To Catch an Heiress
Page 67
“I think that perhaps my breakfast was on that tray, as well,” he said.
“Oh. Yes, that would make sense. I thought there was rather a lot of food there, but I was so hungry after last night's meal, I truly didn't stop to think.”
“No harm done,” Blake said. Then his stomach proved him a liar by grumbling quite loudly. He winced. “I'll just see to that tea. And…ah…the extra biscuits.”
Caroline coughed.
Blake halted in his tracks and turned around. “Miss Dent, are you also hungry?”
She smiled prettily. “Famished. We had a bit of a mishap in our kitchen at home and I have had nothing at all today.”
“Oh dear!” Penelope cried out, clasping her hands over Caroline's. “How awful for you. Blake, why don't you see if your cook can prepare something a bit more substantial than biscuits? If you think she's up to it, that is.”
Caroline thought she ought to say something polite like, “You shouldn't go to the trouble,” but she was terrified that Penelope might actually take her seriously.
“Oh, and Blake!” Penelope called out.
He halted in the doorway and turned around slowly, clearly irritated that he'd been detained yet again.
“No soup.”
He didn't even dignify that with an answer.
“My brother can be a bit grumpy,” Penelope said, once he'd disappeared from view.
“Brothers can,” Caroline agreed.
“Oh, then you have a brother?”
“No,” she said wistfully, “but I know people who do.”
“Blake really isn't a bad sort,” Penelope continued, motioning for Caroline to sit down as she herself did so, “and even I must admit he's quite devilishly handsome.”
Caroline's lips parted in surprise. Was Penelope trying to play matchmaker? Oh, dear. How impossibly ironic.
“Don't you think?”
Caroline blinked and sat. “I beg your pardon?”
“Don't you think that Blake is handsome?”
“Well, yes, of course. Anyone would.”
Penelope frowned, clearly not satisfied with that answer.
Caroline was saved from having to say anything more by a small commotion in the hall. She and Penelope looked up to see Mrs. Mickle in the doorway, joined by a scowling Blake.
“Are you satisfied now?” he grumbled.
Mrs. Mickle looked straight at Caroline before saying, “I just wanted to be sure.”
Penelope turned to Caroline and whispered, “My brother has the oddest servants.”
The housekeeper scurried away, and Blake said, “She wanted to be certain that we have guests.”
Penelope shrugged and said, “Do you see what I mean?”
Blake came back into the drawing room and sat down, saying, “Don't let my appearance put a halt to your conversation.”
“Nonsense,” Penelope said, “it's only that…hmmm.”
“Why don't I like the sound of this?” Blake muttered.
Penelope jumped to her feet. “I have something I simply must show to Caroline. Blake, will you keep her company while I fetch it from my room?”
In a flash, she was gone, and Blake asked, “What was that about?”
“I'm afraid your sister might have taken it into her head to play matchmaker.”
“With you?”
“I'm not that bad,” she snapped. “Some might even consider me a matrimonial prize.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said quickly. “I didn't mean to offend. It's just that this must mean she's getting quite desperate.”
She gaped at him. “Could you possibly be unaware of how rude that sounded?”
He had the grace to color slightly. “Once again, I must apologize. It is only that Penelope has been trying to find me a wife for years, but she usually limits her search to ladies whose families she can trace back to the Norman invasion. Not,” he said hastily, “that there is anything wrong with your family. Just that Penelope cannot know your background.”
“I'm sure if she did, she would find it unsuitable,” Caroline said peevishly. “I may be an heiress, but my father was in trade.”
“Yes, so you keep saying. None of this should have ever come to pass if Prewitt hadn't so determined to catch an heiress for his son.”
“I don't think I enjoy the comparison to a fish.”
Blake looked at her sympathetically. “You must know that that is how people view heiresses—as prey to be caught.” When she didn't reply, he added, “It really doesn't signify, however. I will never marry.”
“I know.”
“Still, you should feel flattered. It means Penny must like you very much.”
Caroline just gave him a stony stare. “Blake,” she finally said, “I believe you are choking on your foot.”
There was an awkward silence, and then Blake attempted to patch things up by saying, “Mrs. Mickle refused to prepare any food unless she knew you were here.”
“Yes, I surmised as much. She's very sweet.”
“That is not quite the adjective I would use to describe her, but I can see where you might think so.”
There was yet another uncomfortable silence, and this time Caroline broke it. “I understand your brother had a daughter recently.”
“Yes, his fourth.”
“You must be delighted.”
He looked at her sharply. “Why would you say that?”
“I should think it would be lovely to have a niece. Of course, as an only child I shall never be an aunt.” Her gaze grew wistful. “I adore little babies.”
“Oh. Yes, that would make sense. I thought there was rather a lot of food there, but I was so hungry after last night's meal, I truly didn't stop to think.”
“No harm done,” Blake said. Then his stomach proved him a liar by grumbling quite loudly. He winced. “I'll just see to that tea. And…ah…the extra biscuits.”
Caroline coughed.
Blake halted in his tracks and turned around. “Miss Dent, are you also hungry?”
She smiled prettily. “Famished. We had a bit of a mishap in our kitchen at home and I have had nothing at all today.”
“Oh dear!” Penelope cried out, clasping her hands over Caroline's. “How awful for you. Blake, why don't you see if your cook can prepare something a bit more substantial than biscuits? If you think she's up to it, that is.”
Caroline thought she ought to say something polite like, “You shouldn't go to the trouble,” but she was terrified that Penelope might actually take her seriously.
“Oh, and Blake!” Penelope called out.
He halted in the doorway and turned around slowly, clearly irritated that he'd been detained yet again.
“No soup.”
He didn't even dignify that with an answer.
“My brother can be a bit grumpy,” Penelope said, once he'd disappeared from view.
“Brothers can,” Caroline agreed.
“Oh, then you have a brother?”
“No,” she said wistfully, “but I know people who do.”
“Blake really isn't a bad sort,” Penelope continued, motioning for Caroline to sit down as she herself did so, “and even I must admit he's quite devilishly handsome.”
Caroline's lips parted in surprise. Was Penelope trying to play matchmaker? Oh, dear. How impossibly ironic.
“Don't you think?”
Caroline blinked and sat. “I beg your pardon?”
“Don't you think that Blake is handsome?”
“Well, yes, of course. Anyone would.”
Penelope frowned, clearly not satisfied with that answer.
Caroline was saved from having to say anything more by a small commotion in the hall. She and Penelope looked up to see Mrs. Mickle in the doorway, joined by a scowling Blake.
“Are you satisfied now?” he grumbled.
Mrs. Mickle looked straight at Caroline before saying, “I just wanted to be sure.”
Penelope turned to Caroline and whispered, “My brother has the oddest servants.”
The housekeeper scurried away, and Blake said, “She wanted to be certain that we have guests.”
Penelope shrugged and said, “Do you see what I mean?”
Blake came back into the drawing room and sat down, saying, “Don't let my appearance put a halt to your conversation.”
“Nonsense,” Penelope said, “it's only that…hmmm.”
“Why don't I like the sound of this?” Blake muttered.
Penelope jumped to her feet. “I have something I simply must show to Caroline. Blake, will you keep her company while I fetch it from my room?”
In a flash, she was gone, and Blake asked, “What was that about?”
“I'm afraid your sister might have taken it into her head to play matchmaker.”
“With you?”
“I'm not that bad,” she snapped. “Some might even consider me a matrimonial prize.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said quickly. “I didn't mean to offend. It's just that this must mean she's getting quite desperate.”
She gaped at him. “Could you possibly be unaware of how rude that sounded?”
He had the grace to color slightly. “Once again, I must apologize. It is only that Penelope has been trying to find me a wife for years, but she usually limits her search to ladies whose families she can trace back to the Norman invasion. Not,” he said hastily, “that there is anything wrong with your family. Just that Penelope cannot know your background.”
“I'm sure if she did, she would find it unsuitable,” Caroline said peevishly. “I may be an heiress, but my father was in trade.”
“Yes, so you keep saying. None of this should have ever come to pass if Prewitt hadn't so determined to catch an heiress for his son.”
“I don't think I enjoy the comparison to a fish.”
Blake looked at her sympathetically. “You must know that that is how people view heiresses—as prey to be caught.” When she didn't reply, he added, “It really doesn't signify, however. I will never marry.”
“I know.”
“Still, you should feel flattered. It means Penny must like you very much.”
Caroline just gave him a stony stare. “Blake,” she finally said, “I believe you are choking on your foot.”
There was an awkward silence, and then Blake attempted to patch things up by saying, “Mrs. Mickle refused to prepare any food unless she knew you were here.”
“Yes, I surmised as much. She's very sweet.”
“That is not quite the adjective I would use to describe her, but I can see where you might think so.”
There was yet another uncomfortable silence, and this time Caroline broke it. “I understand your brother had a daughter recently.”
“Yes, his fourth.”
“You must be delighted.”
He looked at her sharply. “Why would you say that?”
“I should think it would be lovely to have a niece. Of course, as an only child I shall never be an aunt.” Her gaze grew wistful. “I adore little babies.”
