Rebellious Desire

Chapter Twelve

Caroline wasn't sure just how she got through the next two days. Charity's wedding was almost too painful to bear. Her cousin was so happy, deliriously in love, and Caroline experienced real pangs of jealousy. She hid her feelings and played the docile wife whenever she was forced to stand beside her husband.

She alternated between fits of acute homesickness for Boston and her relatives there, and bouts of melancholy whenever she thought about her situation with Bradford. Caroline felt trapped by her love for him and wished, more than once, that she could stop the pain that came with loving such a rake.

The wedding ceremony was quite lovely and Caroline wept throughout the exchange of vows, much to her husband's frowns of displeasure. He stuffed a handkerchief into her hands with a loud sigh of irritation that she was certain everyone in the church heard.

While Caroline thought she concealed her misery over having Bradford for a husband, she was irritated that he didn't so much as try to hide his disgust with her. He scowled like an unhappy schoolboy. Oh, he was pleasant enough at the reception that followed the ceremony, even laughed a time or two, but he was only pleasant to everyone but her. He completely ignored her presence most of the time, except when it was necessary for him to dictate an order.

Rachel and her mother attended both the wedding and the reception. Caroline was surprised by their appearance and waited until she and Bradford, with Milford sharing their carriage, made their way back to the townhouse before she remarked on it.

"I can't understand why Rachel attended the wedding," Caroline began. "She made no secret of the fact that she hates me, and she knew I would be there."

"They were both invited," Milford pointed out. "Mother and daughter."

"But she said such terrible things to me," Caroline argued, shaking her head.

"Yes, but only you, Bradford, Nigel, and I know that," Milford returned. "Her mother still has her heart set on nabbing your father."

"I tried to get her aside to talk to her," Caroline admitted. "But she was just like a mouse. Every time I got near, she scurried into another corner to get away from me."

Milford grinned. "She looks like a mouse too."

Bradford wasn't amused. "I don't want you near that woman," he stated in a harsh voice.

"I only wanted to find out why she dislikes me so. She said that everything was my fault. I think I have a right to know what I did to cause such hate, Bradford. She might have killed me when she pushed me down those stairs at Claymere's house."

"What makes you think that she's the one?" Milford was looking at Bradford when he asked the question, and his friend's curt shake of his head told him to discontinue the topic. Milford raised an eyebrow in confusion and then changed the subject. "Will you miss Charity when she departs for the Colonies?" It was a ridiculous question but it was all he could think of to distract Caroline.

"What? Oh, well, of course I'll miss her," Caroline returned, showing her astonishment over his question. "I've been thinking that I would like to visit my family." She glanced over at Bradford to see how he was taking her announcement but he was staring out the window, ignoring her again. "Perhaps in the spring I could go for a short while," she added.

"You aren't going anywhere," Bradford interjected. His voice didn't suggest she argue, and Caroline was too fatigued by the long day to fight with him now.

Milford searched his mind for another, safer topic. The tension inside the carriage was almost visible, making him extremely uncomfortable. "How's your uncle?" he blurted out. "I understand he's feeling a little under the weather."

"Only a cold," Caroline answered. "Bradford and I visited with him yesterday and he has a bright red nose and teary eyes, but the physician says he'll be as fit as ever in just a few days. He was very upset over having to miss Charity's wedding."

They reached the townhouse then and Caroline immediately went upstairs. Bradford and Milford retreated to the library to talk.

Caroline paced the confines of her bedroom for a good hour before she took to her bed. She hated the mattress, beating down the lumps with her fists to vent some of her frustration. She was miserable over the growing abyss between her husband and herself and was beginning to think it was a problem that couldn't be solved.

The door to Bradford's bedroom was open and Caroline stood at the entrance and stared at the big, inviting bed. Was she wrong to demand his love? Was she the stubborn one? Bradford had called her unrealistic. Perhaps he was right, Caroline considered. Perhaps she asked too much from him. "I'll not take half measure," she whispered. In her heart she knew that Bradford was wrong in his thinking. She couldn't allow her longing to be in his arms to sway her resolve.

Caroline prayed for the strength to continue her resolve, shut the door that linked her to her husband, and slowly walked back to her cold, empty bed.

The following morning Bradford stated that it was time to return to Bradford Hills. Caroline didn't argue over it, maintaining a distant attitude that reflected her husband's mood.

Bradford was growing weary of the hostile atmosphere. He had come to appreciate his wife's dry sense of humor and enjoyed their sparring matches. She was an intelligent woman who understood the political happenings in both the Colonies and England, and he missed their heated debates on the differences between the two nations.

They were quickly settled in their country home. Bradford felt confident that Caroline would become lonely from the forced isolation and seek out his company. He missed her physically, too, and waited for her apology so that they could return to their ultimate relationship.

By week's end, he had to reevaluate his thinking. Caroline didn't appear to be the least bit lonely, and if he hadn't known better, he would have considered that the country life was more appealing to her than the social whirl London offered.

Caroline's father had insisted that she keep the two Arabians and every morning she rode one of them, always with her guards following behind.

Business forced Bradford's return to London and while he was there, he purchased several expensive pieces of jewelry. His favorite was a necklace of diamonds and rubies. He sent it by special messenger to his wife with the intention of returning to Bradford Hills the following day to receive her humble appreciation.

The necklace was returned by the same messenger late that evening. There wasn't a note attached, but the exhausted courier stated that the duchess had bid him to take the necklace back to her husband with all possible speed.

Bradford was irritated over her refusal to accept his offering and then considered that she just hadn't particularly cared for it. He had had the foresight to obtain several magnificent gems yet to be set in any design, and carried them with him when he made his journey home. His carriage contained an assortment of the newest fabrics as well, additional peace offerings for Caroline. No woman could resist a new gown, and Bradford was convinced that she would crumble under the onslaught of his generosity.

He was mistaken in his theories and was more furious with himself than with his wife's rejection. She refused to accept any of the presents and actually appeared to be insulted by them. They were peace offerings and she was too damn stubborn to recognize that! Of course, he hadn't explained his motives, but any woman with a portion of intelligence would understand his meaning.

It was late evening when Bradford confronted his wife in the study. He admitted his confusion over her behavior, and that seemed to anger Caroline all the more. She was dressed in a simple gown of royal blue, with a heavy shawl wrapped over her shoulders for added warmth.

"When will you accept that I'm not like other women?" Caroline asked him. She stood before the roaring fire and warmed her hands, her back to her husband. "I don't want your expensive jewels."

"Then the finer things of life don't appeal to you?" Bradford asked. His voice was deceptively calm. Caroline turned and saw the glint of anger in his eyes.

"There are other possessions far more enticing," Caroline replied. She hesitated then, trying to form a way to tell him that she would have his love and trust above all else. She knew that as soon as she started on that topic her husband would close his mind to her, and she was desperate to find an avenue into his heart.

"I've made a serious error in dealing with you," Bradford decreed. The arrogance was back in his voice when he continued, "Tomorrow you'll pack your belongings and travel to the other side of the estate. There is a house there, the first ever built by a Bradford. You tell me that luxuries mean nothing to you. Well, wife, prove it! Let's see how long it takes you to admit the truth."

Caroline nodded, trying to hide her distress. How could they ever resolve their differences if they lived in separate houses? "And will you live there with me?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Bradford saw the alarm in her eyes and almost smiled. He believed that he had finally found a way to make her come to her senses. "No," he answered. "The men that I hired to see to your protection will go with you and I'll return to London. When my business is finished there, I'll return to this house. Unlike you, my dear wife, I admit that I enjoy the comforts my wealth provides."

"And will you have other women in your bed when you are in London?" Caroline asked in a very mild tone. Her back was to her husband and he couldn't see her expression.

He was clearly amazed by her question. Since meeting Caroline, he hadn't considered touching any other woman and the thought now repulsed him. He recognized that he held another weapon to hurt her with, but didn't have the heart to use it. "No." He didn't offer any additional explanation but waited for Caroline to make a comment.

"Thank you." The simple return pushed him off center again.

"Why?" Bradford asked. "Why does it matter to you?"

Caroline slowly walked over to stand directly in front of her husband. He was leaning against the edge of the desk. "Because I love you, Jered Marcus Benton," she said, looking into his eyes, her gaze hiding nothing.

"You have a strange way of showing your love," he commented. He reached out and cupped the back of her neck and pulled her closer. "I didn't force you from my bed, Caroline. You left of your own accord."

Caroline didn't reply to his remark. She just continued to look up at him until he couldn't withstand the temptation a second longer. His lips brushed hers, and when she didn't try to pull away, he kissed her again. And again.

Caroline's mouth opened under his tender assault and her hands slipped around his waist. She held nothing back, letting him feel her need, her love.

Bradford's tongue stroked the sweet warmth her mouth offered, kindling the embers of desire with each erotic touch. The kiss changed, became rough with insistence. The shawl fell to the floor when she was abruptly pulled against Bradford's hips.

She never wanted the kiss to end, and when Bradford tore his mouth from hers and began to tease and torment the side of her neck, Caroline sighed with a mixture of pleasure and building frustration.

"I'm going to have you tonight," Bradford said in a voice as soft as velvet. He kissed her again, a long, hot, drugging kiss meant to quell any thoughts of resistance, and then lifted her into his arms and carried her up to his bedroom.

"No arguments, wife?" Bradford asked after he had closed the door and turned back to her.

Caroline shook her head. Bradford kissed her again and then slowly, methodically stripped her. He removed his own clothes next, surprised when Caroline knelt before him and assisted him with his boots.

She was conceding to his wishes tonight, and Bradford found himself frowning over the abrupt change.

Caroline stood up and walked over to the bed. Bradford watched her, thinking that she was the most graceful of women, and the most innocently sensual. And then he was through thinking.

Twin candles burned on each side of the bed and Bradford didn't snuff them out, wishing to see Caroline's passion as well as feel it.

He jerked the covers back and settled himself on his side. He wanted to savor the moment, build the anticipation, but as soon as he took her into his arms and felt her softness against him, he couldn't hold back. He kissed her almost savagely, consumed by an intense hunger only she could satisfy.

He couldn't be gentle this night and Caroline, whose need matched her husband's, didn't want the teasing torment that always came before. Her nails scraped his shoulders while her hips pushed against his for fulfillment.

Bradford entered her with a full thrust. Caroline let out a soft cry and he immediately stopped, tensing against her. "God, Caroline, I don't want to hurt you," he whispered.

He started to pull away but Caroline arched against him, trapping him inside her with her nails digging into his hips. "Don't stop, Bradford, please," she begged.

Bradford cupped the sides of her face and watched the pleasure he gave his wife with each thrust. Her eyes had turned the color of deep blue and when he increased his pace, she moaned, a deep primitive sound that reached his soul, pulled him into the eye of the storm.

He surrendered to the splendor when he felt Caroline tense against him and knew that she had found her release. And then he collapsed on top of her, spent and satisfied.

Caroline listened to Bradford's harsh breathing, felt his heart beat against her own, and closed her eyes with a sigh of contentment.

And then she waited for him to tell her that he loved her. With each passing second, her contentment faded.

Bradford rolled to his side and took Caroline into his arms. "It seems that this is the only place where we don't argue," he whispered.

"Are the beds comfortable at Bradford Place?" she asked. Her casual question told him that nothing had changed.

He refused to let her rile him. "Some of it isn't furnished. God, but you're stubborn, Caroline. Only admit that you belong to me and you can stay here."

"I have never said that I didn't belong to you," Caroline replied, surprised by his interpretation. "You know exactly why we argue. And until you realize that I won't settle for-"

"You can take what you need from this house," Bradford interrupted. He wasn't about to back down, and his remark told Caroline just how unbending he was.

"Why do you send the guards with me?" she asked, changing the subject. "I know that you talked with Rachel," she added, trying to see his face.

Bradford held her against his chest, ignoring her struggle to move. "Rachel wasn't responsible," he announced. "She wasn't behind the attempts."

"Are you sure?" Caroline succeeded in pulling free of Bradford's arms. She sat up and frowned in confusion.

Bradford appreciated the pretty picture his wife presented. Her curly hair tumbled around her face, enhancing the slender column of her neck. The tops of her breasts peeked out from the covers she clutched to herself, enticing him.

"Bradford, I asked you if you were sure," Caroline stated again.

Bradford reluctantly pulled himself back to the conversation. "I'm sure."

Caroline sighed. "You know, I believe you have a very relaxed attitude about all this," she muttered. "If someone had tried to harm you, I would tear London apart looking for him. You act bored with the matter."

"I promised that I would handle the situation," Bradford stated. "You don't need to know more than that. It's my worry, not yours."

"No, Bradford, it's our worry."

Bradford sighed over that remark and then commented, "Rachel believes that you've succeeded in talking your father out of marrying her mother. She had grand plans of a financial arrangement and you threw a stick in her spokes."

"Why would she think such a ridiculous thing?" Caroline asked, showing her amazement.

Bradford thought a long minute and then made the decision to tell her. "Because your father told her so."

"But why would he do that?"

"Caroline, your father was being pressured and he used you as his excuse. It was too difficult to tell Rachel's mother the truth, that he didn't want to marry her. He took the easy way out, by using you as the scapegoat."

Caroline shook her head, denying it was true. "That would be a cowardly thing to do," she whispered.

"In most cases," Bradford agreed. He reached out and pulled Caroline back into his arms. "But your father is different. He lived alone, in his own little world, for such a long time-"

"Fourteen years," Caroline interjected.

"Yes, well, he isn't sophisticated enough to deal with the likes of the Tillman woman. Her claws were out to trap him and he used the only route of escape he could think of."

"He was afraid to be honest with her?" Caroline asked. "Is that what you're suggesting?"

Bradford sighed again. "He's an old man, Caroline, and set in his ways. Think of him as bewildered, not afraid."

"He was afraid fourteen years ago when he sent me to his brother in Boston. I'm sure of it."

"He had just lost his wife and newborn son. Caroline, the man was overwhelmed with grief."

She was barely listening as Bradford continued to argue in her father's favor. She realized that he was defending her father's behavior. Instead of a rigid, unbending conclusion that her father had acted like a coward, he argued that the opposite was true. He was being both understanding and compassionate.

Why couldn't he be more understanding with her? she wondered. Why couldn't he unbend, just a little, for her? There was a shield around his heart, protecting his vulnerability, Caroline knew, but she didn't know how to remove it.

Bradford had stopped talking and his even, deep breathing told her that he was fast asleep. She tried to move away but his grip tightened around her.

Caroline closed her eyes but didn't go to sleep for a long time. Her mind raced with questions and decisions. She knew that her husband cared for her, more deeply than he realized. Perhaps it was just a matter of time before he admitted his love. And would trust come with that admission?

Caroline honestly didn't know. She had called him her opponent in their battle to understand each other. She remembered telling him that he didn't really know her at all. Bradford had proved the truth of her convictions when he tried to buy her forgiveness with the expensive jewels. Perhaps the women he had known in the past would have settled for that much, but Caroline still demanded more. She wanted the shield torn from his heart. She wanted it all.

The surprise of listening to Bradford argue in favor of her father told her that she too had made a grave mistake. She had never taken the time to learn the reasons behind his cynicism, only railed against the results of his sour disposition where women were concerned. She didn't know her opponent either.

Caroline decided on one last attack against his armor and found herself praying with determination. She might not be able to demolish his defenses, but she would damn well put a few dents in them!

Caroline was up, dressed, and in the middle of packing her things before Bradford woke up. As soon as he saw what she was doing, he became irritated. "This is nonsense," he muttered.

Caroline stopped folding the gown and dropped it on the bed. "I agree." She walked over to the connecting door, where her husband stood, and lifted on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. "I don't want to leave," she told him. "And if you will only promise me that you will have complete faith in me, I'll unpack."

"Caroline, I'm not awake enough to spar with you yet. It's my duty to protect you from any threat, both from outside forces and from within. I don't need to make promises when I'll see that you aren't given the opportunity to stray."

"You insult me again with your beliefs, Bradford," Caroline announced. "But I'll forgive you for it. You don't know any better." She turned from him then and resumed packing, tears stinging her eyes.

Bradford was tired of the way she continually tried to manipulate him. He would have demanded a stop if he hadn't had two motives for sending her away. His primary reason was for Caroline's protection. He wanted his wife safe when he put his plan to trap her enemy into action, and Bradford Place, a fortress built during the Middle Ages, would more than fit the bill. The house was all of stone and situated on the top of a barren hill. Anyone approaching could be seen from a good half-mile's distance. He would send two guards with Caroline, and three others were already at the fortress.

The other reason, though paltry in comparison to his wife's safety, had to do with the method of gaining control. He was out to teach his Caroline a well deserved lesson, and when the week of isolation was completed, he was sure she would be more than willing to return to the luxury he could provide her.

She had the audacity to kiss him good-bye! They stood together on the marble steps of Bradford Hills and said their farewells. Bradford thought he looked grim with his determination and considered that his wife looked ready to conquer the world.

He considered telling her that this wasn't an adventure but a penance, but decided to keep his silence. When she saw Bradford Place, she would know the truth of it.

"Caroline, you must stay an entire week no matter what your inclinations are. Is that understood?"

Caroline nodded and turned to leave, but Bradford stopped her with his hand. "I'll have your word first. You'll not leave the property for one week, no matter what the reason given, no matter what-"

"Why?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you," Bradford muttered. "I want your word, Caroline."

He was squeezing her shoulders so firmly that Caroline thought she might carry bruises for a couple of days. She frowned over his demand. "You have my word, Bradford."

"And when you decide, after the full week, to return to my side where you belong, I'll be waiting for your apology."

Caroline pulled free of his hold and started down the steps. "Bradford, don't frown so," she called over her shoulder. "I've given you my word on the matter." She started to get into the carriage and suddenly turned back to him. "Of course, you'll have to trust me to keep it."

She couldn't resist the barb and felt very smug over her husband's startled reaction.

The smugness evaporated with the distance that separated her from her husband. It took almost four hours to reach Bradford Place. Her husband's vast land holdings were filled with hills and Caroline counted three en route to her temporary home. She prayed that it was temporary and that her husband would miss her. Maybe the separation would prove worth the pain. Maybe he would miss her enough to realize he loved her.

And maybe apples can fly, Caroline thought when she finally saw the house. The monstrosity looked cold and depressing. It sat on top of the hill, all alone, without the relief of a single tree to break the austerity. There was a wide creek circling the base of the hill. A decrepit-looking wooden bridge arched across the murky water, but the guards accompanying her insisted that she walk across in case the wood couldn't hold the weight of the carriage.

A closer look at her new home didn't make Caroline feel any better. The two-story building was made of gray stone and she considered that it was the only reason the albatross continued to stand at all.

"Lord, the only thing missing is a moat and some moss," Caroline muttered.

Mary Margaret walked beside her mistress the distance to the front door without a word of comment. "You needn't stay with me," Caroline told her maid. "I would understand if you wanted to return to Bradford Hills."

"We've got our work cut out for us," Mary Margaret returned. Caroline turned and saw her dimpled smile. "I don't know the reasons for your exile, but my loyalty belongs to you as well as to your husband. And I promised him to look after you."

"Well, we best see how horrible it is inside," Caroline said with a sigh.

The door was locked and it took Huggins, one of the guards, no small effort to get it opened. The door, warped by weather and time, screeched in protest when it was finally jarred loose.

The foyer was stark and consisted of a stone floor and plastered walls that were both brown from dirt. There were stairs leading to the second floor, but the banister rail bulged off the side and looked about ready to crash to the ground.

To the right was the dining room. Caroline walked over to the table centered in the dark room and ran her finger over the dust. She looked at the windows next. Burgundy drapes, limp with age, dragged against the floor.

Caroline slowly made her way back to the entryway. The main room was on the opposite side of the dining room, and while Caroline considered that the floor plan was actually similar to her father's townhouse, the likeness ended there.

The main room was closed off by glass-paned doors that someone must have added after the house was built. She opened them and walked down the three steps.

"I'm trying to visualize what this will look like when it's cleaned," Caroline remarked to her maid, who was hovering behind her.

The room was quite spacious. There was a large stone fireplace on the wall to the right, two big windows on the opposite wall, and doors leading outside in the center of the far wall.

Caroline walked over to the doors but couldn't see through the glass panes. She pulled them open and found a stone pathway. "In the spring, this room could be quite lovely," she remarked to her maid. "If a garden was planted, and-"

"You don't plan to be here that long, do you?" Mary Margaret couldn't keep the distress out of her voice.

Caroline didn't answer. She shivered from the wind coming through the open door and quickly shut it. Dust swirled around her as she slowly made her way back to the steps.

She sat down, shoulders slumped in defeat. Lord, it would take months to make the place decent. Bradford truly expected her return after her week's penance was up, and she now understood why he acted so certain!

"Do you want to return home?" Mary Margaret asked, her voice eager.

Caroline shook her head. "We'll start with the bedrooms first. If we don't kill ourselves trying to get up the steps, that is."

The second guard, a giant of a man named Tom, overheard Caroline's comment and immediately checked the stability of the staircase. "Sound as the day it was built," he announced. "Bannister just needs a few well-placed nails."

A sudden inspiration hit Caroline. "We'll have this place spotless in no time," she predicted with a surge of enthusiasm.

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes over her mistress's expectations. "It will take a week just to clean one room."

"Not if we have help! You must go into the village we passed on our way here and hire help," Caroline explained. "And a cook as well, Mary Margaret."

Caroline made her list and Mary Margaret set out in her mistress's carriage. But the boast that it wouldn't take long to clean the house proved false all the same. It took the remainder of the week, working from sunup to sundown to see it finished.

The transformation was quite spectacular. The walls were no longer a dingy brown but now sparkled with a coat of fresh white paint. The wooden floors in the dining room and main salon shone with polish.

Furniture had been found in the storage area of the attic, and the barren receiving room now looked warm and inviting. Caroline had purchased a potbelly stove and had it placed in the far corner of the main room, and when the doors were closed to the entry hall, the room was toasty warm.

But once the week was done, Caroline found herself growing restless. She had expected to see Bradford on her doorstep at week's end, but he continued to stay away. And so she waited. It was another full week before she finally accepted the truth.

Caroline cried herself to sleep every night, berating herself, her husband, and the injustices of life in general. She finally made her decision to give up and accept the situation. She informed Mary Margaret that they would return to Bradford Hills the following day.

Caroline stood in front of the fireplace in the receiving room while she considered what she would say to Bradford. She had no intention of asking his forgiveness and felt that if she just returned to his side, he would conclude that he had won. She would have to find a way to make him understand what was in her heart.

She shook her head, knowing that he would draw all the wrong conclusions, believe that she missed the luxuries, no doubt. That was a prick against her pride and she bristled over it. But what good were her ideals and her motives if she stayed all alone? What did pride matter? She had boasted that she wouldn't accept half measure and now admitted that half was certainly better than none at all.

Mary Margaret opened the door and announced that the Earl of Milfordhurst was there to see her. "Show him in," Caroline said, smiling.

Milford appeared in the doorway and grinned. Mary Margaret assisted him with his heavy winter cloak and then shut the door behind him.

"You're my very first visitor, Milford," Caroline told him. She rushed over and clasped his hands in hers and then impulsively reached up to kiss his cheek. "Lord, you're freezing," she remarked. "Stand before the fire and warm yourself. What brings you here?" she asked.

"I just wanted to say hello," Milford hedged.

"You've ridden all the way from London to say hello?" Caroline asked.

Milford looked a little sheepish. He took hold of Caroline's hand and led her to the settee and then sat down next to her. "You've lost weight," he remarked. "Caroline, I'm going to interfere again. I want you to listen to me. Brad isn't going to back down. His pride is too important to him and the sooner you accept that, the better off you'll be."

"I know."

"You know? Then why-" Milford was caught off guard by her ready admission. "Well, that was certainly easy work. Come now, Caroline. Let's go back to Bradford Hills now."

"Bradford's there? I thought he was in London," Caroline said.

"No, I stopped to see him first," Milford told her. "But he plans on returning to London tomorrow. You needn't pack anything, just come with me."

Caroline smiled and shook her head. "Milford, do you like this room?"

Milford was about to argue with Caroline but her mild question confused him. "What? The room?" He glanced around and then looked back at Caroline. "Yes," he remarked. "Why?"

"I would like Bradford to come here and see it as well," Caroline explained. "It's small by his standards, but it's warm and cozy now… and it's a home. Maybe he would understand if he could just see-"

"Caroline, what are you talking about? I just explained that Brad won't back down."

"He doesn't need to," Caroline placated. "I'll send a note and ask him to come for me."

"Are you stalling?" Milford asked, frowning.

Caroline shook her head and Milford looked at her for a long minute. He made up his mind that she was telling him the truth then and said, "Well, get on with the note writing then. Lord, but you're obstinate. No wonder Brad married you. Two peas in the same pod. You're very alike, you know."

"My attack against his cynicism," Caroline answered. She stood up and sighed. "It's late and you're probably very tired, but if you would like, we could play a game of cards."

Milford followed Caroline into the entryway. He was tired, and a game of whist or faro wasn't all that appealing, but he considered that Caroline had been alone for over two weeks and he could suffer through it.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked.

"Why, poker, of course," Caroline returned. "I won't tell if you don't." She walked ahead of him into the drawing room. "I've been trying to teach Mary Margaret but she doesn't have a mind for cards."

She heard Milford chuckle behind her and added, "Of course, if it offends you, we won't gamble."

Caroline sat down at the square table behind the settee, picked up the deck of cards in the center, and began to shuffle them as expertly as any man.

Milford let out a shout of laughter and removed his jacket. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and took his place across from Caroline. "I would feel uncomfortable taking money from you," he admitted, hoping she would argue with him.

"I won't," Caroline returned. "Besides, it's Bradford's money, not mine. And after you lose the first few games, you just might change your mind."

They played well into the night. When Caroline finally announced that she was too tired to continue, Milford balked. "You must give me an opportunity to recoup my losses," he protested.

"That was your argument an hour ago," Caroline said. She bid him good night and went up to her bedroom.

Her loneliness was always worse when she climbed into her cold bed. Then she missed Bradford more than ever. The old-fashioned mattress was lumpy with matted straw, and her back ached every time she turned.

She thought about Bradford's past and felt a little ashamed that she hadn't shown more patience with him. And then she finally fell asleep, holding the pillow against her chest and pretending that it was her husband.

The messenger Caroline had sent to Bradford returned late the next morning to say that the Duke of Bradford had been called to London the day before.

Milford grumbled over the inconvenience of hunting his friend down, worried that Caroline would turn stubborn and change her mind, and then kissed her good-bye and began his journey back to the city.

Caroline was also disappointed. She strolled through the rooms of Bradford Place, thinking about her husband and how she would proceed when they were once again together.

She went back to her bedroom, sat down on the bed, and considered which gown she would wear when he finally came for her. She wanted to spend one night here at Bradford Place, liking the cozy atmosphere, and then considered that her husband wouldn't sleep more than two minutes on the horrid mattress. That thought led to another and another, and Caroline then had the most bizarre idea. She laughed with delight and raced back downstairs to put her idea into motion.

One final jab against his armor, Caroline justified when the deed was done. Just one final assault. Then she would settle down and learn to accept.