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.”