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.

Caroline curtsied and smiled up at her husband. "Welcome home," she said.

She didn't dare touch him. She knew that once she was in his arms, she would forget all about the speech she had prepared, and she was determined to see that task through first.

She kept her gaze directed at her husband when she greeted Milford. "And did you bring me the money you owe me?" she asked.

Bradford heard Caroline's question but had difficulty understanding just what she was saying. He could only concentrate on her nearness. She looked so lovely! And, he realized with his first grin, she appeared to be somewhat nervous. He wondered what was going through that delightfully complicated mind of hers.

He didn't have to wait long for his answer. "You came directly from London? You didn't stop at Bradford Hills?" Caroline asked the question of his jacket, staring intently at one of the buttons.

"We stopped."

"You did? And you're not angry with me?" She thought it a foolish question as soon as she had asked it. It was obvious that he wasn't angry because he was smiling at her. She therefore concluded that he hadn't stayed long enough at Bradford Hills to know what she had done. Oh, well, she thought with a nervous laugh, he'll find out soon enough. Then the fat would be in the fire.

Best get the speech over before Bradford went upstairs, Caroline decided. "I really must speak to you, Bradford."

"Say good night to Milford, my love."

"What? But he just got here. Surely he isn't leaving yet?"

"Not Milford, Caroline," Bradford contradicted.

"Milford isn't leaving?"

The guest in question was much quicker at understanding what Bradford was telling his wife. He threw his cloak over the hall table and strolled down the hallway in search of dinner, whistling a snappy tune.

"Time for bed, Caroline."

"But I'm not tired."

"That's good."

"It's daylight, Bradford. I won't be able to sleep."

"I hope not."

Caroline blushed when Bradford picked her up and carried her up the steps. She had finally realized what his intention was. "We can't do this," she protested. "Milford is going to know!"

Bradford had reached the landing and asked, "Your bedroom or mine?"

"Our bedroom," Caroline corrected, giving up the argument. She pointed to the first door on the right but when her husband was about to open it, she grabbed hold of his hand, remembering the furniture. "There's something I'd like to explain about the room," she rushed on.

Bradford ignored her and opened the door. His bedroom furniture was where he expected it to be, and he forced himself to keep his expression neutral as he walked inside and shut the door behind him.

Caroline waited for his comment, but Bradford seemed content to lean against the door and hold her in his arms.

He spotted the empty tub in the corner of the room and remembered that he was covered with a layer of dust. He reluctantly let Caroline slide to the floor and gave her only a chaste kiss on the top of her head. He knew that if he kissed her the way he wanted to, the bath would be forgotten. "First things first, love," he whispered with a reluctant sigh. He turned and opened the door and shouted for water, loud enough for all the guards to hear him.