To Catch An Heiress (15 page)

Then the countess took a step in the direction of Seacrest Manor, practically dragging Caroline along with her. “I daresay my brother will be surprised to see me!” she chirped.

Caroline moved forward on wobbly legs. “I daresay you're right.”

Blake was not in a good mood.

He had obviously misplaced every shred of good sense he had ever possessed. There was no other explanation for his carrying Caroline off to his room and nearly ravishing her in broad daylight. And if that weren't bad enough, now he was aching with unfulfilled need thanks to his meddling butler.

But the worst—the absolute
worst
—part of all was that now Caroline had up and gone missing. He'd searched the house from top to bottom, front to back, and she was nowhere to be found. He didn't think she'd run away; she had far too much sense for that. She was probably out wandering the countryside, trying to clear her head.

Which would have been a perfectly understandable and indeed commendable pursuit if her likeness weren't depicted on bills plastered all over the county. It was a bad likeness, to be sure—Blake still thought the artist should have drawn her smiling—but still, if someone found her and returned her to Prewitt…

He swallowed uncomfortably. He didn't like the hollow feeling he felt at the thought of her leaving.

Blast that woman! He didn't have time for a complication like this, and he certainly didn't have room in his heart for another woman.

Blake swore under his breath as he pushed aside a gauzy piece of curtain and scanned the side garden. Caroline must have left via the servants' stairs; that was the only exit she'd have had access to from the washing room. He'd searched the grounds completely, but he'd been checking the side the most often; for some reason he thought she'd come back the way she had gone. He didn't know why. She just seemed the sort who would do that.

There was no sign of her, however, so Blake just cursed again and let the curtain drop. It was then that he heard a loud, rather strident knock at the front door.

Blake cursed for a third time, unaccountably irritated that he'd incorrectly anticipated her behavior. He made his way to the door in long, quick strides, his brain filled to the brim with all the lectures he was going to pelt at her. By the time he was through with her, she'd never dare pull this sort of stunt again.

His hand touched the doorknob and he yanked it open, his voice an angry growl as he said, “Where the hell have you—”

His mouth fell open.

Then he blinked.

Then he snapped his mouth shut again.

“Penelope?”

P
enelope smiled breezily at him and strode into the hall. “It is so lovely to see you, Blake. I'm sure you're surprised.”

“Yes, yes, you could say that.”

“I would have been here earlier—”

Earlier
?

“—but I had a slight carriage accident and if it weren't for dear Miss Dent here—”

Blake looked back out the door and saw Caroline.

Caroline
?

“—I should have been completely stranded. Of course I had no idea we were so close to Seacrest Manor, and as I was saying, if it weren't for dear Miss Dent—”

He looked back at Caroline, who was frantically shaking her head at him.

Miss Dent
?

“—who knows how long I would have remained sitting on my trunk by the side of the road, mere minutes from my destination.” Penelope paused for breath and beamed at him. “Doesn't the irony just kill you?”

“That's not the only thing,” Blake muttered.

Penelope stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “You're the same as ever, dear brother. No sense of humor.”

“I have a perfectly fine sense of humor,” he said, a touch defensively. “It's simply that I'm not used to being surprised—completely surprised I might add—by an unexpected guest. And you've dragged along Miss—” Ah, damn. What the hell had Penelope called her?

“Dent,” Caroline supplied helpfully. “Miss Dent.”

“Ah. And have we been introduced?”

His sister sent an angry look his way, which didn't surprise him in the least. A gentleman was not supposed to forget a lady, and Penelope took great stock in good manners. “Don't you recall?” she said loudly. “It was at the county dance last autumn. Miss Dent told me all about it.”

The bloody county dance? What sort of tales had Caroline been spinning about him? “Of course,” he said in a smooth voice. “I don't recall who introduced us, though. Was it your cousin?”

“No,” Caroline replied in a voice so sweet it might as well have been dripping honey, “it was my great aunt. Mrs. Mumblethorpe. Surely you remember her?”

“Ah, yes!” he said expansively, motioning for her to enter the hall. “The magnificent Mrs. Mumblethorpe. How could I have possibly forgotten? She is a singular lady. Last time we dined together she was showing off her new yodeling skills.”

Caroline tripped on the step. “Yes,” she said through her teeth, bracing her arm against the door-jamb to keep from falling, “she had such a brilliant time on her trip to Switzerland.”

“Mmmm, yes. She said as much. As a matter of fact, by the time she finished her demonstration, I think the entire county knew how much she enjoyed her travels.”

Penelope listened to the exchange with interest. “You shall have to introduce me to your aunt, Miss Dent. She sounds most interesting. I would so like to meet her while I am in Bournemouth.”

“Exactly how long do you plan to stay?” Blake cut in.

“I'm afraid I can't introduce you to Aunt Hortense,” Caroline said to Penelope. “She so enjoyed her travels to Switzerland that she has decided to embark upon another journey.”

“Where to?” Penelope asked.

“Yes, where to?” Blake echoed, enjoying the momentary look of panic on Caroline's face as she groped for a suitable country.

“Iceland,” she blurted out.

“Iceland?” said Penelope. “How odd. I've never known anyone to visit Iceland before.”

Caroline smiled tightly and explained, “She has always had a great fascination with islands.”

“Which would explain,” Blake said in a perfectly dry voice, “her recent jaunt to Switzerland.”

Caroline turned her back to him and said to Penelope, “We should see about sending someone to fetch your belongings, my lady.”

“Yes, yes,” Penelope murmured, “in a moment. But first, Blake, before I forget to answer your rather rude question, I will tell you that I anticipate staying approximately a week, perhaps a bit longer. Provided that suits you, of course.”

Blake glanced down at her with amused disbelief. “And when has my agreement ever determined your actions?”

“Never,” Penelope replied with a carefree shrug, “but I must be polite and pretend, mustn't I?”

Caroline watched as brother and sister sparred, a lump of wistful envy building in her throat. Blake was obviously irritated by his sister's unheralded arrival, but it was equally clear that he loved her beyond measure. Caroline had never known the affectionate camaraderie of siblings; indeed, she had never even
seen
it before that day.

Her heart ached with longing as she listened to their interaction. She wanted someone who would tease her; she wanted someone who would hold her hand when times grew scary and unsure.

Most of all, she wanted someone who would love her.

Caroline caught her breath as she realized how perilously close she was to tears. “I really need to be off,” she blurted out, making a beeline for the door. Escape was foremost in her mind. The last thing she wanted was to find herself sobbing in Seacrest Manor's front hall, right in front of Blake and Penelope.

“But you haven't had tea!” Penelope protested.

“I'm really not thirsty. I—I—I must go home. I'm expected there.”

“Yes, I'm sure you are,” Blake drawled.

Caroline paused on the front steps, wondering where on earth she was going to go. “I don't want anyone to worry over me.”

“No, I'm sure you wouldn't,” Blake murmured.

“Blake, darling,” Penelope said, “I insist that you see Miss Dent home.”

“A fine idea,” he agreed.

Caroline nodded gratefully. She didn't much feel like facing his questions just now, but the alternative was wandering the countryside with no place to go. “Yes, I would appreciate that.”

“Excellent. It's not far, you say?” His lips curved ever so slightly, and Caroline wished she could tell whether his smile was one of irony or supreme irritation.

“No,” she replied. “Not far at all.”

“Then I propose that we walk.”

“Yes, that would probably be most convenient.”

“I will wait here, then,” Penelope put in. “I'm sorry I cannot accompany you home, but I'm most weary from my travels. It has been lovely meeting you, Miss Dent. Oh! But I do not even know your given name.”

“You must call me Caroline.”

Blake shot her a sideways glance, looking a bit surprised and intrigued that she had not used an alias.

“If you are Caroline,” Penelope replied, “then I am Penelope.” She grasped her hands and squeezed affectionately. “I have a feeling we are going to be splendid friends.”

Caroline wasn't certain, but she thought she heard Blake mutter, “God help me,” under his breath. And then they both smiled at Penelope and exited the house.

“Where are we going?” Caroline whispered.

“To hell with that,” he hissed back, glancing over his shoulder to make certain they were out of ear-shot of the house, even though he knew that he'd shut the front door behind him. “Would you care to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“It wasn't my fault,” she said quickly, following his steps away from the house.

“Why, I wonder, do I have trouble accepting that statement?”

“Blake!” she burst out, yanking on his arm and grinding him to a halt. “What do you think, that I sent your sister a note and asked her to pay you a visit? I had no idea who she was. I didn't even know you
had
a sister! And she wouldn't have even seen me if I hadn't stepped on that bloody twig.”

Blake sighed, beginning to realize what had happened. It was an accident—a great, big, huge, monstrously inconvenient and annoying accident. His life seemed littered with those these days. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

“I have no idea. I certainly can't remain in the house while your sister is visiting. You yourself told me that your family doesn't know about your work for the War Office. I assume that includes Penelope?”

At Blakes's curt nod, she added, “If she discovers that I have been staying at Seacrest Manor, she will undoubtedly learn of your clandestine activities.”

Blake swore under his breath.

“I don't approve of your secretiveness with regard to your family,” Caroline said, “but I will respect your wishes. Penelope is a dear lady. I shouldn't want her to worry over you. That would upset her, and it would upset you.”

Blake stared at her, unable to speak. Of all the reasons that Caroline shouldn't let his sister know she'd been staying at Seacrest Manor, she had to pick the only one that was completely unselfish. She could have said that she worried for her reputation. She could have said that she was afraid that Penelope would turn her over to Oliver. But no, she wasn't worried about all that; she was worried that her actions might hurt
him
.

He swallowed, suddenly feeling awkward in her presence. Caroline was watching his face, clearly waiting for a reply, and he had no idea what to say. Finally, after she prodded him with a questioning, “Blake?” he managed to get out, “That is most thoughtful of you, Caroline.”

She blinked in surprise. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he echoed, jutting his chin out slightly toward her in a questioning manner.

“Oh. Oh…Oh.” She smiled weakly at him. “I guess I thought you were going to scold me further.”

“I thought I was, too,” he said, sounding just as surprised as she did.

“Oh.” Then she caught herself and said, “Sorry.”

“‘Ohs’ aside, we're going to have to figure out what to do with you.”

“I don't suppose you've a hunting lodge somewhere nearby?”

He shook his head. “I've no place in the region where you can hide. I suppose I could put you in a carriage to London.”

“No!” Caroline replied. She grimaced, a bit embarrassed by the forcefulness of her reply. “I really cannot go to London.”

“Why not?”

She frowned. That was a good question, but she wasn't about to tell him that she'd miss him. Finally she said, “Your sister is going to expect to see me. I'm sure she'll ask me to call.”

“A tricky maneuver indeed, considering that you have no home to which she may send an invitation.”

“Yes, but she doesn't know that. She will certainly ask you for my direction. And then what will you say?”

“I could always say you've gone to London. In general, the truth is always the best option.”

“Wouldn't that be lovely?” she said, sarcasm more than evident in her voice. “With my luck she'll turn around and head back to London and look for me there.”

Blake let out an irritated exhale. “Yes, my sister is obstinate enough to do just that.”

“I suppose it runs in the family.”

He only laughed. “That it does, my dear, but we Ravenscrofts cannot hold a candle to the Trents when it comes to sheer muleheadedness.”

Caroline grumbled, but she didn't contradict him because she knew it was true. Finally, thoroughly irritated with his rather smug smile, she said, “We can argue about our respective bad traits all we want, but that doesn't solve the problem at hand. Where am I to go?”

“I think you'll have to go back to Seacrest Manor. I know I cannot think of a suitable alternative. Can you?”

“But Penelope is there!”

“We shall have to hide you. There is nothing else for it.”

“Oh, dear Lord,” she muttered. “This is a disaster. A bloody disaster.”

“On that point, Caroline, we are in complete agreement.”

“Will the servants be in on the ruse?”

“I should think they would have to be. They already know about you. It's a good thing there are only three of—
Good God
!”

“What?”

“The servants. They don't know not to mention you to Penelope.”

Caroline paled.

“Don't move. Don't move an inch. I'll be right back.”

Blake took off at a run, but he'd barely covered ten yards, when another potential disaster found its way to Caroline's mind. “Blake!” she yelled. “Wait!”

He skidded to a halt and turned around.

“You can't go through the front door. If Penelope sees you she'll wonder how you managed to see me home so quickly.”

He swore under his breath. “I'll have to use the side entrance. I assume you're familiar with it.”

Caroline shot him an annoyed look. He knew very well she'd used the side entrance to make her escape earlier that day.

“You might as well come with me now,” Blake said. “We'll sneak you up through the side and figure out what to do with you later.”

“In other words, you mean for me to wait in your washing room indefinitely?”

He grinned. “I hadn't gotten that far in my plans, but now that you mention it, yes, that's an excellent idea.”

At that point, Caroline decided that her mouth was altogether too big. Luckily, before she could offer up any more bad ideas, Blake grabbed her hand and took off at a run, practically dragging her behind him. They skirted the perimeter of the property until they were hidden among the trees facing the side entrance.

“We're going to have to make a run for it through the clearing,” Blake said.

“What do you think are the chances she's on this side of the house?”

“Very small. We left her in the front sitting room, and if anything, she's likely to go upstairs and find a bedchamber.”

Caroline gasped. “What if she finds mine? My clothes are there. I've only three dresses, but they clearly don't belong to
you
.”

Blake swore again.

She raised her brows. “Do you know, but I've started to find your cursing rather comforting. If you weren't cursing, life would seem almost abnormal.”

“You're a strange woman.”

Blake tugged on her hand, and before Caroline realized what was happening, she was tripping across the lawn, her mind echoing with a stream of prayers that Penelope wouldn't see them. She had never been a particularly religious sort, but it seemed as good a time as any to develop a pious nature.