Julia Quinn - To Catch an Heiress

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."

"If any female can do it, it would be you."

Caroline raised her brows. "Why Percy, was that a compliment? I'm stunned."

"It wasn't even close to being a compliment. What kind of man would want a woman who could get along quite well without him?"

'The kind who could get along quite well with­out his father," Caroline retorted.

Percy scowled as he flicked his head toward his bureau. "Open up the top drawer... no, the one on the right..."

"Percy, these are your undergarments!" Caroline exclaimed, slamming the drawer shut in disgust.

"Do you want me to lend you money or not? That's where I hide it."

"Well, it stands to reason that no one would want to look in there," she murmured. "Perhaps if you bathed more often..."

"God!" he burst out. "I cannot wait until you leave. You, Caroline Trent, are the devil's own daughter. You are plague. You are pestilence. You are-"

"Oh, shut up!" She yanked the drawer back open, disgusted with how much his words stung. She didn't like Percy any better than he liked her, but who would enjoy being compared to locusts, gnats, and frogs; the Black Death; and rivers turning to blood? "Where is the money?" she demanded.

"In my stocking... no, the black one... no, not that black one... yes, over there, next to the... yes, that's it."

Caroline found the stocking in question and shook out some bills and coins. "Good heavens, Percy, you must have a hundred pounds here. Where did you get this much?"

"I've been saving for quite some time. And I nick a coin or two each month from Father's desk. As long as I don't take too much, he never notices." . Caroline found that hard to believe; Oliver Prew-itt was so obsessed with money it was a wonder his skin hadn't turned the color of pound notes.

"You can take half of it," Percy said.

"Only half? Don't be stupid, Percy. I need to hide for six weeks. I may have unexpected expenses."

"I may have unexpected expenses."

"You have a roof over your head!" she burst out.

"I might not, once Father discovers I let you get away."

Caroline had to concede his point. Oliver Prewitt was not going to be pleased with his only son. She dumped half the money back into the stocking. "Very well," she said, stuffing her share into her pocket. "You have the bleeding under control?"

"You won't be charged with murder, if that's what you're worried about."

"It may be difficult for you to believe, Percy, but I don't want you to die. I don't want to marry you, and I certainly won't be sorry if I never clap eyes on you again, but I don't want you to die."

Percy looked at her oddly, and for a moment Car­oline thought he was actually going to say some­thing nice (or at least something as nice as she'd said) in return. But he just snorted. "You're right. I do find it hard to believe."

At that moment, Caroline decided to dispense with any last shred of sentimentality she might be feeling and stomped to the door. Hand on the knob, she said, "I'll see you in six weeks-when I come to collect my inheritance."

"And pay me back," he reminded her.

"And pay you back. With interest," she added before he could.

"Good."

"On the other hand," she said, mostly to herself, "there might be a way to conduct my affairs with­out meeting with the Prewitts again. I could do everything through a solicitor, and-"

"Even better," Percy interrupted.

Caroline let out a very loud, very irritated exhale and quit the room. Percy was never going to change. He was rude, he was selfish, and even if he was marginally nicer than his father-well, that still made him a boorish lout.

She scurried along the dark corridor and up a flight of stairs to her room. Funny how her guard­ians always gave her rooms in the attics. Oliver had been worse than most, relegating her to a dusty cor­ner with low ceilings and deep eaves. But if he had meant to break her spirit he had failed. Caroline