Caroline's suspicions that the Englishman had been merely toying with her cousin's affections increased tenfold when she began to make discreet inquiries around town. Charity had mentioned that Bleachley was in Boston visiting his relatives, yet no one in the close-knit community had ever heard of the man.

Bleachley's disappearance coincided with the night of the terrible explosion in Boston's harbor. Three English ships and two American vessels had been completely destroyed. While Caroline didn't voice her suspicions, and had no proof, she was convinced that Paul Bleachley was somehow involved in the treachery.

The family had been relieved when Bleachley disappeared. They all assumed that he had returned to England and that Charity would soon get over her infatuation. But they were mistaken in that belief. Charity had been overwhelmed with grief when she finally accepted that Bleachley had deserted her. She vowed repeatedly, until even Caroline believed her, that she would find out what had happened and why.

"I'm ashamed of myself," Charity said, interrupting Caroline's thoughts. "You've never mentioned a word about your worry while I have gone on and on about my worries."

"I don't have any worries," Caroline protested.

Charity shook her head and showed her exasperation. "You haven't seen your father in fourteen years and you're not at all worried? Don't try to fool me, Caroline. You have to be upset! Your father has turned your life upside down and you act like it isn't even significant."

"Charity, there isn't anything I can do about it," Caroline returned, letting her irritation show.

"Ever since the letter arrived you've been hiding behind a mask. I know you must be upset! I was so angry with your father. You belong with my family, not with a man you don't even remember."

Caroline nodded, remembering the bitter scene that had taken place in her Boston home when she and Charity had returned from their morning ride. The rest of the family had all been waiting for them, their expressions grim.

Charity's mother had cried and carried on something awful, vowing that Caroline was as much her daughter as Charity was. She had raised her since the age of four, hadn't she? And Caroline had called her Mama for as long as she could remember. Charity's father had been more disciplined, more determined, as he told her very matter-of-factly that she must return to England.

"Do you think he would have really come after you, as he threatened in his letter?" Charity asked.

"Yes," Caroline answered with a sigh. "We had run out of excuses," she added. "My father must think me terribly fragile. You know that each time he requested my return, your mother would write about some new ailment I had contracted. I do believe the only disease she didn't fabricate was the plague, and only because she didn't think of it."

"But he didn't want you for the longest time. And he gave you to us."

"It was only meant to be a temporary arrangement," Caroline returned. "I don't understand what happened, but after my mother died, my father couldn't seem to take care of me and he-"

"He is an earl," Charity interrupted. "He could have hired someone to look after you. And why would he want you to return now, after such a long time? None of it makes sense."

"I only have a little longer to find out the answers." Caroline stated.

"Caroline, do you remember any of that early time? My earliest memory was when I was six years old and I fell out of Brewster's loft."

"No, all my memories start with Boston," Caroline answered. She felt her stomach tighten up and wished to stop the conversation.

"Well, I don't understand why you don't hate the man. Don't look at me that way. I know it's wrong to hate, but your papa obviously didn't want you and now, after fourteen years, he has changed his mind. He hasn't considered your feelings at all."

"I have to believe that my father did what he thought was best," Caroline returned.

"Caimen was so furious over your leaving," Charity stated, referring to her oldest brother.

"I must remember that I owe your parents and your brothers a debt and must not get angry," Caroline stated. Her words sounded like a vow. "Anger and hate are destructive emotions and neither will change the facts."

Charity frowned and shook her head. "I don't understand your mild acceptance. You've always had a plan. Tell me what you will do. It isn't like you to meekly accept anything. You're a charger… not a sitter."

"A sitter?" Caroline chuckled over her cousin's choice of descriptions.

"You know what I mean. You don't sit around, you charge."

"Well, I had thought that I'd allow one full year with my father. I owe that to him. And I will try to like him too. Then I will, of course, return to Boston."

"What if your father won't allow it?" Charity started twisting her gloves again and Caroline hurried to soothe her.

"I have to believe that if I am truly discontent, he'll let me go back to Boston. Don't frown, Charity. It's my only hope. Please don't try to sway my faith."

"I can't help it. Heavens, he could marry you off before you're even settled in."

"That would be unkind and I can't believe he'd do such a thing."

"You just wait. I saw the way Mr. Bradford was looking at you. I do believe he'll try to pursue you. Yes, I do," she hurried on when Caroline opened her mouth to protest. "When you fall in love, someone strong, like Mr. Bradford, will win your heart, and then your attitude will change. You won't want to be so independent then. Of course, it wouldn't do for you to fall in love with an Englishman, since you've vowed to return to Boston."

Caroline absolutely refused to reply to her cousin's absurd remarks. She had no intention of falling in love with anyone. Lack of sleep was catching up with her and Charity's ridiculous comments were driving her to distraction.

The trip from Boston to London's port had seemed to take forever. Caroline had quickly acquired her sea legs, or so the captain of the vessel had complimented, but Charity and Benjamin hadn't been as fortunate. Caroline had spent a good deal of time taking care of upset stomachs and soothing irritated tempers. It had proved to be an exhausting task.

They had slept on board the vessel the night before and, in the morning, sent word to the Earl of Braxton of their arrival. A messenger returned, stating that the earl was currently in residence at his country estate, a three-hour ride from London. Caroline determined to settle into the townhouse and send a message to her father announcing her arrival, but Charity, impatient of nature, had insisted that they hire a carriage and proceed to his country home.

"We are here at last!" Charity cried when they reached the townhouse. Her voice was filled with excitement and she didn't look the least bit tired. That irritated Caroline almost as much as her cousin's nervous chatter.

Charity was leaning out the carriage window, squinting up at the house, and Caroline was forced to tug on her arm so that the door could be opened.

"I knew it would be a beautiful home," Charity exclaimed. "Your father is an earl, after all. Oh, Caroline, are you very nervous?"

"Of course not. My father isn't here," she commented as she examined the fashionable brick town-house in front of her. She had to admit that it did look terribly impressive. There were several long, rectangular windows facing front and each was trimmed in ivory paint, providing a nice contrast against the red brick. Ivory-colored drapes scalloped the sides of each window, giving the house a dignified and regal appearance.

The front door was three steps up from the walkway and was also painted ivory. There was an ornate black door knocker, with gold inlay, centered on the wood, but as Caroline reached up to touch it, the door opened.