Bradford grimaced and reluctantly nodded. "I was angry, Caroline. You were rejecting everything I had to offer," he added with a shrug.
"Not everything," Caroline whispered. Her voice had turned serious now, as serious as her expression. "I only wanted your love and trust."
"I understand that now," Bradford returned. "Would you be content to live with me in the country the rest of your life?"
"I would live in the heart of London's slum with you as long as you love me," Caroline answered. "I do like the country life. I was raised on a farm, after all!"
"And do you think you'll learn to call England home?" he asked.
"Well, I must admit that it has been a difficult adjustment. It was so much calmer in Boston, Bradford. No one was pushing me down steps or writing horrid letters. And I don't think anyone hated me enough to try to kill me. And some of the gentlemen here are without morals! Have you noticed that? Of course," she rambled on, "we have our share of scoundrels in the Colonies as well, but they don't dress as gentlemen."
Bradford smiled. "You've had your share of difficulties," he admitted. "But I'll watch out for you."
"I know you will," Caroline replied. "And I have met some very nice people. England is home now." She sighed and snuggled against her husband, vastly content. "It isn't boring, I can tell you that."
"My sweet, life is never boring for you," Bradford returned. "Benjamin told me about the mischief you caused in Boston. Your father should be thankful that his brother had to chase you when you were growing up. I understand you were quite a handful."
"I was always quiet and shy," Caroline announced with conviction. She gathered her husband didn't agree with her evaluation, as he let out a shout of laughter. "Well, I tried to be quiet and shy," she confessed. "And I think that my father wished that I was with him during those fourteen years."
"I know that he did," Bradford returned. His expression turned intent and he added, "He made a sacrifice for you, Caroline."
She nodded. "I'm sure that he did, but I don't understand the reason. Do you think that someday he'll tell me?"
Bradford remembered how Caroline's father had begged him not to tell Caroline about the accident and his promise that he would tell her after the danger had passed. He realized, now, that he was wrong to keep the truth from her. She was his wife, his love, and they should share the worries as well as the joys together. "Your father paid me a visit while I was in London. He told me about an incident that happened almost fifteen years ago."
"One night, some men came to your father's house. His country home," he qualified. "You were asleep but must have heard the noise and came downstairs. The men tried to kill your father and you accidentally shot one of them."
Caroline's face showed her astonishment. "I did?"
Bradford nodded. "You don't remember any of it, do you?"
She shook her head. "Tell me how it happened," she demanded. "Why did they want to kill my father?"
Bradford explained the story the way that it had been recounted to him. When he was finished, he waited for Caroline to absorb all of it. She had sat up during the recitation, and looked at him with an intent expression on her face.
"Thank God I didn't kill my father," she whispered finally. "I couldn't have known what I was doing."
Bradford quickly agreed. "You were just a baby." He noticed that she seemed only mildly upset but still sought to soothe her. "It was an accident, Caroline."
"My poor father! What he must have gone through," Caroline said. "It all makes sense to me now. Why I was sent to Uncle Henry and why Papa waited so long to bring me home! Oh, poor Papa!" Tears of anguish streamed down her face.
Bradford pulled her down into his arms and hugged her, brushing her tears away. Caroline accepted his warmth and thought a long while about the bizarre story. She couldn't remember a single detail, no matter how hard she tried, and finally gave up. "Do you think I'll ever remember that night?" she asked.
"I don't know, sweetheart," Bradford replied. "Your father said that after you shot the man, you fainted. And you didn't wake up until the next morning. Then you acted like nothing had happened. It's as if you had just erased it from your memory," he guessed.
"I fainted!" Caroline looked shocked and a little insulted, and Bradford found himself smiling.
"You were only four years old," he reminded her.
"Bradford! The letter!" Caroline yelled. She jerked away, her eyes wide with new understanding. "It has something to do with what happened all those years ago, doesn't it? Someone is out for revenge! That's what the letter said."
Bradford's expression turned grim. "I had it all figured out until your father told me about your past," he stated, admitting his confusion.
"Well, do you think it's some relative of one of the men? What about the man I shot? Did he have a son or daughter?"
Bradford shook his head. "Can't find one yet. God, Caroline, if my hunch is right, we don't have much time left."
"Why?" Caroline asked, worried by the frustration in her husband's voice.
"In six more days it will be the anniversary… fifteen years to the day when the accident took place."
"Then there's only one thing to be done," Caroline announced. There was a determined glint in her eyes when she continued, "We have to set a trap and I can be the bait."
"Hold it right there! I've already decided on a trap, but you're not going to be involved. Is that understood?" His voice brooked no argument. Caroline kissed him and snuggled up against him again. She was so overjoyed that he was finally confiding in her that she didn't want to cause him any irritation right now. Besides, she told herself with a smile, she had six days to change his way of thinking. She had every intention of helping to catch the man out to get her.
A sudden thought turned her attention. "Bradford, who knows what happened that night?"
"Let's see," Bradford replied. "He told your Uncle Henry, but the rest of your Boston family doesn't know. And he told me. So that's four of us who know what happened."
"No," Caroline returned, almost absentmindedly. She was thinking about her Uncle Henry and how he had helped her overcome her fear of pistols. He had been so patient and understanding when she had gone to him and asked him for help. She remembered that she had wanted to go hunting with Caimen and Luke, and felt like such a coward over her terror of any kind of weapon. It had taken almost a year to overcome the fear, but with her uncle's assistance, she had succeeded.
"No, what?" Bradford asked, puzzled. "Only four know what happened, if you exclude the three men involved in the plot. They're dead, and that leaves your father, your uncle Henry, you, and me."
"And Uncle Milo," Caroline supplied.
Bradford shook his head. "No, love. Your father was very specific. He said he only told his younger brother. No one else," he stated. "I'm sure of it."
Caroline nodded. "Yes, I understand what you're saying," she replied. "He didn't tell back then, when it happened, but after I came home, he went to the marquis and told him everything. I'm almost certain, because he said he owed him the full explanation so that he wouldn't deny me. I didn't understand what he meant at the time, but now I think… Bradford, why are you looking at me like that? What's the matter?"
"Why didn't he tell me?" Bradford yelled, and seeing his wife's alarm, he quickly lowered his voice. "It's all right. It's all starting to fit together, that's all. Damn, I knew Franklin had to be behind it!"
"Franklin? Bradford, are you sure?" Caroline sounded incredulous. "Why, that little cur! He doesn't get along with his brother and he constantly tries to rile him, but I didn't think he'd be capable of… my own uncle!"
She was suddenly quite speechless and her face turned pink with anger.