“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.”
o;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.”