"What are you thinking?" Caroline whispered the question and waited for her answer. "Be silent!"
The cold demand appalled Caroline. She was so undone by the anger in his voice and the look on his face that she started to cry. Dear God, did he actually believe that she had welcomed the horrid man's advances? She shook her head, denying it was true, denying that he could think so little of her.
St. James proved to be as stupid as he was greedy. He once again struggled to his feet. Bradford turned back to him, grabbed him by the throat, and with one hand slammed him up against the bookcase.
Terrence looked like a dangling puppet, straining against Bradford's hold while his face slowly turned a blotchy red. Caroline tried to push her husband's hand away, but without success. She turned to Milford and begged him to interfere.
"Don't let him kill him," she demanded.
Milford's answer was a shrug of indifference. Caroline brushed the tears from her eyes and turned back to her husband. "Bradford, you'll be hanged if you kill him. And he has yet to tell you what he was doing," Caroline argued.
"I know damn well what you were both doing," Bradford cracked back.
Milford did interfere then. "He isn't worth the trouble, Brad. Throw him out with the garbage."
"And just what were we doing?" Caroline asked. "Tell me, Bradford. Say what you're thinking."
Bradford's expression slowly changed until he looked almost bored. He let go of his captive and watched him crumble to the floor.
St. James wasn't dead. Caroline listened to his gasps for air as she waited for her husband to answer her.
"Brad, listen to your wife. Caroline, explain what happened here," Milford stated, trying to play the role of mediator.
"I won't explain anything," Caroline stated. Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. Her hands were clenched into fists, the only show of her anger. "You saw what happened. Draw your own conclusions. My husband already has his answers. Don't you, Bradford?" She started toward the door but Bradford stayed her with a light grip on her arm.
"I believe that you were innocent in this," Bradford finally said. His voice was clipped and still terribly cold. "Stay here until we're ready to leave. Milford? See to the carriage."
"You see to it," Milford returned. He wasn't about to leave Bradford with St. James. He knew, from the ramrod posture, that his friend wasn't completely over his fury yet.
Bradford muttered an explicit remark and left the room.
Milford walked over to Terrence and nudged him with his boot. "I suggest you crawl out of here before Bradford gets back."
Caroline stood in the center of the room, her gaze downcast, and St. James took a wide path to get around her.
Milford watched his departure and then walked over to Caroline. He put his hand on her shoulder to offer comfort and frowned when she jerked away.
"Tell me what happened," he implored. His voice was soothing, his aim to calm her.
Caroline shook her head. "You would only tell Bradford," she whispered.
"And would that be so terrible?"
His voice, so tender and caring, pulled at Caroline. She trembled and clasped her hands together in an effort to stop. She wouldn't allow the comfort Milford offered, knowing instinctively that any show of kindness would completely destroy her composure.
"I would like to go home now." She moved back another space when Milford tried to touch her again.
The agony in her tone shamed him. She held herself erect with dignity and her expression was controlled, but the pain still radiated in her tone.
"Bradford will be back in a minute," Milford said. "Caroline, he has just told you that he knows you're innocent. He's only angry with St. James."
Caroline shook her head, stopping Milford's explanation. "Not at first," she contradicted. "He believed the worst…"
"When he calms down-"
"I don't want to go home with Bradford." Caroline's statement interrupted Milford's earnest reply.
"That's too damn bad." The harsh remark came from the doorway, where the Duke of Bradford stood.
Caroline refused to look at him. She felt her cape being thrown over her shoulders and then she was hauled up against Bradford's side.
They didn't speak a single word to each other all the way home. Caroline used the time to calm her anger. She could feel Bradford's glare and still refused to look at him.
Her heart was shattered and she had no one to blame but herself. She was, she decided, a fool. He couldn't hurt her like this if she hadn't fallen in love with him. She had trusted him with her heart and was now feeling nearly destroyed because of it. His unreasonable jealousy and his distrust were both unfounded and so illogical that Caroline didn't know how to combat either, how to protect herself. She remembered how he had turned on her when Claymere had stolen the ill-wanted kisses the night of her father's dinner party. His wrath had been directed at her as much as at Claymere. Tonight she had witnessed that same look for the briefest of seconds. The fury had been directed toward her.
By the time they had arrived back at Bradford's townhouse, all Caroline wanted to do was lock herself in her bedroom and cry. She felt like a wounded animal seeking a safe sanctuary.
Bradford watched Caroline start up the steps to the bedrooms and demanded that she follow him into the library to discuss what had happened.
Caroline just kept on going, completely ignoring her husband's order. She made it to her bedroom door before Bradford jerked her around to face him. "Didn't you hear me? Into the library!"
"No." Caroline turned, walked inside, and then shut the door in her astonished husband's face.
The door flew open and bounced against the wall. Bradford stormed inside and followed Caroline to the bed. His wife sat on the edge, her hands gripped together in her lap.
He stood before her, legs braced apart, hands on hips. Caroline looked up at his face, saw his angry expression, and let her own fury explode. "After tonight, I'll probably never speak to you again."
The vehemence in her voice infuriated him. "You'll explain why you were in the library with St. James if I have to beat it out of you."
"You wouldn't lay a hand on me." Caroline's quiet statement of her belief surprised Bradford, knocking some of the wind out of him.
"And how do you know that?" he demanded, though his voice had lowered in volume.
"You don't have to use your fists when your looks and thoughts can do so much more damage. And you would never hit a woman; it isn't in your nature."
Bradford admitted to himself that she was right. Empty threats wouldn't accomplish his goal. He decided to use calm reasoning. "Tell me what happened."
"If you'll answer my question, then I'll tell you everything," Caroline countered. "I already know the truth but 1 want to hear you admit it." She stood up and faced her husband. "When you first saw me with St. James, you believed that I had betrayed you, didn't you?"
"I know you had no part in-"
"That isn't what I asked," Caroline stated. "Answer me now. The truth, Bradford!"
He frowned and then shrugged. "It was a natural conclusion and yes, for just a second or two, I did believe that you had betrayed me. You said earlier in the evening that you wanted to meet someone. I realized that I had overreacted, however, and know that you're innocent of any deception."
Caroline's shoulders slumped and she shook her head. "I was going to have a private talk with Charity," she returned. "She was the one I was meeting. Now I'll tell you what happened. I went looking for you. Paul suggested that you might be in the library and Terrence St. James followed me. Rachel is going to pay him for placing me in a compromising position. You see, everyone knows how jealous you are, everyone but your foolish wife! And St. James needed money. I actually boasted to him that you would believe me and not what you saw. I was mistaken." The last was whispered with a sob.