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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 ear­shot 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.