around the expectation on both men's faces. She had to say something. 'My mother has been dead for many years,' she finally stated. 'I moved to Boston when I was just a little girl. My aunt and uncle raised me and I've always called my aunt Mama. She did raise me, you see. And it was easier… to fit in,' she added with a negligent shrug.
'Will you be staying in London long?' Bradford asked. He leaned forward, placing his large hands on his knees, obviously intent on hearing her answer.
'Charity would like to attend some of the functions while we are here,' she replied, avoiding the real question he had asked.
Bradford frowned over the way she had skirted his question and then said, 'The season will soon start. Do you look forward to your adventure?' He forced the cynicism out of his voice, admitting that he didn't want to spoil her innocent expectations. She was a female and therefore had to be eager to participate in the frivolousness of it all.
'Adventure? I hadn't thought of it in quite that way. I'm sure that Charity will enjoy the parties,' she answered.
She was frowning up at Bradford and he was struck with the thought that her gaze, when directed with such force, could well make any man stutter and lose his train of thought. Of course, Bradford hastily reminded himself while he tried to remember what it was they were talking about, he had seen too much, experienced too much, to be taken in by the wiles of any chit. He was, however, growing more alarmed at his own undisciplined reactions. By God, he had never been so affected, so overwhelmed, by a woman before. What the hell was the matter with him? It must be the heat, he reflected, even as he vowed, in that instant when their gaze held, that he would know all about the woman kneeling before him. She glowed with innocence and promises of real warmth to a man who had been out in the cold for such a long time.
The spell holding Caroline captive by Bradford's dark eyes was broken when Mr. Smith cleared his throat and inquired, 'You don't look forward to the season, do you?' He seemed, to Caroline's way of thinking, to be completely astonished by his own question.
'I haven't given it consideration,' Caroline answered. She smiled and then added, 'We have heard such stories! They are a prickly, closed group and one must always be terribly correct. Charity fears that she will do something that will embarrass my father her first night out. She wishes to be correct, you see.'
Her voice sounded strained and Bradford became all the more intrigued.
Mr. Smith commented, 'I predict that you'll be the talk of London.' His voice sounded smug and arrogant.
He had meant it as a compliment and was confused when Caroline nodded and frowned up at him. 'That is Charity's worry about me. She fears I'll do something quite dreadful and all of London will hear of it. You see, I am rarely correct in anything that I do. My mama calls me a rebel. I fear she's right.'
Her comment about her character was made in a very matter-of-fact voice.
'No, no. You mistake my meaning,' Mr. Smith stated. He waved his handkerchief in the air like a flag. 'I mean to say that the ton will embrace you. I predict it.'
'You are most kind,' Caroline whispered. 'But I hold little hope. It doesn't signify, as you English are fond of saying, for I'll be returning to Boston. It doesn't matter if I'm cut by Pummer himself.'
'Pummer?' Both Bradford and Mr. Smith stated the name together.
'Plummer or Brummer,' Caroline returned with a shrug. 'Mr. Smith, if you would just move your leg a little so that I can catch this loose end. There, now I can proceed.'
'Do you mean Brummell? Beau Brummell?' Bradford asked, a smile in his voice.
'Yes, that is probably the correct name. We were told by Mrs. Maybury, before we left Boston, that this Brummell rules the ton, but of course you must know that. Mrs. Maybury had only just arrived in the Colonies before we left, so we believe her story to be accurate.'
'And what was her story?' Bradford asked.
'That if Brummell decides to cut a lady, then she might as well join a convent. Her season is ruined and she must go home in disgrace. Can you imagine one person having such power?' She asked the question of Bradford and glanced up at him. She immediately wished she hadn't. Of course he could imagine such power, she told herself. The man probably invented it. She sighed with frustration and lowered her gaze.
Bradford's closeness was beginning to irritate her. She looked up at Mr. Smith and saw his distressed frown. 'Oh, have I made the bandage too tight?'
'N-no, it's fine,' Mr. Smith stammered.
'You must understand that I personally do not care if Brummell cuts me or not. London holds no promise for me. Still, I do worry that Charity will be affected by my behavior and possibly hurt and I don't wish to see her humiliated. Yes, that is a worry.'
'I have the feeling that Beau Brummell will not cut you or your cousin,' Bradford predicted.
'You're far too beautiful to be discarded,' Mr. Smith interjected.
'Being attractive should have nothing to do with being accepted. It is what is inside a person that matters,' Caroline advised.
'Besides that noble fact, I hear that he values his grays exceedingly,' Bradford commented, his tone dry.
'His grays?' Caroline asked, clearly confused.
'His horses,' Bradford answered. 'I've no doubt that you'd try to shoot them if he dared to cut you or your cousin.'
His expression looked serious but his eyes had turned warm and teasing. 'I would never!' Caroline said.
He smiled then and Caroline shook her head. 'You jest,' she stated. 'There,' she said, turning back to Mr. Smith. 'I've finished. Keep this medicine and have the bandage changed once a day. And don't allow anyone to bleed you, for heaven's sake. You've lost enough blood.'
'Another one of your mama's practices?' Mr. Smith inquired with a good deal of suspicion in his voice.
Caroline nodded as she moved out of the carriage. When she stood outside, she turned and propped Mr. Smith's legs on the opposite seat, next to Bradford's looming form. 'I fear you're correct, Mr. Smith. Your lovely boots look ruined. And your tassels are coated with blood. Perhaps if you wash them with champagne, the way Mrs. Maybury explained that Brummell does, then they'll be just the thing again.'
'That is a most guarded secret,' Mr. Smith decreed with indignation.
'It can't be much of a secret,' Caroline replied. 'For Mrs. Maybury knew all about it and it appears you do too.' She didn't wait for a reply to her logical statement and turned to Bradford. 'You'll see to your friend now?'
'We've found the groom,' Charity called out just as Bradford nodded to Caroline. 'He has a bump on his head the size of a church steeple, but he's coming around.'
Caroline nodded and said, 'Good day to you both. Benjamin, we must go now. Mr. Bradford will tend to Mr. Smith.'
The black man said something to Caroline in a language Bradford had never heard before but he knew, from the way that Caroline smiled and nodded, that she understood perfectly.
And then they were gone. Neither gentleman said a word as they watched the black-haired nymph lead her cousin down the road. The Duke of Bradford jumped out of the carriage for a longer look while his friend stuck his head out the window and also watched the retreat.
Bradford found himself smiling. The little cousin with the blonde curls was talking to Caroline, and the silent black man, with his pistol drawn, followed behind, obviously intent on seeing to their protection.
'My God, I believe I've contracted the king's madness,' the injured man stated. 'The chit hails from the Colonies,' he added with a hint of a sneer in his voice, 'and still I find I'm infatuated.'
'Get over it,' Bradford advised, his voice curt. 'I want her.' His tone didn't suggest an argument, and his friend wisely agreed with several vigorous nods. 'I don't care if she is from the Colonies or not.'
'What a stir you'll cause if you pursue her. If her father isn't titled… Well, it simply isn't done. Remember your position.'
'And you therefore condemn it?' Bradford asked the question with quiet interest.
'I do not. I would support your cause. She saved my life.'
Bradford raised an eyebrow and his friend hurried to answer his unspoken question. 'She came upon the
