The earl sagged back into his chair and again buried his head in his hands. Bradford forced himself to be patient. He poured his father-in-law another drink and handed it to him.
The earl took a large gulp and then continued. "Perkins sent some men after me. He was going to silence me once and for all. The lands he owned weren't in jeopardy but he wanted to expand his holdings and I was gaining in popularity. He believed that I would find a way to get the land away from him. Odd thing was, I had already lost the heart for battle. My world was in shambles after my wife died, and all I wanted was to live in peace and quiet with my little girl.
"Caroline was only four years old. She was such a bright child, full of mischief." The earl took a deep breath and then straightened. "They came during the night. There were only two of them. Caroline was upstairs sleeping but the shouts must have awakened her and she came downstairs. One of the men had a pistol and I knocked it out of his hand. Caroline got hold of it somehow and shot him. He died three days later."
Bradford leaned back in his chair, clearly astonished by the story.
"It was an accident," the earl said. "She was trying to bring the weapon to me. She was trying to help. The man had stabbed me and there was blood everywhere. Caroline started running toward me and tripped and the pistol went off."
Bradford closed his eyes. "My God, she was just a baby." He shook his head. "She's never said a word to me."
"She doesn't remember."
Bradford barely heard him. He kept trying to picture Caroline as a little girl and how the horror would have affected her.
His father-in-law's statement finally penetrated. "I learned that she was terrified of pistols when she was younger. She considered that a flaw and worked until she overcame it." Bradford's voice shook and he was powerless to control it.
"Yes," Braxton returned. "Henry wrote to me about that. My younger brother was the only one in the family who knew the real reason Caroline was sent to him. He didn't even tell his wife."
"What happened to the men involved? You said that one of them died three days later?"
"Yes, the shot went into his stomach," the earl answered. "His name was Dugan."
"Family?"
"No, Dugan was a loner."
"And the others?"
"Perkins died last year. The third man was named McDonald. Didn't have any family to speak of. Only been in London a couple of months. He admitted that he was paid by Perkins but was afraid to testify if I brought charges. As if I would! My baby exposed to such a scandal? Never! And I didn't know if Perkins would send others or not. Couldn't trust him, you see. So I packed Caroline off with two of my most trusted friends and then went after Perkins myself."
"How? How did you go after him?" Bradford asked. His hands were gripping the arms of his chair and he forced himself to relax.
"I went to his home with my pistol. He had two sons and when I got Perkins alone I told him that I had already hired men to kill him and both boys if anything happened to me or my daughter. He got the message. He could tell I meant what I said."
He waited for Bradford's nod and then continued, "I thought that the threat was over but I still couldn't take the chance. Caroline was all I had! I stayed out of politics and made the vow that my baby wouldn't come home until they were all dead."
Bradford's manner suddenly became brisk, businesslike. His wife's protection was uppermost in his thoughts and there wasn't time to allow other emotions to interfere. The time for compassion would come later, when he told Caroline.
"All right. So Perkins and the men he hired are all dead. Where does that leave us?" He rubbed his jaw in a thoughtful manner and stared into the flames of the fire burning in the fireplace.
The sound of the clock chiming the hour was the only noise in the room as both men contemplated the puzzle.
"Are you positive that no one else knew what happened? Couldn't Perkins have told anyone?"
Braxton shook his head. "He wouldn't have dared," he commented. "And I didn't tell anyone but my brother."
Bradford stood up and began to pace the room.
"What are you going to do?" the earl asked. He was wringing his hands together and Bradford thought he looked as old and fragile as the marquis.
"I'm not sure yet. But the letter makes sense now. Whoever wrote it promised revenge but there were so many other disjointed obscenities that I didn't pay it any attention."
"Oh, God, she still isn't safe! She-"
Bradford interrupted his father-in-law with a curtness in his tone that he couldn't contain. "Nothing is going to happen to her. Damn it, I have only just realized how much she means to me. I won't let anyone touch her. I-"
"Yes?" the earl prompted when Bradford stopped.
"I love her." Bradford let out a loud sigh. "I'll not lose her now," he added, making the statement as a vow. "Look, try your best not to worry. Tell the marquis that Caroline is suffering from a cold or something. Convince him that she's out of bed now and intent on writing to him. That should appease the man until I can formulate a plan of action."
The earl felt as if a weight he had been carrying since the beginning of time was finally being lifted from his shoulders. He nodded his agreement and walked to the door. "You won't tell Caroline what I've confided in you? There isn't any reason for her to know," he stated. "My baby was an innocent in all this."
Bradford nodded. "I'll keep silent for now but later, when this is finished, I'll have to tell her."
He followed his father-in-law to the front door and made the comment, "Caroline didn't tell you about the threat because she didn't want you to worry. And I've said very little to her about my thoughts concerning her enemy because I didn't want her to worry. Each of us has been so intent on protecting each other that we have an lost track. I've always insisted on blind trust-" Bradford halted as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He shook his head. "Blind trust. Her exact demand of me," he acknowledged.
"What?" The Earl of Braxton looked confused.
"She's given me her love and her trust," Bradford commented. His voice sounded curt but it was the only way he could control the trembling inside. "Did you know that she sometimes calls me Jered?"
His father-in-law shook his head and frowned, obviously perplexed by the turn in the conversation.
Bradford coughed and gripped the door handle. "Look, I promise to keep you informed. Now go home and get some rest."
The earl was halfway down the steps when Bradford stopped him with a question. "When exactly did it happen?"
"What?"
"The date, sir, when the men came."
"Almost fifteen years ago now," the earl answered.
"No, I mean the exact date. The day, the month-do you remember?"
"February, on the night of the twentieth, 1788. Is that important?"
Bradford wouldn't allow his face to show any reaction. "It might be. I'll be in touch," he promised, saying nothing more about his suspicions.
But as soon as the door was shut, his expression changed and his worry was clearly visible. He prayed he was wrong, shaking with anger. If his suspicions were correct, then there wasn't much time left. Only six days to find the bastard! Six days until February twentieth.
Bradford's hands shook as he made his list of what was to be done. He didn't go to bed until well into the middle of the night. Tomorrow, after he had set his plan into action, he would return to his wife. That thought calmed him and he realized that he was looking forward to confessing his love and begging her forgiveness. He would go to her as both the Duke of Bradford and Jered Marcus Benton. He knew in his heart that she loved him. And if the power and the wealth and the title disappeared tomorrow, she would remain by his side.