The Three Colonels

yourself. You must take care when choosing with whom you associate.”

Caroline recalled the incident with Baron von Odbart. “Oh, I see. But all ended well. The baron withdrew. There was no harm done.”

“But harm could have been done.”

“Never!” Caroline gained control of her emotions. “Forgive my outburst, my lady, but you must understand. I would never so dishonor myself or my husband.”

She patted her hand. “Of course not! That is not my meaning.”

“Then I do not understand.”

Lady Beatrice looked into Caroline’s eyes. “What of your husband? What of danger to him?”

“Sir John? Ha! He was in no danger. In fact, he invited the scoundrel hunting. You were there; you heard.”

“Yes, I was there and heard his real words.” Lady Beatrice decided that friendly tact was no longer useful. “Think, Lady Buford! You know your husband’s character. Would he actually seek out the company of a man who sought to cuckold him?” Caroline flinched. “Forgive my direct language, my child.”

“I… I do not know! I thought Sir John was going to call him out; I was sure of it, but he did not—”

Lady Beatrice cried, “I know I have called you my child, but it was a term of endearment. Are you really so naive? Did you truly think this hunting scheme was anything but a challenge? Be glad he was unsuccessful!”

“Be glad? My husband is no coward!”

“Would you prefer him dead or in disgrace? This is no game.” Lady Beatrice turned cold. “I was under the impression you were fond of Sir John.”

Caroline paled at the verbal slap.

“Had his challenge been accepted by Baron von Odbart, and had Sir John survived, your husband would have been sent home in disgrace, dismissed from the delegation. I do not believe you would wish this for him.”

Caroline was dismayed at her childishness. Heavens, she is right—and John knew all the time and still challenged the oaf! “Oh no, my lady,” Caroline cried. She reached out to the other woman. “I have been unforgivably foolish. I thank you for showing me how stupidly I have behaved. Is it any wonder Baron von Odbart thought me a woman of easy virtue? I have risked my husband’s life and career!”

“I must disagree with you! The baron, and the baron alone, is responsible for his sins. You have done nothing to warrant censure in that matter.” Lady Beatrice smiled. “As for the other issue, is there a woman alive who has not acted foolishly from time to time for a man? All is well now, Caroline, and we have all learned a lesson.”

The visit would continue for another half hour. It was barely enough time for Caroline to gain control of her emotions. Yet she was still uneasy. She had unwittingly placed her darling husband in danger. How was she to make amends to him when she had yet to tell him that she loved him?

*   *   *

Buford was glad that the Congress was not in session that day, for it gave him the time to catch up with his correspondence. He sat quietly in his library for some time, reading and answering letters. He was so occupied that he did not hear the door open.

“Sir John?”

The colonel looked up. Sofia had closed the door behind her and was halfway across the room.

“Yes, Sofia. May I help you?”

“I hope you vill, sir.” She crossed over to the desk.

As she got closer, Buford noticed that the bodice of her dress was pulled unusually low. “Uhh… yes?” he said stupidly, as the hairs on the back of his neck started to rise.

The girl said nothing at first—she just stood by the desk, looking him up and down through her eyelashes.

“I have vaited for a chance to speak to you alone. I have been patient a very long time. Your work takes up so much of your time. You must be tired.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are so handsome—ansehnlich—mein Liebling. I know how to make you happy. Everyone in the house is busy. No one will bother us.” Sofia smiled and began to move. “You must know I vant you. Ich liebe dich von ganzem Herzen! ”

Before he knew what was happening, Sofia had come around the side of Buford’s desk and thrown herself on his lap. With one hand, she grabbed the back of his neck as she kissed him furiously; with the other, she seized his hand and thrust it on her breast.

“Liebe machen—”

Buford finally recovered from his surprise. He pulled his hand free and, taking hold of Sofia by her shoulders, forced her away from him and held the girl at arm’s length. “What are you doing, woman?”

There was a crash.

Buford’s head snapped to the door. There stood a shocked Lady Buford, her reticule on the floor.

“Caroline!” he cried.

“Nutte! Dieser Mann gehort mir!” screamed the girl.

With a sob, Caroline dashed through the door, revealing Roberts and Frau Lippermann staring into the room. Buford leapt to his feet, and with a thud, Sofia fell to the floor, her skirt up around her knees.

Buford cared not. He moved quickly to the door and shouted a command to Roberts. “Take that whore”—he pointed to Sofia—“and toss her out this instant!” Buford left the library to the sound of Sofia’s curses.

Up the staircase he dashed to find a wide-eyed maid outside Caroline’s room. “Abigail, I need you to go downstairs. There is some rubbish that needs tossing out.”

She looked at her master. “Is it Sofia?” Her face broke into a savage grin as Sir John nodded. “It would be my pleasure!” With that, the maid hurried down the stairs.

Buford tried the door only to find it locked. The only answers he received to his entreaties were heart- wrenching sobs. Finally, Buford took a step back and, with all his might, kicked the door in.

Buford was a good student at university, but he forgot Newton’s Law, which states that for every action there is an equal reaction. The door swung open with such force from the kick that it rebounded off the wall and came back to its original position. Unfortunately, Sir John’s head was in the way, and he was struck with enough force to knock him off his feet. He lay stunned outside his wife’s door.

“John!” cried Caroline. She flew to his side, all else forgotten. “John, John, speak to me! Oh, you are injured! Do not move, I pray! Help! Help!” she screamed through her tears. “Sir John is hurt!”

Buford, lying on the floor, could not decide what hurt his head most—his injury or the screams in his ears.

“Caro—”

“Oh, my dear, do not move! Help is coming!” A moment later, Roberts arrived and helped his mistress carry the master to her bed. “Oh, you must send for a physician this instant!”

Buford was able to take his wife’s hand. “No, my dear… not necessary… I will be fine.”

“Sir, the person in question has been removed from the house,” reported Roberts. “Was there anything further?”

Through his throbbing pain, Buford managed, “No, that is all.” Roberts closed the door as he left. “Caroline—” her husband began.

With Sir John’s life no longer in danger, Caroline was free to remember her own hurt. “Oh, do not speak to me!” Her tears of fear were replaced by tears of grief. She left the bedside and sat at her dressing table, away from him.

Colonel Buford struggled to his feet and staggered to his wife. “My love, listen to me—”

“How could you?”

His strength gone, Buford fell to his knees before his wife. “You must believe me,” he urged through his pain. “I have been faithful to you. I love you so.” He fell forward on her lap. “I have kept my vow.”

Sir John’s words finally reached Caroline’s tortured mind. She looked at him wide-eyed, spent tears running down her face. “What… what did you say?”

He looked up. “I have kept my word to you.” He winced as a shot of pain coursed through his head.

Caroline took his face in her hands. “No, before that.”