Caroline stood there for the longest time, trying to find answers that eluded her. Her defenses slowly abandoned her and she finally admitted the truth. She had always considered herself an honest person and knew that right now she wasn't being completely honest with herself. She pretended outrage yet felt like smiling inside. As soon as she admitted that horrid fact, she started to laugh. Oh, Lord, the truth of it fairly buckled her to her knees. She was falling in love with the arrogant Englishman!

What a contradiction she had become since arriving in England! Even now, as she continued to laugh, tears of melancholy coursed down her cheeks.

He was a rascal and a rake and totally unsuitable, she admitted. And she had gone round the bend for allowing herself to be attracted to him. The man had boasted that he would have her but never once mentioned the word love, and had casually stated that trust did not have a place in a relationship between a man and a woman.

She hadn't realized that loving could cause such distress, such misery. And if loving Jered Marcus Benton proved to be miserable, then she promised that he would also share in that same misery.

It would take supreme effort on her part but it was a challenge she couldn't resist. The reward would be too great.

Just as he had declared that he wasn't giving up on her, she now vowed that she wasn't going to give up on him. Of course, he only meant to have her, but she wanted much more.

The poor man! She almost felt sympathy for him. Almost! But she couldn't show any mercy, not if she was to succeed. Not if she was going to reform Bradford and make him suitable. Perhaps, she thought with a laugh that echoed throughout the bedroom, with God's help she just might pull it off.

He was a rascal and a rake but she had just accepted that he was her rascal and her rake. She would have him, but on her terms, not his. Yes, she did love the arrogant man, and if it was required to move heaven and earth, she would find a way to make him love her. Oh, but he was misguided! He spoke of games and playing by his rules! Caroline smiled and really did feel a bit sorry for him. Why, he was the innocent! And he just didn't understand… yet. This wasn't a game at all.

Chapter Seven

At precisely ten o'clock the following morning, Bradford arrived to collect Charity and Caroline. He hadn't slept well, his mind in chaos thinking about Caroline, and his mood bordered on irritation. He wasn't at all sure about her plan with Bleachley and was having second thoughts.

"You will tell me how you are going to proceed," he announced to Caroline when she was seated across from him inside the carriage.

Charity, seated next to Caroline, answered the demand. "I am so nervous, Bradford! But Caroline has made me go over it all again and I do feel confident that it will go well."

That wasn't the answer he was looking for. He wanted to know the actual plan, not Charity's remarks about it going well. He turned his attention to Caroline. She smiled at him and he knew that she was aware of his frustration.

Bradford considered that she looked quite desirable today. She was dressed in a deep blue walking dress, with white trim. The cape was of the same blue and was draped around her shoulders. But it was the sparkle in her eyes that held his attention. He decided that she looked ready to take on the world. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry when she continued to smile at him, and Caroline immediately mimicked the expression. She was in a sassy mood this morning and had obviously forgotten the angry words they had exchanged in the carriage the night before.

Her mood improved his and he found himself grinning. How odd, he thought, that she could affect him so easily, change his mood so swiftly.

Caroline felt like laughing at the change of expressions on Bradford's face. A moment before he was frowning and now he smiled. She thought he looked quite handsome today and not nearly as intimidating as he did when he wore his evening black. His breeches were still too snug for her sense of decency but his jacket, a warm brown that reminded her of mink, matched the color of his eyes quite nicely.

When they finally arrived at Bleachley's residence, Bradford gladly helped Charity out of the carriage, his ears ringing from her constant chatter. He turned to assist Caroline, ignored her outstretched hand in favor of her waist, and gave her a quick kiss on the top of her forehead before releasing her.

"You may no longer take liberties," Caroline announced. Her voice was firm, but she was looking toward her cousin and Bradford couldn't see her expression. Charity was already standing on the stoop of Bleachley's cottage, waiting.

Bradford forced Caroline to look at him and saw her frown. He was about to point out that a single chaste kiss did not constitute taking liberties in his estimation when she said, "I think it would be best if you remained outside, Bradford. Otherwise you may try to interfere and make a mess of things." "What…" Bradford found himself temporarily speechless.

"Don't look so outraged," Caroline said. Her voice sounded irritated but she couldn't help it. Now that the moment had arrived, she was growing as nervous as Charity. If anything went wrong, Charity would be crushed, Bleachley would probably be furious, and it would all be Caroline's fault. The plan was all her own.

"Just what in God's name is your plan?" Bradford asked. He had taken hold of Caroline's shoulders and gave them a healthy squeeze.

Caroline pulled away and said, "It is too late to go into it now, and you did promise to trust me."

She hurried up the path, took hold of Charity's hand, and knocked on the door. She could feel Bradford standing behind her, heard his soft comment.

"I never said that I would trust you."

Caroline smiled and turned her head. "But you would have," she remarked.

The door was opened by a sour-looking woman with a sparkling white apron spanning her sizable waist. "You're late," she remarked in a whisper. She looked up at Bradford, completely ignoring the two ladies standing in front of him. "He's in the library," she added. And then she turned and hurried off.

Charity and Caroline gave each other a look of confusion. Bradford was forced to nudge Caroline forward and she in turn pulled Charity along.

Bradford saw the door shut behind them and then pointed to the door on the left of the entry. "He's in there, Charity. I will go in with you." His voice was so gentle, and Caroline saw that it was almost Charity's undoing. Her eyes filled with tears and her hand continued to cling to Caroline's.

"This won't do," Caroline whispered. "Get hold of yourself this instant, and do what we discussed. It is now or never, Charity." With those words of encouragement, Caroline opened the door to the library, gave her cousin an unladylike push, and then shut the door behind her.

Bradford had intended to go with Charity but Caroline stopped his advance. She leaned against the oak door and smiled up at him. "It's up to Charity now. And do quit frowning, Bradford. You're making me nervous."

"Caroline, I really think I should ease the way between the two of them. Paul has changed."

"You will trust me in this matter," Caroline demanded.

Bradford didn't make a comment. He winced when he heard Bleachley's outraged yell and felt his shoulders slump. And then sweet Charity's voice reached him and he was completely stunned. The little cousin sounded just like a shrew as she yelled at the man Bradford was led to believe she actually loved.

Bradford's frown became more pronounced and he opened his mouth to tell Caroline just what he was thinking, but she shook her head and cautioned him to be silent.

"How dare you be alive!" Charity yelled the accusation loud enough for both Caroline and Bradford to overhear. "I believed that you were honorable, you scoundrel!"

Bradford couldn't hear Paul's reply. But Charity's voice was so forceful, he was surprised the door wasn't trembling. "I will not get out. Not until I have told you what a horrid man you are. You promised me marriage, Mr. Bleachley! You have toyed with my affections. You said that you loved me!"

"Look at me!" The demand, sounding like an angry lion's roar, came from Paul Bleachley.

"I am looking at you!" Charity screamed back. "At long last, I might add. It's been months since I last saw you, and each day was filled with tears and pain, Paul. I thought you were dead. Oh, I was a fool. You aren't honorable at all, are you?"

Bradford waited to hear Paul's answer but instead of an angry retort, he heard the crash of glass breaking. "What's going on in there?" he demanded as he tried to move Caroline from the doorway.

Caroline struggled and, realizing that he was far superior in might, quickly changed her plan. She threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled his head toward her. And then she kissed him, as thoroughly and as passionately as he had taught her. The distraction worked and Bradford quickly became a willing participant. His last coherent thought was that he would remove Caroline from the doorway and drag Charity from the library just as soon as he had finished kissing the woman who actually believed she could undermine his intentions.

Inside the library, Charity continued to play the woman scorned. She picked up another vase and hurled it in the vicinity of Paul's desk. In her heart, she was plainly horrified by her actions. She wanted to weep with sorrow each time she looked at her love and saw the pain in his eyes.

Paul was forced to duck when the second vase nearly hit the top of his head. He stood up then, his hands clenching the edge of the desk as he leaned forward. He no longer tried to shield his face with his hands. "For God's sake. Can't you see the damage? Put on your spectacles, Charity, and look at my face."

Charity didn't argue. She opened her purse, dumped the contents on the table nearest her, and quickly put on the wire-rim spectacles. Then she turned, her hands on her hips, and gave Paul a long stare. "Well?" she demanded in return.

"Are you blind?" The anger suddenly went out of Paul Bleachley. He was so confused by her reaction. "I am no longer handsome, Charity. Do I have to point to each scar?"

His voice was filled with despair but Charity was heartless to it. "You vain man! So that is your trick, is it? To try to convince me that a few paltry marks are the reason you discarded me? Ha! I'm not an imbecil, Paul. Surely you could do better than that. Did I bore you? Did you find someone else? Tell me the real reason and perhaps I will forgive you."

"There isn't anyone else," Paul replied, yelling again. "I can only see with one eye now, Charity. See how the other bulges? How handsome do you find that?"

Charity was forced to grab a rather ornate arrangement of flowers and throw it toward Paul. "Then wear a patch if it bothers you," she demanded.

"And the scars, Charity. What do I do about the scars?"

"For heaven's sake, Paul, grow a beard. And quit changing the topic. We are talking about your broken promise to marry me. Vanity is not the issue here."

Charity fluffed her hair while she paused for breath and then turned and replaced the items in her purse. She took her time about the chore, knowing that Paul was staring at her every move. "I am wearing a new hairdo and you haven't even commented," she remarked while she pulled the drawstring to her purse closed. "All you can think about is yourself. Well, I am only glad to know that I found out what a vain man you are now, before our marriage. I will have to reform you, Paul. You do understand that, don't you? Or are you dense as well as vain?"

"Reform me?"

Charity caught the whisper and looked at Paul again. She saw the glimmer of hope in his eyes and knew, in that instant when their gazes held, that she had truly won. "And now, before I leave I will issue you an ultimatum," Charity said. Her voice sounded brisk and she was pleased. She carefully put on her white gloves and began to pace in front of Paul's desk. "You will either present yourself to my uncle and declare your intentions within a fortnight, or I will assume that you no longer love me."

"I have never stopped loving you, Charity, but-"

"And I have never stopped loving you, Paul," she interrupted. Her expression was solemn as she slowly walked up to the side of the desk. Paul turned to her and she gently placed her hands on his cheeks. She stretched on tiptoes and began to place small kisses along his injured cheek. "Please don't misunderstand me, Paul. I am sorry that you were injured. But the past cannot be undone and we must look to the future."