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"Because of the marquis?" Caroline asked.

"No. Because you are quite the thing," her father replied. "The marquis will, of course, be pleased to have his sister's child back in London, but I'm thinking of the young bucks and their reaction to you. It will be something to see. Your mother would be proud."

"How did you meet her, Father? I don't remember her at all and I'm sorry for it. Aunt Mary told me she was a very gentle woman."

The Earl of Braxton got a faraway look in his eyes and smiled with tenderness. "Yes, she was gentle and loving, Caroline." He took hold of Caroline's hand then and told her the story of how he had come to know and love that spirited, black-haired woman.

"She was so pleased with you, Caroline. I had demanded a boy and wouldn't even consider names for girls. When you were born, your mother laughed until tears coursed down her cheeks. Yes, she was pleased."

"And were you disappointed?" Caroline asked, smiling. She knew that he couldn't have been because of the way he told the story, but she wanted to hear him admit it. She felt very much like a little girl hearing stories before bedtime, found herself eager to hear about her early life.

"I was just as pleased as your mother," her father admitted. He squeezed her hand and then dug into his pocket for his handkerchief. He mopped at his eyes and then cleared his throat. In a voice that sounded almost gruff, he said, "Now then. We must see that you and Charity are fitted with new gowns as soon as possible. The Duke of Ashford's annual ball will be in just two weeks and we'll make our appearance then. The old rascal sends me an invitation every year. He'll be shocked when I accept." Her father started chuckling as he pictured the look on Ashford's face when he made his entrance with his beautiful daughter beside him.

Caroline, watching her father's excitement grow as he described the activities they would participate in, wouldn't have been overly surprised if he had begun to rub his hands together. The way his eyes sparkled with mischief, he reminded her of her cousin Luke. He seemed as eager as a child about to embark upon a new adventure. She wished to caution him about expecting too much but decided not to dampen his enthusiasm. She vowed, as she listened to him, to do her best not to let him down. God willing, perhaps she could pull it off. Perhaps, before the two weeks were up, she could learn to be correct. It was certainly a challenge, and Caroline decided that she would give it her best.

She continued to sit by her father's side most of the morning, listening to him as he talked about his past years. She noticed that he spoke more of England's growing problems and concerns and rarely talked about himself. She realized what a terribly lonely man he had been and her heart ached. It was all by his own choice, she told herself, for he could have had her by his side the last fourteen years, but she found she couldn't fault him for it.

There was another reason behind his motives for sending her away, she was sure of it. In time, when she had gained his full acceptance, she would learn the truth.

Caroline realized then that the foolish promise she had made to her relatives in Boston would have to be broken. It was a promise made by a child, and one made in anger and confusion. Now she accepted the truth. Her place was by her father's side. She could never go back to Boston. Her future was here.

Chapter Four

Caroline's sense of humor saved her from actual despair. That, and Charity's continual excitement over the coming activities. Her cousin loved the attention and became fast friends with Madam Newcott, a dressmaker with a clever eye for fabrics and figures. Charity embraced every minute of what Caroline silently called the ordeal.

The Earl of Braxton hadn't stopped with an order for just one dress but insisted that both of his charges be furnished with complete wardrobes.

Madam Newcott suggested pinks and pale yellows for Charity and added lace here and there to compliment her petite stature. She wouldn't allow ruffles, stating that they would overpower and detract from Charity's pretty figure.

Caroline found herself draped in blues, lavenders, and ivories, including a pale ivory gown that was entirely too low cut and too snug to her liking, but did compliment her hair and coloring. She felt wanton in it and told Charity so.

"Mama would drape a shawl over your chest," Charity stated with a grin. "And my papa wouldn't let you out of the house. Uncle will have to use a cane to beat off the suitors when you wear it in public."

"I swear that I have been pinched and pinned until I'm black and blue," Caroline remarked.

Madam Newcott, kneeling in front of Caroline and intent on putting the finishing touches on what she called a magnificent creation, ignored the comment.

"When is your father returning?" Charity asked, turning the topic.

"Tomorrow," Caroline answered. "The marquis lives quite a distance from London, and Father will spend the night there and return tomorrow."

"The marquis is your mother's older brother, or is he younger?" Charity asked.

"He is older. I have another uncle, Franklin, and he is two years younger than my mother would have been if she was still alive… Am I making sense?"

"Some," Charity said with a smile. "Why didn't your papa just send a note telling the marquis of your return to England. Then he would have come back to London. Seems like a lot of trouble to me."

"Father wanted to tell him in person. Said he wanted to explain to him," Caroline answered, frowning. "You know, I didn't even realize I had two uncles until Father told me. Odd that he should show such deference now, isn't it?"

Charity thought about that for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders, dismissing the subject. "If only I had a portion of your shape," she lamented as she slipped out of the pink walking dress ever so carefully so that she wouldn't disturb the needles holding the fabric together.

"It's better to have too little than too much," Caroline commented. "You are the perfect shape."

"Madam Newcott?" Charity asked. "Caroline actually believes that she is too long-legged and too full-bosomed to be fashionable."

"I've never said that," Caroline protested. "But I'm practical. Long legs serve me well when I'm riding, but I can't find any practical use for-" She didn't finish the sentence but patted her chest instead.

Charity burst into laughter. "Caimen would box our ears if he could hear us now."

"That's true," Caroline replied. She glanced in the mirror and said, "My hair is so unruly. Do you think I should cut it?"

"No!"

"All right," Caroline placated. "I'll walk around like a wild woman then."

"I could trim it a little, as it will be long again by the time we return to Boston."

Caroline knew she had to tell Charity of her decision, and her smile faded as she shook her head. "I'm not sure that I'll be returning to Boston, Charity."

Charity opened her mouth to protest but Caroline's quick shake of her head stopped her. It wouldn't do to talk in front of Madam Newcott, and fortunately Charity understood.

But as soon as the dressmaker had taken her leave, Charity reopened the discussion. "I hope you'll not make a rash decision, Caroline. We've only been here two weeks. Give yourself more time before you decide what to do. Heavens, our brothers will have fits if you don't come home."

"I promise not to be rash," Caroline answered. "But I can't abandon my father, Charity. I just can't." She sighed with sadness and acceptance and whispered, "I am home. This is where I belong. For as long as my father is alive."

"You say you can't abandon your father yet that is exactly what he did to you," Charity argued. Her face was flushed and Caroline knew she was becoming quite angry. "For fourteen years he ignored you! How can you forget that?"