded and Caroline couldn't tell how he was reacting to her argument. "Why did you hope for a perfect evening?"

Caroline turned her gaze to stare intently at his cravat. "I had hoped that you… that is, I did believe…" Caroline sighed. She couldn't continue.

Bradford found himself sidetracked by the distress in her voice. He lessened his grip and began to gently caress her back. "We will stand here all night if necessary," Bradford said, "until you tell me what's going on inside your head."

Caroline knew he meant what he said. She nodded with acceptance and then said, "I had hoped that you would say something… nice to me! There, I have told you the truth and I'll thank you not to laugh. I wanted to hear you say something other than you want me. Is that asking too much, Bradford?"

Bradford shook his head. He forced her to look back up at him, using his hand below her chin to get his way. "Nice words aren't what I had in mind right now. I believe I would much rather throttle you. You have run me in circles these past months. Worse," he added with a look that made Caroline tremble in trepidation, "I have allowed it." He paused, determined to lower his voice. "The chaos is over, Caroline, and so is the game. My patience has ended."

"Have you been patient because you waited for me to admit that I want you?" She whispered her question, a purposeful set down to his bellow. Caroline's expression showed her distress. "I do want you. There, does my admission please you? Before you gloat over it, Bradford, understand that in my heart, it isn't enough. I also happen to love you. It is therefore, in my mind, acceptable to want you because I love you."

Bradford's irritation vanished with her declaration. He found himself grinning, felt a sense of satisfaction that almost overwhelmed him. He was content. He leaned down and tried to kiss Caroline, but she evaded him with a curt shake of her head.

"Don't look so smug, Bradford. I didn't want to fall in love with you. You aren't a very nice man to love. Why I couldn't have chosen someone like Paul Bleachley is beyond me. I believe you have grown on me," Caroline continued, "but then, so do warts, so that doesn't explain anything very satisfactorily, does it?" She sighed again, with acceptance this time. "And now you are going to kiss me until I am senseless, aren't you?"

Bradford smiled and placed a chaste kiss on the top of Caroline's head. He inhaled her sweet fragrance and felt intoxicated by it.

"I really wish that you wouldn't, Bradford."

"Did you actually believe that you could wear that gown and not be kissed?"

"I did." It was a bare whisper made against Bradford's mouth. And then he was kissing her and she was kissing him. His mouth was so warm, his tongue like silken heat as it penetrated and stroked hers. Caroline's arms slipped around Bradford's waist, just as his arms circled her, and allowed him to weave his magical web of passion.

The kiss finally ended and Bradford had to hold Caroline steady. She rested her cheek against his chest, waiting for him to tell her what was in his heart.

"Is it so painful loving me?" Bradford asked. She could hear the laughter in his voice and bristled over it.

"Just like a stomachache," Caroline told him. "I went along for the longest time disliking you so and I grew quite comfortable with that feeling, and then suddenly there it was."

"The stomachache or accepting that you loved me?"

Bradford chuckled over her comparison. "And you accuse me of being unromantic!"

A discreet knock on the door interrupted the discussion. Caroline was frustrated, for she was certain Bradford was about to tell her that he loved her.

"Brad? Aimsmond would like a word with you." It was Milford's voice and he didn't sound happy.

"You've probably made my uncle angry for dragging me in here," Caroline said. "I'll go and find him and bring him to you," she added as she walked to the door. "And do not think that our discussion has ended, Bradford." With those words of warning, Caroline shut the door behind her.

Caroline expected to see Milford waiting outside the door, but he was gone. She took a moment to straighten her hair and smooth her skirt and then hurried toward the salon. Nigel Crestwall was lurking in the shadows and grabbed her as she was about to round the corner. The obnoxious man had her pinned up against the wall before she could issue a single word of protest. He began to place wet, slobbery kisses against her neck and whisper obscene suggestions into her ear. Caroline was so outraged, so stunned by the attack, that she didn't immediately fight him off.

She finally began to struggle, just as Bradford came around the corner and spotted them.

Nigel never knew what hit him. He was suddenly flying through the air and then landed with a soft thud against the back door. The vase on the table next to Nigel's crumbled body wobbled and toppled on top of his head.

Caroline stared at Crestwall for a long minute, trembling with disgust.

"This is your fault," Bradford muttered, and Caroline was so surprised by the vehement statement that she looked at him in amazement.

She became truly frightened then, for she had never seen such a look of fury on his face before. The power was back, in both his intimidating stance and his expression, and Caroline was actually afraid of him.

She shook her head, trying to ward off the fear, and made herself continue to look at him. "The man attacked me and it's my fault?" she asked in a whisper.

Nigel was trying to stand up, his eyes darting in one direction and then the other, and Caroline knew he sought an avenue of escape. Bradford watched him while he said to Caroline, "If you didn't dress like a common woman, you wouldn't be treated like one."

His statement hung between them. Caroline's fear left her and she became outraged. "Is that the excuse you give yourself whenever you touch me? That I am common and it is therefore acceptable?"

Bradford didn't answer her. Nigel was edging past them, his eyes looking wild with fright. Bradford reached out with one hand, grabbed him by his collar, and slammed him up against the wall, until the man's feet were dangling in the air. "If you ever touch her again, I'll see you dead. Do we understand each other?"

Nigel couldn't answer-Bradford's hold, pushing against his neck, precluded any sounds getting through his throat-but he was able to nod. Bradford released him and continued to watch him until Nigel had raced to the front door, opened it, and disappeared into the night. Caroline wondered what Rachel would make of her fiance’s sudden disappearance and then put the matter aside.

Bradford turned his fury on Caroline. He stood before her, blocking her exit. Caroline straightened her shoulders and said, "I did nothing to entice him. And I would have your trust in this matter. You didn't see what happened."

"Do not mention the word trust to me again or I will beat you! It's time we understood each other, Caroline."

"There you are, Bradford!" The marquis's voice broke the tension. Caroline was the first to move. She turned, forced a smile on her face, and watched her uncle Milo slowly advance toward them.

"I'm going to head home now," the marquis explained. He took hold of Caroline's hand and smiled. "You'll be coming to see me again tomorrow?" he asked his niece with eagerness in his tone.

"Of course," Caroline agreed with a nod.

"Good! Bradford, I expect to see you on my doorstep and soon, my boy," the marquis stated.

"I will call on you directly," Bradford replied. Caroline noticed that his tone held a note of deference and that there wasn't any hint of anger. She decided then that he was more sophisticated than she was when it came to controlling emotions. She still felt like screaming and prayed that what she felt wasn't displayed on her face!

"They're making to leave now," the marquis stated. "Loretta will drop me off on her way to another engagement." He turned, with Caroline holding his arm, and started toward the door. "Don't know where Franklin went off to," he continued. "As soon as Brax announced who would ride with whom, Franklin just got up and took himself off."

Caroline could feel Bradford behind her. "I'll ride with my father," she announced.

"No," her uncle commented. "He's escorting Lady Tillman and little Rachel. Can't find hide nor hair of Nigel but I imagine he'll turn up. Milford suggested that you and he ride with Bradford."

Caroline felt her shoulders fall. She didn't want to ride with Bradford anywhere. She needed time, away from him, to sort her feelings out. The only way she was going to get rid of her anger was to find a quiet corner somewhere and think. It just wasn't possible to do much thinking with Bradford near. Besides, she told herself, she needed to be in top condition when she sparred with Bradford. And now she felt decidedly… wilted.

Caroline considered coming down with a splitting headache. She put the back of her hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture, even as she thought how cowardly she was behaving. "I do not feel-" She didn't finish her sentence. The door had just shut behind the marquis, and Caroline was being jerked around. Her cape was slung over her shoulders, rather roughly.

"Stomach problems?" Bradford asked in a lazy voice as he adjusted the collar on her cape.

Caroline ignored his question. She knew he was referring to her earlier remarks about loving him and didn't consider it the least humorous. She chanced a glance up, saw that Bradford's expression was still grim, and realized that he didn't think it humorous either.

Milford arrived, allowed Deighton to open the door, and then followed them outside. He chatted about the opera, remarking that the Italian soprano was considered quite spectacular, but Caroline wasn't paying much attention. She climbed into the carriage and settled herself in the middle of the leather cushion. Milford followed and took the seat opposite. Bradford would sit next to his friend, Caroline had determined.

Bradford didn't seem inclined to sit anywhere but next to her. And he wasn't terribly polite about it either. Caroline just scooted out of his way in the nick of time, grabbing the skirt to her gown so that he wouldn't crush it, and plastered herself up against the side of the carriage.

Caroline was silent for most of the ride to the opera house. She knew that Milford must have felt the tension and was not the least caring about his discomfort. Wasn't it his idea that they ride together?

Bradford seemed to relax somewhat as he conversed with his friend. He was ignoring Caroline just as she was ignoring him. Yet he sat so close to her that his arm continually rubbed against her side and his muscular leg kept itself glued to hers.

"Caroline, you're very quiet," Milford finally remarked. "Don't you feel well?"

"She has a stomachache," Bradford announced in a clipped voice. "And it's not going away. As soon as she accepts that, she'll feel remarkably better."

Milford showed his confusion over his friend's remarks. He glanced from one to the other and then back again.

"There are specific remedies for an odious, overbearing, insufferable stomachache," Caroline returned. Her voice sounded strained.

Bradford didn't reply. Milford looked like she was speaking a foreign language that he hadn't mastered.

Caroline smiled at Milford then. Bradford was doing it again, pushing her off balance. He was also making her decidedly nervous. She started to laugh and only shook her head when Milford raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

The opera was wonderful and Caroline did enjoy herself. Bradford stayed at her side and introduced her to a number of people. Brummell was also in attendance and winked at Caroline right in front of a large group.

Bradford and Caroline barely exchanged a word. There was quite a crush outside the opera house while everyone waited for their carriages. It had started to rain and several ladies shrieked their distress. Caroline stood between Milford and Bradford, completely ignoring the rain, and waited until Bradford's carriage arrived.

When the vehicle drew up in front of them, Bradford opened the door and helped Caroline inside. He seemed preoccupied and suddenly turned and walked to the front of the carriage. When he returned and joined both Caroline and Milford inside, he was scowling.

"There is speculation that your father will marry Lady Tillman," Milford said to Caroline when the carriage was on its way.

Caroline was looking out the window, thinking that she was certainly turned around, as the carriage should have veered to the left, down the main street, and not in the direction they were now heading.

She frowned as she asked Milford to repeat his comment and glanced a quick look at Bradford. He was staring off into the distance, obviously lost in his own thoughts.

"My father does seem interested in Lady Tillman," Caroline returned. She looked back out the window, dismissing the subject, and immediately noticed the abrupt change in neighborhoods.

"Draw the curtain!" The curt order, given by Bradford, jarred Caroline. He seemed furious. "Damn! My instincts were off," he told Milford.

Caroline didn't understand what he was telling Mil-ford. The two men exchanged a look and then both withdrew pistols.

The carriage had picked up speed and Caroline braced herself. Bradford threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, providing the anchor she needed.

"What's Harry up to?" Milford asked, referring to Bradford's driver.

"It isn't Harry," Bradford replied. His voice was mild now and Caroline thought he was controlled for her sake, so that she wouldn't be alarmed.

A series of emotions warred inside Bradford. He was furious with himself for not paying more attention, for accepting the groom's explanation that Harry had taken ill and trusted him to be his replacement, but most of all, he was concerned that Caroline would be hurt. She was caught in the middle. Someone was out to get him, probably because of his involvement in the war effort, but whoever it was had made a fatal mistake. He had involved Caroline and would die for it.

Milford lifted the edge of the curtain just as the groom jumped from his perch. "Driver's gone," he said in a nonchalant voice. Bradford increased his grip on Caroline just as one of the wheels flew off the vehicle.

The noise was deafening! The curtain fell and Caroline could see the sparks from the metal scraping against the street. Milford braced his feet against the opposite seat and Bradford did the same. He used his broad shoulders as a wedge against the corner. Caroline was suddenly jerked onto his lap, her head protected against his chest.

The carriage turned over with a vengeance that knocked the wind out of Caroline. She could hear the horses racing on, knew the straps must have torn, giving them their freedom, and was thankful that they hadn't been dragged down by the weight of the carriage.

Bradford took most of the impact. He was on the bottom of the pile, with Caroline on top of him. Milford was draped over the two of them.

Caroline slowly opened her eyes and saw Milford's pistol just an inch from her nose. She gently pushed his hand until the pistol was pointed away from her while she continued to try to breathe.

She let out a groan, more from Milford's weight than the bizarre position her legs were in, and Milford immediately rolled off her. Caroline started to sit up, realized her legs were straddling Bradford's hips, and quickly tried to flatten herself against him. She struggled to bring one leg around, lost her balance, and her knee wedged between his knees.

Bradford let out a groan and grabbed Caroline by her hips. "I take it you weren't hurt," he remarked with a grimace that alarmed Caroline. She reached up and brushed her hand against the side of his head.

"Are you all right?" she asked. The fear sounded in her voice, and Bradford realized she was more frightened by his possible injury than what had just happened.

He had to brush her hair out of her face in order to see her. "If you don't remove your knee, I'll soon be a eunuch," he told her in a whisper.

Milford heard the comment and let out a chuckle. Caroline blushed and then groaned again, when Mil-ford's boot whacked her.

Milford apologized while he got the door opened and then climbed out. Bradford protected Caroline's head from Milford's boots as his friend swung up and through the door. He then lifted Caroline and Milford pulled her through the opening.

The carriage was on its side and Caroline circled it to look at the destruction as Bradford climbed out.

One look around told Bradford that they were in the heart of London's lower side. A crowd was already gathered, but they were all gawking at Caroline instead of the carriage. Bradford muttered something under his breath to Milford and then walked around the side of the vehicle and pulled Caroline next to him.

Caroline noticed then that both Milford and Bradford still held their weapons. It dawned on her that the danger hadn't passed quite yet.

Bradford saw the sign to a rather infamous looking tavern halfway down the street and said to Milford, "Take Caroline inside while I find someone willing to go for assistance."

Milford nodded, and Caroline was suddenly dragged next to him and pulled along. She glanced back at Bradford and was about to call a word of caution but changed her mind. She didn't want any of the seedy-looking people staring at them to know she might be concerned over safety. That just might put ideas in their heads.

"The Mischief Maker," Caroline announced when she read the sign hanging lopsided over the door to the tavern. "What an odd name. Are we to go inside and make mischief then?" she asked Milford. Her voice was shaky and her legs had started trembling, and she knew she was finally reacting to the accident.

Milford proved to be a calming influence. He smiled, gave her shoulder a hearty squeeze, and then saw the door opened for them.

"Lady Caroline," Milford said in a very formal voice, "I am about to introduce you to the art of slumming. Are you eager for your first lesson?" he asked, grinning that rascal's grin Caroline had grown quite fond of.

"Immensely," Caroline answered, smiling in return. She walked inside the smoke-filled room and felt at once out of place. Her fine gown and fur-lined cape provided a severe contrast to the gray and brown peasant garb the occupants wore.

The room was only half filled and Caroline estimated that no better than fifteen patrons were staring at her. Milford nudged her forward until they were standing at the far end of the bar's railing. She realized his intent then. He eased her into the corner so that her back was protected, and then took his place standing in front of her.

The owner of the disreputable establishment finally finished with his leering and requested their order. Milford told the man that two brandies would do for now, and since he was in such a jovial mood, he would like everyone to have a drink on him.

The silence before Milford's statement that he would buy a round of drinks had been unnerving. A shout of acceptance went up and yells for ale and whiskey echoed around Caroline.

"That was a clever move on your part, Milford," Caroline praised. "You have made possible enemies friends in the space of bare minutes. You are to be congratulated." Caroline was forced to give her compliment to Milford's shoulder, as he refused to turn and look at her. He had put his pistol away but his stance suggested that he was still quite ready to do battle.

"I'm almost sorry for it," Milford admitted with a chuckle in his voice. "Lord, it's been years since I've been in a good brawl."

Caroline smiled but the smile vanished when the door to the tavern was thrown open and a motley group of four evil-looking men barged inside. "You may still get your wish," Caroline whispered as she observed the men staring at her.

A hush descended as one of the men, a tall man with a huge belly who looked as if he hadn't bathed in a decade, slowly began to advance in their direction.

"Let's have a look at the lovely you've got hidden," the man demanded. He reached out to push Milford aside as soon as he had made his statement, but Milford proved unpushable.

"Stay right here," Milford told Caroline with a sigh of resignation. And then he was in the thick of it. Milford's fist connected with the foul man's jaw and he went reeling backward. The man's friends immediately entered the fight.

Caroline watched, horrified, as she ducked flying glass and bodies. The odds were terribly uneven, and she had the real worry that Milford would be injured.

The owner of the tavern decided to grasp his opportunity and reached out. He pulled on Caroline's hair, trying to drag her around the corner of the bar toward him. She yelled and immediately wished she hadn't, for her voice interrupted Milford. He turned to look at her, leaving himself quite vulnerable.

"Watch what you're doing!" Caroline yelled as she picked up a full bottle of whiskey from the bar and whacked the tavern owner. The odious creature went down with a crash, and Caroline hurried to move behind the bar. She decided that Milford needed a little help and began to throw bottles at the men trying to best him.

Her aim wasn't terribly accurate, and one man made it all the way to the bar and half over before she could hit him hard enough to stop his advance. He collapsed with a loud moan, draped over the rail.

Several of the other patrons had entered into the battle and Caroline wasn't sure just who was on whose side. All the bottles were gone from the ledge behind her and Caroline had to look below for more ammunition. She shoved the cashbox out of her way and found a new arsenal. The owner must have had to deal with trouble in the past, for there were several long, curved knives, two loaded pistols, and a club that was entirely too heavy to lift, let alone swing.

Caroline chose the pistols. She placed one on the bar and held the other in her hand. The odds had just turned in Milford's favor, she decided, though from the way he was trying to take on three men all at once, Caroline didn't think he realized it.

The glint of steel caught Caroline's attention. A man standing in the far corner lifted his arm and was about to throw a knife at Milford's back. Caroline immediately fired. The knife dropped and the man screamed his outrage.

The fighting stopped and everyone, including Mil-ford, turned to look at the man clutching his hand.

And then everyone turned to stare at Caroline and she felt that she should offer some sort of explanation. "Knives are not allowed in this brawl," she announced in a prim, dignified voice. Her intent was clear. She picked up the second pistol and looked at Milford. "Well?" she asked when he continued to gape at her. "Are you going to get on with it or shall we leave?"

Milford let out a growl, grabbed two men by their necks, and slammed their heads together. They both went down just as another lunged forward. And all the while, Caroline waited patiently for it to be over.

It happened sooner than she had expected. The door to the tavern pounded against the wall, tearing from its hinges. The sound might not have been sufficient distraction to the fight in progress, but the roar coming from the man looming in the doorway certainly was.

Bradford looked ready to kill. Caroline was thankful that he was on their side. "You took your sweet time!" Milford yelled between punches.

Bradford found Caroline. She gave him a smile, letting him know that she was fine, and his expression immediately turned from furious to casual interest. Caroline watched him slowly disengage himself of his jacket, fold it carefully, and place it over the back of a wooden chair. He was taking his sweet time! Milford called out again and Bradford finally took charge.

He made short work of it and Caroline, even though she had recognized his strength, was now amazed by it. He never indicated the least amount of strain, even as he lifted a man twice his weight and launched him through the door. Another and then another followed, until the pavement was littered with groaning bodies. Bradford dragged the last off Milford, dispatched him through the doorway with a swift kick.

He still looked impeccable, though his hair was a bit unruly. Milford, on the other hand, looked a mess. His coat jacket was torn, his breeches filthy. She watched as he flexed his hands and adjusted his cravat.

"Drinks are on the house." Caroline's announcement turned both men to her. "That is, if I can find a bottle."

"I believe, my dear, that you have thrown all of them," Milford commented.

"You were supposed to guard her," Bradford muttered with exasperation. "Caroline, come out from behind there. The hack is waiting."

Caroline nodded and slowly made her way over the bodies in her path. Bradford walked over to see what obstructed Caroline and shook his head. "I'm not going to ask," he commented to Milford, who had joined his side.

"It's best that you don't," Caroline returned. "In your eyes I should be swooning or weeping now, shouldn't I? Milford? Slumming has real possibilities," she went on. "And brawls certainly are exciting. Why did you give it up?"

Milford laughed and Bradford frowned. He took hold of Caroline's hand and pulled her out the door.

It was cramped inside the hired vehicle and Caroline was forced to sit on Bradford's lap. He was frowning, and Caroline thought that he wasn't even listening to the conversation.

She knew he wasn't upset with her, for he kept stroking the side of her cheek in an absentminded manner as he stared out the window.

When the carriage came to a halt in front of her home, Caroline smiled at Milford and said, "It has been a lovely evening, my lord! First an opera and then a brawl! And I had never experienced either before."

Bradford had removed himself from the hack and stood waiting to assist Caroline. Milford delayed her, taking hold of her hand and placing a kiss on her palm. "Until our next adventure, Lady Caroline." His eyes sparkled with mischief and Caroline laughed with appreciation.

"There will be no more adventures," Bradford stated in a voice that sounded quite determined.

Caroline allowed him to assist her and meekly followed him up to the door.

"Bradford, are you truly angry with me?" she asked in a whisper.

"I will not allow you to be in jeopardy," Bradford returned. He took hold of her shoulders and pulled her into his embrace. "I don't want anything to happen to you." He leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek.

Deighton opened the door and Caroline reluctantly walked inside. She was disappointed that Bradford hadn't followed her.

Their talk would have to wait until tomorrow, she thought. Then he would admit that he loved her. And everything would be wonderful.