He frowned. “Would you like me to bring you a book?”
Her demeanor changed instantly. “Oh, would you please? I don't know where I left that pile I was planning to bring up yesterday.”
“I'll find them.”
“Thank you. When should I…ah…expect your carriage?”
“I suppose I shall have to order the carriage a bit before half three, so why don't you be ready on the hour for me to spirit you to the stables?”
“I can make it to the stables on my own. You'd do better to make certain that Penelope is occupied on the other side of the house.”
He nodded. “You're right. I will tell the groom to expect you on the hour.”
“Is everyone aware of our deception, then?”
“I thought I might be able to limit it to the three house servants, but now it appears as if the stable staff will have to be in on the secret, as well.” He took a step to leave, then turned around and told her, “Remember, be on time.”
She glanced around with a dubious expression. “I don't suppose you've any clocks here.”
He handed her his pocket watch. “Use this. It will need to be wound in a few hours, though.”
“You'll bring those books?”
He nodded. “Never let it be said that I'm not the most gracious of hosts.”
“Even when you relegate the occasional guest to the washing room?”
“Even then.”
At precisely four o'clock that afternoon, Caroline knocked on the front door of Seacrest Manor. Her journey to that spot had been rather bizarre, to say the least. She'd sneaked out of the washing room, down the servants' stairs, dashed across the lawn at precisely three o'clock, hopped up into the carriage, and proceeded to ride about aimlessly until the groom returned to the house at four.
It certainly would have been more direct to have exited through Blake's bedroom and gone down the main stairs, but after spending all day with no company save for a washbasin and a tub, Caroline didn't mind a bit of excitement and scenery.
Perriwick answered the door in record time, winked at her, and said, “It's a delight to see you again, Miss Trent.”
“Miss Dent,” she hissed.
“Right,” he said, saluting her.
“Perriwick! Someone might see.”
He looked furtively about. “Right.”
Caroline groaned. Perriwick had developed a bit too much of a taste for subterfuge.
The butler cleared his throat and said very loudly, “Allow me to show you to the drawing room, Miss Dent.”
“Thank you…er…what did you say your name was?”
He grinned at her approvingly. “It's Perristick, Miss Dent.”
This time Caroline couldn't help herself. She smacked him in the shoulder. “This isn't a game,” she whispered.
“Of course not.” He opened the door to the drawing room, the same one where he'd plied her with feasts while her ankle was mending. “I'll tell Lady Fairwich that you're here.”
She shook her head at his enthusiasm and walked over to the window. It looked as if it might rain later that evening, which was just as well to Caroline, seeing as how she'd most likely be stuck in Blake's washing room all night.
“Miss Dent—Caroline! How lovely to see you again.”