To Catch an Heiress

Chapter 17

es-cu-lent (adjective). Suitable for food, eatable.

I have often beard that even the nastiest of food seems virtuous and esculent when one is hungry, but I disagree. Gruel is gruel, no matter bow loud one's stom­ach rumbles.

-From the personal dictionary of

Caroline Trent

Caroline awoke the following morning to a knock on the bathroom door. At Blake's or­der, she'd turned the key in the lock the night be­fore-not because she thought he would try to ravish her in the night, but because she wouldn't put it past him to check the door just to see if she'd followed orders. And she certainly didn't want to give him the satisfaction of scolding her.

She'd slept in her chemise, and she wrapped her­self in a blanket before opening the door a crack and peeking out. One of Blake's gray eyes was peering back at her.

"May I come in?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Do you have breakfast?"

"Madam, I haven't had access to decent food for nearly twenty-four hours. I was hoping Perriwick had brought you something to eat."

She opened the door. "It isn't fair for the servants to punish your sister. She must be starving."

"I imagine she'll eat well enough at teatime. You're expected to pay a visit, remember?"

"Oh yes. How are we meant to manage that?"

He leaned against a marble washbasin. "Penelope has already ordered me to send for you in my finest carriage."

"I thought you only had one carriage."

"I do. That's beside the point. I'm to send a car­riage to your... ah... home to pick you up."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "I should like to see mat. A carriage rolling up to the washing room. Tell me, would you bring it by way of your bedroom or the servant's stairs?"

He shot her a look that said he wasn't amused. "I'm to have you back here in time for a four o'clock visit."

"What am I supposed to do before then?"

He looked around the room. "Wash?"

"That isn't funny, Blake."

There was a moment of silence, then he said qui­etly, "I'm sorry about what happened last night."

"Don't apologize."

"But I must. I took advantage of you. I took ad­vantage of a situation that can go nowhere."

Caroline gritted her teeth. Her experience the pre­vious night was the closest she'd felt to being loved in years. To have him say he was sorry it had hap­pened was unbearable. "If you apologize again I shall scream."

"Caroline, don't be-"

"I mean it!"

He nodded. "Very well. I'll leave you alone then."

"Ah yes," she said with a wave of her arm, ""my oh-so-fascinating life. There is so much to do here, I really don't know where to start. I thought I might wash my hands, and after that my toes, and if I'm really ambitious I might attempt my back."

He frowned. "Would you like me to bring you a book?"

Her demeanor changed instantly. "Oh, would you please? I don't know where I left that pile I was planning to bring up yesterday."

"I'll find them."

"Thank you. When should I... ah... expect your carriage?"

"I suppose I shall have to order the carriage a bit before half three, so why don't you be ready on the hour for me to spirit you to the stables?"

"I can make it to the stables on my own. You'd do better to make certain that Penelope is occupied on the other side of the house."

He nodded. "You're right I will tell the groom to expect you on the hour."

"Is everyone aware of our deception, then?"

"I thought I might be able to limit it to the three house servants, but now it appears as if the stable staff will have to be in on the secret, as well." He took a step to leave, then turned around and told her, "Remember, be on time."

She glanced around with a dubious expression. "I don't suppose you've any clocks here."

He handed her his pocket watch. "Use this. It will need to be wound in a few hours, though."

"You'll bring those books?"

He nodded. "Never let it be said that I'm not the most gracious of hosts."

"Even when you relegate the occasional guest to the washing room?"

"Even then."

At precisely four o'clock that afternoon, Caroline knocked on the front door of Seacrest Manor. Her journey to that spot had been rather bizarre, to say the least. She'd sneaked out of the washing room, down the servants' stairs, dashed across the lawn at precisely three o'clock, hopped up into the carriage, and proceeded to ride about aimlessly until the groom returned to the house at four.

It certainly would have been more direct to have exited through Blake's bedroom and gone down the main stairs, but after spending all day with no com­pany save for a washbasin and a tub, Caroline didn't mind a bit of excitement and scenery.

Perriwick answered the door in record time, winked at her, and said, "It's a delight to see you again, Miss Trent."

"Miss Dent," she hissed.

"Right," he said, saluting her.

"Perriwick! Someone might see."

He looked furtively about. "Right"

Caroline groaned. Perriwick had developed a bit too much of a taste for subterfuge.

The butler cleared his throat and said very loudly, "Allow me to show you to the drawing room, Miss Dent."

"Thank you... er... what did you say your name was?"

He grinned at her approvingly. "It's Perristick, Miss Dent"

This time Caroline couldn't help herself. She smacked him in the shoulder. "This isn't a game," she whispered.

"Of course not." He opened the door to the draw­ing room, the same one where he'd plied her with feasts while her ankle was mending. "I'll tell Lady Fairwich that you're here."

She shook her head at his enthusiasm and walked over to the window. It looked as if it might rain later that evening, which was just as well to Caro­line, seeing as how she'd most likely be stuck in Blake's washing room all night.

"Miss Dent-Caroline! How lovely to see you again."

Caroline turned to see Blake's sister gliding into the room. "Lady Fairwich, you have been too kind to invite me."

"Nonsense, and I believe that yesterday I insisted you call me Penelope."

"Very well... Penelope," Caroline said, then mo­tioned to her surroundings with her hand. "This is a lovely room."

"Yes, isn't the view breathtaking? I am ever jeal­ous of Blake, living out here by the sea. And now I suppose I must be jealous of you as well." She smiled. "Would you care for some tea?"

If food had been sent up to Caroline's erstwhile room, Blake had somehow managed to intercept it, and her stomach had been screaming at her all day. "Yes," she said, "I would adore some tea."

"Excellent." I would ask for biscuits as well, but"-Penelope leaned in as if to tell a secret- "Blake's cook is really dreadful. I think we had bet­ter just stick with tea, to be on the safe side."

While Caroline was busy trying to think of a po­lite way to tell the countess that she would perish from hunger if she didn't let Mrs. Mickle send up some biscuits, Blake entered the room.

"Ah, Miss Dent," he said, "welcome. I trust your drive here was comfortable."

"Indeed it was, Mr. Ravenscroft. Your carriage is exceptionally well-sprung."

He nodded at her distractedly and glanced around the room.

"I say, Blake," Penelope said, "are you looking for something?"

"I was just wondering if perhaps Mrs. Mickle had sent up some tea. And," he added forcefully, "biscuits."

"I was just about to ring for some, although I'm not certain about the biscuits. After last night's meal..."

"Mrs. Mickle makes excellent biscuits," Blake said. "I shall have her send up a double batch."

Caroline sighed in relief.

"I suppose," Penelope conceded. "After all, I did have a lovely breakfast this morning."

"You had breakfast?" Blake and Caroline said in unison.

If Penelope thought it was strange that her guest was questioning her about her eating habits she did not say so, or perhaps she just didn't hear. She shrugged and said, "Yes, it was the oddest thing, actually. I found it on a tray near my room this morning."

"Really?" Caroline said, trying to sound like she was asking just out of polite interest. She'd bet her life that food had been meant for her.

"Well, to be truthful it wasn't exactly near my room. It was actually closer to your room, Blake, except I knew that you were already up and about. I thought the servants must have not wanted to come so close to my door for fear of waking me up."

Blake shot her a look of such disbelief that Pe­nelope was forced to lift her hands in an accommodating gesture and say, "I didn't know what else to think."

"I think that perhaps my breakfast was on that tray, as well," he said.

"Oh. Yes, that would make sense. I thought mere was rather a lot of food there, but I was so hungry after last night's meal, I truly didn't stop to think."

"No harm done," Blake said. Then his stomach proved him a liar by grumbling quite loudly. He winced. "I'll just see to that tea. And... ah... the extra biscuits."

Caroline coughed.

Blake halted in his tracks and turned around. "Miss Dent, are you also hungry?"

She smiled prettily. "Famished. We had a bit of a mishap in our kitchen at home and I have had nothing at all today."

"Oh dear!" Penelope cried out, clasping her hands over Caroline's. "How awful for you. Blake, why don't you see if your cook can prepare some­thing a bit more substantial than biscuits? If you think she's up to it, that is."

Caroline thought she ought to say something po­lite like, "You shouldn't go to the trouble," but she was terrified that Penelope might actually take her seriously.

"Oh, and Blake!" Penelope called out. He halted in the doorway and turned around slowly, clearly irritated that he'd been detained yet again. "No soup."

He didn't even dignify that with an answer. "My brother can be a bit grumpy," Penelope said, once he'd disappeared from view. "Brothers can," Caroline agreed. "Oh, then you have a brother?" "No," she said wistfully, "but I know people who do."

"Blake really isn't a bad sort," Penelope contin­ued, motioning for Caroline to sit down as she her­self did so, "and even I must admit he's quite devilishly handsome."

Caroline's lips parted in surprise. Was Penelope trying to play matchmaker? Oh, dear. How impos­sibly ironic. "Don't you think?"

Caroline blinked and sat. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't you think that Blake is handsome?"

"Well, yes, of course. Anyone would."

Penelope frowned, dearly not satisfied with that answer.

Caroline was saved from having to say anything more by a small commotion in the hall. She and Penelope looked up to see Mrs. Mickle in the door­way, joined by a scowling Blake.

"Are you satisfied now?" he grumbled.

Mrs. Mickle looked straight at Caroline before saying, "I just wanted to be sure."

Penelope turned to Caroline and whispered, "My brother has the oddest servants."

The housekeeper scurried away, and Blake said, "She wanted to be certain that we have guests."

Penelope shrugged and said, "Do you see what I mean?"

Blake came back into the drawing room and sat down, saying, "Don't let my appearance put a halt to your conversation."

"Nonsense," Penelope said, "it's only that... hmmm."

"Why don't I like the sound of this?" Blake mut­tered.

Penelope jumped to her feet. "I have something I simply must show to Caroline. Blake, will you keep her company while I fetch it from my room?"

In a flash, she was gone, and Blake asked, "What was that about?"

"I'm afraid your sister might have taken it into her head to play matchmaker."

"With you?"

"I'm not that bad" she snapped. "Some might even consider me a matrimonial prize."

"I beg your pardon," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to offend. It's just that this must mean she's getting quite desperate."

She gaped at him. "Could you possibly be un­aware of how rude that sounded?"

He had the grace to color slightly. "Once again, I must apologize. It is only that Penelope has been trying to find me a wife for years, but she usually limits her search to ladies whose families she can trace back to the Norman invasion. Not," he said hastily, "that there is anything wrong with your family. Just that Penelope cannot know your back­ground."

"I'm sure if she did, she would find it unsuita­ble," Caroline said peevishly. "I may be an heiress, but my father was in trade."

"Yes, so you keep saying. None of this should have ever come to pass if Prewitt hadn't so determined to catch an heiress for his son."

"I don't think I enjoy the comparison to a fish."

Blake looked at her sympathetically. "You must know that that is how people view heiresses-as prey to be caught." When she didn't reply, he added, "It really doesn't signify, however. I will never marry."

"I know."

"Still, you should feel flattered. It means Penny must like you very much."

Caroline just gave him a stony stare. "Blake," she finally said, "I believe you are choking on your foot."

There was an awkward silence, and then Blake attempted to patch things up by saving, "Mrs. Mickle refused to prepare any food unless she knew you were here."

"Yes, I surmised as much. She's very sweet."

"That is not quite the adjective I would use to describe her, but I can see where you might think so."

There was yet another uncomfortable silence, and this time Caroline broke it. "I understand your brother had a daughter recently."

"Yes, his fourth."

"You must be delighted."

He looked at her sharply. "Why would you say that?"

"I should think it would be lovely to have a niece. Of course, as an only child I shall never be an aunt." Her gaze grew wistful. "I adore little babies."

"Perhaps you will have one of your own."

"I doubt it." Caroline had always hoped to marry for love, but since the man she loved intended to go to the grave a bachelor, it seemed she would remain unwed as well.

"Don't be silly. You can't possibly know what the future holds for you."

"Why not?" she countered. "You seem to think you do."

"Touche." He regarded her for a moment, then his eyes filled with something that looked suspi­ciously like regret, and he said, "I do rather enjoy my nieces."

"Then why were you so upset about the new one?"

"Why should you think that?"

She scoffed. "Oh, please, Blake. It's quite obvi­ous."

"I am not in the least displeased with my new niece. I'm sure I shall adore her." He cleared his throat and smiled wryly. "I just wish she had been a boy."

"Most men would be thrilled at the prospect of being next in line for a viscountcy."

"/ am not most men."

"Yes, that much is clear."

Blake narrowed his eyes and regarded her in­tently. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She just shrugged.

"Caroline..." he warned.

"It's quite obvious that you adore children, and yet you're determined not to have any of your own. That particular line of reasoning shows even less logic than usually demonstrated by the males of our species."

"Now you're beginning to sound like my sister."

"I shall take that as a compliment. I quite like your sister."

"So do I, but that doesn't mean I always do what she says."

"I'm back!" Penelope sailed into the room. "What are you talking about?"

"Babies," Caroline bluntly replied.

Penelope started, then her eyes filled with uncon­cealed glee. "Really? How intriguing!"

"Penelope," Blake drawled, "what was it you wanted to show Caroline?"

"Oh, that," she said distractedly. "Couldn't find it. I shall have to look later and invite Caroline to return tomorrow."

Blake wanted to protest, but he knew that tea with Caroline was the only way he was going to get a decent meal.

Caroline smiled and turned to Penelope. "Have your brother and his wife named their new daugh­ter?"

"Oh, you were talking about their baby," Penel­ope said, sounding more than vaguely disap­pointed. "Yes, they did. Daphne Georgiana Elizabeth."

"All those names?"

"Oh, that is nothing. The older girls have even more names-the oldest is called Sophie Charlotte Sybilla Aurelia Naihanaele-but David and Sarah are quite running out."

"If they have another daughter," Caroline said with a smile, "they will have to simply call her Mary and leave it at that."

Penelope laughed. "Oh no, that would be quite impossible. They've already used Mary. Their sec­ond daughter is Katharine Mary Claire Evelina."

"I don't dare guess what their third child is called."

"Alexandra Lucy Caroline Vivette."

"A Caroline! How lovely."

"I'm amazed," Blake said, "that you can remem­ber all those names. It's all I can do to recall Sophie, Katharine, Alexandra, and now Daphne."

"If you had children of your own-"

"I know, I know, dear sister. You needn't repeat yourself."

"I was merely going to say that if you had chil­dren of your own you shouldn't have any trouble remembering names."

"I know what you were going to say."

"Do you have children, Lady Fairwich?" Caroline asked.

A look of pain crossed Penelope's features before she replied softly, "No. No, I don't."

"I'm so sorry," Caroline stammered. "I shouldn't have asked."

"It is nothing," Penelope said with a shaky smile. "The earl and I have not yet been blessed with children. Perhaps that is why I so dote on my nieces."

Caroline swallowed uncomfortably, well aware that she'd inadvertently brought up a painful topic. "Mr. Ravenscroft says that he, too, dotes on your nieces."

"Yes, he does. He's quite a wonderful uncle. He should make an ex-"

"Don't say it, Penelope," Blake interrupted.

Further conversation on the topic was thankfully prevented by the entrance of Perriwick, who was staggering under the weight of an overcrowded tea service.

"Oh my!" Penelope exclaimed.

"Yes," Blake drawled, "it is quite a feast for high tea, isn't it?"

Caroline just smiled and didn't even bother to feel embarrassed by the way her stomach was roar­ing.

Over the next few days it became apparent that Caroline was in possession of a crucial bargaining chip: The servants refused to prepare a decent meal unless they could be certain she would be partaking of it.

And so she found herself "invited" to Seacrest Manor with increasing regularity. Penelope had even gone so far as to suggest that Caroline spend the night once when it was raining.

In all truth, it wasn't raining that hard, but Pe­nelope was no fool. She'd noticed the servants' pe­culiar habits, and she liked breakfast as well as anybody.

Caroline soon became fast friends with Blake's sister, although it was becoming difficult to keep putting her off whenever she suggested a jaunt into Bournemouth. There were too many people who might recognize Caroline in the small city.

Not to mention the fact that Oliver had appar­ently plastered her likeness in every public place, and Blake reported that the last time he'd gone into town, he'd noticed that a reward was now being offered for Caroline's safe return.

Caroline didn't particularly relish the thought of trying to explain that to Penelope.

She didn't see so much of Blake, however. He never missed teatime; it was the only opportunity for a decent meal, after all. But other than that, he avoided Caroline's company save for the occasional visit to the bathroom to give her a new book.

And so life ambled on in this bizarre yet oddly comfortable routine-until one day, nearly a week after Penelope's arrival. The threesome were all hungrily wolfing down sandwiches in the drawing room, each hoping the others wouldn't notice his deplorable lack of manners.

Caroline was reaching for her third sandwich, Pe­nelope munching her second, and Blake slipping his

sixth into his pocket when they heard booted foot­steps in the hall.

"Who could that be, I wonder?" Penelope asked, blushing slightly when a crumb blew out of her mouth.

Her question was answered moments later, as the Marquis of Riverdale strode into the room. He took in the scene, blinked in surprise, and then said, "Pe­nelope, it's good to see you. I had no idea you were acquainted with Caroline."