Penelope scrunched her brow. “But surely you realize that Caroline is only visiting for the day. She lives barely a mile away.”
“Father bought a summer house near Bournemouth just last autumn,” Caroline blurted out. “I'm afraid we haven't yet gotten around to informing everyone of the move.”
“Hmmm,” Penelope mused, her eyes growing narrower by the second, “I was under the impression that you had resided in Bournemouth for some time.”
Caroline smiled weakly. “We visited quite often.”
“Yes,” Blake said, thinking that he ought to do something to save the situation, even though he was quite furious with both Caroline and James, “didn't you say that your father leased the house for a number of seasons before he bought it?”
Caroline nodded. “That's exactly it.”
Blake shot her the most arrogant of smiles. “I am in possession of a remarkable memory.”
“Of that I have no doubt.”
There was an immeasurably awkward silence, and then Caroline stood. “I had best be getting home. It's growing late, and…ah…I think Cook is preparing something special for supper.”
“Lucky you,” Penelope muttered.
“I'm sorry?”
“It was nothing,” Penelope said quickly, glancing between Blake and James. “But I am sure one of our two gentlemen will be happy to accompany you.”
“That's not necessary. Truly, it's not a long way.”
James jumped to his feet. “Nonsense. I should love to walk with you. I am certain we have a great deal of catching up to do.”
“Yes,” Caroline agreed. “Probably much more than you would have ever imagined.”
The moment the front door closed behind them, Caroline turned to James and said, “Have you anything edible in your carriage?”
“A bit of cheese and bread I brought with me from an inn, why?”
But Caroline was already scrambling into the conveyance. “Where is it?” she asked, poking her head back out.
“Good God, woman, haven't they been feeding you?”
“Not really, and it's been worse for Penelope and Blake, although I have little sympathy for the latter.”
James climbed in and pulled a hunk of bread from a satchel on the seat. “What the devil is going on?”
“Mmmble nnn munchke.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She swallowed. “I'll tell you in a minute. Have you anything to drink?”
He removed a small flask from his pocket. “Just a spot of brandy, but I don't think that's what you—”
But she'd already grabbed it and taken a gulp. James waited patiently while she coughed, sputtered, and gagged, then said, “I was going to say that I didn't think brandy was precisely what you wanted.”
“Nonsense,” she said hoarsely. “Any liquid would have done.”
He took the flask back, screwed the top on, and said, “Suppose you tell me why the three of you look gaunt and starved. And why the hell is Penelope here? She'll ruin the entire operation.”
“Then you got permission from London to go ahead with your plans?”
“I'm not answering a single one of your questions until you answer mine.”
She shrugged. “We should pretend to walk, then. I'm afraid this might take a great deal of time.”
“Pretend to walk?”
“It certainly isn't going to take us an hour to walk me back to Blake's bathroom.”
James's mouth fell open. “What?”
She sighed. “Would you like the long version or the short version?”
“Since it appears I must somehow use up an hour accompanying you to Ravenscroft's bathroom, I'll opt for the long version. It's bound to be more interesting, anyway.”
She hopped out of the carriage, clutching the chunk of cheese she'd found with the bread. “You have no idea.”
Two hours later, Blake was feeling very irritable. Downright mean, as a matter of fact.
James and Caroline had been gone a long time—much longer than it should have taken for them to go to the bathroom.
Blake swore at himself. Even his thoughts were beginning to sound inane.
Still, James only needed to be gone an hour to perpetuate the ruse that he'd walked Caroline home. Not that anyone, Caroline included, had any idea just how far away her “home” was supposed to be, but Blake had never taken longer than an hour to pretend to fetch her for tea.
He had spent so much time pacing back and forth in his washing room that Penelope undoubtedly thought he had some sort of vile stomach ailment.
Finally, as he perched on the edge of the washbasin, he heard laughter and footsteps coming up the side stairs. He hopped down onto the ground, settled his mouth into a grim line, and crossed his arms.
A second later, the door flew open, and Caroline and James practically fell in, both laughing so hard they could hardly stand.
“Where the hell have you been?” Blake demanded.
They looked like they were trying to answer him, but he couldn't understand what they were saying through their laughter.
“And what the devil are you laughing about?”
“Ravenscroft, you've done some truly bizarre things,” James gasped, “but this—” He waved his arm at the washing room. “This is without compare.”
Blake just scowled at him.
“Although,” James said, turning to Caroline, “you've done quite a nice job turning this place into home. The bed is a nice touch.”
Caroline looked down at the neat pile of blankets and pillows she'd arranged on the floor. “Thank you. I do my best with what I have to work with.” She giggled again.