She touched his forehead. “You don't have the fever.”

“I'm sure it's nothing a good night's sleep won't cure.”

“I suppose.” Penelope pursed her lips. “But if you're not feeling better by tomorrow I'm summoning a doctor.”

“Fine.”

“Perhaps you ought to lie down right now.”

“Yes,” he said, practically pushing her out of the bathroom. “That is an excellent idea.”

“Right, then. Here, I'll turn down your sheets.”

Blake let out a huge sigh as he shut the bathroom door behind him. He certainly wasn't happy about the latest turn of events; the last thing he wanted was his older sister fussing over him. But it was certainly preferable to her discovering Caroline amid the chamber pot shards and soap slivers.

“Mr. Ravenscroft?”

He looked up. Perriwick was standing in the doorway, balancing a silver tray laden with a veritable feast. Blake started shaking his head frantically, but it was too late. Penelope had already turned around.

“Oh, Perriwick,” she said, “what is that?”

“Food,” he blurted out, clearly confused by her presence. He glanced around.

Blake frowned. The damned butler was obviously looking for Caroline. Perriwick may have been discreet, but he was damned clumsy when it came to out-and-out subterfuge.

Penelope looked to her brother with questioning eyes. “Are you hungry?”

“Er…yes, I thought to have a bit of an afternoon snack.”

She lifted the lid off of one of the platters, revealing an enormous roast ham. “This is quite a snack.”

Perriwick's lips stretched into a sickly sweet smile. “We thought to give you something substantial now, since you requested such light fare for supper.”

“How thoughtful,” Blake growled. He'd bet his front teeth that that ham had originally been intended for supper. Perriwick and Mrs. Mickle were probably planning on sending up all the good food to Caroline and feeding gruel to the “real” occupants of Seacrest Manor. They certainly had made no secret of their disapproval when Blake had informed them of Caroline's new domicile.

Perriwick turned to Penelope as he set the tray down on a table. “If I might be so bold, my lady—”

“Perriwick!” Blake roared. “If I hear the phrase ‘if I might be so bold’ one more time, as God is my witness, I'm going to toss you into the channel!”

“Oh dear,” Penelope said. “Perhaps he does have the fever, after all. Perriwick, what do you think?”

The butler reached for Blake's forehead, only to have his hand nearly bitten off. “Touch me and die,” Blake snarled.

“A bit cranky this afternoon, eh?” Perriwick said, grinning.

“I was perfectly fine until you came along.”

Penelope said to the butler, “He's been acting rather strangely all afternoon.”

Perriwick nodded regally. “Perhaps we ought to leave him be. A bit of rest might be just the thing.”

“Very well.” Penelope followed the butler to the door. “We shall leave you alone. But if I find out you haven't taken a nap, I'm going to be very angry with you.”

“Yes, yes,” Blake said hurriedly, trying to usher them out of the room. “I promise I'll rest. Just don't disturb me. I'm a very light sleeper.”