Julie Garwood (21 page)

“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 fiancé’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 Milford. 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 Milford’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.