Teatime with a Knight (Matchmakers in Time Book 2)

by Kit Morgan

  “Oh, yes … our swimming h-hole.” She smiled.

  Aldrich stiffened. He knew the duke and duchess not only fished at the pool, but also used it as a romantic retreat. He’d stumbled upon them one visit. It was embarrassing for all three, but luckily the duke and duchess were largely submerged at the time so Aldrich didn’t see more than he should.

  What he remembered most after that encounter was how lonely he felt, the emptiness he couldn’t fill. The Duke and Duchess of Stantham had a passion between them he could only dream of – and often did of late. Maybe that would explain his hasty invitation to risk drowning Cozette’s guest. “I say, you wouldn’t happen to know if your new tutor can swim, do you?”

  “Are you planning to push her in?” Duncan asked, amused.

  “To answer your question, yes, I can swim.”

  All heads turned as Miss Phelps entered the room in a brown and green riding habit with matching hat. Aldrich thought her quite fetching the way she carried herself – she walked into the room like she owned it. He glanced at his host and hostess, then the tutor. “It’s a relief to know. How do you feel about insects?”

  “Bugs? Why?” she asked as she picked something off her jacket.

  “Call me curious. In my experience, most ladies don’t care for them. But they shouldn’t be too numerous at this time of day.”

  “A few mosquitoes won’t bother me. They don’t like how I taste.”

  She spoke strangely, but Aldrich liked the boldness of it. “Then I shall inform Emsworth of our impending adventure.”

  “Do try to bring him back in one piece,” Duncan urged.

  “Of course. Have I ever lost him?”

  “No, but after the last time I thought he might give notice.”

  “As I said before, merely a fabrication on his part. The man blew it all out of proportion.” He turned toward the hall.

  “Fabrication?” Miss Phelps looked confused. But of course she would – she didn’t know the story.

  “I’ll tell you what happened to poor Emsworth on the way to the best fishing spot in Sussex,” Aldrich promised.

  She smiled. “Then I should remind you I’ve never fished before.”

  Aldrich felt a pang of pride – he’d get to teach her a thing or two along with learning how she planned to help Cozette with her speech. He did love passing on his expertise. “I shall endeavor to be a worthy instructor. You’ll be patient with me?”

  “So long as you’re patient with me and keep me from falling in, yeah.”

  He grinned. “So I shall. Though I can’t say the same for Emsworth. Speaking of which, let us go find the poor bloke. He’s probably hiding in the larder.”

  Miss Phelps looked taken aback for a moment when Aldrich offered her his arm. She glanced at the duke and duchess, who nodded in approval. Finally she took it and he escorted her out of the drawing room and into the grand hall. This would be a very interesting outing indeed.

  Sir Aldrich (was that his real name, or just his role in this cosplay?) escorted Tory down the grand hall, past the central staircase to what looked like a sitting room but wasn’t. It was just the back of the hall, but it was cozy, with a massive fireplace flanked by double French doors. Other doors branched off from there as well.

  Sir Aldrich guided her to twin doors that looked much like the ones leading into the drawing room. “I’ll fetch what we need for our afternoon’s adventure. If you’d be so kind as to wait for my return?”

  “Of course,” she said, wondering when he’d drop the act. After all, the duchess wasn’t present.

  He motioned her to a beautiful chair covered in ivory brocade. “I’ll be but a moment, Miss Phelps. Or is it Lady Phelps? One never knows when introduced in this house.”

  “Just Miss Phelps. Nothing fancy about me.”

  He cleared his throat. “Ah. If you’ll excuse me?” He turned toward the doors he’d approached earlier, opened them to reveal a large dining room and walked through.

  After a minute Tory got up and followed out of pure curiosity, studying her surroundings. On the opposite wall of the dining room was a smaller door that must lead to the kitchen – or in a house this size, kitchens, plural. Were they downstairs like on Downton Abbey? Who knew? She really needed that promised tour of this place – it would be so easy to get lost. But for now she just wanted to have some fun with Aldrich and find out what his story was: how he got wrapped up in this circus, how much he was getting paid. Probably more than she was.

  A good fifteen minutes went by before he returned with a huge picnic basket and Emsworth. The butler looked disgruntled and she wondered why. Did he want a break from all this playacting for an hour or two? “What’s in the basket?”

  “Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Emsworth is good at making up a tasty repast. Aren’t you, Emsworth?” Aldrich slapped him on the back.

  Emsworth winced. “I do try, Sir Aldrich.”

  “That you do,” Aldrich turned to Tory. “I apologize for the delay, but Emsworth had to change his shoes.”

  Tory looked at the man’s feet. He wore a pair of sturdy boots and carried a second basket. This one smaller. “What’s in there?”

  “For the fish, Miss,” Emsworth said.

  “Oh, I see. And where are the fishing poles?”

  “We still have to fetch them,” Aldrich said. “Our next stop. You don’t mind a bit of a hike, do you?”

  “No, I think I’m up for it.”

  Aldrich and Emsworth both looked at her curiously. “Quite,” Aldrich finally said. “Then let’s be off, shall we?” He offered her his arm again.

  She felt giddy wrapping her arm around his, and tried to combat the feeling with more conversation. After all, she wasn’t staying here forever. “So do you come here often?” It was a lame question, but all she could think of on the fly.

  “As often as I can.” He steered her out of the dining room, through one of the sets of French doors bordering the fireplace and outside.

  “Omigosh, will you look at that!” Tory exclaimed. The doors, covered by lace curtains, had obscured the grounds beyond them. Gardens of flowers, intricately trimmed hedges and shrubs covered the entire area in back of the house. A pebbled path led through them to a set of stairs.

  Aldrich headed straight for the path. “You’ve not seen the gardens yet?”

  “Hellooo? No, I haven’t.”

  He laughed. “I thought not, but I wanted to make sure. They’re quite lovely, especially this time of year. Isn’t that right, Emsworth?” he asked over his shoulder.

  Emsworth followed along like an obedient bloodhound. “Yes, Sir Aldrich, they are.”

  “See, even Emsworth agrees.”

  Tory glanced at the erstwhile butler, then said quietly, “Is he always so stuffy, or just acting that way?”

  “Acting? Oh no, he’s being completely himself.”

  Tory half-smiled. “Really? And what about you – is that your real accent?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Oh great, she’d insulted him. But she didn’t know how good an actor he was. For all she knew, he was as American as she. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just curious.”

  “You’re curious about the strangest things.”

  She shrugged. “Like the song says, I was born this way.”

  He glanced sidelong at her and smiled. “Curiosity is a good thing, so long as it doesn’t get one into trouble. I myself am of a curious nature. For instance, meeting a woman brought from America to tutor the duchess – to me, that’s a curious thing indeed.”

  “Really? Where I come from there’s nothing strange about it.”

  “May I ask just where that is?”

  “My home? Stockton, California.”

  “Near San Francisco?”

  “Sort of. It’s about two hours away – three if the traffic’s bad.”

  “So you are close.” Another side-eye. “The roads must be good if there’s that much traffic. Have you been
there?”

  “Sure, lots of times.”

  “Fascinating. Why do you go so often? What draws you?”

  “Shopping, mostly.”

  He made an odd sound, something between a grunt and a gasp. “Do tell? What business is your father in that allows you such an extravagance?”

  “My father?” What the heck did he mean by that? What did her dad have to do with anything? “He does nothing, I’m afraid.”

  “He’s a gentleman, then?” Aldrich asked. He seemed relieved, as if just receiving some great revelation.

  “He was. But he passed away a long time ago.” Sheesh, when were these guys going to drop the act? There was no reason to keep it up at this point.

  “I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” Aldrich said softly.

  She could feel herself blush. He was so polite, so good-looking, like walking next to a dream. She might as well enjoy it while she could and stop worrying about keeping up pretenses.

  They stopped at what looked like a tool shed where Emsworth gathered several fishing poles, then continued on their way, down another set of stairs, across a second section of gardens, more stairs. They reached a stone wall that stretched as far as Tory could see in either direction and walked alongside it for a few minutes until they reached a gate. “We’ll cross the fields and enter the forest over there,” Sir Aldrich pointed.

  Tory looked at the tree line about a quarter-mile away. “How big is this estate?”

  “Hmm, Emsworth?” Aldrich said. “How many acres does the duke have?”

  “Hundreds, Sir Aldrich.”

  “Ah, thank you.” He looked at Tory. “The duke is a rich man.”

  Tory managed a half-hearted smile. He had that right. “So what do you do when you’re not acting?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Aldrich asked. “Acting?”

  “This.” She waved at her clothing. “What’s your real job?”

  “I see. You’ll forgive me; I’m not accustomed to American idioms.”

  “That’s okay, I don’t get everything you say either.”

  He smiled, and she felt her stomach flip. “When not fishing, I have a small estate in Kent.”

  “Kent,” she said to herself. “Isn’t that the next county over?”

  “Quite right,” he said. “Not far at all. A half day’s ride.”

  “Ride?” She looked him over. Did he have a motorcycle? But why would it take him a whole day to get to the next county? Counties in England were bigger than those in America, but not that much bigger. He must have changed into this getup when he got to the estate – she couldn’t imagine him riding a motorcycle for that long in period clothing and a helmet. The mental image made her giggle.

  “Might I ask what’s so amusing?” he said.

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but … oh, never mind. It’s nothing.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Emsworth, let it be duly noted that when a woman says ‘it’s nothing,’ it is always something.”

  “I am quite aware, Sir Aldrich.”

  Tory laughed but made no further remarks. She didn’t want to embarrass herself by disclosing her silly images of him.

  Thankfully, no one said more until they reached the tree line. “Here we are,” Aldrich exclaimed. “The forest.” He leaned toward her. “A dark tangle of roots, creeping things and …” He glanced around. “… Emsworth.”

  Tory glanced at the butler, who rolled his eyes in response to the joke and laughed again. “And why is poor Emsworth here?”

  “For our protection, naturally. No wild beast would dare approach us while in his company.”

  Emsworth frowned and Tory began to wonder if this was normal banter between them or an act they put on for the duchess and her guests. Either way, it was entertaining. “All right, I won’t worry about wild beasts.”

  “Good,” Aldrich said with a smile. “Let’s go.”

  She was odd. Curious. Blunt. Unusual, like everything else associated with Stantham Hall. And Aldrich liked her. Most Americans he knew were crude, loud and a little uncivilized, to be sure. But this Miss Phelps reminded him of something wild and free. She was obviously a woman that lived on her own terms, which piqued his curiosity. If her father had passed, how did she live? Had she inherited? Been married once, then widowed? Where was her family? Did she have any? Is that why she came to England?

  Questions whirled around in his head like leaves in a windstorm. He was intrigued and wanted to know more. Not one to say no to his own curiosity, he tried to decide what to ask her first. It had to be something that wouldn’t scandalize poor Emsworth. “Have you any siblings, Miss Phelps?”

  “Yes, a brother.” She frowned. “Benny.”

  “Short for Bernard?”

  “Benjamin, but my parents only ever called him Benny.”

  “Younger, older?”

  “Younger, by a few years. You?”

  “A sister. Also younger by a few years,” he echoed. “Married, two children. They’re adorable but reckless.”

  She laughed. “Aren’t most children?”

  He chuckled. “As they are the only ones with which I am acquainted on a regular basis, I couldn’t say. I’ve no others to compare them to.”

  “None? No neighbor kids?”

  “My sister’s neighbors have a few, as I recall, but I’ve not interacted with them.”

  “Hmmm,” she mused. “Maybe you ought to. Do you want kids?”

  “Me?” he said in shock. “A father?”

  Emsworth snorted in scorn, but when Tory looked at him, his face was a blank. She turned back to Sir Aldrich. “Why does the idea shock you?”

  Dare he tell her, that he was as wild and free as she seemed? Perhaps that’s what sparked his attraction to her. That and she was tall, pretty and looked almost indecently healthy – not a pockmark on her. The woman was a diamond in the rough, but a diamond nonetheless. “I’m not ready for fatherhood.” There, an honest answer.

  “Neither am I – for motherhood, that is. Don’t get me wrong, I want kids some day, but not by myself.”

  That got his attention. “Of course not,” he said firmly. He glanced at Emsworth for good measure – the butler’s eyes had popped wide and he almost stumbled over an exposed root. “Steady on, Emsworth.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are we almost there?” Miss Phelps wondered.

  “We’re getting closer.” Aldrich decided to watch her for a time, stealing glimpses occasionally as she looked at the forest around them. There was a childlike wonderment in her eyes, and he liked knowing that he’d put it there by bringing her along. “The forest is beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I’ve never seen one like this before. A lot of these trees I don’t recognize.”

  “They’re beeches, mostly,” he said. “Mixed with yews. There are other parts of the estate that are just as heavily forested.”

  “I’d like to see them.”

  “Then I shall be delighted to show them to you.” He smiled, she smiled back, and the brightness in her eyes captured him. She was truly enjoying their little outing. The thought sent an odd ripple through his chest, one he hadn’t felt before – a mix of joy and curiosity. “Around the next bend you’ll hear the stream. Isn’t that right, Emsworth?”

  “Quite right, sir,” Emsworth grumbled.

  Aldrich did his best not to laugh. Poor Emsworth must still be recovering from their last fishing adventure – which was exactly why Aldrich wanted him along. Hopefully he’d be so busy ensuring he didn’t fall in again that he might not be a very watchful chaperone. Not that Aldrich planned to steal a kiss – he was a gentleman, after all – but he did want to get to know Miss Phelps better. There was something about her that intrigued him and it wasn’t simply how she voiced things. No, this was something else, something more.

  His curiosity was coming to the fore, urging him to find out all he could about her. And that’s exac
tly what he planned to do.

  Chapter Eight

  Tory estimated they hiked at least a mile through the woods before they reached the fishing hole. She wanted to sit down, not because she was tired but because the boots she wore weren’t made for trekking through open country. She hoped she didn’t have blisters by the time they made it back to the house.

  Speaking of houses … “I noticed a few homes in the distance when we crossed the field. Aren’t they on the duke’s property?”

  “Yes, those are his tenants,” Sir Aldrich said. “He has nearly a dozen.”

  “A dozen tenants?”

  “No, a dozen homes housing tenants. At last count, there were about forty tenants, including children. By now there may be more. I know one tenant was with child – I escorted the duchess to the woman’s home last month to deliver a basket of gifts for the babe. I’m sure you’ll be doing the same while in her employ. Visiting the tenants is one of Her Grace’s favorite things.”

  Tory didn’t respond. For Heaven’s sake, even the farmhands catered to the duchess’s eccentricity? Wasn’t that going too far? Though if the price was right …

  Sir Aldrich stopped on the grassy bank and stretched. “Why not relieve yourself of your load, Emsworth, and take up a pole?”

  Emsworth did, setting down everything but the picnic basket, which he handled with special care. “Shall I lay out the picnic now, sir?”

  “No, let’s wait. I want to show Miss Phelps some of the finer points of angling.”

  “That sounds complicated,” she said with a laugh. “Or do you mean the Reader’s Digest version?”

  Aldrich raised an eyebrow. “What does reading have to do with anything? Or do you refer to a written guide?”

  “I’m sorry – you don’t get Reader’s Digest here? Maybe it’s an American thing. I mean just the basics.”

  “I see. Then yes, that’s what I intend to show you.”

  Tory was about to reply when she saw the butler cringe. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall in,” she told him.

  “Let us hope not, Miss Phelps,” he said.