"We are here for an introduction," Bradford stated in a deep drawl. His words were directed at her father but his eyes remained fixed on her. Caroline noticed, that he was staring at her mouth and she nervously wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.

The Earl of Braxton was pleased. "Of course. Allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Caroline Mary. Caroline, my dear, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the Duke of Bradford and to Mr. George Brummell."

Bradford turned to Brummell and grinned. "After you this time, I believe?"

"Naturally," Brummell replied. He turned his attention to Caroline and smiled. The noise had dimmed and Caroline thought that everyone in the room was trying to hear what was being said. She felt very much like the focal point at a county fair.

"It is indeed a pleasure to meet you," Brummell stated with great formality. He bowed, low enough to brush the floor with the tips of his fingers, and then straightened. "You are from the Colonies?" he inquired as he took her hand and slowly raised it to his lips. Audible gasps could be heard over this affectionate gesture, and Caroline's eyes sparkled with mischief and appreciation. She could feel the warmth of her father's pleasure heating her face. Surely that was the reason for the blush she knew she displayed!

"How very astute of you to know that I am indeed from the Colonies, Mr. Brummell," Caroline returned.

"Please, you must call me Beau. While it has been suggested that I be called by my given name, George, I favor my nickname."

"Your name is truly George?" Caroline asked, trying desperately not to laugh. Why, that was the very name she had suggested when he had wanted to keep his identity secret. Since it was also the name of England's king, she considered that it was a logical coincidence.

"Yes, and only recently a rather beautiful young lady suggested that I use it once again. I declined the invitation," he added with a sigh.

He was having great sport with her, daring her not to laugh at his remarks. Caroline experienced an urge to get even. "I believe that we share a mutual friend, Beau."

Brummell looked a bit disconcerted and Caroline smiled. "Yes, Mr. Harold Smith has often spoken of you. You may not recall the acquaintance, however, for the dear man sold everything he owned and moved to the Colonies a long while back. He said that London was too… barbaric. I do believe those were his very words."

Brummell and Bradford looked at each other and then back to her. They both started to laugh and before they were through, Brummell had to dab at the corners of his eyes with his handkerchief.

"And how is Mr. Smith getting along," Bradford asked when he could gain control of himself.

Caroline smiled at Bradford and then turned back to Brummell. "Why, he's looking quite fit in my opinion. He was having a bit of trouble with one leg but I do believe, from the way he gets around now, that it must have healed to his satisfaction."

"What was the poor man's ailment?" the earl interrupted to ask.

"Gout," Caroline immediately answered.

Brummell started coughing and Bradford had to whack him on the back. "I have not laughed so in years," Beau admitted. "Madam, it has been a pleasure and I look forward to seeing you again." Brummell's voice had risen during the last of his conversation and Caroline realized it was for the benefit of those in attendance. "Before the evening is out, I must be allowed to meet your cousin." Caroline nodded and watched Brummell retreat. She finally turned to Bradford and wished she had the nerve to ask him if he didn't have somewhere to go also.

The music started up again just when her father announced that he was going to fetch some champagne for the marquis. Bradford requested formal permission from her father to dance with Caroline. A waltz was beginning, and while the earl gave his permission, Caroline was shaking her head.

Bradford ignored her denial and took hold of her hand. He all but pulled her along, until they were almost to the doors that led outside. Then he turned and took her into his arms.

Caroline kept her gaze focused on his black jacket. "I don't know how to waltz," she said in a whisper.

Bradford took his hand from her waist and used it to turn her face up to him. "My buttons will not answer you," he said in a voice filled with humor.

"I said that I do not know how to dance the waltz," Caroline repeated. Bradford's fingers were brushing against the sensitive area below her chin, and she felt a sudden tremor take hold of her legs.

"Put your arm around me," Bradford whispered, his voice silky. He had leaned down, so that their faces were almost touching.

Caroline shook her head. Bradford again ignored her and placed her hand high up on his shoulder. If she as much as shifted her hand an inch, she would be touching his hair. And then they were moving and she was being twirled around and around and the only thing she could concentrate on was the feeling of being held in his arms.

They didn't speak another word during the dance and Caroline was thankful for it. She felt awkward and unsure of herself. His hand seemed to burn through her gown, branding her.

Caroline shifted her left hand and took advantage of the position; her fingers slowly reached up until they were touching the silken brown hair at the base of his neck. She was surprised that it felt so soft. Her fingers retreated before Bradford would realize her boldness.

But he did notice. The light brush against the sensitive skin on the back of his neck drove him to distraction. He had a sudden urge to pick Caroline up and kiss her until she was overwhelmed with desire, as overwhelmed as he was at this very moment.

Caroline glanced around and immediately noticed that the other ladies dancing did not have their left hands so high up on their partners' shoulders. She immediately moved her hand, copying the correct stance, and shot Bradford a glare. "We are dancing entirely too close," Caroline stated. "I will not have my father embarrassed."

Bradford reluctantly released his grip and let her move back a space. He grinned a true rascal's grin and asked, "Is that the only reason you do not want to be close to me?"

"Of course," Caroline answered. Her legs felt weak and her heart was fluttering a mad tune but she would admit to neither of those reactions. She refused to look up at him and only then noticed that many of the women watching from the sidelines were frowning with obvious displeasure. "Bradford? Why are those women frowning at us?" she asked, daring a quick look up.

Bradford glanced around the room and then turned back to Caroline.

"Are you doing something that isn't correct?" she demanded against his shoulder, her voice sounding suspicious.

Bradford laughed. "Unfortunately, we are being very correct," he informed her. "Some of the older ladies do not care for this new dance. The waltz hasn't gained approval of the traditionals."

Caroline nodded. "I see." She glanced up again, met his gaze, and smiled. "And are you a radical or a traditionalist?"

"What do you think?" Bradford inquired. "Oh, a radical I would imagine," Caroline immediately answered. "I'll bet you are a troublemaker in the House of Lords. I'm right, aren't I?"

Bradford shrugged. "I have been known to be obstinate on occasion, but only when the issue I am backing is in jeopardy."

"Yet you are respected," Caroline announced. "Is it because of the title you inherited or because you have made a name for yourself?"

Bradford laughed. "Are you asking me if I have accomplished anything of value?" He paused and then asked, "And how do you know that I am respected?"

"Because of the way people look at you," Caroline answered. "My father is a traditionalist. If he was still active in your politics, he would probably be your enemy on every issue. Bradford, could we please stop this circling? I'm getting quite dizzy."