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“I beg your pardon?”
She swallowed. “I'll tell you in a minute. Have you anything to drink?”
He removed a small flask from his pocket. “Just a spot of brandy, but I don't think that's what you—”
But she'd already grabbed it and taken a gulp. James waited patiently while she coughed, sputtered, and gagged, then said, “I was going to say that I didn't think brandy was precisely what you wanted.”
“Nonsense,” she said hoarsely. “Any liquid would have done.”
He took the flask back, screwed the top on, and said, “Suppose you tell me why the three of you look gaunt and starved. And why the hell is Penelope here? She'll ruin the entire operation.”
“Then you got permission from London to go ahead with your plans?”
“I'm not answering a single one of your questions until you answer mine.”
She shrugged. “We should pretend to walk, then. I'm afraid this might take a great deal of time.”
“Pretend to walk?”
“It certainly isn't going to take us an hour to walk me back to Blake's bathroom.”
James's mouth fell open. “What?”
She sighed. “Would you like the long version or the short version?”
“Since it appears I must somehow use up an hour accompanying you to Ravenscroft's bathroom, I'll opt for the long version. It's bound to be more interesting, anyway.”
She hopped out of the carriage, clutching the chunk of cheese she'd found with the bread. “You have no idea.”
Two hours later, Blake was feeling very irritable. Downright mean, as a matter of fact.
James and Caroline had been gone a long time—much longer than it should have taken for them to go to the bathroom.
Blake swore at himself. Even his thoughts were beginning to sound inane.
Still, James only needed to be gone an hour to perpetuate the ruse that he'd walked Caroline home. Not that anyone, Caroline included, had any idea just how far away her “home” was supposed to be, but Blake had never taken longer than an hour to pretend to fetch her for tea.
He had spent so much time pacing back and forth in his washing room that Penelope undoubtedly thought he had some sort of vile stomach ailment.
Finally, as he perched on the edge of the washbasin, he heard laughter and footsteps coming up the side stairs. He hopped down onto the ground, settled his mouth into a grim line, and crossed his arms.
A second later, the door flew open, and Caroline and James practically fell in, both laughing so hard they could hardly stand.
“Where the hell have you been?” Blake demanded.
They looked like they were trying to answer him, but he couldn't understand what they were saying through their laughter.
“And what the devil are you laughing about?”
“Ravenscroft, you've done some truly bizarre things,” James gasped, “but this—” He waved his arm at the washing room. “This is without compare.”
Blake just scowled at him.
“Although,” James said, turning to Caroline, “you've done quite a nice job turning this place into home. The bed is a nice touch.”
Caroline looked down at the neat pile of blankets and pillows she'd arranged on the floor. “Thank you. I do my best with what I have to work with.” She giggled again.
“Where have you been?” Blake repeated.
