To Catch an Heiress

“I think I dislike you more than I like your inheritance,” Percy grumbled. “You're too bossy by half, you're not even pretty, and you've the serpent's own tongue.”

Caroline clamped her mouth into a grim line. If she had a sharp way of speaking, it wasn't her fault. She'd learned quickly that her wits were her only defense against the parade of horrible guardians she'd been forced to endure since her father's passing when she was ten. First there had been George Liggett, her father's first cousin. He hadn't been such a bad sort, but he certainly didn't know what to do with a small girl. So he'd smiled at her once—just once, mind you—told her he was happy to meet her, and then tossed her into a country home with a nurse and governess. And then he proceeded to ignore her.

But George had died, and her guardianship had passed on to his first cousin, who was no relation of hers or her father's. Niles Wickham was a mean old miser who'd seen a ward as a good substitute for a serving girl, and he'd immediately given her a list of chores longer than her arm. Caroline had cooked, cleaned, ironed, polished, scrubbed, and swept. The only thing she hadn't done was sleep.

Niles, however, had choked on a chicken bone, turned quite purple, and died. The courts were at a bit of a loss as to what to do with Caroline, who at fifteen seemed too well-bred and wealthy to toss into an orphanage, so they passed her guardianship on to Archibald Prewitt, Niles's second cousin. Archibald had been a lewd man who'd found Caroline entirely too attractive for her comfort, and it was then that she began her habit of keeping a weapon on her person at all times. Archibald had had a weak heart, however, and so Caroline had only had to live with him for six months before she attended his funeral and was packed off to live with his younger brother Albert.

Albert drank too much and used his fists, which resulted in Caroline's learning how to run fast and hide well. Archibald may have tried to grope her on every occasion, but Albert was a mean drunk, and when he struck her, it hurt. She also became quite adept at smelling spirits from across a room. Albert never raised a hand against her when he was sober.

But, unfortunately, Albert was rarely sober, and in one of his drunken rages he kicked his horse so hard that his horse kicked him back. Right in the head. By then Caroline was quite used to moving about, so as soon as the surgeon pulled the sheet over Albert's face, she packed her bag and waited for the courts to decide where to send her next.

She soon found herself residing with Albert's younger brother Oliver and his son, the currently bleeding Percy. At first Oliver had seemed the best of the bunch, but Caroline quickly realized that Oliver cared for nothing so much as money. Once he learned that his ward came with a rather large portion, he decided that Caroline—and her money—would not escape his grasp. Percy was only a few years older than Caroline, so Oliver announced that they would marry. Neither of the prospective couple was pleased by this plan, and they said so, but Oliver didn't care. He needled Percy until Percy agreed, and then he set about convincing Caroline that she ought to become a Prewitt.

“Convincing” entailed screaming at her, slapping her about, starving her, locking her in her room, and finally ordering Percy to get her with child so that she'd have to marry him.

“I'd rather bring it up a bastard than a Prewitt,” Caroline muttered.

“What was that?” Percy asked.

“Nothing.”

“You're going to have to leave, you know,” he said, abruptly changing the subject.

“Believe me, that fact is quite clear.”

“Father told me that if I don't get you with child, he'll take care of it himself.”

Caroline very nearly threw up. “I beg your pardon?” she said, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. Even Percy was preferable to Oliver.

“I don't know where you can go, but you need to disappear until your twenty-first birthday, which is … when? … soon, I think.”

“Six weeks,” Caroline whispered. “Six weeks exactly.”

“Can you do it?”

“Hide?”

Percy nodded.

“I'll have to, won't I? I'll need funds, though. I have a bit of pin money, but I don't have access to my inheritance until my birthday.”

Percy winced as Caroline peeled the cloth away from his shoulder. “I can give you a little,” he said.

“I'll pay you back. With interest.”

“Good. You'll have to leave tonight.”

Caroline looked around the room. “But the mess … We have to clean up the blood.”

“No, leave it. Better I let you get away because you shot me than because I simply botched the plan.”

“One of these days you're going to have to stand up to your father.”

“It'll be easier with you gone. There is a perfectly nice girl two towns over I've a mind to court. She's quiet and biddable, and not nearly as skinny as you.”

Caroline immediately pitied the poor girl. “I hope everything works out for you,” she lied.

“No, you don't. But I don't care. Really doesn't matter what you think, as long as you're gone.”

“Do you know, Percy, but that is precisely how I feel about you?”

Amazingly, Percy smiled, and for the first time in the eighteen months since Caroline had come to live with the youngest branch of the Prewitts, she felt a sense of kinship with this boy who was so nearly her age.

“Where will you go?” he asked.

“Better you don't know. That way your father can't badger it out of you.”

“Good point.”

“Besides, I haven't a clue. I haven't any relations, you know. That is how I ended up here with you. But after ten years of defending myself against my ever-so-caring guardians, I should think I should be able to manage in the outside world for six weeks.”