She took a deep breath. She could be patient. Why, she even had a cousin named Patience. Surely that should count for something. Of course, Patience lived rather far away with her puritanical father in Massachusetts, but—

She nearly smacked herself on the side of the head. What was she doing thinking about Patience Merriwether?

“Caroline? Are you all right?”

She looked up and blinked. “Fine. Lovely. Never better. I was just…I was simply…”

“Simply what?” he asked.

“Thinking.” She chewed on her lower lip. “I do that sometimes.”

“A commendable pastime,” he said, slowly nodding his head.

“I tend to wander off the subject on occasion.”

“I noticed.”

“You did? Oh. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. It's rather endearing.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I rarely lie.”

Her lips twisted into a vague grimace. “‘Rarely’ isn't terribly reassuring.”

“In my line of work one cannot last very long without the occasional fib.”

“Hmmph. I suppose if the good of the country is at stake…”

“Oh, yes,” he said with sincerity so absolute she couldn't possibly believe him.

She really couldn't think of anything else to say besides, “Men!” And she didn't say that with much grace or good humor.

Blake chuckled and took her arm to turn her face to the building. “Now then, you wanted to tell me something about the windows?”

“Oh yes, of course. I might be a bit off, but I would estimate that the bottom sill of the window in the south drawing room at Prewitt Hall is about as high as the third mullion on the study window.”

“From the bottom or from the top?”

“The top.”

“Hmmm.” Blake examined the window with an expert eye. “That would make them about ten feet high. Not an impossible task, but still, a bit annoying.”

“That seems an odd way to describe your job.”

He turned to her with a somewhat weary expression. “Caroline, most of what I do is annoying.”

“Really? I should have thought it rather dashing.”

“It's not,” he said harshly. “Trust me on this. And it isn't a job.”

“It isn't?”

“No,” he said, his voice a touch too forceful. “It's just something I do. It's something I won't be doing for very much longer.”

“Oh.”

After a moment of silence, Blake cleared his throat and asked, “How is that ankle?”

“It's fine.”

“Are you certain?”

“Truly. I just shouldn't have stood on my tiptoes. It will most likely be completely healed by tomorrow.”

Blake crouched down beside her and, to her great shock and surprise, took her ankle into his hands, gently palpating it before standing back up. “Tomorrow might be a bit optimistic. But the swelling has gone down considerably.”

“Yes.” She shut her mouth, suddenly at a complete loss for words. It was a most unusual state of affairs. What was one supposed to say in such a situation? Thank you for the lovely kiss. Would it be possible to have another?

Somehow, Caroline didn't think that sounded particularly appropriate, even if it would be most heartfelt. Patience patience patience, she told herself.