so-ror-i-cide (noun). The action of killing one's sister.

I feared sororicide. I truly did.

—From the personal dictionary of Caroline Trent

Penelope smiled breezily at him and strode into the hall. “It is so lovely to see you, Blake. I'm sure you're surprised.”

“Yes, yes, you could say that.”

“I would have been here earlier—”

Earlier?

“—but I had a slight carriage accident and if it weren't for dear Miss Dent here—”

Blake looked back out the door and saw Caroline.

Caroline?

“—I should have been completely stranded. Of course I had no idea we were so close to Seacrest Manor, and as I was saying, if it weren't for dear Miss Dent—”

He looked back at Caroline, who was frantically shaking her head at him.

Miss Dent?

“—who knows how long I would have remained sitting on my trunk by the side of the road, mere minutes from my destination.” Penelope paused for breath and beamed at him. “Doesn't the irony just kill you?”

“That's not the only thing,” Blake muttered.

Penelope stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “You're the same as ever, dear brother. No sense of humor.”

“I have a perfectly fine sense of humor,” he said, a touch defensively. “It's simply that I'm not used to being surprised—completely surprised I might add—by an unexpected guest. And you've dragged along Miss—” Ah, damn. What the hell had Penelope called her?

“Dent,” Caroline supplied helpfully. “Miss Dent.”

“Ah. And have we been introduced?”

His sister sent an angry look his way, which didn't surprise him in the least. A gentleman was not supposed to forget a lady, and Penelope took great stock in good manners. “Don't you recall?” she said loudly. “It was at the county dance last autumn. Miss Dent told me all about it.”

The bloody county dance? What sort of tales had Caroline been spinning about him? “Of course,” he said in a smooth voice. “I don't recall who introduced us, though. Was it your cousin?”

“No,” Caroline replied in a voice so sweet it might as well have been dripping honey, “it was my great aunt. Mrs. Mumblethorpe. Surely you remember her?”

“Ah, yes!” he said expansively, motioning for her to enter the hall. “The magnificent Mrs. Mumblethorpe. How could I have possibly forgotten? She is a singular lady. Last time we dined together she was showing off her new yodeling skills.”

Caroline tripped on the step. “Yes,” she said through her teeth, bracing her arm against the door-jamb to keep from falling, “she had such a brilliant time on her trip to Switzerland.”

“Mmmm, yes. She said as much. As a matter of fact, by the time she finished her demonstration, I think the entire county knew how much she enjoyed her travels.”

Penelope listened to the exchange with interest. “You shall have to introduce me to your aunt, Miss Dent. She sounds most interesting. I would so like to meet her while I am in Bournemouth.”

“Exactly how long do you plan to stay?” Blake cut in.

“I'm afraid I can't introduce you to Aunt Hortense,” Caroline said to Penelope. “She so enjoyed her travels to Switzerland that she has decided to embark upon another journey.”

“Where to?” Penelope asked.

“Yes, where to?” Blake echoed, enjoying the momentary look of panic on Caroline's face as she groped for a suitable country.

“Iceland,” she blurted out.

“Iceland?” said Penelope. “How odd. I've never known anyone to visit Iceland before.”

Caroline smiled tightly and explained, “She has always had a great fascination with islands.”

“Which would explain,” Blake said in a perfectly dry voice, “her recent jaunt to Switzerland.”

Caroline turned her back to him and said to Penelope, “We should see about sending someone to fetch your belongings, my lady.”

“Yes, yes,” Penelope murmured, “in a moment. But first, Blake, before I forget to answer your rather rude question, I will tell you that I anticipate staying approximately a week, perhaps a bit longer. Provided that suits you, of course.”

Blake glanced down at her with amused disbelief. “And when has my agreement ever determined your actions?”

“Never,” Penelope replied with a carefree shrug, “but I must be polite and pretend, mustn't I?”

Caroline watched as brother and sister sparred, a lump of wistful envy building in her throat. Blake was obviously irritated by his sister's unheralded arrival, but it was equally clear that he loved her beyond measure. Caroline had never known the affectionate camaraderie of siblings; indeed, she had never even seen it before that day.

Her heart ached with longing as she listened to their interaction. She wanted someone who would tease her; she wanted someone who would hold her hand when times grew scary and unsure.

Most of all, she wanted someone who would love her.

Caroline caught her breath as she realized how perilously close she was to tears. “I really need to be off,” she blurted out, making a beeline for the door. Escape was foremost in her mind. The last thing she wanted was to find herself sobbing in Seacrest Manor's front hall, right in front of Blake and Penelope.

“But you haven't had tea!” Penelope protested.

“I'm really not thirsty. I—I—I must go home. I'm expected there.”

“Yes, I'm sure you are,” Blake drawled.

Caroline paused on the front steps, wondering where on earth she was going to go. “I don't want anyone to worry over me.”