“Guess what?” she said brightly. “I’ve figured out what my task is.”
“I rather thought you might,” Esme said with a slight smile.
“You knew already?”
“Yes, of course.”
“But I thought—”
“I said you had to learn it for yourself,” Esme reminded her. “I never said I didn’t know.”
Semantics. Gina hated semantics. “Whatever—it doesn’t matter. The important thing is that I figured out I have to keep Drake Manton from getting killed. So, I need to make him leave the resort so I can go home right away. Got any ideas?”
“That is something you’ll have to determine on your own.”
Gina gave her a suspicious glare. “You mean you know and you’re just not telling me?”
Esme smiled. “No, I really don’t know—I only know that you must try.” She paused, looking apologetic. “But I’m afraid you’re under a misapprehension. It doesn’t matter whether you complete your task tomorrow or three months from now.”
Uh-oh. Gina had a feeling she wasn’t going to like what was coming next. “Why not?”
“Because the time portal is only active on the solstices. You came through on the summer solstice. You can only go back on the next solstice.”
Gina had never paid much attention to these things. “Uh, just when is the next solstice?”
“It’s the winter solstice . . . on December 22,” Esme said gently.
She had to stay here, back in the past, for six months? Gina sank down on one of the narrow beds and hugged Scruffy for comfort. What the heck was she going to do back in the past for so long? Despair enveloped her at the thought of trying to make it on her own in a time she didn’t understand, with no money or skills to speak of.
Well, one thing was for sure—she needed room and board, which Esme had already so thoughtfully provided. Since there was nothing Gina could do about it, she might as well accept it . . . for now. Sighing, she said, “Okay, take me to my duties.”
Two weeks later, Drake was only a little closer to scheduling his lecture series. The Major had finally approved them, albeit grudgingly, once Dr. Ziegler had added his support. The only problem was, Drake had been unable to find a location where he could go over his notes in peace and practice his first lecture. It seemed everywhere he went, he was hounded by females.
If it wasn’t Gina Charles trying to buttonhole him, it was Mrs. Biddle cornering him to puff the virtues of her daughter, or some other blasted woman making eyes at him. Not even his room was safe—they all seemed to find some reason to disturb his concentration “just for a moment.”
In desperation, Drake decided to seek out the tipsy porter who had helped him the first day and ask the man for a suitable place to concentrate. And, from what he had discerned of Jack O’Riley’s habits, the porter would be either running errands or asleep behind the palms in the lobby.
As he approached the porter’s favorite hiding place, he heard the man’s distinctive Irish brogue, but a female voice brought him to a halt. From her crisp British tones, he gathered the woman was Miss Sparrow, the head housekeeper. He didn’t want to intrude, but he didn’t want to miss Jack, either. So, he hovered nearby where he couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.
“Really, Mr. O’Riley, this won’t do. This is the second time this month the Major has threatened to dismiss you. You must curb your drinking.”
“ ’Tis a fine day when an Irishman can’t have a bit of a tipple, now,” O’Riley complained in a tone designed to cajole the woman into forgiving him.
“That’s as may be, but the Major isn’t at all happy. If you aren’t careful, you may lose your position here altogether. Do try to confine your . . . tippling to your off-duty hours, won’t you?”
Drake heard the porter heave a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, lass. ’Tis a great deal yer askin’.”
If possible, Miss Sparrow’s tone turned even crisper. “Then do it for your daughter’s sake. Bridget is happy here, and the poor motherless girl needs some stability.”
“Aye, that she does,” O’Riley replied mournfully.
“Then see to it that she gets it,” Miss Sparrow said with finality. “And make yourself presentable for the guests.”
Evidently the interview was at an end, for Miss Sparrow suddenly sailed by in her typical brisk fashion, giving Drake a nod. “Good day, Mr. Manton.”
She managed to convey disapproval of his eavesdropping with that simple movement of her head, which made Drake feel like a chastised schoolboy. No matter—at least he had found O’Riley. Drake parted the palms and found Jack taking a sip from a flask.
The porter looked up guiltily, but when he saw Drake, his expression cleared and he offered him a drink.
“No, thank you,” Drake said with a shake of his head, entering Jack’s hiding place. “And should you be drinking after what you promised Miss Sparrow?”
O’Riley grimaced. “Now don’t ye be nattering away at me, too, lad.”
“I apologize,” Drake said sincerely. What the man chose to do with his life was none of his business.
“That’s more like it, then.” The porter screwed the cap on his flask and tucked it into its hiding place in one of the pots. “ ’Twas just a bit of the hair ’o the dog, if ye catch me drift.”
“I see.”
Jack O’Riley smoothed back the sparse gray hairs on his head and said, “Now then, what can I do for ye? I take ye didn’t seek me out to discuss me drinkin’.”
“No, of course not.” Drake paused, wondering how to broach the subject. “You know this hotel rather well, don’t you?”
“Aye, I’ve worked at The Chesterfield for nigh on ten years.”
He had come to the right man, then. “Then you would know the best way to . . . find a place to work undisturbed?”
“That I would. And who is it ye’re wantin’ to avoid?” O’Riley asked with a twinkle in his eye. “Young Gina, Miss Biddle, or one of t’other young misses bent on havin’ a word with ye?”
Drake smiled ruefully. “Ah, you understand, then.” The porter had obviously seen right through him. Even better, the man appeared to understand and sympathize with his dilemma.
“Aye, that I do.” O’Riley regarded him quizzically. “Didn’t ye know resorts are prime breeding grounds for matrimony? ’Tis where the gentry come to meet others o’ their ilk and find a mate.”
Drake hadn’t given it much thought. Though now that Jack mentioned it, it explained why there were so many young, obviously healthy, unmarried people here. He needed to pay more attention. Sometimes he became so engrossed in his studies that he missed what was going on right beneath his nose. “I didn’t realize.” Though he should have—his wealthy father had met his mother in just such a place.
O’Riley nodded sagely. “Have ye tried the gentleman’s bar? The wimmin can’t follow ye there.”
“Yes, but it’s rather noisy. I need quiet to study my notes.”
“How about the men’s bathhouse?”
“Too wet.” Ink tended to run and splotch in the damp air.
O’Riley turned thoughtful. “Hmm, well, I really shouldn’t be sayin’ this, but the tower is vacant.”
It was hard to miss the magnificent edifice at the front of the hotel, though Drake had wondered why he had never seen any guests in that area. “Why is that?”
“ ’Tis just being built. The rooms are nothing but bare walls, with the fancy new plumbing bein’ put in, so ’tisn’t ready for guests yet.” O’Riley’s eyes twinkled again. “But ye may be able to charm Miss Sparrow out of a set o’ keys and mayhap a chair or two. She can be right sympathetic to a man’s woes at times.”
“Excellent—”
“Yoo-hoo, Mr. Manton,” came a voice Drake had learned to dread.
He had thought himself hidden behind the palms, but though they readily hid the shorter porter, Drake realized the top of his head must be visible above the feathery fronds.
; The fronds parted with the help of two small hands, and he found himself staring into Mrs. Biddle’s beady little eyes. He groaned inwardly, cursing the day he’d made the mistake of petting Princess, her Pekingese. He had no idea it would make the woman regard him as a prospective son-in-law.
But however he might want to flee, manners dictated he remain. Feeling slightly ridiculous for being caught hiding in the shrubbery, he nodded politely. “Mrs. Biddle.”
She simpered . . . a horrible sight. “Oh, Mr. Manton,” she said, laughing shrilly, “you are such a card. Do come out and say hello.”
Drake had no choice but to comply. As he suspected, Letty Biddle was close behind her mother, though Princess was nowhere in sight. The girl must take after her deceased father, for she was quite pretty with her blond hair and blue eyes. And, to her credit, Letty didn’t share her mother’s matchmaking tendencies. She was a modest young lady, who kept her eyes demurely downcast whenever Drake was around.
He suspected she was embarrassed by her mother’s obvious machinations. And, as far as he could tell, Letty had no interest in him whatsoever. It was all Mrs. Biddle’s idea.
“Look, Letty dear,” the woman cried. “Here is Mr. Manton. Weren’t we just saying how we hadn’t seen him in ages?”
“Yes, Mama,” Letty replied dutifully.
The elder Biddle patted her daughter’s hand. “My daughter is too shy to speak her mind, but she does admire you so.”
Drake could think of no answer to that, so he merely bowed.
Letty blushed, but her mother continued undaunted. “Of course, she has many admirers herself. Why, at home, she is simply inundated with invitations and suitors.”
“How nice for her,” Drake said in a discouraging tone, wondering how he could escape.
“But she doesn’t get nearly enough exercise here,” Mrs. Biddle complained. “There are so few young men who like to walk.” She glanced expectantly up at Drake.
That look probably meant something, but he couldn’t determine what, so he merely returned a noncommittal grunt and cast a despairing glance in O’Riley’s direction.
The porter came to the rescue. Appearing from behind the palms with an insouciance that bordered on insolence, he said, “The Chesterfield has a nature walk scheduled every morning at nine.”
Mrs. Biddle speared him with an annoyed look. “Pah. A structured walk with a lot of strangers. My shy little Letty has a more delicate constitution. She needs the attentions of a strong young man who can guide her along the proper path.”
Delicate? The girl was as healthy as a horse.
Inexorably, the Biddle gaze turned to Drake. “Would you . . . ?”
This time he understood. He might enjoy a walk, but not with the exceedingly shy Letty Biddle. “I’m sorry,” he said, searching for some excuse that would take him away. “I have . . . an appointment. With Dr. Ziegler.” There—that ought to do it.
Mrs. Biddle was disappointed, but not beaten. With a forced smile, she said, “Ah. Well, we can’t keep you then. But we were just on the way to the bathhouse ourselves, to partake of the waters. We shall accompany you.”
How was he going to get out of this one? He cast a frantic glance at the porter, who smirked but came to his rescue once again. “As I was just tellin’ Mr. Manton, the doctor is in the east wing, seein’ to a patient.” And that was as far away from the bathhouse as they could get in the hotel.
Undaunted, Mrs. Biddle said, “We would be happy to change our plans and accompany you there.”
“Ah, no,” Drake said, this time determined not to miss his cue. “I couldn’t possibly keep you from taking the waters. It would do Letty so much good.” Drake thought he saw Letty cast him a disbelieving glance, but Mrs. Biddle frowned, obviously beaten.
Drake bowed. “Perhaps we shall meet later.” If I don’t see you first.
The old Biddle had to be content with that. Crossly, she tugged at her daughter’s arm. “Come, Letty. We mustn’t bother Mr. Manton any longer.”
They turned to leave, and Drake gratefully slipped a handsome gratuity into the porter’s palm. Such sterling service deserved it. “Will you show me the tower now?”
“Aye,” Jack said as he slipped the coins in his pocket. “If ye—”
“Wait,” Drake said urgently. He had just caught sight of Gina, who was obviously seeking someone. Having a suspicion he was once more the object of her search, he slipped behind the plants again and hunched over to avoid detection.
Unfortunately, her dog, who had decided Drake was the epitome of canine bliss, sniffed him out and made his way through the screening palms with a joyous bark of greeting. Hoping to quiet him, Drake bent to scratch his ears, but it was too late.
Gina peeked through the palm fronds much as Mrs. Biddle had earlier, only with a far more pleasant expression. In fact, she appeared quite amused. “Gotcha,” she said. Then, glancing down at O’Riley’s flask, she grinned more broadly. “Well, this gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘potted palms’.”
He didn’t know what she meant, but, embarrassed by being caught hiding behind the plants twice in one day, Drake decided there was nothing he could do but brazen it out. He rose and nodded politely, then stepped out into the lobby as if it were an everyday occurrence.
Gina beamed at him as if he had done something exceedingly clever. Drake softened. It was difficult to be annoyed with a young woman who radiated such friendliness. Especially since her sunny, outgoing disposition was in such distinct contrast with Mrs. Biddle’s.
“I was just leaving,” he informed her, turning to suit action to words.
“I’ll come with you.”
“Thank you, but that isn’t necessary.”
“Yes, it is,” Gina said with a smile. “You’ve been avoiding me too long. Now that I’ve finally caught you, I’m not going to let you go until I’ve had my say.”
The porter grinned behind Gina, and Drake sighed. Though he might admire Gina’s forthright attitude, he wished she had learned some of the circumlocutions used in polite society. But he had to admit plain speaking was effective. He couldn’t object without telling her flatly to go away . . . and the code of a gentleman didn’t allow him to do that.
He cast a pleading glance at O’Riley, but the porter just shrugged and said, “I’ll be after gettin’ ye those keys. If ye’d like to wait for me at the tower?”
Well, it was better than waiting around here and perhaps having to dive behind the plants again. Resignedly, Drake turned to leave and Gina followed him.
As they walked toward the tower, her dog trotting along beside them, she chatted about various other resorts and their vastly superior amenities—a not so subtle hint that he should take himself off to one of them.
Borrowing a page from her book, he decided to speak plainly. “Why are you trying to get rid of me?”
“I’m not—”
He didn’t let her finish her sentence, but pulled her quickly into a secluded alcove, behind another pair of plants. He had spotted two other young women at the end of the hall who had been pursuing him, and he was afraid if the gabby ladies saw him, he’d never win free.
He peered out into the hallway and saw Scruffy staring at him with a perplexed expression. Before the dog could give him away again, Drake quickly scooped him into the alcove with them.
Gina looked confused. “What—”
“Shh,” he cautioned with a finger to her lips and whispered, “Wait until the Misses Harrington pass by.”
Gina suddenly went still and Drake grew conscious that they were very close in this confined space. He gazed down into her wide brown eyes, wondering why he had decided to drag her in here with him. He could have left her out in the hall since he doubted she would betray him to the young ladies.
His misgivings vanished as he became aware of her rounded body so close to his, her womanly scent enveloping him, and her brown eyes gazing up into his with surprise . . . and a hint of something else.
When
he realized her full, soft lips had parted slightly under his silencing finger, he removed the offending digit.
Unfortunately, the Misses Harrington chose this spot to stop and chat. Under cover of their voices, he whispered, “I beg your pardon. I don’t know what came over me.”
“That’s okay,” Gina breathed softly.
Their close proximity, combined with the fact that he could feel her warm breath against his neck, made the conversation all too intimate. To obtain some appearance of normalcy, he said softly, “I’m sorry, what were you saying before I . . . interrupted you?”
She paused for a moment, thinking. “Oh. I was explaining that I’m not trying to get rid of you, I’m trying to help you.”
Ignoring his body’s reaction to her closeness, he cleared his throat and said, “By making me leave?”
“Sort of.” She shrugged, and the small movement brought her breasts into soft contact with his chest.
He inhaled sharply. A gentleman would ignore the unintended intimacy and pretend he hadn’t felt anything, but Drake found himself wishing she would do it again.
Instead, her cheeks turned pink and she backed away from him in the small space to flatten herself against the wall behind her. “I—I can’t explain,” she said breathlessly, “but it’s imperative you leave the resort.”
This was the first time he could remember the brazen Gina appearing so discommoded. Could it be because of his nearness? To test his assumption, he moved closer and felt the awareness between them increase. “Why is this so important to you?”
“It just is.” He was so close that she had to lean her head back to speak to him, baring the soft expanse of her creamy white throat in unconscious surrender.
Drake was surprised at the surge of feeling that washed through him. The thought of this lush woman surrendering to him made his blood rush. He leaned closer, bracing an arm beside her head. With his other hand, he drew his finger softly down her cheek. “If you can’t explain, then I can’t go. These upcoming lectures are the culmination of everything I’ve worked for. I can’t just give them up on a whim for a woman, no matter how beautiful.” She didn’t need to know that he would never give them up—helping others was the only way to make up his failure with Charlotte, at least in some small way.
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