Benjamin thrived under the pressure of preparing a suitable meal and had the pigeons stuffed, the fish boned, and the chickens turning on the open spit well before noon. Deighton became terribly dictatorial as he commanded the other last-minute arrangements. Caroline and Charity both did whatever Deighton suggested, since he knew what was more correct than either of them, and Charity even asked his advice about which gown he thought she should wear.

Caroline had already decided to wear the daring ivory gown. It was terribly low cut and, she hoped, extremely seductive. She planned to look the part of a temptress, thinking it high time to gain the upper hand in her relationship with Bradford. If he was going to keep her off balance, then she would return the favor. She dressed with care, growing more nervous by the minute. She vowed that it would be a perfect evening. Her plan was quite simple. She was going to make Bradford delirious with desire, drive him to the brink, and force him into telling her what was in his heart.

Charity found Caroline standing before her mirror and gasped when she got a full look at her cousin. "Bradford will be quite speechless when he sees you," Charity predicted. "You look like Venus, the goddess of love," she whispered.

"And you look just as lovely," Caroline returned with a smile.

Charity whirled around, showing off the lemon-colored gown she wore. "I feel wonderful, Caroline. Love does that, you know. Makes one quite perky."

Caroline didn't agree but held her silence. Right this minute, love was making her miserable. She tugged on the bodice of her gown, trying to bring it up just a bit, until Charity remarked that she was going to tear the thing and have to change.

Caroline sighed and accompanied her cousin downstairs and waited in the entry hall to greet the first guests. "Paul and I have decided to be married in England," she told Caroline.

"Well, of course you are," Caroline returned. "Where else would you be married?"

"In Boston," Charity answered with a frown. "But we don't want to wait, and it wouldn't do traveling together unless we are man and wife."

Caroline's eyes widened in confusion. "But you will live here, Charity. This is Paul's home. You mean only to visit the family, don't you?"

Charity was busy watching Deighton pace back and forth in front of the door and missed the expression on Caroline's face. "Paul wants to begin anew. He isn't titled so he won't be giving up anything of importance. But he isn't poor either and has grand plans. Papa will help him get established," Charity ended.

"Yes, of course," Caroline commented. "What will he do?" She tried to sound interested but suddenly felt overwhelming sadness. She didn't think she was ready to lose Charity. Her cousin was her only link with her family in Boston.

"He has already had long talks with Benjamin," Charity said in answer. "Paul wants to buy some land and become a gentleman farmer. Benjamin has agreed to help him."

"Gentleman farmer? Charity, there is no such thing," Caroline scoffed with irritation. "Not in the Colonies. It takes hard work and that's the truth of it. Farming is backbreaking work, every day of the week."

"Paul's up to it," Charity replied. "He is slowly regaining the use of his injured hand, and you know that my brothers will also show him the way."

"Yes," Caroline said with a sigh. She was still dwelling on Charity's comment that Benjamin would help. She had no right to think that he would remain in England with her. Why then did she feel she was being abandoned?

The bell sounded, indicating that the first guests had arrived, and Caroline forced a smile on her face. Deighton paused at the door, turned, and gave both Charity and Caroline a last look of scrutiny. He nodded his approval, schooled his expression into his bored look, and turned back to open the door. The evening had begun.

Bradford was one of the last to arrive. Caroline muttered her displeasure over his tardiness as soon as she greeted him, and then realized that it wasn't a very good start to her perfect evening. But then, his reaction to her dress wasn't very positive either. Instead of telling her how lovely she looked, he suggested in a harsh whisper that she go back upstairs and finish dressing.

"I am dressed," Caroline argued.

They were standing at the edge of the foyer. Milford had joined them and he, too, turned to hear Bradford's reply, "She looks just fine to me, Brad," Milford announced, staring at Caroline with appreciation.

"The gown is lacking a top," Bradford stated. "Go up and change into something more suitable."

"I will not," Caroline replied emphatically.

"You aren't decent," Bradford growled. Milford started chuckling, and both Caroline and Bradford turned and glared him into silence.

Then Caroline turned back to confront Bradford. "I am as decent as you are in those breeches."

"What's wrong with my breeches?" Bradford demanded. He was caught off guard by her absurd remark.

"They are entirely too tight. It's a wonder you can sit down without injuring yourself," Caroline answered. She slowly looked him up and down, secretly admiring the way he looked. Lord but he was handsome! And terribly distinguished looking too, in his formal evening black, Caroline considered.

Milford started laughing again. "May I escort you into dinner?" he asked Caroline as he offered his arm.

"I would be delighted," Caroline answered. She placed her hand on Milford's arm and gave Bradford a chilling look. "When you remember your manners, you may join us."

Bradford stood there, baffled by their conversation. How had she put him on the defensive so quickly, so effortlessly? he asked himself. And didn't she have any idea of the temptation she caused by her dress? He doubted that there was a man there who wasn't as affected as he.

Caroline ignored Bradford all through dinner. She sat on Paul Bleachley's left and conversed with him and with Milford, who was seated across from her. Bradford had taken the chair on Caroline's right. She didn't even glance his way.

Bradford didn't like being ignored. He barely touched his food, although the comments concerning the dishes were quite favorable. He noticed with some satisfaction that Caroline wasn't eating much either.

He fought the urge to take off his jacket and put it over Caroline's shoulders and promised himself that he would beat Nigel Crestwall to a bloody pulp if he continued to leer at Caroline.

Bradford decided, halfway through dessert, that he had been patient long enough. He had thought, in the beginning, to proceed slowly, to give her time to accept him, to come to terms with the fact that she would belong to him. Now he admitted that he lacked the patience to continue. It was time to have a little talk with Caroline, and the sooner the better.

Caroline tried to concentrate on Milford's remarks about the opera they were all going to directly after dinner, but her attention kept turning to Loretta Kendall, Franklin's wife. The auburn-haired woman was making a spectacle of herself in her admiration of Bradford, and Caroline thought that if she didn't quit her flirting very soon, she would do something positively horrid. She considered dumping one of the raspberry tarts down the woman's dress. Heaven only knew the gown was low enough to accommodate a fair number of tarts.

Dinner was finally over and the ladies stood to take their leave. The men would stay to share a drink together, but Bradford broke with tradition. He wasn't in the mood to socialize with anyone but Caroline. He followed her out the door, grabbed hold of her elbow, and requested a word with her. He was acting very formal because Lady Tillman and Loretta Kendall were watching him.

Caroline gave a curt nod and said, "If it is important," for the benefit of the ladies listening. She led the way to her father's study on the first floor, silently fuming at the way Loretta was goggling Bradford.