To Catch An Heiress (14 page)

She looked up suspiciously. “You told me you
rarely
lie.”

“I lie when the security of Great Britain is at stake, not your feelings.”

“I'm not certain if that is an insult or not.”

“It is definitely
not
an insult, Caroline. And why would you think I was lying?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You were less than cordial to me last evening.”

“Last evening I bloody well wanted to strangle you,” he admitted. “You put your life in danger for no good reason.”

“I thought saving your life was a rather good reason myself,” she shot back.

“I don't want to argue about that right now. Do you accept my apology?”

“For what?”

He raised a brow. “Is that meant to imply that I have more than one transgression for which I must apologize?”

“Mr. Ravenscroft, I cannot count high enough…”

He grinned. “Now I know you've forgiven me, if you're making jokes.”

This time she raised a brow, and he noted that she managed to look every bit as arrogant as he did. She said, “And what makes you think that was a joke?” But then she laughed, which quite broke the effect.

“I am forgiven?”

She nodded. “Percy never apologized.”

“Percy is clearly an idiot.”

She smiled then—a small, wistful smile that very nearly melted his heart. “Caroline,” he said, barely recognizing his voice.

“Yes?”

“Oh, hell.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers in the most feathery light of kisses. It wasn't that he wanted to kiss her. He
needed
to kiss her. He needed it the way he needed air, and water, and the afternoon sunshine on his face. The kiss was almost spiritual; his entire body trembled just from the barest touch of their lips.

“Oh, Blake,” she sighed, sounding as bewildered as he felt.

“Caroline,” he murmured, trailing his lips along the elegant line of her neck. “I don't know why…I don't understand it, but—”

“I don't care,” she said, sounding quite determined for one whose breathing had gone way past erratic. She threw her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with artless abandon.

The warm press of her body against his was more than Blake could bear, and he swept her into his arms and carried her through the upstairs hall to his room. He kicked the door shut, and they tumbled onto the bed, his body covering hers with a possessiveness he'd never dreamed he could feel again.

“I want you,” he murmured. “I want you now, in every way.” Her soft heat beckoned him, and his fingers flew along the buttons of her frock, slipping them through their buttonholes with ease and haste.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered.

But she just shook her head. “I don't know. I don't know what I want.”

“Yes,” he said, pushing her dress down to bare one silky shoulder, “you do.”

Instantly, her eyes flew to his face. “You know I've never—”

He put a gentle finger to her lips. “I know. But it doesn't matter. You still know what feels right.”

“Blake, I—”

“Hush.” He closed her lips with a searing kiss, then opened them again with a hot flick of his tongue. “For example,” he said against her mouth, “do you want more of this?”

She didn't move for a moment, and then he felt her lips move up and down as she nodded.

“Then you shall have it.” He kissed her fiercely, savoring the subtle minty taste of her.

She moaned beneath him, and tentatively placed her hand on his cheek. “Do you like that?” she asked shyly.

He growled as he tore off his cravat. “You may touch me anywhere. You may kiss me anywhere. I burn just for the sight of you. Can you imagine what your touch does?”

With sweet hesitation she slid down and kissed his smooth-shaven jaw. Then she moved to his ear, then his neck, and Blake thought he would surely die in her arms if his passion remained unfulfilled. He pushed her dress even lower, revealing one small but, in his opinion, perfectly shaped breast.

He bent his head to her and took the nipple in his mouth, the rosy bud tightening between his lips. She was moaning beneath him, calling out his name, and he knew she wanted him.

And the knowledge thrilled him.

“Oh Blake oh Blake oh Blake,” she groaned. “Can you
do
that?”

“I assure you I can,” he said with a low chuckle.

She gasped as he sucked a touch harder. “No, but is it allowed?”

His chuckle turned into a throaty laugh. “Anything is allowed, my sweet.”

“Yes, but I—ooooooohhhhhh.”

Blake grinned with a very masculine smugness as her words lost their coherence. “And now,” he said with a wicked leer, “I can do it to the other one.”

His hands went to work pushing her dress off her other shoulder, but just before he revealed his prize, he heard the most awful sound.

Perriwick.

“Sir? Sir? Sir!!!” This, accompanied by the most annoyingly persistent knocking.

“Blake!” Caroline gasped.

“Shhh.” He clamped his hand over her mouth. “He'll go away.”

“Mr. Ravenscroft! It's most urgent!”

“I don't think he's going to go away,” she whispered, her words getting muffled under his palm.

“Perriwick!” Blake bellowed. “I'm busy. Go away.
Now!
”

“Yes, I thought as much,” the butler said through the door. “It's what I most feared.”

“He knows I'm here,” Caroline hissed. Then, quite suddenly, she turned red as a raspberry. “Oh, dear Lord, he knows I'm here. What have I done?”

Blake cursed under his breath. Caroline had clearly just regained her senses and remembered that no lady of her consequence did the sort of things she'd been doing. And, damn it, that made him remember as well, and he was quite unable to take advantage of her while his conscience was in full working order.

“I can't let Perriwick see me,” she said frantically.

“He's just the butler,” Blake replied, knowing that wasn't the point but a little too frustrated to care.

“He's my friend. And his opinion of me matters.”

“To whom?”

“To me, you nodcock.” She was trying to right her appearance with such haste that her fingers kept slipping over the buttons of her dress.

“Here,” Blake said, giving her a shove. “Into the washing room.”

Caroline dashed into the smaller chamber with alacrity, grabbing her slippers at the very last minute. As soon as the door clicked behind her, she heard Blake yank open the door to his room and say, rather nastily, “What do you want, Perriwick?”

“If I may be so bold, sir—”

“Perriwick.” Blake's voice was laced with heavy warning. Caroline feared for the butler's safety if he didn't get to the point with all possible haste. At this rate, Blake was likely to boot him right out the window.

“Right, sir. It's Miss Trent. I can't find her anywhere.”

“I wasn't aware that Miss Trent was required to apprise you of her whereabouts at every given moment.”

“No, of course not, Mr. Ravenscroft, but I found this at the top of the stairs, and—”

Caroline instinctively leaned closer to the door, wondering what “this” was.

“I'm sure she just dropped it,” Blake said. “Ribbons fall from ladies' hair all the time.”

Her hand flew up to her head. When had she lost her ribbon? Had Blake run his hands through her hair when he was kissing her in the hall?

“I realize that,” Perriwick replied, “but I am worried nonetheless. If I knew where she was, I am certain I could allay my fears.”

“As it happens,” came Blake's voice, “I know exactly where Miss Trent is.”

Caroline gasped. Surely he wouldn't give her away.

Blake said, “She decided to take advantage of the fine weather and has gone for a stroll in the countryside.”

“But I thought you said her presence here at Sea-crest Manor was a secret.”

“It is, but there is no reason she can't go outside as long as she doesn't wander too far from the grounds. There are very few conveyances traveling this road. No one is likely to see her.”

“I see. I shall keep an eye out for her, then. Perhaps she would like something to eat when she returns.”

“I'm sure she would like that above all else.”

Caroline touched her stomach. She was a little hungry. And to be completely truthful, the thought of a walk along the beach sounded quite nice. Just the sort of thing to clear her head, which the Lord certainly knew needed clearing.

She took a step away from the door, and Blake's and Perriwick's voices faded. Then she noticed another door on the opposite side of the washing room. She tested the doorknob gingerly, and was pleasantly surprised to note that it let her out in the side stairwell—the one usually used by servants. She looked over her shoulder, toward Blake, even though she couldn't see him.

He'd said she could go for a walk, even if it had been part of an elaborate fabrication designed to fool poor Perriwick. Caroline couldn't see any reason not to go ahead and do just that.

Within a few seconds she had dashed down the stairs and was outside. A minute later she was out of sight of the house and striding along the edge of the cliff that overlooked the blue-gray English Channel. The sea air was invigorating, but not nearly as much as the knowledge that Blake was going to be completely confused when he peered into the washing room and found her missing.

Bother the man, anyway. He could use some confusion in his life.

A
n hour later Caroline was feeling quite refreshed—at least in the physical sense. The crisp salty air held remarkable restorative properties for the lungs. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite as effective with the heart and the head.

Did she love Blake Ravenscroft? She certainly hoped so. She'd like to think that she wouldn't have behaved in such a wanton manner with a man for whom she didn't feel a deep and abiding affection.

She smiled wryly. What she
ought
to be considering was whether Blake cared for
her
. She thought he did, at least a little bit. His concern for her welfare the night before had been obvious, and when he kissed her…well, she didn't know very much about kissing, but she could sense a hunger in him, and she instinctively knew that that hunger was reserved solely for her.

And she could make him laugh. That had to count for something.

Then, just as she was beginning to rationalize her entire situation, she heard a tremendous crash, followed by the sound of splintering wood, followed by some decidedly feminine shrieking.

Caroline's eyebrows shot up. What had happened? She wanted to investigate, but she wasn't supposed to make her presence here in Bournemouth known. It wasn't likely that one of Oliver's friends would be traveling this little-used road, but if she were recognized it would be nothing short of disaster. Still, someone might be in trouble…

Curiosity won out over prudence, and she trotted toward the sound of the crash, slowing her pace as she drew close just in case she changed her mind and wanted to remain hidden.

Concealing herself behind a tree, she peered out at the road. A splendid carriage lay drunkenly in the dirt, one wheel completely splintered. Three men and two ladies were milling about. No one seemed injured, so Caroline decided to remain behind the tree until she could assess the situation.

The scenario quickly became a fascinating puzzle. Who were these people and what had happened? Caroline quickly figured out who was in charge—it was the better dressed of the two ladies. She was quite lovely, with black curls that spilled out from under her bonnet, and was giving orders in a manner that revealed that she had been dealing with servants her entire life. Caroline judged her age to be about thirty, perhaps a bit older.

The other lady was probably her maid, and the gentlemen—Caroline guessed that one was the driver and two were outriders. All three men were dressed in matching dark blue livery. Whoever these people were, they came from an extremely wealthy household.

After a minute of discussion, the lady in charge sent the driver and one of the outriders off to the north, presumably to fetch some help. Then she looked at the trunks which had fallen off the carriage and said, “We might as well use them as seats,” and the three remaining travelers plopped down to wait.

After about a minute of sitting around and doing nothing, the lady turned to her maid and said, “I don't suppose my embroidery is packed anywhere accessible?”

The maid shook her head. “It's in the middle of the largest trunk, my lady.”

“Ah, that would be the one that is miraculously still fastened to the top of the carriage.”

“Yes, my lady.”

The lady let out a long breath. “I suppose we ought to be thankful that it isn't overly hot.”

“Or raining,” the outrider put in.

“Or snowing,” said the maid.

The lady speared her with an annoyed glance. “Really, Sally, that's hardly likely at this time of year.”

The maid shrugged. “Stranger things have happened. After all, who would have thought we'd have lost a wheel the way we did. And this being the most expensive carriage money can buy.”

Caroline smiled and edged away. Clearly these people were unhurt, and the rest of their traveling party would be back soon with help. Better to keep her presence a secret. The fewer people who knew she was here in Bournemouth the better. After all, what if this lady was a friend of Oliver's? It wasn't likely, of course. The lady seemed to have a sense of humor and a modicum of taste, which would immediately eliminate Oliver Prewitt from her circle of friends. Still, one couldn't be too careful.

Ironically, that was exactly what Caroline was saying to herself—
still, one couldn't be too careful
—when she took a false step, landed on a rather dried-up twig, and broke it in half with an extremely loud snap.

“Who's there?” the lady immediately demanded. Caroline froze.

“Show yourself immediately.”

Could she outrun the outrider? Unlikely. The man was already walking purposefully in her direction, his hand on a bulge in his pocket that Caroline had a sneaking suspicion was a gun.

“It's only me,” she said quickly, stepping out into the clearing.

The lady cocked her head, her gray eyes narrowing slightly. “Good day, ‘me.’ Who are you?”

“Who are you?” Caroline countered.

“I asked you first.”

“Ah, but I am alone, and you are safely among your traveling companions. Therefore, common courtesy would deem that you reveal yourself first.”

The woman drew her head back in a combination of admiration and surprise. “My dear girl, you are speaking the utmost nonsense. I know all there is to know about common courtesy.”

“Hmmm. I was afraid you would.”

“Not to mention,” the lady continued, “that of the two of us, I am the only one accompanied by an armed servant. So perhaps you ought to be the first to reveal her identity.”

“You do have a point,” Caroline conceded, eyeing the gun with a wary grimace.

“I rarely speak just for the sake of hearing my own voice.”

Caroline sighed. “I wish I could say the same. I often speak without first considering my words. It's a dreadful habit.” She bit her lip, realizing that she was telling a total stranger about her faults. “Like right now,” she added sheepishly.

But the lady just laughed. It was a happy, friendly sort of laugh, and it put Caroline right at ease. Enough so that she said, “My name is Miss…Dent.”

“Dent? I'm not familiar with that name.”

Caroline shrugged. “It's not terribly common.”

“I see. I am the Countess of Fairwich.”

A countess? Good gracious, there seemed to be quite a few aristocrats in this little corner of England of late. First James, now this countess. And Blake, although not titled, was the second son of the Viscount Darnsby. Caroline glanced up toward heaven and mentally thanked her mother for making sure that she taught her daughter the rules of etiquette before she died. With a smile and a curtsy, Caroline said, “I'm quite pleased to meet you, Lady Fairwich.”

“And I you, Miss Dent. Do you reside in the area?”

Oh dear, how to answer that one? “Not too terribly far away,” she hedged. “I often take long walks when the weather is fine. Are you also from this area?”

Caroline immediately bit her lip. What a stupid question. If the countess was indeed from the Bournemouth area, it would stand to reason that everyone would know about it. And Caroline would immediately be revealed as an impostor.

Luck, however, was on her side, and the countess said, “Fairwich is in Somerset. But I am coming from London today.”

“Are you? I have never been to our capital. I should like to go someday.”

The countess shrugged. “It grows a bit hot in the summer with all the crowds. There is nothing like the fresh sea air to make one feel whole again.”

Caroline smiled at her. “Indeed. Alas, if it could only mend a broken heart…”

Oh, stupid stupid mouth. Why had she said that? She had meant it as a joke, but now the countess was grinning and looking at her in that maternal sort of way that meant she was going to ask an extremely personal question.

“Oh, dear. Is your heart broken, then?”

“Let's just say it's a bit bruised,” she said, thinking that she was getting far too good at the art of lying. “It's just a boy I've known all my life. Our fathers were hoping for a match, but…” She shrugged, letting the countess draw her own conclusions.

“Pity. You are a darling girl. I should introduce you to my brother. He lives quite nearby.”

“Your brother?” Caroline croaked, suddenly taking in the countess's coloring. Black hair. Gray eyes.

Oh,
no
.

“Yes. He is Mr. Blake Ravenscroft of Seacrest Manor. Do you know him?”

Caroline practically choked on her tongue, then managed to say, “We have been introduced.”

“I am on my way to visit him right now. Are we very far from his home? I have never been.”

“No. No, it's—it's just over the hill there.” She pointed in the general direction of Seacrest Manor, then quickly brought her hand down when she realized it was shaking. What was she going to do? She couldn't remain at Seacrest Manor with Blake's sister in residence. Oh, damn and blast that man to hell and back! Why hadn't he told her his sister would be paying a visit?

Unless he didn't know. Oh, no. Blake was going to be furious. Caroline swallowed nervously and said, “I didn't realize Mr. Ravenscroft had a sister.”

The countess waved her hand in a manner that reminded Caroline instantly of Blake. “He's a wretch, always ignoring us. Our older brother just had a daughter. I've come to tell him the news.”

“Oh. I'm—I'm—I'm certain he'll be delighted.”

“Then you're the only one. I am quite certain he'll be beyond annoyed.”

Caroline blinked furiously, not understanding this woman one bit. “I—I—I beg your pardon?”

“David and Sarah had a daughter. Their fourth daughter, which means that Blake is still second in line for the viscountcy.”

“I…see.” Actually, she didn't, but she was so happy she hadn't stuttered she didn't much care.

The countess sighed. “If Blake is to be Viscount Darnsby, which is not entirely unlikely, then he'll have to marry and produce an heir. If you live in this area, then I'm sure you are aware he is a confirmed bachelor.”

“Actually, I don't really know him very well at all.” Caroline wondered if she sounded just a bit too determined to make that point, so she added, “Just at—at local functions and all that. You know, county dances and the like.”

“Really?” the countess asked with undisguised interest. “My brother has attended a provincial county dance? The mind boggles. I suppose that next you're going to try to tell me that the moon recently crashed into the channel.”

“Well,” Caroline added, swallowing rather painfully, “he only attended once. It's a…small community here near Bournemouth, and so naturally I know who he is. Everyone knows who he is.”

The countess was silent for a moment, and then she abruptly said, “You say my brother's house isn't very far?”

“Why no, my lady. It shouldn't take more than a quarter of an hour to walk there.” Caroline eyed the trunks. “You'll have to leave your things behind, of course.”

The countess waved her hand in the air in what Caroline was now terming the Ravenscroft wave. “I shall simply have my brother send his men to fetch them later.”

“Oh, but he—” Caroline started coughing wildly, trying to cover up the fact that she'd been about to blurt out that Blake employed only three servants, and of them, only the valet was strong enough to do any heavy lifting.

The countess whacked her on the back. “Are you quite all right, Miss Dent?”

“Just—just swallowed a bit of dust, that's all.”

“You sounded quite like a thunderstorm.”

“Yes, well, I am occasionally given to fits of coughing.”

“Really?”

“Once I was even rendered mute.”

“Mute? I can't imagine.”

“Neither could I,” Caroline said quite honestly, “until it happened.”

“Well, I'm certain your throat must be terribly sore. You must accompany us to my brother's home. A spot of tea will be just the thing to restore you.”

Caroline coughed again—this time for real. “No no no no no no no,” she said, rather more quickly than she'd have liked. “That is really not necessary. I would hate to impose.”

“Oh, but you wouldn't be imposing. After all, I need you to direct us to Seacrest Manor. Offering you tea and a bit of sustenance is the very least I can do to repay your kindness.”

“It's really not necessary,” Caroline made haste to say. “And the directions to Seacrest Manor are quite simple. All you have to do is follow the—”

“I have a terrible sense of direction,” the countess interrupted. “Last week I got lost in my own home.”

“I find that difficult to believe, Lady Fairwich.”

The countess shrugged. “It's a large building. I've been married to the earl for ten years now and I still haven't set foot in the east wing.”

Caroline just swallowed and smiled weakly, having no idea how to respond to that.

“I insist that you accompany us,” the countess said, linking her arm through Caroline's. “And I might as well warn you that there is no use arguing. I always get my way.”

“That, Lady Fairwich, I don't find difficult to believe at all.”

The countess trilled with laughter. “Miss Dent, I think you and I are going to get along famously.”

Caroline gulped. “Then you plan to stay here in Bournemouth for some time?”

“Oh, just a week or so. It seemed foolish to travel all the way down here and then turn right back again.”

“All the way? Isn't it just a hundred miles?” Caroline frowned. Wasn't that what Blake had said that morning?

“A hundred miles, two hundred miles, five hundred miles…” The countess did the Ravenscroft wave. “If I have to pack, what difference does it make?”

“I—I—I'm sure I don't know,” Caroline replied, feeling as if she'd just been leveled by a whirlwind.

“Sally!” the countess called out, turning to her maid. “Miss Dent is going to show me to my brother's house. Why don't you remain here with Felix and guard our bags? We shall send someone for you with all possible haste.”