“Ah, I suppose someone from the Povest line can touch it as well,” he said thoughtfully. “That was part of the agreement, and I suppose it still stands. However, Tilly is not a Povest.”
Ashford slumped in his chair, knowing another glass of whisky wouldn’t do anything except make him stupider. He needed his wits about him. It was true he’d never once cracked open his family’s book, and he should have, especially after it had been returned to him. He had power now, whether Camilla had passed it to him when she’d died or it had laid dormant his whole life, he had it now, and he should have been more prepared. He would have known what lurked in its pages and would have never let Matilda touch it. But, she’d been so curious, and he’d never dreamed she would use it to flee from him, possibly getting lost in some unknown time in the process.
He’d been a fool, and he most likely didn’t deserve her back, but he wanted her back, so badly he would scour that damn book’s pages until he found a way to get to her. He only prayed she’d be safe until then. She’d adapted quickly and well to his time, but she had him to guide her, along with his name and vast wealth to protect her. What would she do if she ended up in an unknown time with nothing and no one to help her?
He couldn’t bear to think of what could befall her, and while he wanted to drown his misery in more drink, he looked sturdily at Kostya and said, “I’ll have someone show you to your room. Right now, I must excuse myself. I’ve got work to do.”
Chapter 3
Dexter Jacobs flung himself out of the shower, still covered in soap suds. He grabbed a towel and ran, nearly breaking his neck as he slipped on the tile floor in his haste to get to the alarm. He turned it off, thinking the shrill sound was overkill, but Emma was determined that they wouldn’t miss another soul coming through the portal now that it was open again. In her fury she’d bolted the door to the cursed bedroom in Belmary House and set up a motion sensor camera, complete with a blood curdling message she’d recorded herself.
“Why are you talking like that?” he’d asked. “Anyone who comes through will drop dead of fright when they hear it. You sound like you want to use their skin to make lampshades.”
“I sound calm and reassuring,” she’d said.
He’d meant to either do another recording or disable the ridiculous thing altogether, but now that he was back together with Emma, he’d spent every moment he could with her. The fact that she hadn’t let him meet her daughter Dahlia yet was almost more worrisome to him than his cousin Tilly going missing from her adopted time in the 1800s.
He’d spent the last ten years marking time, racking up advanced degrees, working his arse off to be the kind of man Emma Saito would want to be with when he finally caught up with her, and during that time, his cousin had seemed perfectly, blissfully happy. She and Ashford had visited not only him but her family in the States quite a few times over the years, and he’d been lucky enough to get to go back and see the Regency era first-hand, see how Tilly had made a wonderful life for herself and Ashford.
But a week ago a worked-up kid claiming to be Ashford’s associate, as if they were in the mob or some such, had come through what should have been a defunct portal, and told him Tilly was missing.
He punched in the code to let him view the video feed from Belmary House and had to pull over a chair to keep from falling flat on his naked backside. His phone rang and he ran to answer it, sighing out an exhausted hello.
“Did yours go off as well?” Emma asked without a greeting. Her voice was brittle and he could hear the kettle whistling in the background. “Is someone there right now, or is it a false alarm?”
“Didn’t I say you should have installed your own video feed? Then you’d already know she’s here.”
“Tilly’s here? She really came through? And it’s only been a week. Do you think she’s following behind what’s-his-face?”
“You mean Thomas? Ashford’s time traveling secretary? It could be.”
“Where are you? Are you already on your way over there?” Emma finally turned off her kettle and bit out the questions in rapid fire succession.
“I’m sopping wet and naked actually, so no, not on the way over there yet. One of us needs to get there in a hurry though, as I’m quite sure she’s going to start pounding the door down soon.”
“I need to get Dahlia off to school— no, it’s all right, I’ll have her catch the bus today and leave right now.”
Dex took a breath and tried to remember that while he’d lived out ten long years waiting to be reunited with her, Emma had only been back a little less than a month from her harrowing year and a half stuck in her own past. She’d nearly gone mad from the effects of being near her former self and had almost been killed by whatever wicked spells Solomon Wodge had wrapped her up in, as he’d tried to take over Belmary House in an attempt to destroy Ashford.
He’d had time to process everything, come to terms with his time traveling relatives, and get over his fear of the portal, but Emma hadn’t. The only way she’d agreed to continue working at Belmary House when she’d been returned to her proper time was the assurance that the portal was well and truly closed. And now that someone had come through, declaring that the portal was not only working again, but not working properly, well, he couldn’t blame her for being on edge.
“Take Dahlia to school, Emma,” he told her, already pulling on boxers. “I’m getting dressed right now. This whole mess is Tilly’s fault, she can stew in that room for a half hour or so and I won’t feel too guilty about it.”
“But what if it goes off again and sucks her away to another time? We might never see her again. I know it’s not right, but at least she’ll be safe in this time.”
The fear in her voice and her very real concern lit a fire under him. As irritated as he was with Tilly for not only messing up her own life but possibly his as well, he couldn’t bear the thought of her truly suffering. And she had looked awfully bedraggled on the small monitor. Tired, dirty, and probably scared to death after hearing Emma’s horror film message, poor thing.
“I’m leaving right now,” he said, jingling his car keys so she’d hear over the phone. “Just getting my shoes on.”
There was a slight pause that made him wince inwardly, as if she didn’t trust him to be telling the truth, as if he’d be the sort to put his loved ones in danger, as if he was someone she didn’t love anymore, or perhaps never had.
“Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He ended the call without saying anything further, hustling out the door with his heel hanging over the edge of one shoe. He’d given up so much while waiting to be with Emma again, and he couldn’t stop the sick feeling that gnawed away at his stomach that it might have been for naught. He slammed out of his flat, trying to get into the mindset to face his wayward cousin and talk some damn sense into her.
***
Tilly was surprised she had fallen asleep in her tenuous situation, but the sound of the bolt turning woke her with a jolt. It took her a moment to recall she was locked in after a rough trip through the portal. She didn’t know if she should stand and fight, showing no fear and hoping she could get past whoever or whatever had trapped her in here, or wedge herself under the bed and hope they went away.
She rustled up the shred of gumption she still had, the part of her that still wanted to live a little longer and get some food, and stood. She came around to the front of the bed and braced herself to fly at the first person who walked in the room. She prayed it wasn’t a robot. Before she’d drifted off into her fitful nap, she’d wondered if she’d come so far forward into the future that perhaps robots now ruled the earth, using any poor humans who came through the portal for slave labor, or worse.
The back of her neck prickled as the heavy old door creaked open. She squeezed her eyes shut, screamed, and flung her body forward. If it was a person, she hoped to throw them off guard. She lashed out with her fists and feet, catching a shin and a shoulder, then man
aging a good whack to a jaw. So grateful that it was a person, someone she might actually win against, she barely registered the stream of bad language coming from him.
She managed to get past him and opened her eyes to see the hallway and sweet, sweet freedom, but he grabbed her skirt and tugged her back into the room. Shoving her roughly away from him, he slammed the door shut and leaned against it.
“Damn it, Tilly, what’s the matter with you?”
Her mouth dropped open and she started to shake with relief, quickly followed up with an intense feeling of embarrassment.
“Dex!” She threw herself into his waiting embrace, gently patting his face where she’d decked him. “I’m so sorry. I thought— you don’t want to know what I thought.”
She’d made it back to her proper time, it was the only way to explain Dex’s presence there in the house. He must have been responsible for locking the door and setting up that bone chilling welcome message. She thought about punching him again for that, but she was so relieved to be home, to be out of harm’s way, that she merely slumped onto the bed and put her face in her hands.
He sat down next to her and patted her knee. “Goodness, you’re dirty,” he said.
She choked out a laugh. “I went to the 1920s first and then I got stuck in 1644. The people who own the place in that time are horrible, Dex. Horrible. The things I heard while I was hiding out— here, I guess. I got out a few times and thought about trying to make a life for myself, but it’s awful, so awful. I had to scrounge for food. I got bit by a rat.” Her voice cracked and she started shaking again at the memories.
Dex put his arm around her and hugged her. “You’re safe now. We’ll get you whatever you like to eat and figure out a way to sort this.”
She sniffled and tugged away from him. “There’s no sorting it,” she said stubbornly. “I can’t live in that time with that man any longer. I’ve finally made it home, and-and …” she trailed off, watching Dex blanch.
“Ah, Til, look at me. Really look at me. You’re not home.”
Blinking in confusion, she took his face in her hands and turned it roughly left and right. What was he talking about, telling her to look at him? He was the same Dex … except, he wasn’t. He had tiny lines around his eyes and mouth, he was thinner, and there was the finest smattering of white strands near his sideburns.
“Dexter, you’re old,” she wailed.
Chapter 4
Emma showed up before she calmed down, but she was the same Emma as Tilly had last seen. It had only been a month or so since they’d seen each other, and Emma had always been older than them. Except, now she was younger than Dex, Tilly realized. For some reason this upset her again, along with Dex’s greying hair.
“I think he looks rather distinguished,” Emma said, running her fingertips fondly over the aging sideburns.
“He’s as handsome as ever, but—” Tilly broke off, still not sure why she was so thrown by Dexter’s rapid-fire aging. Of course, he’d actually lived out the ten years, he wasn’t a victim of some sort of science experiment, but it scared her that he’d somehow left her behind. They were barely a year apart before and now he was someone she felt the need to call sir.
“I’m not old,” he repeated for the sixth time. “I’m thirty-six for goodness’ sake. You’ll realize soon enough that’s still prime living years.” He scowled at her and shook his head. “I’ve called up to Castle on Hill and Piper Sinclair’s out of reach for who knows how long. I finally managed to speak to Evie, and she remembered me and told me there was some sort of emergency in the eighteenth century they needed to sort, so we’ll just have to figure out a way to get you back on our own.”
“I told you Dex, I can’t go back.” She sniffled. “I don’t think Ashford would want me. I’ll just have to stay and be ten years younger than you from now on. Oh, my gosh, how’s mom and Gran? Your parents?”
“They’re fine,” he said. “Though Liam passed away last year. Heart attack, not time travel,” he said at her gasp.
“He and Gran really stayed together?” she asked.
“Stayed together and had a lovely nine years. I miss the mad bastard, not to mention he could have got you back in a trice.”
Her stomach growled and she clutched at it, taking a deep breath to work through the hunger pang. Emma popped up to get her some food, apologizing for not thinking to bring something with her. She listened patiently to the list of foods Tilly rattled off and promised to do her best.
Dex led her down to the kitchen, nodding curtly to any curious workers they passed. She looked around her in awe at what a gorgeous job they’d done in restoring the place. It looked even better than when she’d lived in it with Ashford. An emptiness in her heart rivaled the emptiness in her stomach but she pushed it aside. Ten years in the future wasn’t ideal, but she’d learn to live with losing that time with her mother and grandmother and Dex.
“Oh, running water, I love you so,” she said as she washed her hands and arms in the kitchen sink, gratefully taking the towel Dex handed her and scrubbing at her face. The towel came away greasy and brown and she folded it up in disgust, but felt miles better already.
Dex pulled out a chair and nodded for her to sit in it. Normally she would have balked at his bossy treatment, but old Dex was far more commanding than the one she was used to, and she sat. He opened the refrigerator and handed her a yogurt with the name Alice written on it.
With a silent apology to Alice she practically inhaled it, then immediately felt sick. He handed her a glass of hot water with lemon and told her to sip it.
“How’d you get so wise?” she asked.
He ignored her and raised an eyebrow. “So, you had a row with Ashford and took off like a whingy little—”
“How do you know about that? Are you psychic now or just a lucky guess?”
“Some kid named Thomas came through looking for you, half out of his mind. Ashford’s sick with worry, too.”
“Thomas isn’t a kid, he’s nearly our age. I mean, my age. Do you think I’m a kid now?” she asked, her mind reeling that Thomas might be stuck somewhere too. “Where is he now? Please tell me you kept him in this time. The portal’s all messed up.”
“Believe me, I tried, but Ashford told him to find you and he wasn’t going to give up looking. Bad luck that, since now you turn up only a week later. We think maybe you’re on a loop of some sort, except who knows when he is now.”
She shook her head vehemently. “I can’t get back in that thing. Not now that I’m somewhere safe, with people I know. I can survive in this time, even if it isn’t my own.”
“No, you can’t go through the portal, but we do need to find a way to get you back,” he said, and she wondered why he was being so dogged about it. He hadn’t wanted her to go with Ashford in the first place.
“You need to get over it,” she said. “I’m not going back. He’s a—” she couldn’t think of a word to say. Monster was too harsh, bully was inaccurate too. The more she tried to think of a way to describe what had made her angry at Ashford, the more she kept remembering everything she loved about him instead. “Look, I wanted to get a job, or start a business or something. The seamstress up in Scotland offered to take me on as her apprentice. Anything to get out of the endless rounds of visiting and taking visitors. And he said I couldn’t. He said no wife of his could be in trade. Can you believe the snobbery?”
“You knew all this. These are the very things I warned you about ten years ago. It’s the bloody early nineteenth century and he’s a bloody member of the peerage. Of course you can’t work. Just trust me that you’ll figure it out.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, thinking there was something off about what he’d just said, but was too worked up with indignation to mull it over very closely. “I don’t know why it’s bothering you so much,” she said with a sigh. She wanted to get up and see if she could pilfer anyone else’s lunch from the fridge but something about Dex’s bleak look pinned her in her pl
ace. He looked ill. “It’s probably for the best that I left sooner rather than later.”
She didn’t believe the words as they left her mouth, but knew she had to take her advice to Dex and get over it. That life wasn’t for her after all, no matter how stubborn she’d been. If she could manage to sit here without crying her eyes out over missing Ashford, why was her cousin acting so despairing over it?
“Til, you’ve got three—” He pressed his lips together into a thin line and stood, turning away from her.
She laughed bitterly, thinking time really had changed him. “Is that what you’re worried about? The properties?”
How could he for one minute think that this glorious house, the lovely farm up in Scotland, and the beautiful Happenham estate would be enough to give up her happiness. She felt a twinge. She really had loved the farm and the neighboring village where everyone had been so friendly to her. And Ashford’s dotty, grumbly aunt and drunken cousins at Happenham had been kind to her as well, though she was sure they were running the estate into the ground and Ashford should be visiting more, taking things in hand. She reminded herself it wasn’t her problem anymore.
“I won’t lie, there wasn’t one bad thing about being filthy, stinking rich,” she said sarcastically. “Except of course the fact that because of all that, I had no freedom to make my own life choices.”
Dex turned around to face her again and the look on his face would have made her have to sit down if she hadn’t been already. He only shook his head while tears glistened in his eyes. He was clearly struggling not to tell her something he felt she needed to know and her hunger and fear addled mind clicked into gear.
He’d lived out ten whole years, yet hadn’t acted excited to see her after all that time. Could that mean he’d been seeing her, a her she didn’t know about yet, during the course of those ten long years? A few minutes ago he’d said she’d figure things out. What did he know that she didn’t? What could be so important that she got back with Ashford? She had three— dear God. Dexter would never care about the properties, he didn’t have a greedy bone in his body.
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