“As you?” he said helpfully.

Her lips clamped into a firm and slightly twisted line as she glared daggers at him.

“Spit it out, Caroline. I'm not letting you pass until you do.”

“Fine! Do you want to know why I was upset? Fine. I'll tell you.” She swallowed, summoning courage she didn't feel. “Did you happen to notice that you compared me to the plague?”

“Oh, for the love of—” He bit his lip, presumably to keep himself from cursing in her presence.

Not, Caroline thought caustically, that that had ever stopped him before.

“You must know,” he said, “that I did not mean that literally.”

“It still hurt my feelings.”

He stared at her intently. “I will allow that that wasn't the nicest comment I have ever made, and I do apologize for it, but I know you well enough to know that that alone wouldn't make you cry.”

“I wasn't crying,” she said, quite automatically.

“Almost cry,” he corrected, “and I would like you to tell me the full story.”

“Oh very well. Percy used to call me pestilence and plague all the time. It was his very favorite insult.”

“You mentioned that. And I will take that as yet another sign that I spoke stupidly.”

She swallowed and looked away. “I never put any stock into his words. It was Percy, after all, and he is a dozen different kinds of fool. But then you said it, and—”

Blake closed his eyes for a long second, knowing what was coming next and dreading it.

A slightly choked sound emerged from Caroline's throat before she said, “And then I thought it might possibly be true.”

“Caroline, I—”

“Because you're not a fool, and I know that even better than I knew Percy was one.”

“Caroline,” he said firmly, “I am a fool. A bloody, stupid fool for referring to you with anything but the highest of praise.”

“You needn't lie to make me feel better.”

He scowled at her. Or rather, at the top of her head, since she was looking at her feet. “I told you I never lie.”

She looked up suspiciously. “You told me you rarely lie.”

“I lie when the security of Great Britain is at stake, not your feelings.”

“I'm not certain if that is an insult or not.”

“It is definitely not an insult, Caroline. And why would you think I was lying?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You were less than cordial to me last evening.”

“Last evening I bloody well wanted to strangle you,” he admitted. “You put your life in danger for no good reason.”

“I thought saving your life was a rather good reason myself,” she shot back.

“I don't want to argue about that right now. Do you accept my apology?”

“For what?”

He raised a brow. “Is that meant to imply that I have more than one transgression for which I must apologize?”

“Mr. Ravenscroft, I cannot count high enough…”

He grinned. “Now I know you've forgiven me, if you're making jokes.”