Julie Garwood (22 page)

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 lovey 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 Milford, 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.

“S
OMEONE TAMPERED WITH THE WHEEL
,” B
RADFORD
told Milford as soon as they were on their way. “It was meant to come off.”

“You’ve been making enemies again, Brad?” Milford inquired. He wasn’t smiling now. Caroline was safely inside her home and he could show his concern and anger. “We could have been killed.”

“Whoever is out to get me doesn’t concern himself with details,” Bradford commented. “Caroline’s an innocent in this and I won’t have her placed in further danger.”

“What do you plan to do?” Milford asked. His frown of concentration matched Bradford’s own.

“I’ll find out who’s behind this and deal with him,” Bradford predicted. “But until I have my answers, I won’t see Caroline. As far as everyone is concerned, we are no longer involved.”

“You’ll explain it to her, won’t you?” Milford asked. He agreed with Bradford that he should avoid Caroline’s company until the threat was over. But he also thought of Caroline’s feelings and how the separation would affect her.

“No. It’s for the best that she also believe I’ve lost interest. Otherwise she won’t be very convincing. It’s imperative that everyone believe or she might be used as a lever against me.”

“And Braxton? Will you speak to him?”

Bradford shook his head. “No, he might break down and confide in Caroline.”

“Where do we start?” Milford asked. “The sooner we find the man, the better. With Harry do you suppose?”

Bradford nodded. “And I’ll also talk with my friends in the War Department.”

“When this is finished, you’ll have a new war on your hands,” Milford decreed.

They both said her name together.

The next two weeks were unbearable for Caroline. At first she simply refused to believe that Bradford had deserted her. She used every excuse, every argument imaginable, until the night that she came face to face with him at Almacks and Bradford looked straight through her, as if she didn’t exist. She had to accept the truth then. It was over.

Charity was outwardly more upset than Caroline. She ranted and raved that Bradford needed a good horsewhipping. And she inadvertently caused Caroline additional pain by telling her all the gossip concerning Bradford’s notorious activities. The Duke of Bradford was back in circulation, supposedly bedding most of London’s females. He was seen each night, and with a different woman on his arm. He was back to his old ways, gambling and drinking to excess. Everyone, including Charity, believed that Bradford was having the time of his life.

After her encounter with Bradford at Almacks, Caroline declined all further invitations. She stayed home night after night. She wrote a long letter to Caimen, pouring out her heart, but after Deighton had it sent off, she regretted her impulse. The letter would only cause her cousin worry, and there wasn’t anything he could do to help her.

The Earl of Braxton had no idea of the strain
Caroline was under. She always greeted him with a ready smile and seemed perfectly content to him. He accepted her excuse that she was tired of the constant round of parties and wanted to stay home to concentrate on Charity’s wedding plans.

Caroline kept up the deception for her father’s peace of mind. She realized her relationship with the earl was superficial at best but she only wished to protect him from worrying about her. He asked about Bradford often, and each time Caroline told him that the relationship had ended.

On Monday morning a letter arrived from Boston. It was filled with the latest news and laced with a multitude of questions concerning Charity and Caroline’s activities. Uncle Henry gave his approval for his daughter’s marriage and included a request for Benjamin to return to Boston as soon as possible. They were all in dire need of his direction with the new horses recently purchased and the seven foals born last spring.

Benjamin was eager to return. Caroline could see it in his eyes. “You’re homesick, aren’t you?” she teased.

“I don’t know how we’ll manage without you,” Caroline’s father remarked. “We’ll go back to starving,” he added. He left them alone then to see to travel arrangements.

Caroline didn’t know how she would manage without Benjamin either, although she kept that worry to herself.

“We’ve been through it together, haven’t we?” he asked Caroline.

She smiled and said, “That we have.” She couldn’t resist hugging him. “I’ll never forget you, friend. You were always there when I needed you.”

The following Monday, Caroline accompanied him to the harbor. The earl had provided a fine wardrobe for Benjamin and had included a heavy topcoat.

“Do you remember when you found me in the barn?” Benjamin asked when they said their farewell.

“It seems a century ago,” Caroline answered.

“You’re on your own now, child. I’ll stay if you ask me to,” he added. “I owe you my life.”

“As I owe you mine,” Caroline returned. “Your future is in Boston, Benjamin. Don’t worry about me.”

“If you ever need me—” Benjamin began.

“I know.” Caroline interrupted. “I’ll be fine, really.”

She wasn’t fine, of course, and cried all the way home.

It was difficult not to wallow in self-pity. Caroline did her best to maintain a cheerful disposition. The first snow covered London and still she did not hear from Bradford.