Educating Caroline by Patricia Cabot Page B

kind attentions to her that night. She got a little light-headed, and I—” Weasel cackled knowingly, but Braden silenced him with a look. “—I stopped to help her,” he continued, sternly. “It’s because of her I lost the pair of them—Jackie and her swain.”
    “And you didn’t try to get any information out of her?” Weasel looked appalled.
    “She was ill,” Braden said.
    “Well, she don’t look ill now,” Weasel said, with a wink. “I think this is your chance, Dead.”
    “My chance?”
    Weasel groaned with frustration. “To find out what the bloke looked like! The one with Jackie!”
    Braden smiled. “I might ask a casual question or two,” he said. “If the subject happens to come up. But you know I would never take advantage of a lady. . . .”
    Weasel groaned again, and, grinning, Braden made quick work of his second cravat, then eyed his handiwork critically. It would do. He swept his fingers through his dark, slightly overlong hair, and pulled on the ends of his waistcoat. “There. How do I look?”
    Weasel frowned. “You need another shave.”
    Braden Granville made an impatient face. “I’m not out to ravish her, Weasel. I’m gathering evidence. Valuable evidence. I want to look comforting, the kind of man a young girl could confide in. So. Do I pass?”
    Weasel looked dubious. “I don’t think I’m the one you ought to be askin’. Maybe we should get the maid in here—”
    “Just—” Braden took a deep breath, uttered a silent prayer for patience, and then exhaled.
    “—send her in.”
    Weasel nodded, and left the room. A minute later, he returned, this time in the company of the young woman Braden recognized from Dame Ashforth’s dinner party a few nights before. Only something wasn’t right. Because no sooner had Weasel escorted the Lady Caroline into the room than the two of them threw themselves at the door, apparently in an attempt to keep out a third party, who was trying to come in after them.
    “Violet, really,” Lady Caroline was saying, as she thrust her weight against the door, “it’s quite all right. Mr. Granville and I are just going to have a little chat, and then I’ll be right out. I promise nothing forward at all will occur while I’m in here—”
    “Your mother, the Lady Bartlett,” a strident voice behind the door declared, “is going to hear of this, my lady. Don’t you think for a minute that I’m going to be party to anything smacking of deceit!”
    “There’s no deceit here, Violet,” Lady Caroline insisted. “I swear it. I am merely trying to have a word in private with Mr. Granville—”
    “Ha!” said the voice from behind the door. “I know all about him! Don’t think I don’t!”
    Lady Caroline, apparently despairing of ever winning this particular battle, turned her head, and saw Braden beside his desk.
    “Well, don’t just stand there,” she said, as she leaned all her weight against the door. “Come and help us.”
    Braden, thoroughly confused, nevertheless did as the girl bid, and joined his secretary pushing against the door.
    “I say,” he observed, after a moment or two. “ Whoever is on the other side of this door is uncommonly strong. Who the devil is it?”
    “My maid,” Lady Caroline said, as she struggled to keep her footing on the slippery parquet. “And I must say, that wasn’t exactly what I meant by helping.”
    Braden and Weasel exchanged glances. “I tried to keep’er out,” Weasel said, “like the lady asked, but she’s a big’un.”
    “Lady Caroline,” the maid shouted, from beyond the partially closed door. “No good will come of this! Mark my words!”
    “Oh,” Caroline groaned. For some reason, she glared accusingly at Braden, as if it were all his fault. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought that you were supposed to be skilled in this sort of thing, Mr. Granville. Haven’t you any ideas?”
    Braden said, politely, “You’ll have to help me here, Lady Caroline. I have no