"Yes," Caroline answered. "That's a splendid idea. Why don't you and Benjamin try to find him while I finish tending to Mr. Smith's leg?"
"Oh, where are my manners? We should all introduce ourselves, although this is a most unusual circumstance, and it is difficult to know just how one is to proceed."
"No!" The scream issued from inside the carriage with a force that almost rocked the vehicle off its wheels.
"Mr. Smith would prefer to remain a stranger to us," Caroline explained in a gentle voice. "And you must promise, as I have, to forget this accident." She pulled her cousin aside and whispered, "The man is terribly embarrassed. You know how these English are," she added.
Bradford, standing close enough, heard the explanation and was about to question Caroline's last remark when Charity said, "He's embarrassed because he was injured? How very odd. Is it severe?"
"No," Caroline assured her. "At first I thought it was, but that was because there was so much blood. But it's in an awkward place," Caroline finished.
"Oh, my!" Charity drew the statement out with a rush of sympathy. She shot a look at the man inside the carriage and then turned back to Caroline. "Awkward, you say?"
"Yes," Caroline replied. She knew her cousin wished a full description but, out of deference to Mr. Smith's feelings, didn't tell her any more. "The sooner we finish and get on our way, the better."
"Why?"
"Because he is being most dramatic over his injury," Caroline returned, letting her cousin see her exasperation. She wasn't telling Charity the whole truth and admitted that much to herself. She wished to hurry because of Mr. Smith's overbearing friend. The sooner she got away from him, the better. The man frightened her in an unusual, irritating way and Caroline didn't care for that feeling at all.
"Is he a dandy?" Charity whispered the question as if it were a dread disease.
Caroline didn't answer. She motioned to Benjamin and then accepted the satchel of medicine. She climbed back into the carriage and said to Mr. Smith, "Don't concern yourself over Charity. She isn't wearing her spectacles and can barely see you."
Benjamin listened to the explanation and then offered his arm to Charity. When she didn't immediately take it, he grabbed hold of her arm and slowly led her away. Bradford watched the twosome, trying to figure out who and what was going on.
"You might as well see the mess I'm in," Mr. Smith called out to his friend. Bradford nodded and walked around to the other side of the carriage.
"There are few men I would trust to keep silent about my predicament, but Bradford is one of them," he explained to Caroline.
Caroline didn't comment. She saw that the injury had quit bleeding. "Do you have any spirits with you?" she asked, completely ignoring Bradford when he entered the carriage and sat down across from Mr. Smith.
The carriage was much larger than the hired conveyance Caroline had acquired, but Bradford's left leg touched her shoulder nonetheless as she knelt before Mr. Smith. It would be inappropriate to suggest that he wait outside until she was finished cleaning and binding the wound, since Mr. Smith had invited him inside, but all the same, she couldn't help but wish!
"A portion of brandy," the man answered, turning her thoughts back to him. "Do you think a stiff drink might be the thing?" he asked as he pulled a gray container from his breast pocket.
"If there is any left," Caroline answered. "I'm going to pour some on the injury before I bind it. Mama says that spirits stop infection," she explained. She didn't add that her mother wasn't sure about this theory but practiced it anyway, decreeing that it certainly couldn't hurt. "It will sting and if you wish to yell out, I'll not think less of you."
"I'll not make a sound, madam, and it is ungallant of you to suggest that I would," the man stated with a pompous air just seconds before the liquid fire touched his skin. He then let out a full scream of protest and almost came off the seat.
Bradford, feeling completely helpless, grimaced with sympathy.
Caroline grabbed a small jar of yellow powder that smelled of stale rain and wet leaves and sprinkled a liberal amount all over the wound. She then took the long strip of petticoat and worked with as much speed as possible. "The medicine will numb the area and seal it too," she told him in a gentle voice.
Bradford fell victim to the husky, sensual pull in her voice. He found himself wishing he could change places with his friend and had to shake his head over that ridiculous thought. What was the matter with him? He felt bewitched and confused. It was such a strange reaction to a woman, one he had never experienced before, and he found he didn't like it at all. She challenged his control. God's truth, it almost frightened him, this intense reaction to the black-haired chit, and Bradford was suddenly like the bumbling schoolboy of years gone by, unsure of how to proceed.
"I have behaved like a coward, screaming like that," Mr. Smith whispered. He mopped his forehead with a small square of lace and lowered his eyes. "Your mama is a barbarian to use such vile methods of treatment."
Bradford, seeing the distress in his friend's face, knew how difficult it was for him to admit to any flaw but decided that if he tried to dissuade his thinking, he would only make it worse.
"Mr. Smith, you barely made a peep," Caroline contradicted with firmness. She patted his knee and glanced up at him. "You've been so brave. Why, the way you stood up to those bandits was most impressive." Caroline saw that her praise was having its effect. Mr. Smith's pompous air was gradually returning. "You have been courageous and have nothing to carry on about. And I will forgive you for calling my mama a barbarian," she added with a gentle smile.
"I was rather bold with the scoundrels," Mr. Smith acknowledged. "Of course, I was helplessly outnumbered you understand."
"That you were," Caroline returned. "You should be very proud of your conduct. Don't you agree, Mr. Bradford?"
"I do," Bradford immediately replied, immensely pleased that she had finally acknowledged him.
Mr. Smith grunted his pleasure.
"The only coward in the vicinity is the Irish groom I employed," Caroline remarked as she began to wrap the long string around Mr. Smith's thigh.
"You don't like the Irish?" Bradford inquired with a lazy drawl. He was intrigued by her vehement tone of voice. Caroline glanced up at him with eyes that sparkled her anger, and Bradford found himself wondering if she would love as fiercely as she hated. He then pushed the ridiculous notion aside.
"The Irish I have encountered have been scoundrels," Caroline admitted. "Mama says that I should be more liberal in my understanding, but I find I cannot."
She sighed and turned back to her duties. "Three Irish attacked me once, when I was much younger, and if Benjamin had not intervened, I don't know what would have happened. I would probably not be here to tell about it."
"I find it difficult to believe that anyone could get the better of you," Mr. Smith interjected.
It sounded like a compliment and Caroline accepted it as such. "I didn't know how to protect myself then. My cousins were terribly upset over the incident, and from that day on, they all took a turn teaching me how to defend myself."
"The woman's a walking arsenal," Mr. Smith commented to his friend. "She says she protects herself against London."
"Are we to argue over the differences between the sophisticated Colonies and your shameful London once again, Mr. Smith?" Caroline's voice was filled with laughter. She teased, more to take the man's thoughts off his pain than anything else. With gentle, sure motions, she tied the long strip around and around his thigh.
Mr. Smith had slowly lost his pained expression. "I am feeling remarkably better. I owe you my life, dear woman."
Caroline pretended she hadn't heard his fervent statement and quickly turned the topic. She was always uneasy over compliments. "You'll be dancing within a fortnight," she promised. "Do you attend the grand functions of the ton? Do you, as they say, belong?"