Bradford felt such contentment, such peace of mind when he thought about tomorrow and how he would hold his wife in his arms. He began to think of all the different ways he would make love to her, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Milford arrived at Bradford's townhouse just as his friend was preparing to leave.
Bradford quickly explained that he believed whoever was after Caroline would make his move in just six days' time but he didn't explain his reasons. He felt that his wife should be told first, and it would be her decision to tell Milford, or anyone else, about what happened so many years before.
"I would appreciate it if you would come with me to Bradford Place. I could use your help. The more trusted people around Caroline, the better," he said.
"God, my backside's sore from yesterday's ride, but you know I'll come with you," Milford returned. "Besides wanting to help, I also wish to hear who apologizes first." He saw his friend's exasperation and laughed.
"What makes you think I'll apologize?" Bradford asked, grinning.
"Because while you're stubborn, my friend, you're not stupid," Milford returned.
Bradford surprised his friend by nodding agreement. "Then you are going to apologize?" he asked.
"On my knees if I have to," Bradford announced. And then he laughed at his friend's expression. "What's the matter? I thought you would be tired of playing the mediator by now," he commented as he slapped his friend on his back. "That's why you went to Caroline, isn't it? To get her to see reason?"
Milford looked sheepish. "Guilty," he returned. "Now, Brad, no need to overdo it. You get on your knees just once and Caroline will have you there the rest of your life. Besides, she's ready to come home. God knows, I love her, but she's-"
"I do too," Bradford interrupted him.
"What?"
"Love her," he explained.
"Don't tell me, man, tell Caroline."
Bradford shook his head. "I would, my friend, if you'd get moving."
The twosome barely spoke a word during the journey, taking several shortcuts that lessened the distance from London to Bradford Hills by almost an hour. With each mile that passed, Bradford's mood lightened.
He walked into the drawing room of his mansion, shouting for Henderson so that he could give him new directions, and then poured himself a portion of brandy. After taking a healthy swallow, he turned to sit for a few minutes. His favorite leather chair was missing and he frowned when he sat in the low-backed chair. He took another drink from his glass and then turned to place it on the tripod table that was always there, next to his favorite chair. Only the table wasn't there anymore, and Bradford didn't notice that until he was about to drop his glass.
He frowned over the small inconvenience and then Milford walked into the room, asking his attention.
"Brad? You been inside your library yet?" he asked with mild interest.
Bradford shook his head. His mind was filled with pictures of his wife and he was trying to formulate the way he would tell her what a fool he had been, without sounding like one. He found himself getting nervous, realized he was still uncomfortable with the thought that he was soon going to bare his heart and his soul to the woman he loved. The problem, as he sat there and analyzed it, was that he hadn't had much practice.
Milford wouldn't allow him a moment's privacy and insisted, between bites of the piece of bread he held in his hand, that Bradford follow him into the library. "I believe there's a message in there for you but I can't quite figure it out," he mumbled.
Bradford gave in and followed Milford to the doorway of his study.
"What the devil? Henderson?" Bradford's shout brought only an echo for a reply.
He slowly walked into his sanctuary, looking around with astonishment. The room was completely stripped. The desk, chairs, books, papers, and even the drapes were missing.
Bradford turned to Milford and shook his head in bewilderment.
"Henderson's probably hiding somewhere," Milford decided aloud. "What's going on?"
Bradford shrugged, frowning still. "I'll have to hunt down the reasons later. Right now, all I want to do is change and leave for Bradford Place." He started up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and called over his shoulder, "You're welcome to one of my shirts if you want to change."
Bradford paused when he reached the door to Caroline's room. On impulse, he opened it and took a quick glance inside. Everything was exactly where it should be, and still he frowned. He shut the door and continued to his own bedroom. As soon as he opened the door, he started to laugh. The room was as stripped and bare as his library.
Henderson appeared on the run, with Milford at his side.
"It will not be possible to change, your Grace," Henderson announced with a dignified air. His face was ruddy red, as if he had been standing out in the cold all morning.
"And why is that?" Bradford asked. He continued to laugh until tears gathered in his eyes.
"Your wife requested all of your belongings transferred. I believed, sir, that it was by your order."
Bradford nodded. "Of course you did, Henderson." He turned to his bewildered-looking friend and said, "She took only my things, Milford. It's a message all right, and not too subtle."
"And what's the message?" Milford asked, finding Brad's laugh infectious. He started to chuckle and didn't have the faintest clue why.
Bradford showed his exasperation. "All my things were taken to Bradford Place. An imbecile could figure it out. She's telling me where I belong." He whacked his slow-witted friend on the shoulder and started down the hall. "How'd they ever get my bed down the stairs, Henderson? Must have taken at least four men."
Henderson was vastly relieved that his employer had found humor in the situation. "Five, actually," he confessed. He cleared his throat and then added, "They tried to nab me as well, your Grace. I'm embarrassed to admit that I was forced to hide in the pantry until they had left."
"Hiding won't do you any good, Henderson," Bradford announced when he had controlled himself.
"She'll get you sooner or later. If her mind's set on having you at Bradford Place, then you might as well accept it."
"And where will you be, if I may inquire?" Henderson said.
"With my wife," Bradford said, grinning.
Milford and Bradford set out again, using fresh horses, but it took the full length of time to get to Bradford Place, as the hills in between didn't allow cutthroughs.
It was close to the dinner hour when they entered the bleak-looking fortress. Only it wasn't a fortress inside at all. It was a home.
Bradford stood transfixed in the center of the foyer. "She took the beast and turned it into a thing of beauty."
"Are you referring to yourself or our home?" The question echoed from above, and Bradford turned to look up at the top of the steps.
His wife stood there, waiting for his answer. Bradford's chest constricted and he couldn't form a single word.
Caroline wanted nothing more but to run down the stairs and throw herself into her husband's arms. She waited, wishing to see if he was angry or pleased with her first. Her husband continued to look up at her and the longer the silence lasted, the more awkward she felt. She had just changed into a simple yellow gown that made her complexion look sickly. If only she had chosen the blue instead, she berated herself. If only she had known that he was coming! Lord, but her hair wasn't even combed properly and she knew she looked frazzled.
"You took your sweet time getting here," she called out, putting the issue of her appearance aside. If she looked a mess, then it was his fault, not hers.
She came down the steps and stood right in front of her husband. He wore such a serious, intent expression, but there was tenderness in his eyes as well. It put her off balance, and she decided that he obviously hadn't stopped at Bradford Hills on his way here. Otherwise, he would surely be yelling at her now.