To Catch an Heiress
Page 59

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.
They barreled through the side door, both heaving with exertion as they collapsed on the stairs.
“You,” Blake said. “Up to the washroom. I'll find the servants.”
Caroline nodded and dashed up the stairs, slipping silently into his washing room. She looked around with a good dose of chagrin. The Lord only knew how long she was going to be stranded there.
“Well,” she said aloud, “it could be worse.”
Three hours later Caroline had discovered that the only way to stave off boredom in the washing room was to entertain herself by listing all of the situations that would be worse than her current one.
It wasn't easy.
She immediately dismissed all sorts of fanciful scenarios, like being trampled by a two-headed cow, and instead concentrated on more realistic possibilities.
“He could have a small washing room,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. “Or it could be very dirty. Or…or or or…or he could forget to feed me.”
Her lips twisted into a peevish line. The bloody man had forgotten to feed her!
“The room could have no windows,” she tried, glancing up at the aperture. She grimaced. One would have to possess an extraordinarily optimistic nature to call that little sliver of glass a window.
“He could have a pet hedgehog,” she said, “which he keeps in the basin.”
“It's unlikely,” came a male voice, “but possible.”
Caroline looked up to see Blake in the doorway. “Where have you been?” she hissed. “I'm starving.”
He tossed her a scone.
“You're too kind,” she muttered, wolfing it down. “Was that my main course or merely an appetizer?”
“You'll be fed, don't worry. I thought Perriwick was going to have palpitations when he heard where you were hiding. I imagine he and Mrs. Mickle are preparing a feast even as we speak.”
“Perriwick is clearly a nicer man than you.”
He shrugged. “No doubt.”
“Did you manage to intercept all the servants before they mentioned me to Penelope?”
“Yes. We're safe, have no fear. And I have your things. I moved them to my room.”
“I'm not staying in your room!” she said, rather huffily.
“I never said you were. You're certainly free to remain here in the washing room. I'll find some blankets and a pillow for you. With a little ingenuity, we can make this place quite comfortable.”