“You,” Blake snapped, pointing at his sister. “Be quiet. And you—” He turned his furious visage toward the marquis, but intelligent discourse escaped him, so he just blurted out, “You be quiet, too.”
“Well said.” James chuckled.
Blake glared at him, feeling quite capable of murder.
“Tell me more,” Penelope begged. “I think that Caroline will make a lovely marchioness.”
“Indeed she would,” James replied. “And it would be a rather convenient match. I do need to marry at some point, and it appears that Caroline needs to marry quite soon.”
“There is no reason for her to marry,” Blake growled, “as long as my sister keeps her mouth shut.”
“Penelope is certainly discreet,” James continued in a voice that Blake was beginning to find irritatingly jovial, “but that cannot be a guarantee that no one will find out about our peculiar living arrangements. Caroline might not be a member of the ton, but that does not mean that she deserves to have her name dragged through the mud.”
Blake jumped to his feet and roared, “Don't you dare accuse me of wanting to sully her good name. Everything I have done—”
“The problem,” Penelope smoothly interrupted, “is that you have done nothing.”
“I refuse to sit here and—”
“You're standing,” Penelope pointed out.
“James,” Blake said in a dangerously low voice, “if you don't restrain me, I shall surely commit a great many crimes in the next ten seconds, the least regretful of which shall involve the painful death of my sister.”
“Er…Penelope,” James said, “I'd move out of his reach were I you. I think he might be serious.”
“Bah!” was Penelope's response. “He's just out of sorts because he knows I'm right.”
A muscle started twitching in Blake's jaw and he didn't even bother to look at James when he said, “You don't have a sister, do you, Riverdale?”
“No.”
“Consider yourself blessed.” Then he turned on his heel and stalked away.
James and Penelope stared at the doorway through which Blake had just exited until Penelope finally blinked a few times, turned to James and said, “I don't think he's very pleased with us just now.”
“No.”
“Were you serious?”
“About marrying Caroline?”
Penelope nodded.
“I would hardly make a statement like that if I weren't prepared to see it through.”
“But you don't want to marry her,” Penelope said, her eyes narrowing.
“Certainly not the way Blake does.”
“Hmmm.” She crossed the room and sat down. “You're quite clever, Riverdale, but your plan may very well backfire. Blake can be very stubborn.”
James sat down across from her. “A fact of which I am well aware.”
“I'm sure you are.” She curved her lips, but it wasn't really a smile. “And are you also aware that I share the same trait?”
“Stubbornness, you mean? My dear Penelope, I would run unclothed across England in the dead of winter just to escape a battle of wills with the likes of you.”
“Nicely put, but if your little declaration fails to produce the desired results, you will marry Caroline.”
“I have no doubt that you will hold a pistol to my back until I do.”
Penelope's voice rose. “This is not a joke, Riverdale.”
“I know. But I meant what I said earlier. I need to marry eventually, and Caroline is a damned sight better than I'm likely to do if I go hunting for a wife in London.”
“Riverdale!”
He shrugged. “It's true. I quite like Caroline, and if I have to marry her because Blake is too cowardly to do it himself—well, then, so be it. Frankly, I can think of worse fates.”
“What a coil.” Penelope sighed.
“Don't worry. Blake will propose,” James said with a confident wave of his hand. “It'd kill him to see me married to her.”
“I hope you're right. Lord knows he needs a little happiness.” And then Penelope sighed and sagged back against the back of her chair. “I just want him to be happy. Is that so very much to ask?”
Outside the doorway, Caroline stood with her hand over her open mouth. She'd thought her humiliation was complete when Penelope had demanded that someone—anyone!—marry her. But this—
She choked back a sob. This went beyond humiliation. Humiliation was something she could live through, something she could endure and eventually put behind her.
But this was different. Something inside her was dying, and Caroline wasn't sure whether it was her heart or her soul.
It didn't matter which, she realized as she ran back up to her room. All that mattered was that she was hurting, and the pain was going to last the rest of her lifetime.
It took two hours, but eventually Caroline was able to compose herself. A bit of cold water reduced the puffiness around her eyes, and several minutes of deep breaths had managed to remove the quaver from her voice. Unfortunately, there wasn't much she could do to take her heart out of her eyes.
She made her way down the stairs and wasn't surprised to find James and Penelope still sitting in the drawing room. Their conversation drifted down the hall, and Caroline was thankful to hear that they had moved on to more ordinary topics.
They were discussing the theatre when she reached the doorway, and she knocked softly against the doorframe. James stood up instantly when he saw her.
“May I come in?” she asked.