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“What? Oh, good day.” She crawled out. “Do your servants dust down here? I've been sneezing up quite a storm.”
“You didn't answer my question.”
“I was merely going through some of these piles. I'm trying to collect all of your history books.”
“I thought you weren't going to proceed in here until your ankle was better,” Blake said, rather accusingly in her opinion.
“I'm not putting the books back on the shelf yet,” she replied. “I'm just grouping them by subject. I'm not using my ankle at all, which, by the way, is nearly healed. I haven't used my cane even once today, and it hasn't hurt me at all.” She turned to James and beamed. “Oh, and it's lovely to see you again, my lord.”
The marquis smiled and bowed in her direction. “Always a pleasure, my dear Caroline.”
Blake scowled. “We are here for a purpose, Miss Trent.”
“It never occurred to me that you weren't.” She shifted her gaze back to James. “Have you noticed he likes to call me Miss Trent when he is irritated with me?”
“Caroline,” Blake said, his voice clearly laced with warning.
“Of course,” she added blithely, “when he is really angry he reverts to Caroline. He probably finds it too difficult to growl my full name.”
James had his hand over his mouth, presumably to staunch his laughter.
“Caroline,” Blake said in a louder voice, clearly ignoring her jests, “we need your assistance.”
“You do?”
“It has come time for us to gather solid evidence against Prewitt.”
“Good,” Caroline replied. “I should like to see him pay for his crimes.”
James chuckled and said, “Bloodthirsty wench.”
She turned on him with a hurt expression. “That is a terrible thing to say. I'm not in the least bit bloodthirsty. It's merely that if Oliver has been doing all the terrible things you say he has been doing—”
“Caroline, I was just teasing,” James said.
“Oh, well then I'm sorry for overreacting. I should have known you wouldn't be so mean—”
“If the two of you can move past your mutual admiration,” Blake said acidly, “we have important business to discuss.”
Caroline and James turned to him with equally irritated expressions.
“Riverdale and I are going to break into Prewitt Hall,” Blake told her. “We will need you to give us every detail about the schedules of the family and of the servants so that we may avoid detection.”
“You won't need every detail,” she said with a matter-of-fact shrug. “You should simply go tonight.”
Both gentlemen leaned forward and stared at her with questioning eyes.
“Oliver plays cards every Wednesday evening. He never misses a game. He always wins. I think he cheats.”
James and Blake shared a look, and Caroline could practically see their brains springing into action, planning their mission. “If you recall,” she continued, “it was a Wednesday night when I ran away. One week ago exactly. Oliver obviously chose his card night for Percy's attempted rape. No doubt he didn't want his ears bothered by my screams.”
“Will Percy be at home?” James asked.
Caroline shook her head. “He almost always goes out and gets drunk. Oliver can't abide over-indulgence of spirits. He says it makes a man weak. So Percy tipples on Wednesday nights when he can escape his father's watchful eye.”
“What about the servants? How many are there?” This time, Blake asked the questions.
Caroline considered this for a moment. “Five, in total. Most are likely to be in residence. Last week Oliver gave everyone the night off, but I am certain he only did that so that none would rush to my assistance when Percy attacked me. He's terribly tightfisted when it comes to anyone other than himself, so I doubt he'd give them time off again without a very good reason.”
