Teatime with a Knight (Matchmakers in Time Book 2)

by Kit Morgan

  Now it was her turn to laugh.

  “It’s true. You’re protective of Her Grace and do your best to serve her. You have a watchful eye. You show pride in a job well done.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “I’ve observed you working with Her Grace. I can see the pride in your eyes when she does well. But the pride I see is for her.”

  She looked away.

  He came around the table. “It’s all right to be proud of yourself too.”

  Uh-oh, red alert! Danger, Will Robinson! “I am.” She got up and edged away from him.

  “Are you?”

  “Sure.” She went around a corner of the table.

  So did he. “Then let it show. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “I … don’t want to get a big head.” At least he wasn’t chasing her around the kitchen, though part of her wished he would. But that could only lead to trouble.

  He must have known it too. “Can you get back to your room all right?”

  She nodded, even as part of her screamed to get closer to him.

  “Very well, then – I should bid you good night.” He bowed. “Would you like to take your sandwich with you?”

  She looked at the remains of her midnight meal, reached across and grabbed it. “Thanks.” She noticed his hand gripped the edge of the worktable. Was he having trouble standing?

  “You are most welcome,” he said.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Not at all. Go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Oh, yes, your fishing excursion.”

  “Indeed. Nothing quite like fishing with your betters.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Then why do it?”

  “Because they are His Grace’s guests and I wish for them to have a good time.”

  “For Duncan’s sake?”

  “And Cozette’s.”

  She smiled. “You’re quite a guy, you know that?”

  “I’m only doing what anyone else would do.”

  “No, trust me – you’re doing a lot more.” Tory turned and left the kitchen.

  Chapter Sixteen

  By the time Tory came downstairs the next day, Aldrich and his fishing companions had already left. Lady Matilda, who insisted they call her Tillie, was the only one in the breakfast room. “Good morning,” she said brightly. “Have you seen Her Grace yet this morning?”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t. She hasn’t come down yet?”

  “No, I doubt she will,” Tillie said. “She’s having breakfast in bed, but I was hoping …”

  Sometimes Cozette and Duncan were in the breakfast room, sometimes they weren’t. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll see her soon.”

  Tillie’s face lit up. “I hope so.” She took a bite of bacon. “Try the eggs; they’re quite good.”

  Tory looked at the buffet, a combination of American and English breakfast foods. Thank Heaven Cozette still had Mrs. Dryden preparing scrambled eggs and fried potatoes. And yes pancakes this morning! Good – maybe the food would help keep her mind off of Aldrich. She fixed her plate and sat at the table.

  Tillie watched her a moment then pointed at the pancake on her own plate. “I’ve never had pancakes like these before. They’re so thick and fluffy.”

  Tory smiled. “They’re made the American way.”

  “That’s not how our cook prepares them. Hers are much thinner.”

  Tory fought against a sigh. If comparing pancakes was as exciting as it got today, she might shoot herself. But she’d take one for the team and stay close to Cozette. “When will your mother be down?”

  “Mama? Not for hours. She’ll sleep into the afternoon.”

  Tory’s eyebrows shot up and she smiled. “Not an early riser?”

  Tillie shook her head.

  “And your sister?”

  “She’ll be up soon. I’m always up first. Sometimes I’m up before Papa or Bram.”

  “The young Lord Chester, he’s your brother?”

  “Yes. Sometimes he gets up extra early to ride. I’m sure that’s what he’s doing now.”

  “He rode his own horse here?”

  “Oh, yes – he hates riding in a coach.” She cleared her throat and looked at her food. “With Papa.” She took a quick bite of eggs.

  Tory half-smiled. “Why ride when you can drive yourself?” She dug into her potatoes.

  Tillie looked confused. Maybe she didn’t have her license yet. Tory sighed to herself and continued eating. If Cozette was breakfasting in her room, she’d be down in a couple of hours. Tory would have to find something to occupy her time between now and then. There would be no lessons while the house party was going on, so there was no use going over any. Unless she wanted to get a head start on next week’s, but she wasn’t in the mood.

  Hmm, perhaps a walk in the garden? But she might start thinking of Aldrich and where would that lead? No, she needed to keep her mind on other things. She’d hardly had a moment to herself since her arrival almost two weeks ago.

  “Would you like to play croquet with me after breakfast?” Tillie asked, breaking into her thoughts. “I hear the duchess has a Cassiobury set.”

  “Casio berry?”

  “Oh, but you wouldn’t know what that is, being American.”

  “No, I suppose not,” Tory buttered some toast.

  “The Earl of Essex had the grandest croquet parties at Cassiobury House in Hertfordshire. He loved the game so much he made his own croquet set.”

  “I haven’t played in a long time. My family used to have a set …” Tory felt a pinch of homesickness and once again wondered how Benny was doing. She’d have to find a way to call him. He probably thought she was a lousy sister at this point. But then, he hadn’t been such a hot brother either.

  “So you’ll play?”

  Tory smiled. “Of course. But you’ll have to go easy on me. It’s been a while.” And after they played, she’d find a cell phone, any phone for that matter, if it killed her. She had to get hold of Benny.

  They finished breakfast just as Tillie’s sister Lady Vinnie (short for Lavina) entered the room. “Good morning, Tillie, Miss Phelps.” She went straight to the breakfast buffet and began to fill a plate.

  “Good morning,” Tillie said happily. “Miss Phelps and I are going to play croquet. Do join us.”

  Vinnie turned her bright blue eyes on her sister. “All right, you set up the course while I eat. I’ll join you shortly.”

  Tory watched Vinnie. She was taller and obviously more refined than her younger sister, with the same auburn hair as their brother. “Do you think anyone else will want to play?”

  “Only Bram, and that’s if he returns from his ride in time,” Tillie said.

  “Doubtful. You know how he is in a new place,” Vinnie said. “He’ll not return until luncheon.”

  Tillie made a face. “Too bad. He’s such a fine player.” She pushed away from the table. “Shall we get to work?”

  Tory took one last bite of toast and nodded. At least she had something to occupy her time and her mind now. No fretting over Aldrich today if she could help it.

  But first, they had to find the croquet set. Emsworth should know where it was. She thought of the shed the fishing poles were kept in – maybe it was in there. Then they wouldn’t have to bother Emsworth, whom Aldrich had probably dragged off on his fishing excursion. Poor Emsworth. “I believe I know where the set is.”

  “Oh, lovely,” Tillie said. “Do you think it’s warm enough out?”

  “I’m sure it is. It’s been nice the last few days.”

  “Then I shan’t return to my room. We can go now.”

  Tory saw her own attire. Becky had chosen a pretty white dress with a wide yellow sash for her. She hoped it wasn’t covered with grass stains by the time they were done.

  “Which way, Miss Phelps?”

  Tory smiled. She liked how Tillie and her sister spoke. They were such proper English ladies. Next to them she must come ac
ross as some hillbilly. Oh, well. “Call me Tory, I don’t mind. And I’ll call you Tillie.”

  The girl blushed. “Very well.”

  They left the house, went through the gardens and were soon on their way. “How much further?” Tillie asked as they strolled along the garden paths.

  “See that shed up ahead?”

  “Oh dear, so far? We’ll have to carry everything back. We should have waited for Vinnie.”

  “Two of us can handle it, you’ll see.”

  Tillie seemed doubtful, but she wasn’t so delicate she couldn’t handle lugging a simple croquet set back to the gardens, was she? Or was she still in character? Would someone of her station be hiking to a tool shed for a croquet set? Probably not, but it was too late now.

  When they reached the shed Tory noticed a chain with an old-fashioned lock dangling from one of the shed’s doors. “What luck, it’s not locked,” Tillie said when she saw it.

  Tory pulled one door open. The shed seemed bigger than she remembered, but last time her mind had been on the hunky Englishmen escorting her to it. “Now where would I keep a croquet set?” The fishing poles were gone, no surprise there. There were garden tools, metal and wooden buckets of various sizes, pots for plants, crates of this and that and …

  “I found it!” Tillie exclaimed.

  Tory wanted to look but couldn’t. Her eyes were fixed on something else. She stepped forward and pulled back a small canvas. “What the …?”

  “Tory, is something wrong?” Tillie asked.

  “Can you get the croquet set?”

  “I can get it outside, but I’ll need help carrying it back to the gardens.”

  “Fine. Just give me a minute.”

  Tillie stared at what Tory had uncovered. “Whatever is that?”

  “My luggage,” Tory said. “Though I have no idea why anyone would put my suitcase in a tool shed. It wasn’t in here the last time.”

  “What an odd-looking trunk,” Tillie commented.

  “It’s not a trunk, it’s … I’ll explain later.” Like when you’re not in character. “Get the set outside. I just want to check something.”

  “Of course.” Tillie went back to the croquet set and began to maneuver it out from behind some barrels.

  Tory picked up her suitcase, set it on a crate and opened it. “Bingo!” She grabbed her purse someone had thankfully placed inside, reached in and pulled out her cell phone. “How I’ve missed you!” She kissed it, then pulled out her wallet and took what British money she had in case her phone was dead and she had to walk to the village to make a call. She glanced around, realizing she didn’t have any pockets. She didn’t want to carry her purse back to the house – she might get in trouble for stepping out of her role. But at this point, she was growing impatient.

  She took a cloth hankie from her suitcase, wrapped the money in it and stuck it down her front. Her corset would keep it from falling to the ground. She was half tempted to grab a few pairs of undergarments – what could it hurt? Wearing period dress was one thing, authentic period dress another. Still, as bizarre as this job was, she didn’t want to lose it just yet. She’d wait on the undies. The phone was more important, even though it had to be dead at this point.

  Tory shoved it down her front too and began looking for her charger.

  They played croquet the rest of the morning. Tory couldn’t remember having this much fun. Tillie and Vinnie were hilarious as they politely bickered back and forth. Just when she thought it might turn into a heated argument, one or the other would take a deep breath and calm themselves in order to resume the game. Unfortunately, it was usually her turn after one of their tiffs and her ball that got the brunt of their anger as they smacked it off to who knows where.

  She was looking for it yet again when she spied Aldrich returning with the other anglers. He waved at her. She smiled and waved back, her heart fluttering in her chest. She caught sight of Emsworth and wondered if he’d noticed their game yet. If he did, would he also wonder if she’d found her stuff in the shed? But the butler continued trudging toward the house, loaded with baskets of fish and looking none too happy. Good. She wanted to return to the shed and get a few more things before the day was out.

  Aldrich approached as the marquess and earl continued on, chatting, while Emsworth followed them. “How goes the game?”

  “Well enough,” Tory replied. “They seem happy. I take it you had success?”

  “Very much so! It was wonderful, and Emsworth only fell in once.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “I wish I’d been there!”

  “Why do you think the marquess and earl are so jovial? They’re still talking about it.”

  She laughed some more. “Poor Emsworth. He must think I’m his good luck charm. He didn’t fall in with us.”

  “No, but I didn’t take you to my other fishing spot. Too hard a trek for a lady.”

  She glared at him. “Underestimate me at your peril.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” He glanced around. “Where the devil is your ball?”

  Now she glared at Vinnie. “I’m still looking.”

  He followed her gaze. “Ah, the marquess’s daughters. You’re a brave one to play with them. They argue.”

  “Very politely,” she pointed out. “And then knock my ball out into the back forty.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her remark. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you look.”

  They poked around the rose bushes and other shrubbery. After another minute and a yell of dismay from Tillie (Vinnie just sent her ball flying too), Tory found it. “Here it is!” She held it up so Vinnie could see it and, after giving it a whack in their direction, headed her way.

  Aldrich came alongside her. “Are you ready for tonight?”

  “What’s tonight?”

  “More guests.”

  “Oh, that. I’ll be sure to keep close to the duchess.”

  “It’s only dinner. Tomorrow night’s the ball.”

  She blushed again. The thought of dancing with him made her shiver.

  “Nothing to say?”

  She bit her lower lip. They’d almost reached the others. “Looking forward to it.”

  “So am I.” He stopped just before they reached Tillie and Vinnie and bowed. “Until tonight.”

  She nodded in return as Tillie joined her. “Sir Aldrich is very handsome,” she said as soon as he’d gone a reasonable distance.

  “He certainly is,” Tory agreed.

  “I hear no woman has been able to even get him to look at her,” Vinnie said as she came alongside Tory. “But he’s so attentive to you.” She smiled warmly. “I’m happy for you.”

  Tory blinked. “What?”

  “Sir Aldrich – he’s a good match.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Oh, no. No, no, no …”

  “What’s the matter?” Tillie asked. “Vinnie’s right, he is a good match for you. Though I’d loath the thought of leaving this place if it were me.”

  Tory chuckled. “Sir Aldrich and I have barely met. There’s nothing going on there,” she lied.

  “Really?” Vinnie asked as she watched him in the distance. “Considering the way he looks at you, I’d say he’ll propose within a fortnight.”

  Did she dare tell them he already had, sort of? No, she didn’t.

  “How exciting!” Tillie said with glee. “What if he proposed at the ball tomorrow night?”

  Tory laughed. “No way is that happening.”

  “How do you know?” Vinnie asked.

  “I … I just do.”

  “Then I stand at a fortnight,” she said. “Your turn.”

  Tory sighed, took her turn, then waited for Tillie and Vinnie to have theirs. Becky had aired the gown she was to wear, and though the ball was small, she could still envision dancing across a crowded floor with Aldrich. Would he sweep them out onto the terrace, get down on one knee and propose? Not likely. And even if he did, what would she do? Smack him over the head with a flowerpot?
>
  She smiled at the thought, then bit her lip. She didn’t wish him harm, but she’d have to tell him the same thing she already had: no way. Because really, how silly would it look? They’d known each other for less than two weeks. It’s not as if she was brought here just for him. She was here to work as a tutor and nothing more. Better to keep reminding herself of that.

  By the time Aldrich entered the house he was sweating. What was happening? There was no reason for his body to react this way. But it was, and he knew the cause. His attraction for Tory was growing.

  But to break out in a sweat? And why did his gut feel so twisted up? And what about … his heart? That was the strangest thing of all. An empty, hollow void that needed to be filled and soon. What if it wasn’t – what would happen? He had no idea.

  He entered his room and began pacing. He’d had a wonderful morning, even if the earl and marquess ignored him after they arrived at the first fishing hole. He expected that – to them he was like a servant. They were his betters and that was that. But if it would make the weekend more pleasant, give them something else to talk about besides the duchess and her strange ways or the duke’s relatives, then he didn’t mind.

  But this … he’d have to speak with Duncan again, there was no help for it. Was he completely in love? Possibly, but as he’d never been in love before, he had nothing to compare it to. He did know he’d gone past infatuation and simple attraction. This was something very different.

  He sat on the bed, pulled off his boots and thought to change. But thoughts of Tory in her white dress playing croquet with the marquess’s daughters was a picture he couldn’t escape. She was lovely, strong, determined, and all she was doing was looking for a ball! But her qualities shone through even such a simple task. If he didn’t make her his soon, he might go mad. But if he moved too fast, he could scare her off. They did things differently in America. He didn’t realize how much until he’d met her.

  He changed his clothes, his heart thundering in his chest at the thought of seeing Tory again at luncheon. But first he’d speak with the duke, get some advice. If he had his way, he’d propose to her tomorrow night at the ball and they’d be married as soon as the banns were posted. If he could wait that long.