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.”
Chapter 18
ar-is-tol-o-gy (noun). The art or “science” of dining.
As a field of research and study, aristology is highly underrated.
—From the personal dictionary of Caroline Trent
Utter silence ensued, followed by a burst of nervous chatter so loud and forceful that Perriwick actually poked his head into the room to see what was going on. He did so under the guise of coming in to clear away the rest of the tea and biscuits, which caused nothing short of mutiny, and Blake practically yanked the tray from his hands before pushing him back out the door.
If Penelope had noticed that the Marquis of Riverdale had been so forward as to call Miss Dent by her given name, she made no remark, commenting instead upon how overwhelmingly surprised she was that they were acquainted.
Caroline was talking very loudly about how the Sidwells had long been friends with the Dents, and James was agreeing profusely with everything she said.
The only person not adding to the din was Blake, although he did emit a rather loud groan. He didn't know which was worse: the fact that James had arrived and nearly blown Caroline's cover, or the newly fierce matchmaking gleam in his sister's eye. Now that she'd discovered that Caroline's family was in some way—however tenuous—connected to the marquis's, she'd obviously decided that Caroline would make an excellent Ravenscroft wife.
Either that, he thought grimly, or she'd decided to concentrate her prodigious matchmaking skills toward Caroline and James.
All in all, Blake decided, this had the makings of a truly colossal disaster. His eyes made a slow sweep of the room, watching Penelope, James, and Caroline, and he decided that the only thing keeping him from violence was that he couldn't decide which of them to strangle first.
“Oh, but it's been an age, Caroline,” James was saying, clearly enjoying himself now. “Almost five years, I should think. You are very changed since we last met.”
“Really?” Penelope queried. “How?”
Put on the spot, James stammered for a moment, then said, “Well, her hair is quite longer, and—”
“Really?” Penelope said again. “How interesting. You must have had quite a crop, Caroline, because it isn't so very long now.”
“There was an accident,” Caroline improvised, “and we had to cut it quite short.”
Blake bit his lip to keep from asking her to tell them about the “accident.”
“Oh, yes, I remember that,” James said with great enthusiasm. “Something involving honey and your brother's pet bird.”
Caroline coughed into her tea, then grabbed a cloth napkin to keep from spraying it all over Blake.
“I thought you didn't have any brothers or sisters,” Penelope said, furrowing her brow.
Caroline wiped her mouth, suppressed an urge toward nervous laughter, and said, “It was my cousin's bird, actually.”
“Right,” James said, slapping his forehead. “How silly of me. What was his name?”
“Percy.”
“Good ol' Percy. How is he these days?”
She smiled peevishly. “Much the same, I'm afraid. I do my best to avoid him.”
“That is probably a wise course of action,” James agreed. “I remember him as a mean-hearted sort of fellow, always yanking on people's hair and the like.”
“Riverdale!” Penelope said in a disapproving voice. “You are speaking of Miss Dent's relation.”
“Oh, I don't mind,” Caroline assured her. “I'd be quite pleased to disown Percy.”
Penelope shook her head in confusion and looked up at her brother with a faintly accusing expression. “I cannot believe that you did not tell me that our dear Caroline is friends with Riverdale.”
Blake shrugged and forced himself to unclench his fists. “I didn't know.”
Perriwick entered the room with uncharacteristic unobtrusiveness and began to clear away the half-eaten remnants of high tea.
“NO!” Blake, Penelope, and Caroline yelled in unison.
James looked at them with interest and confusion. “Is something amiss?”
“We're just—” Penelope said.
“—a little—” Caroline interjected.
“—hungry,” Blake finished emphatically.
James blinked. “Apparently so.”
Penelope filled the ensuing lull by turning to James and asking, “Will you be staying with us, my lord?”
“I had thought to, yes, but only if there is an extra room for me.” He glanced over at Caroline. “I hadn't realized that Miss Dent was here.”