“Exactly, boy. You are Viscount Traymore, and I am your father, Lord Solebury.” For the first time, the man’s wrinkled brow puckered. “Don’t you recognize me? Isabella, he must be suffering amnesia. That explains why he has made his way back to us only now, after all these years. Where have you been, Davy? Lost somewhere in the jungles of Africa, I daresay.”
“Mr. Traymore, do you have some form of identification with you?” the woman called Isabella asked.
Leah stepped forward. “I’m afraid he doesn’t, ma’am. Your brother is partly correct, you see. My friend here does have amnesia. He can’t remember anything but his name.”
“Does he also forget how to dress? And what about you?” Isabella’s gaze swept over Leah’s apparel. “Why are you wearing a costume--a wet one at that?”
She looked down as though she’d forgotten what she wore. “We, uh . . . we dressed like this for a historical tour of local houses. The guide believes that wearing period costumes adds to the experience. Unfortunately, we fell in your spring while walking the grounds. You see, I noticed your family had the same name as David and wondered if you were related. I thought if he’d been here before, seeing the estate again might jog his memory.”
“Or you thought you might fool an old man into believing his lost heir has returned.” Isabella lifted her chin to look down her nose at them. “Well, if you’re seeking to gain your fortune here, you’ve chosen poorly. The estate is rapidly nearing bankruptcy. Even if my brother were to mistake you for his son, you’d inherit nothing but debts.”
“Madam, indeed, you wrong us. I lay no claim to your brother’s estate.” David looked to the old gentleman. “I am sorry, sir, but I have not the honor of being your son. I most certainly am not the viscount.”
The marquess only stared, apparently unwilling to credit the truth. His sister eyed David as well, but her expression softened, her chin no longer jutting forth.
“We’d best be on our way, David,” Leah said. “We wouldn’t want to miss the tour bus.”
“One minute, miss.” Isabella scrutinized David’s eyes, the wrinkles between her eyebrows deepening. Her gaze slid down the length of his body and back to his face. “You do bear a resemblance to my nephew, Mr. Traymore. Do you remember anything at all about your family or your home?”
He swallowed, reluctant to lie but acknowledging he had no other recourse. “No, madam.”
“And has Solebury House ‘jogged your memory,’ as your friend here hoped?”
He paused, then shook his head.
“If you had claimed it did, I’d suspect you of trying to impersonate my nephew, and I’m still not certain you didn’t intend to.” She stepped around him, inspecting him from all angles. “You most assuredly are not my brother’s son, but the likeness is such that I daresay you could be a relative. I’d like you to have dinner with us. I think we can find some dry things for you to wear up at the house.”
Leah exchanged another glance with him, her eyes growing wide. She wet her lips and addressed Isabella. “Thank you, ma’am, but our bus will be leaving the parking lot any minute. We have to go.”
The marquess banged his cane on the ground. “No, Davy, I won’t let you leave again so soon. I don’t have another ten years left to wait for your return.”
His sister frowned and looked to David. “Sir, I’d like you to go over the family tree with me. Perhaps we can determine who you really are.”
Leah shifted from one foot to the other. “A friend of mine is waiting for us at the bus. She’s expecting us to return to London with her.”
Isabella raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any reason to believe Mr. Traymore may recover his memory more readily in London?”
“Well, no . . .”
“Then I must insist you come with me. If you truly want to help this young man, Miss . . . Miss--I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name. I, by the way, am Lady Isabella Traymore.”
“How do you do, my lady?” Leah curtsied. “My name is Leah Cantrell.”
“Leah Cantrell?” Her brow furrowed. “Why is your name so familiar? Do I know you, Miss Cantrell?”
“No, ma’am.”
Lady Isabella contemplated her for a moment, then shook her head. “I’m certain I’ve heard your name before, but I don’t recognize your face. In any case, I insist you stay for dinner. Take a later coach to London.”
“Really, my lady, we don’t want to trouble you.” Leah looked to David, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“I should like to join them,” he said. He had his apprehensions, but these strangers were his family, after all. What better place to begin his introduction to the twenty-first century? “I believe I may have much to learn here. Would it be too much trouble to delay our journey?”
She glanced up the drive, pressing her lips together. At last, she turned back to the others. “No, it’s no trouble. I won’t be continuing with the tour, anyway. But I’ll need to let my friend know I’m staying behind.”
“We’ll send someone out to the parking lot with a message,” Lady Isabella said. “Now, let’s get in the car before you two catch cold.”
David eyed the remarkable conveyance. “You wish us to ride with you?”
“Yes. Don’t worry about getting the seats wet. The upholstery is old.” Her ladyship gestured for her guests to enter first.
“Thank you, my lady.” With a rush of excitement, David helped Leah inside and climbed in behind her, settling into a seat that yielded like a plush armchair. The coachman assisted Lord Solebury and Lady Isabella into the carriage and returned to the front.
David stared as the driver adjusted knobs and levers, situated at both his hands and feet. Suddenly, the carriage rolled forward, gliding faster than he had ever imagined possible. He felt like a bird in flight as he watched trees tear past the windows at a tremendous rate of speed. They must have traveled at twice the rate of any horse-drawn carriage--perhaps some thirty miles an hour!
Near the house, they pulled onto a flat, even, black surface, and the ride grew smoother yet. The vehicle came to a stop before the manor doors, the glorious trip over far too quickly.
As the rest of the party climbed out onto the drive, David sat, grinning to himself. A better carriage spring, indeed! What other surprises did this new world have in store?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Leah followed a gray-haired housekeeper into the upstairs hall, all too conscious of the tattered wallpaper and worn carpet. With the knowledge that David had made the original wish, she’d gotten her own aimless wish. But she couldn’t help feeling her time transport could have been used for a more meaningful purpose: namely, to save Solebury House. She couldn’t shake off the sense that she’d failed the Traymores. According to Lady Isabella, they were at the brink of bankruptcy. That meant they’d have to sell the estate, and not many prospective buyers would have a stack of ready cash for repairs. Would a bank end up owning the place? What if the house had to be torn down?
She stopped to wait for David, who lingered on the stairs, looking at the walls with a grim face. A chill shivered through her, and not because of her damp clothing. She was afraid for him. The ruined house was only the first culture shock of many he’d have to deal with.
When he reached her side, she took his hand and leaned close to his ear. “I’m sorry you have to see the manor this way. I’d hoped I could do something in the past that might prevent this. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to try.”
“Your pity is unnecessary.” A gruffness in his voice undermined the stoicism of his statement. “This never was my home. I am no more attached to this building than you are.”
She slipped an arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “If you’re trying to say you don’t care about the ruin here, don’t compare your feelings to mine. I’ve grown very attached to Solebury House.”
A few seconds passed, then he placed his hand on her back. The small gesture told her a lot. In his way, he had accepted her sympathy
.
The housekeeper led them into a section of the house closed off from the tour route. She stopped in front of the first door they reached. “Lord Solebury insisted you be shown here.” She watched David over the top of her wire-framed glasses, as though she expected some sort of reaction from him.
When he didn’t show one, she opened the door and motioned for the guests to enter ahead of her. “This room belonged to the viscount.”
David stepped inside and surveyed the antiquated but well maintained decor. He ran his hand over the surface of an old writing desk and leaned down to inspect something carved into a window sill. Walking to the side of the bed, he took one post in his hand and stared down at the gold velvet bedspread. Leah had never seen the room before, but she got the impression he had.
“Everything has been kept exactly the way you--or Viscount Traymore, rather–had it.” The housekeeper gave him a sidelong glance. “I’ve lain out dry clothes for both of you. They’re a bit . . . vintage, shall we say? I hope they’ll do, however. Miss, if you’d like a room of your own for dressing, I can show you to another.”
Leah shook her head. “I’ll be fine here.”
“Very well, then.” The housekeeper didn’t seem to notice David’s eyes had ballooned open, then narrowed to fix on Leah. “There’s a lavatory through that door. Dinner will be served at six. Anything else I can do for you?”
“No, thank you.” Leah avoided meeting the glare she felt coming from him. She’d obviously shocked him by agreeing to change in the same room. Now he was mad, but she had to hide a grin. Maybe she shouldn’t laugh, but in this case she wasn’t worried about him. His naivete wouldn’t last long.
“Very good. Ring if you think of anything else you need.” The housekeeper left, closing the door behind her.
Pretending she noticed nothing wrong, Leah crossed the room and picked up a carriage clock from the dresser. “Five o’clock. We have an hour to get ready.”
David stood statue still, probably stewing.
“Did you see the odd way the housekeeper looked at you?” She stooped down and untied her halfboots. “Lord Solebury isn’t the only one who believes you could be the long-lost viscount.”
“Leah, why did you agree to that woman’s outrageous assumption that we would dress in the same room?”
“Why put our hosts to any extra trouble?” She glanced up at him, feigning innocence as she pulled off a boot. “Besides, we really should spend this time talking. We should make sure we’ve got our story straight.”
He threw his hands up in the air. “A woman’s reputation always outweighs all other concerns. You know that. Let us hope you have not just done irreparable damage to yours--and mine, for that matter.”
She yanked off the other boot and wriggled her toes. “Oh, I’m pretty sure we’ll both be able to withstand the scandal.”
“Leah, we are already on dubious footing here. What on earth will Lady Isabella think of us now?”
“Lady Isabella probably told the housekeeper to put us in here together.” She peeled off a wet stocking, sliding him a grin. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, Sweet Pea.”
He stared at her, the set of his features slowly mutating from exasperation to skepticism. “Are you quite serious?”
“Totally.” She stood and walked to the bed, picking up the dress the housekeeper had laid out for her. Made of navy blue linen, the simple style had a shin-length, straight skirt. Above a fitted bodice, lace faintly yellowed with age trimmed a square-cut neckline. She couldn’t wait to get out of her wet clothes and put on the elegant old garment.
She reached behind her neck to unzip herself before she remembered she still wore a Regency-era gown with a dozen tiny hooks running down the back. She looked over her shoulder at her companion. “Undo me, David, will you?”
There was a pause before he answered.
“No, I don’t believe I will, actually.”
She stifled a smile. The poor guy would definitely need some adjusting before he’d feel comfortable with modern ways. “Look, I’ll get changed in the bathroom, behind a closed door, but I do need help with these hooks. This type of thing isn’t a big deal nowadays. I’m only asking for your help. Please.”
Lifting her hair, she turned her back to him. After a long moment, she heard him move closer. The light scent of sandalwood teased her nose. His fingers brushed the nape of her neck, and a shudder rolled down her spine. Apparently, modern women weren’t quite as immune to casual touching as she’d implied--not when the right person did the touching.
“There are some things I shall need time to get used to,” he said softly from behind her ear. His fingers grazed her back as the hooks came apart one by one. The light pressure made her skin tingle, and goose bumps rose on her arms.
She reached back and grabbed his hand, warm in her chilled fingers. “I know. It’s not really as easy as I made it out to be. There are fewer rules, and that makes it difficult to know exactly what’s right--even for those of us who are used to it.”
He cleared his throat, letting her turn his hand to hold it. “I simply want to avoid having Lady Isabella throw us out on our ears. She and the marquess are my family, however far removed, and I shouldn’t like them to think badly of me. Is that terribly daft of me?”
“Not daft at all.”
“I am pleased you agree. Now, let me tend to these hooks.” He slipped his hand from hers and skimmed down her back until the dress fell open, leading her to tremble again. “There you are. All finished.”
He stepped away and shrugged off his jacket, hanging the garment on a chair.
She stood motionless, still tantalized by the experience of his undressing her. She wanted him to finish the job.
“Have I forgotten something?” he asked, untying the scarf-like neckpiece she’d heard called a cravat. “Do I not make a good lady’s maid then?”
She studied his partly averted face, admiring the contours of his forehead, lashes and nose. Her focus stuck at the curve of his lips, perfect for kissing. “I suspect your talents lie in other areas.”
Without acknowledging her gaze, he stripped off his jacket. The clinging shirt beneath outlined muscle that made her suck in her breath. An urge to go and take him in her arms pulsed through her. Not used to a woman initiating physical contact, he’d be caught off guard. She felt confident she’d get a glimpse of passions he normally hid too well.
But did she really want to ambush him?
No. For now, at least, she’d be good.
She released a ragged sigh. “I’ll get changed now, okay? In the bathroom, I mean. Oh, the bathroom. Wait until you see this, David. Hot and cold running water, and no more disgusting chamber pots. But, no, we really should get out of these wet clothes first, shouldn’t we? I’ll show you the bathroom when I come back out.”
He shot her a look over his shoulder, eyebrows raised at her barrage of words. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he smiled. “Go and get dressed, will you?”
The rare smile made her grin back. She turned toward the bathroom, then stopped again. Turning around, she said, “I’m really glad you’re here. We’re going to have so much fun. I have so much to show you. I can’t wait.”
He laughed, surprising her again. “Dress yourself, and you won’t have to.”
She grinned and backed into the bathroom, closing the door. Funny how being thrust two hundred years away from what he knew didn’t even seem to faze him. No, in fact, he seemed more carefree than ever before. A very different response from the one she’d had!
As she shimmied out of her gown, she hoped his attitude would last. She had no idea how to help him start fitting into the modern world. He would have to support himself somehow, and he didn’t have so much as a birth certificate, let alone a current education or knowledge of today’s jobs. But she had jumped ahead of herself. For all she knew, the spring could take him back in another week, the way it had with her.
She blanked out the thought, grabbing a towel from
a pile on a white wicker etagere. She wouldn’t think about his leaving. He was here with her now and, if she could keep him beside her, she would gladly support him herself for as long as Fate allowed.
She took a brush out of her purse and stared into the mirror as she struggled to tame her wet hair. Her reflected eyes looked big, the pupils dilated with apprehension and excitement. She would concentrate on the excitement. For now, she had David with her, and she intended to enjoy his company to the fullest. As his only close acquaintance, she virtually had him to herself. And she’d have the privilege of showing him a whole new world.
With a burst of anticipation, she sat on the side of the tub and pulled on the dark blue tights Lady Isabella had provided for her. One foot propped on the toilet seat, she stretched the nylon up each leg. As she stood to finish the job, she eyed the toilet with a new light of interest.
She couldn’t wait to demonstrate a flush for David.
* * * *
“I don’t see any other Davids here.” Seated at a heavy oak table stacked with ledgers, journals and packets of papers--as well as leftovers from dinner--Lady Isabella ran a finger up and down a family tree. “Of course, we don’t have complete records for some of the more distant cousins. One of them could be your father.”
Leah leaned over to offer pretend assistance, reading from the outside branches. “Bernard and Elizabeth, Arthur and Barbara, Randall and Frederica . . . Do any of these names ring a bell, David?”
He shook his head.
Her ladyship continued scanning the peripheral areas of the tree. “I believe I’ve already mentioned the rest of these names without your recognizing them. I’m afraid we’ve come up empty-handed. Any other ideas how we might help you?”
He rubbed his chin in thought. “I wonder, Lady Isabella, if you could tell me some of the family history. If we have common ancestors, the tales may be familiar to me. Are there any unique stories that have passed down through the generations?”
“Indeed, we have our share of skeletons.” She sat back in her chair and gave him a wan smile. “But are family disgraces the sort of thing you want to remember?”
As You Wish Page 17