Julie Garwood Read online

  Thoughts raced through her head like gusts of wind racing through an empty field. She couldn’t seem to catch a single thought and truly hold on to it.

  Caroline continued to meet his hot gaze while she considered one devious way after another to block his unsettling effect on her.

  Did he have any idea of how he was affecting her? She certainly hoped not! Her hands trembled, her senses felt flooded, and her thoughts muddled into irrational fragments.

  She became increasingly nervous. Worse, she began to worry that she would do something terribly incorrect. If she did, it would be Bradford’s fault, she decided. That offered little comfort, she realized, because he would probably be extremely smug over her discomfort. And if she made a complete ninny of herself, he would probably be pleased to know that it was his presence that had caused it all.

  Caroline concentrated, schooling her features into what she hoped was a bland and bored expression. She was trying to mimic the looks on most of the ladies’ faces in the ballroom, and then found that once she had achieved it, she simply couldn’t hold it. She broke into a smile and accepted the fact that, never having really been bored, she couldn’t very well pretend that she was. She just didn’t know how.

  Bradford caught her smile and returned it, surprising himself with the easy show of emotion. He rarely let anything show on his face, and now he was acting like a young buck on his first night out on the town.

  Caroline tried to maintain some dignity and nodded acceptance of his smile. When she finally realized that she couldn’t outstare him, she started to turn back to the group surrounding her. A mischievous look entered Bradford’s eyes, stopping her, and she watched, quite mesmerized, as he slowly lowered his eyelid in a provocative, exaggerated wink.

  Caroline shook her head over his flirtatious gesture and tried to look irritated, yet ruined the effect by laughing. Admitting defeat, she quickly turned her back on him, knowing that he had seen her reaction. Feeling much like a silly girl in need of supervision, Caroline took a deep breath and tried to listen to what was being said.

  The marquis and the earl were engaged in a rather heated debate over just who Caroline and Charity should be introduced to, and more importantly, by whom. Caroline took the time to draw her cousin aside and whisper into her ear. “They’re here, Charity. Over against the wall. No, don’t look,” she demanded.

  “Who’s here?” Charity questioned. She squinted and tried to see around Caroline.

  “Don’t look! You couldn’t see them anyway. They’re too far away.”

  “Lynnie, get hold of yourself. Who is here?” Charity let her exasperation show by placing one hand on her hip.

  “The man we helped that day we first arrived,” Caroline explained, realizing that Charity was right. She did have to get hold of herself. Whatever was the matter with her? She felt as skittish as one of her mares and couldn’t for the life of her understand why. “And Bradford, too,” Caroline continued. “They’re both here.”

  “Oh, isn’t that nice!” Charity smiled with pleasure. “We must say hello.”

  “No, it isn’t nice,” Caroline snapped out. “I don’t think it’s nice at all.”

  Charity frowned. “Caroline, will you listen to yourself. What is the matter with you? You look almost afraid.” Charity seemed awed by her statement. In all the years she had lived with Caroline, she had never seen her afraid.

  Charity suddenly felt vastly superior to her level-headed cousin. Caroline appeared to be rattled, and Charity had to be careful not to gape in amazement.

  There was no more time to discuss the topic, as Charity was quickly led away for the next dance set. Viscount Claymere was then bowing before Caroline in a great show of flurry, claiming her immediate attention.

  Caroline walked by his side to the middle of the floor, noticing that his hand was sweaty as he clutched her elbow. She decided that the viscount was nervous and tried to help him relax. She gave him a smile and then wished she hadn’t been so rash. The poor man tripped over his own feet, and Caroline was forced to grab him by the elbow to keep him standing.

  She was careful from then on to keep her expression composed and not look directly at him, for when she turned and curtsied and glanced up at him, he tripped all over again. The music began and Caroline concentrated on the intricate steps required of her, thankful that Caimen had taken the time to show her how to dance. She knew that Bradford was watching her but vowed that she wouldn’t look his way. She had decided, as she was being led out to the dance floor, to completely ignore him. He was, she reminded herself for the fiftieth time, too overbearing. He did look like a Spartan, she thought again, all discipline and harsh ridges. And, she decided, she didn’t much care for the Sparta civilization after all.

  Bradford waited until the dance had ended and then made his move. He nodded toward Caroline when Brummell asked him what had him so transfixed. Brummell turned and, keeping his expression carefully hidden, also watched Caroline.

  The dance finally ended and Caroline felt like genuflecting with acute relief. The viscount had stepped on her toes more than once, causing her feet to ache in protest.

  Caroline’s father joined her before the viscount could do more damage, and the clumsy young man made another great bow before he started to take his leave. He suddenly changed his mind, turned, and grabbed Caroline’s hand. Before she could pull it away, he leaned forward and kissed the back of her hand quite loudly.

  Caroline remembered not to smile and the viscount, after promising to return, finally took his leave.

  “Do not take this as an offense, Father, but the English do tend to be a jittery lot,” Caroline said as she watched the viscount hurry away.

  “Since you are English, I will not take exception,” her father returned with a grin.

  Then suddenly he was standing before her, with Brummell at his side. Caroline couldn’t very well ignore the pair as they blocked her path and her vision. She was staring into Bradford’s chest and finally forced herself to look up.

  “We are here for an introduction,” Bradford stated in a deep drawl. His words were directed at her father but his eyes remained fixed on her. Caroline noticed that he was staring at her mouth and she nervously wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.

  The Earl of Braxton was pleased. “Of course. Allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Caroline Mary. Caroline, my dear, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the Duke of Bradford and to Mr. George Brummell.”

  Bradford turned to Brummell and grinned. “After you this time, I believe?”

  “Naturally,” Brummell replied. He turned his attention to Caroline and smiled. The noise had dimmed and Caroline thought that everyone in the room was trying to hear what was being said. She felt very much like the focal point at a county fair.

  “It is indeed a pleasure to meet you,” Brummell stated with great formality. He bowed, low enough to brush the floor with the tips of his fingers, and then straightened. “You are from the Colonies?” he inquired as he took her hand and slowly raised it to his lips. Audible gasps could be heard over this affectionate gesture, and Caroline’s eyes sparkled with mischief and appreciation. She could feel the warmth of her father’s pleasure heating her face. Surely that was the reason for the blush she knew she displayed!

  “How very astute of you to know that I am indeed from the Colonies, Mr. Brummell,” Caroline returned.

  “Please, you must call me Beau. While it has been suggested that I be called by my given name, George, I favor my nickname.”

  “Your name is truly George?” Caroline asked, trying desperately not to laugh. Why, that was the very name she had suggested when he had wanted to keep his identity secret. Since it was also the name of England’s king, she considered that it was a logical coincidence.

  “Yes, and only recently a rather beautiful young lady suggested that I use it once again. I declined the invitation,” he added with a sigh.

  He was having great sport with her, daring her not to lau
gh at his remarks. Caroline experienced an urge to get even. “I believe that we share a mutual friend, Beau.”

  Brummell looked a bit disconcerted and Caroline smiled. “Yes, Mr. Harold Smith has often spoken of you. You may not recall the acquaintance, however, for the dear man sold everything he owned and moved to the Colonies a long while back. He said that London was too … barbaric. I do believe those were his very words.”

  Brummell and Bradford looked at each other and then back to her. They both started to laugh and before they were through, Brummell had to dab at the corners of his eyes with his handkerchief.

  “And how is Mr. Smith getting along,” Bradford asked when he could gain control of himself.

  Caroline smiled at Bradford and then turned back to Brummell. “Why, he’s looking quite fit in my opinion. He was having a bit of trouble with one leg but I do believe, from the way he gets around now, that it must have healed to his satisfaction.”

  “What was the poor man’s ailment?” the earl interrupted to ask.

  “Gout,” Caroline immediately answered.

  Brummell started coughing and Bradford had to whack him on the back. “I have not laughed so in years,” Beau admitted. “Madam, it has been a pleasure and I look forward to seeing you again.” Brummell’s voice had risen during the last of his conversation and Caroline realized it was for the benefit of those in attendance. “Before the evening is out, I must be allowed to meet your cousin.”

  Caroline nodded and watched Brummell retreat. She finally turned to Bradford and wished she had the nerve to ask him if he didn’t have somewhere to go also.

  The music started up again just when her father announced that he was going to fetch some champagne for the marquis. Bradford requested formal permission from her father to dance with Caroline. A waltz was beginning, and while the earl gave his permission, Caroline was shaking her head.

  Bradford ignored her denial and took hold of her hand. He all but pulled her along, until they were almost to the doors that led outside. Then he turned and took her into his arms.

  Caroline kept her gaze focused on his black jacket. “I don’t know how to waltz,” she said in a whisper.

  Bradford took his hand from her waist and used it to turn her face up to him. “My buttons will not answer you,” he said in a voice filled with humor.

  “I said that I do not know how to dance the waltz,” Caroline repeated. Bradford’s fingers were brushing against the sensitive area below her chin, and she felt a sudden tremor take hold of her legs.

  “Put your arm around me,” Bradford whispered, his voice silky. He had leaned down, so that their faces were almost touching.

  Caroline shook her head. Bradford again ignored her and placed her hand high up on his shoulder. If she as much as shifted her hand an inch, she would be touching his hair. And then they were moving and she was being twirled around and around and the only thing she could concentrate on was the feeling of being held in his arms.

  They didn’t speak another word during the dance and Caroline was thankful for it. She felt awkward and unsure of herself. His hand seemed to burn through her gown, branding her.

  Caroline shifted her left hand and took advantage of the position; her fingers slowly reached up until they were touching the silken brown hair at the base of his neck. She was surprised that it felt so soft. Her fingers retreated before Bradford would realize her boldness.

  But he did notice. The light brush against the sensitive skin on the back of his neck drove him to distraction. He had a sudden urge to pick Caroline up and kiss her until she was overwhelmed with desire, as overwhelmed as he was at this very moment.

  Caroline glanced around and immediately noticed that the other ladies dancing did not have their left hands so high up on their partners’ shoulders. She immediately moved her hand, copying the correct stance, and shot Bradford a glare. “We are dancing entirely too close,” Caroline stated. “I will not have my father embarrassed.”

  Bradford reluctantly released his grip and let her move back a space. He grinned a true rascal’s grin and asked, “Is that the only reason you do not want to be close to me?”

  “Of course,” Caroline answered. Her legs felt weak and her heart was fluttering a mad tune but she would admit to neither of those reactions. She refused to look up at him and only then noticed that many of the women watching from the sidelines were frowning with obvious displeasure. “Bradford? Why are those women frowning at us?” she asked, daring a quick look up.

  Bradford glanced around the room and then turned back to Caroline.

  “Are you doing something that isn’t correct?” she demanded against his shoulder, her voice sounding suspicious.

  Bradford laughed. “Unfortunately, we are being very correct,” he informed her. “Some of the older ladies do not care for this new dance. The waltz hasn’t gained approval of the traditionals.”

  Caroline nodded. “I see.” She glanced up again, met his gaze, and smiled. “And are you a radical or a traditionalist?”

  “What do you think?” Bradford inquired.

  “Oh, a radical I would imagine,” Caroline immediately answered. “I’ll bet you are a troublemaker in the House of Lords. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Bradford shrugged. “I have been known to be obstinate on occasion, but only when the issue I am backing is in jeopardy.”

  “Yet you are respected,” Caroline announced. “Is it because of the title you inherited or because you have made a name for yourself?”

  Bradford laughed. “Are you asking me if I have accomplished anything of value?” He paused and then asked, “And how do you know that I am respected?”

  “Because of the way people look at you,” Caroline answered. “My father is a traditionalist. If he was still active in your politics, he would probably be your enemy on every issue. Bradford, could we please stop this circling? I’m getting quite dizzy.”

  Bradford immediately stopped dancing, took hold of Caroline’s elbow, and led her toward the doorway to the balcony.

  “Your father was more of a radical in his day than I will ever be,” Bradford remarked.

  Caroline showed her astonishment. “It’s true,” Bradford continued. “He was known as the champion for the Irish cause.”

  “What Irish cause?” Caroline asked.

  “Self-rule,” Bradford explained. “Your father didn’t believe that the Irish were ready to rule themselves, but he fought to gain them a voice in government and to improve conditions.”

  Caroline was amazed by Bradford’s remarks. She tried to picture her father as a younger man, fighting for what he believed to be just. “He is such a gentle, soft-spoken man today,” Caroline commented. “It’s difficult to believe what you are telling me. I do believe you,” she rushed on, hoping she hadn’t offended him by suggesting that she doubted his word.

  Bradford couldn’t quit grinning. He noticed how she had hurried to offset her remark about not believing him. Was she always so conscious of other people’s feelings?

  Caroline didn’t notice Bradford watching her. She was thinking about her father, wondering what had caused him to give up his causes. Why had he withdrawn from everything … from life?

  Bradford saw that several would-be suitors were making their way, quite determinedly, to their corner. The music started up and Bradford pulled Caroline into his arms again. He wasn’t ready to give her up just yet. He remembered his comment to Milford about wanting to see Caroline one more time, so that he could get her out of his blood, and now found the remark absurd.

  Caroline didn’t argue when Bradford took her in his arms again. She didn’t care about the frowns either. She felt bewitched in his arms, trembled when she felt his fingers caressing her back. Caroline had never reacted to a man the way she was reacting to Bradford. She was confused by this intense physical attraction. She knew she must be proper, yet realized she would be most content to stay in his arms the rest of the evening. When she began to wonder what it would feel like
to be kissed by him, she knew it was time to remove herself from the temptation.

  “I do not like—”

  She wasn’t allowed to finish her sentence. She was about to tell him that she didn’t care for the waltz, but he interrupted with an arrogant remark. “You don’t like what’s happening to you?”

  Caroline’s eyes widened and she almost nodded. She caught herself in time and frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Don’t deny it, Caroline. It’s happening to me, too.”

  “Nothing is happening,” Caroline answered in a tight voice. “Except that you are making me dizzy again with the constant circles. It’s rather warm in here too. Don’t you think we’ve danced enough?” she asked in a hopeful voice.

  “Yes, it has gone warm,” Bradford returned. They had just completed another turn around the room and were again in front of the doors. Caroline smiled, thinking she was about to get away from Bradford, but when they stopped dancing, he didn’t release her. Instead, he took her arm and guided her along. Before she could argue over it, he had dragged her through the open doorway and into the night.

  Chapter Five

  “LET GO OF MY ARM. WE CAN’T BE OUT HERE ALONE,” Caroline argued in a fierce whisper.

  Her irritation didn’t seem to make a dent in Bradford’s armor of determination. The obstinate man kept right on going, dragging Caroline along, and several couples taking in the night air turned to watch them with curious gazes.

  As soon as Caroline realized that others were watching, she removed the scowl and tried to looked composed. It was a difficult task, and she wanted nothing more than to knock the Duke of Bradford to the ground and give him a few good kicks. Unladylike though the thoughts were, they did give Caroline a great deal of pleasure. And she had little doubt that she could manage the deed, or at least knock some of the egotistic wind out of him, because her cousins had taught her all the ways to cause a man real distress.