Julie Garwood (23 page)

She accepted an invitation from Thomas Ives and accompanied him to a dinner party given by Lady Tillman. It was a boring evening but by going she pleased her father.

The next day she paid her uncle Milo a visit. Franklin hadn’t arrived yet, and she and the marquis had a pleasant conversation. He had heard that Benjamin had left for Boston and asked her to explain her relationship to him.

“I found him in the barn one morning,” Caroline said. “He was a runaway and had made it all the way from the Virginias.” Caroline didn’t give any more details, and her uncle was forced to prod her into telling him more.

“Your father said that he became your protector. Is Boston such a wild and savage land then?”

Caroline laughed. “I believe you have described me, not Boston. I was constantly in mischief and Benjamin was always there, seeing to my safety. He saved my life more than once.”

Uncle Milo chuckled. “Very like your mother,” he commented. “But what about Benjamin? Can he be taken back to the South? Aren’t there men who search out runaways for a price?”

Caroline frowned. “It is true, there are men who
make their profit by hunting slaves, but Benjamin is a freed man now. Papa, I mean Uncle Henry, sent Caimen to buy his papers.”

Franklin arrived then and immediately mentioned Bradford’s name. Caroline schooled her expression and informed her uncle that she was no longer seeing the duke. That association had ended.

“Then you think to return to Boston?” Franklin inquired.

Caroline was mildly surprised by his question, wondering how he had jumped to such a conclusion. Uncle Milo was infuriated over his brother’s remark. She had never seen him so distressed! It took almost an hour to convince him that she had no intention of leaving England, and she was finally able to soothe him.

Franklin then explained that he had heard rumors that she was going back to Boston and that Caroline’s father had decided to marry the Tillman woman. According to the gossip, the earl was going to take his new bride and tour all of Europe before settling down with her in the country.

Caroline had just spent a good deal of time calming her uncle Milo, and Franklin’s renewed challenge infuriated her. She told him that his remarks were ridiculous. With the situation in France brewing again, her father wouldn’t venture outside of England. “My father isn’t going anywhere.”

“Well, if he does, you will move in with me,” Uncle Milo announced. He glared at his brother, obviously waiting for some sort of argument.

“A splendid idea,” Franklin returned. The subject was then dropped.

When Caroline returned home, she found a letter addressed to her. She picked it up from the hall table and went into the drawing room. She was thankful that she was alone, for when she read the horrid message inside, she let out a loud gasp of outrage. The first
paragraph was filled with vile, hateful remarks about her character in general. The next paragraph was more specific. The push down Claymere’s steps wasn’t meant to kill her, only frighten her. And so was the carriage accident. She would die, the writer promised, all in due time. Destiny would be fulfilled, revenge gained! The letter ended with several terrifying descriptions of just how she would be killed.

Caroline didn’t know what to do. She put the letter back in the envelope and hid it in her wardrobe. She wished with all her heart that Benjamin hadn’t left! And then she got hold of herself and questioned Deighton for a description of the person who had delivered the letter.

Deighton knew nothing about the letter, nor did any of the rest of the staff. Caroline hid her alarm and her motives, saying only that she had found the letter on the hall table and wondered who had sent it. She explained that the letter wasn’t signed.

Deighton was upset over the breach in conduct. It was his duty to see the door opened, and someone had dared venture into his territory! He insisted that the door was always locked and felt that one of the maids had opened it without his permission. And now the guilty party wouldn’t own up to it.

Caroline left Deighton to his ramblings and went back upstairs. “I’ll bet Marie accepted the letter and is too afraid to admit it. She’s always roaming around this house,” Mary Margaret muttered. “Hasn’t done an honest day’s work yet. The food is back to being terrible now that Benjamin has left. The stupid woman didn’t learn anything! I think Deighton should let her go.”

“Don’t be so harsh,” Caroline admonished. She was thinking about Marie’s family, Toby and Kirby, and knew that the cook was doing the best job she could. “Show a little more patience, Mary Margaret. Marie
needs the work. I’ll have another talk with her soon,” she promised when it looked like her maid was going to protest again.

Caroline found herself exasperated with the petty problems she was forced to handle. Someone was out to kill her and she didn’t have the faintest idea why, and yet the daily routine of running a household seemed to take precedence.

She decided not to tell her father about the letter just yet. If he realized the danger she was in, he might ship her off to Boston again, and while that thought held a certain appeal, Caroline realized she would be running away. It would also mean leaving Bradford, never seeing him again. That didn’t really signify, she told herself, because Bradford had made it perfectly clear that he was through with her.

There wasn’t anyone she could talk to. Telling Charity was out of the question because she would tell anyone and everyone willing to listen. And she would be frightened, too, just as Caroline’s father would be. His past comments regarding his reasons for sending her to his brother fourteen years ago told her that much about his character. He had said that he wanted her safe, and Caroline surmised that she had somehow become a pawn in the political game her father was involved in. Bradford had told her that the earl had been considered a radical back then, and Caroline sensed that she somehow became caught in the middle. It was the only conclusion that made any sense to her.

For one long week she kept her own council. Sleep eluded her and she became withdrawn.

She turned down a multitude of invitations and jumped at the slightest sound. The only time that she ventured out of the house was for her ritualistic visits to her Uncle Milo.

The earl questioned Caroline about her odd behavior and accepted an invitation on her behalf from Milford
to attend the theater. He argued with his stubborn daughter until she finally agreed to go.

Caroline determined to see the evening through, in order to please her father. She was both eager and sad to see Milford. She liked him and enjoyed his wit, yet every time she thought of him, she was reminded of Bradford.

She dressed with care in a mint-colored gown. Mary Margaret curled her hair and threaded a ribbon through the heavy arrangement. Lack of sleep made Caroline irritable, and the pins pinched and poked until she was ready to scream.

“Mary Margaret, we’ve over an hour before Milford arrives. Fetch your scissors,” Caroline stated in a voice that didn’t suggest an argument. “I’ve seen how you trimmed Charity’s hair and I would like you to cut mine. Now.”

Caroline was struggling out of her gown as she spoke and pulling pins out of her hair at the same time. “Hurry, Mary Margaret. My mind is made up. I’m sick of carrying all this weight around.”

Mary Margaret picked up her skirts and raced out of the room. Caroline ignored the girl’s muttered remarks and took a good look at herself in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders and glared at herself. “You’ve been pitiful long enough, Caroline Richmond.”

Charity walked in and heard Caroline talking to herself. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“As of this minute, I’m taking charge,” Caroline announced. “Remember telling me I’m not a sitter?”

Charity nodded with a wide grin. “Then you’re going after Bradford?”

Caroline shook her head. “No. But I have decided on several other issues,” Caroline hedged. “I’ll explain it all next week,” she promised. “You’ll have to trust that I haven’t lost my mind.”

Charity nodded though she did look confused. Mary Margaret rushed back into the room white Caroline forced Charity out. “Mary Margaret and I have work to do. I’ll be downstairs directly.”

The maid absolutely refused to cut more than an inch off Caroline’s hair and was quite determined until Caroline snatched the scissors out of her hand and began to clip it herself.

The maid gasped and quickly got into the spirit of things. And when she was done, she smiled a sheepish grin and admitted that Caroline looked quite spectacular. Gone was the heavy mass of waves, replaced by soft, curly locks that ended just below her ears. When Caroline moved her head, she felt such freedom that she laughed.

“Well, it feels wonderful,” Caroline told the maid.

“And you look wonderful,” Mary Margaret said. “Your eyes have grown to twice their size and you look most feminine, my lady,” she continued. “You will cause a rage.”

The haircut made Caroline feel better. “Now if I can just get through this evening, I do believe I will be able to conquer anything.”

Mary Margaret frowned over the remark but Caroline didn’t explain further. Milford was early, and by the time Caroline had redressed and pinched some color into her cheeks, she had kept him waiting some time.

Milford stood in the center of the entry and watched Caroline come down the steps. He immediately noticed her hair and made several complimentary remarks about her appearance. He thought that she looked more beautiful than ever but also noticed the fatigue. She obviously wasn’t getting enough sleep.

When they were settled in his carriage and on their way to the Drury Lane Theatre, he smiled at Caroline. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Pumpkin?”

“Pumpkin? You’ve never called me that,” Caroline replied.

Milford shrugged. “Are you getting along well?” he asked. His look was filled with compassion and Caroline bristled inside. Was he feeling sorry for her? she wondered. She grew exasperated just thinking about it. “No one has died, Milford. You needn’t look so intense. And I’m getting along just fine.”

“Bradford isn’t getting much sleep either,” Milford commented.

“Don’t mention his name to me!” Caroline demanded. She realized she had yelled and immediately lowered her voice. “Promise me, Milford, or I will get out of this carriage and walk home.”

“I promise,” he hastily answered. “I’ll not say another word about … you know who. It’s only that I thought you should be aware of certain—”

“Milford!” Caroline’s voice shook. “I don’t want to know anything about him. It’s finished. Now,” she said with a weary sigh. “Tell me what you have been up to. Have you been brawling again?”

It was a struggle to keep the conversation light. Caroline’s nerves were reaching the breaking point, and by intermission she was exhausted from trying to appear happy. The play was mediocre at best and there was quite a crowd gathered in the lobby between acts.

Caroline kept smiling until her face felt like a mirror that was about to shatter into a thousand fragments. She thought that she saw Bradford across the lobby and her heart lurched in reaction. The man turned and it wasn’t Bradford at all, but Caroline’s heart continued to beat a mad rhythm, and it became more difficult than ever to maintain her composure.

She and Milford stood in the middle of a crush of people, and Caroline then realized what a foolish mistake it was to be out in public like this. She provided an easy target. She thought again about the horrid
letter and shivered. Just then someone accidentally pushed Caroline and she whirled around, a look of stark terror in her eyes. She quickly changed her expression and smiled.

She wasn’t quick enough. Milford observed the change in expressions and was clearly astonished by her behavior. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked when he had pulled her off to one side.

Caroline’s back was to the wall and she visibly relaxed. She shook her head, admitting to herself that she couldn’t deal with the crowd or the noise a minute longer. “It isn’t safe,” she whispered. “I think I would like to go home now.”

Milford hid his alarm. Caroline’s face had lost all color and she looked ready to faint. He waited until they were back in his carriage and on their way to her father’s townhouse before he opened the topic again. Caroline was seated across from him, her hands folded in her lap.

“Caroline? Tell me what you meant when you said it wasn’t safe.”

“It was nothing,” Caroline answered. She looked out the window, hiding her expression. “Do you plan to attend Stanton’s affair next week?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

Her ploy didn’t work. Milford took hold of her hands and applied gentle pressure. “Look at me, Caroline.”

She was forced to comply as Milford kept tugging on her hands. “Why wasn’t it safe?”

He wasn’t going to give up. Caroline sighed and felt her shoulders droop. “Someone is trying to kill me,” she whispered.

Milford’s mouth dropped open and he was quite speechless. He let go of her hands and leaned back. “Tell me,” he finally commanded. His tone sounded as unbending as Bradford’s when he gave an order.

“Only if you’ll give me your word to keep this confidence,” Caroline demanded.

Milford nodded and Caroline continued, “I didn’t fall down Claymere’s steps. Someone pushed me. And the accident with the carriage wasn’t an accident at all.”

Milford was looking so astonished that Caroline found herself rushing on in order to convince him that she hadn’t gone daft. “A letter arrived last week, and it was terrible, Milford! Someone hates me and vows to kill me. I don’t understand who or why,” she ended.

Milford let out an exclamation. His mind raced with questions and thoughts. “Do you still have the letter? Who have you told about this?” He didn’t wait for Caroline to answer either question but asked another. “What does your father think? And why in God’s name did he allow you outside?”

He was working himself up into a fit of anger. Caroline chose to answer the last question. “My father isn’t aware of the threat.”

Milford shot her a look of disbelief and Caroline hastened to explain. “I believe he sent me away fourteen years ago because he was frightened. I won’t allow that to happen again, Milford. His last years will be peaceful and happy. It’s his right!”