Belmary House 6

by Cassidy Cayman

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “If that’s the case, what’s wrong with this chap that you won’t let your parents get to know him and feel the need to run off to a completely different time to be with him?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with him!” Even as she said it, all her recent complaints about him rushed to the forefront of her mind. “And my parents do know him. Or rather, they knew him before I was born.”

  He took a deep, shuddering breath and stood up, hands braced against the table. “Holy God. Is he that much older than you?”

  “No,” Ariana said, becoming exhausted trying to explain. “I went back and met him when he was still young.”

  Dexter’s coffee-colored skin turned as white as the milk that sat in Dahlia’s abandoned cereal bowl. He sank back into his chair. “When?” He repeated it louder when she didn’t answer right away.

  “Before my parents were married.” Her anger ramped up a notch. “Or at least I think that’s right. I can’t be certain since every other thing they’ve ever told me has been a lie.”

  “You ungrateful, spoiled—” He mashed his lips together and shook his head. “The reason your parents kept certain things from you was to—” He stopped again and pressed his clenched fists against his forehead. “Enough is enough. You’re going home. Right now. To Belmary House, 1832. To your parents, damn it. Where you’ll be safe.”

  “Safe from what?” she demanded.

  “Get your gown from the laundry room. You can change when we get there.”

  Rage blinded her. “No,” she shrieked. “You can’t tell me where and when to go. No one can tell me what to do if they can’t even tell me the truth.”

  He blinked at her for several seconds before replying almost tentatively. “Nicholas Kerr.”

  Her mouth went dry. “How do you know about Nick?” She was positive she’d never mentioned his name to Dahlia. It shouldn’t have been possible, but Dexter went paler than the milk.

  He put his hand over his mouth and made a sound like a wounded animal. His eyes filled with tears and he shook his head back and forth. “Tell me it isn’t so,” he finally begged. “Say you’re not living with Nicholas Kerr. Not him.”

  Of course she couldn’t say that. Refused to admit a single thing without getting some answers of her own. “Tell me how you know about Nick.”

  He continued shaking his head. “The reason I know about him is the same reason your parents kept the truth from you. The reason they decided to never let you know about traveling through time.” He laughed a mirthless, anguished laugh.

  “What reason?” She slapped the table to emphasize each word, not caring if it was rude and unladylike.

  “Ariana.” Dexter reached for her hand, his own ice cold. “Nick Kerr murdered you.”

  Chapter 11

  Ariana sat in dumbfounded disbelief as the story spilled out of him. How could any of it be true? Her mother had left her father before they were married? Impossible. Even more impossible was she’d ended up in a time when Ariana was already born and living in a luxurious mansion, acting as the queen of a coven of witches. Since she and her mother looked so much alike, Nick had supposedly kidnapped Tilly and passed her off as Ariana after he had already killed her, in order to gain power and control of her fortune.

  “It can’t be,” she said, long moments after Dexter finished the winding tale. “Nick would never… perhaps this Sir Amos you speak of was someone different and my mother was confused. But there’s no one by that name so none of that can possibly happen the way it did before.” She pushed her unfinished breakfast dish away, mind racing. Everything else about the story was eerily similar, though.

  “Your mum was certain it was Nick,” he said. “He bragged to her about it being revenge.”

  “Revenge for what?” Her voice cracked and she took a sip of water. “I can’t fathom any of this. It’s too much. It can’t have been real.”

  “It was real enough that your parents swore off magic and bent the truth to try and keep it from happening again. They even set up some sort of investment opportunity so Nick would leave the country and there’d be no chance you’d ever be close to him, despite the fact his brother is one of your dad’s best friends.”

  “The investment,” she breathed.

  If she hadn’t been sitting, she was sure she’d have tumbled to the floor. Sparkling lights danced at her peripheral vision and she struggled not to put her head down on the table. Searching her childhood memories, she tried in vain to have a memory of Nick. She’d been to Jeremy Kerr’s estate countless times. She called him uncle, just as she did Kostya. All his sisters doted on her and treated her like a favorite doll. There’d been a sadness about them sometimes— a family member who lived far away and never visited. She sucked in a breath. That had to have been Nick. He must have gone to Italy to seek the investment her parents had set up. Or perhaps it had been her, stealing him away to the future. All the lies that made up her life caused her head to spin.

  “Are you all right?” Dexter asked. “You look as though you may lose your breakfast.”

  “I may,” she confirmed. She wasn’t at all well. Remembering the faded letter he’d shown her the night before, she shoved away from the table, swaying as she found her feet. “Mum and Dad must be beside themselves. I have to get back and assure them everything is fine. They must have changed things enough. Or been wrong or confused the first time. There’s no way Nick would ever hurt me. He’d go mad if someone tried.”

  Dexter looked like he wanted to disagree with her, but only nodded tersely. “Grab your gown. We’ll go to the house at once.”

  She hurried to the laundry room where she’d discarded her dusty, travel worn gown. Unable to breathe in Dahlia’s too-small clothes, she stripped out of them and stuffed herself into her own gown, not caring that the laces were crooked or that she was without a corset. If the letter was to be believed, it meant her usual spell had gone wrong somehow. The previous times she’d used it and returned successfully without being missed she’d never been gone for more than a few days. This time she’d been gone for at least three weeks, too angry about everything with Maria and Owen going to hell, too guilty about her part in it to want to return and keep up appearances. It had been easier to cast those feelings off as bitterness about her parents’ lies, but now she saw her own culpability in it all.

  Whether or not she believed that Nick had at one point in time harmed her, her mother and father clearly believed it. Tears welled as she imagined how worried they must be. And what if they tried to reopen the portal? She had cast so many different hexes at it, she was positive if they tried to use it again, something terrible would happen. Her hands shook as she fumbled with her garters. It might even kill them.

  “No!” she cried, dropping to the floor in the laundry room. Her cousin banged open the door, narrowly missing her.

  “What is it?” He looked as distraught as she felt.

  “I-I- we have to go before they try to do something to find me. Oh, Cousin Dexter, I don’t know what I’ll do if they get hurt because of me.”

  He helped her up and pulled her down the hall. “Ah, bugger. This was a mistake letting you have a visit. Back ten minutes after you left. What a crock… I should have sent you packing the moment you arrived.”

  “You should have told me the moment I arrived,” she retorted, pacing in circles as he pounded the elevator button.

  “I did. I said your mother would be beside herself. In fact, I think I said she’d be mad with terror.”

  The night before she’d thought the lift was miraculously fast. Now she tapped her foot anxiously, brimming to burst through the doors and into Dexter’s automobile. At least that was fast. They’d be to the house in no time. In the car, she fumbled with her safety harness until Dexter clipped it closed for her. She realized she was holding her breath and let it out in a slow, quiet gust as they pulled out of the building and eased around the corner. She promptly held it again when Dexter wedged them
into a massive lineup of other cars.

  “What is this?” she wailed.

  “Morning traffic,” he said in a clipped tone. Was he also having trouble breathing? He looked over at her and visibly forced himself to relax. “Listen. We don’t know what’s happening back then. It could be nothing. For all we know you’ve only been gone a day or two and your mum overreacted with the letter.”

  She forced her hands to unclench and steadied her breathing. “Perhaps. Perhaps they thought I went with Owen.”

  “Who’s Owen now?” Dexter looked utterly lost. The traffic inched ahead and Ariana leaned forward, trying to make everyone move faster.

  “My dearest friend.” She stopped herself from saying cousin. A cousin was someone you didn’t choose. Friends were the ones you chose. She should have chosen Owen when he really needed her. Whether he shunned her or not for ruining his happiness, she should have followed along behind him all the way to Moldavia. She wouldn’t have let those wretches kick him out. “Kostya’s son. He ran away the same day I left.”

  “That’s lovely. You two are quite the pair. So, his parents are sick with worry as well.”

  “You don’t know anything about it. You’re only taking sides because you’re a grown up.”

  “You’re a grown up, too, Ariana. You own a home, you live with a man, you have… employees or followers or whatever they call themselves. Stop thinking of yourself as a victim in all this when it’s all your own creation.”

  Tears burned her eyes but she refused to let them fall. He was right. There was no more fight left in her. She sat in silence as they slowly crept along the road, finally pulling onto a less populated lane. She knew they were close when she recognized a park and sat so far forward her nose almost touched the windshield. Dexter muttered what sounded like curses to himself as they rolled past a huge glass and steel building.

  “Bloody hell,” he said aloud, stopping with a jolt in front of the massive center’s elaborate courtyard.

  She bumped her forehead against the windshield and sat back, turning to see Dexter gripping the steering wheel, his whole body shaking.

  “Why did you stop?” she asked. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t we going to the house?”

  He pointed with a trembling hand. “This— this is the house. It’s not— it’s a shopping mall.”

  She flung open the door, nearly breaking her shoulder when the seat belt locked up as she tried to throw herself toward the wicked building that stood in the place of her home. This had to be a nightmare. Surely the pain in her shoulder should be waking her up. Dexter pulled her back into the car and tried to calm his heaving breath.

  “It’s a shopping mall,” he repeated, as if he was out of his mind.

  Maybe he was. Ariana felt as if she might be going mad herself as she stared at the smoothly paved courtyard leading up to cold, uninviting glass doors. The place was clearly not open yet, but she could still see lights beyond the doors. Signs she couldn’t make out. She swept her gaze to the left where there should have been a vast lawn leading to tall hedges. Now it was all black with white painted lines.

  “Parking lot,” Dexter said, following her gaze. “Oh, dear God, I have to call Emma.” He grappled for his phone but couldn’t seem to make it work with his hands still shaking as badly as they were.

  Ariana wanted to cry but didn’t feel like she deserved to feel so utterly stricken. Dexter was right. This was all her creation. Even though she didn’t deserve it, tears rolled down her cheeks and she let out a fearful moan.

  “What’s happened to them? What’s happened to my family?”

  Chapter 12

  “Finally,” Tilly muttered. She’d been staring out the window through the rain for so long her vision had gone fuzzy. It snapped back into focus as a lone figure on horseback rounded the curve leading up to the front of the house.

  “Is it Jeremy?” Kostya asked. He looked up from his desk where he continued to pore over the book, trying to find clues to what Ariana might have done. “He’s a bit early.”

  “No, it’s Ashford.” She gripped the window sash, wanting to fling it open and shout at him to hurry. They’d already been at the Scotland estate for three days and he was supposed to meet up with them at the first inn on the road up north. She didn’t think she could be more worried, but the knots that already twisted her stomach tightened further when he never showed up.

  “Well, he’s not early at all,” Kostya said dryly, heaving the book shut. He stood and stretched. Tilly could hear the kinks in his back popping from where she stood on the other side of the room, and the sound grated on her already taut nerves. He joined her at the window, pointing to the side lane leading to the back of the house. “He brought another convoy, it seems.”

  She tore her gaze from Ashford, weary and slumped over his horse, to see three huge, covered carts teetering along. They were laden with goods, some spilling out from under their tarps. She could spy what looked to be a massive silver candelabra that she hadn’t used in ages and knew was stored in the attic.

  “What’s he thinking? We already brought half of what we own.”

  “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  They met up with a few servants scurrying to greet the lord of the manor and followed along behind them. The butler threw open the front doors just as Ashford slid off his horse in the courtyard. A stable hand appeared from around back and bowed three times before taking the exhausted horse to the barn. Ashford looked both annoyed and amused and Tilly was transported by memory to the first time she’d visited this place with him. They’d barely been on polite terms with each other.

  Now she flung herself into his arms, patting him down for possible injuries and planting kisses all over his face.

  “You had me sick,” she said, getting swept up in the servant tide as they ushered him out of the rain.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice scratchy.

  “Did you ride straight through?” she asked as he wavered when he reached the steps leading into the house. “Goodness, Julian, it’s been raining nonstop. You’re probably going to be ill now.”

  She realized she sounded like a harpy, more worried about having to deal with a sick husband than she was for his health. She took a deep breath and hugged him again, staying glued to his side as they made their way into a sitting room.

  “I didn’t ride straight through,” he said. He nodded gratefully to a servant who appeared with tea, cakes, and savories. “That was faster than usual,” he said after the harried serving lad bowed out of the room.

  “It’s meant for Jeremy,” Kostya said.

  Tilly sucked in her breath. She had hoped to ease him into that news. As anxious as she’d been for Ashford to arrive, she could have done with finding out what Jeremy had to say without Ashford there.

  “Jeremy Kerr?” Ashford asked, a cake halfway to his mouth. He set it down again with a frown. “Do you think this is a good time for visitors? Certainly we should be putting our time to better use? By the way, has there been word from Thomas yet? He should have reached Castle on Hill by yesterday at latest.”

  Tilly moved the cake out of his reach and pressed a ham toastie into his hand. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. “Oh, so Thomas’ little excursion isn’t a secret anymore?” she asked sourly.

  Ashford sighed. “I know Thomas’ loyalties lie with Farrah, and that Farrah’s loyalties lie with you. You’d think the person who pays their salaries would get a tiny bit, but I figured you’d know within hours of the plan.”

  “It’s a dangerous plan,” Tilly said. “How do you suppose getting Thomas and Farrah trapped in another time will help us find Ariana?”

  Slumping over his cup of tea, he blew at the steam with a dejected look. “I don’t honestly know, love. Perhaps I thought they might meet with someone who’d seen or heard of her.” He shook off his melancholy posture and raised a brow at her. “And Thomas has been traveling through those portals since he was younger than Ariana. He won’t ge
t stuck anywhere.”

  A commotion in the hall caught their attention and Kostya stood. “Looks like Jeremy’s early after all. You fill in Ashford while I go greet him. We’ll stick with what we discussed, yes?”

  “Yes,” Tilly said, her stomach knotting again. She stared at the tea tray until Kostya left the room and then cut her eyes to Ashford. He looked at her suspiciously.

  “Not just a visit, then?” he asked. “What’s up your sleeve? It seems I’m not the only one with a secret.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be a secret,” she told him. “We thought of it on the way up here. We’re going to casually ask after everyone, including Nick. If he’s still in Italy living the good life we set up for him, then at least we won’t have to worry about him being with Ariana.”

  “Oh, that’s a rather clever plan. Good thinking.”

  “It was Kostya who thought of it, but the key is to be casual. Not make a fuss. We’re just having a visit and inquiring after his family.”

  Ashford grimaced. “With all his sisters, it may be an hour before we find anything out.”

  “With all the days you’ve spent getting here, you’re worried about an hour?” Her nerves were so on edge she felt herself winding up again. “I’m sorry. But what took you so long? And why did you bring all those carts? It looks like you emptied the place before you left.”

  “Ah, well. About that. I do need to tell you—”

  The door burst open to reveal Jeremy Kerr, having wrestled his way past all the greeting servants. Tilly smiled to see Ashford’s old friend. He was as handsome as his wayward younger brother, but his heart was made of pure gold. She’d grown to love him and his gaggle of sisters over the years as much as she loved Kostya, Serena, and Owen. Her emotions were so ragged, she had to wipe away a few tears at the happiness she felt to see him again.

  “It’s been far too long,” he said, kissing both of her cheeks. He thumped Ashford on the back. “This one I can get enough of, but why have you been hiding yourself, Tilly?”