Now Playing on Outworld 5730

by R. T. W. Lipkin

  Harriette showed Jewel the comm, and Jewel grinned.

  Just when she’d thought everything was not just ruined but irreparably destroyed, it had turned out to be just the opposite. Everything was amazing.

  Before the morning was over, Harriette had gotten Cook to sign a long-term contract with Hollyhock, including exclusive renewal rights, and the most satisfying, most enticing aroma of freshly baked bread now permeated the kitchen and downstairs rooms at the manor house.

  In Jewel’s office, she and Harriette smiled and laughed in relieved excitement as they sorted through the requests, booking the next five majestics at Hollyhock, creating a wait list, and enjoying each other’s company.

  Wonders do never cease, Jewel thought. Harriette had finally found something she was good at.

  Chapter 140

  Vernie Dalston and Baron North were lost in the maze. She’d brought him out here after breakfast—she’d never been so hungry in her life—and he’d acquiesced when his pal Fitzmore didn’t show up at the meal. Neither had Lady Katherine.

  “Trent dear,” Vernie said as they rounded another corner and ran into yet another dead end, “I’ve been thinking.”

  “What now, Vernie?” The woman always had a new scheme up her sleeve, one of the most lovable things about her.

  “Well, you know, now that the Idrest empire has fallen, there’s great opportunities to be had, and I just had a tip last night from that man with the freckles.”

  “I don’t know who you mean.”

  “Let’s go this way, Trent. I think we tried that alley already.”

  She took his hand and started skipping back on the exact same path they’d already taken . . . twice.

  “You know. That man. He has so many freckles and he ate all the herrings that day.”

  “What day was that?”

  “You know who I’m talking about, Trent. You must.”

  They got to another wildly overgrown hedge and stopped.

  “There has to be a way to the center,” Vernie said.

  “I’m sure there is, my dear. And I’m sure you’ll find it. Care for a pastry?” He pulled two fresh scones out of his pockets and handed one to her.

  “Oh, Trent. You’re such a love. Always thinking of everything. Let’s try that way.” Vernie miraculously pointed to a path they hadn’t yet been on.

  “Everett Milsom,” Vernie said as she took a huge bite of the delicious scone. The cook at Hollyhock really was a genius.

  “Who’s that?” Baron North said. Vernie was undoubtedly the most fun person he’d ever been with.

  “The freckle-faced man,” Vernie said. “Pay attention, Trent!”

  “Ah yes, of course,” he said. He had two more scones in his pockets. He’d reward himself and Vernie when they finally got to the center, which he was hoping would be a long time from now since it was a very pleasant morning.

  “Don’t you remember? He was at the duel.”

  “Of course,” North said. He didn’t remember at all. He hardly remembered that there’d been a duel, but he didn’t want to say so.

  “And he was the only one who made a profit on the betting. So I think his advice is well worth listening to,” she said as though she’d just concluded an intricate point-by-point analysis of Milsom’s financial prowess.

  “Whatever you say, Vernie,” North said. Goodness, these scones were simply heavenly.

  “This way!” Vernie said, excited now, and she pulled North along behind her as she turned the last corner into the center.

  Chapter 141

  A year and a half later

  “We’ll be there in a few hours,” Gilbert said from the pilot’s seat, the place where he was most at home. “Have you decided yet what you’re going to say?”

  “About a hundred and twenty-seven different versions,” Alexander said.

  He was sitting across from Gil, in the copilot’s seat, even though he knew nothing at all about piloting or copiloting the transport. That was Gil’s area of expertise. “All of them wrong. I’ll probably just cry and hope she understands.”

  “She will,” Gil said.

  “I still don’t believe it,” Alexander said. “And she wouldn’t take any of it. I begged her to.”

  “I’m sure Marguerite is just fine, Alexander. It’s time you got used to things. It’s been more than a year.”

  “I still don’t understand why he left everything to me and not his own wife,” Alexander said.

  “That’s easy,” Gilbert said. “He was in love with you. As I am.”

  “Do you think he knew?”

  “He never suspected,” Gil said. “You ready for lunch?”

  “Maybe,” Alexander said. He had a lot on his mind.

  He’d finally gotten the Rhodes Foundation up and running, funded by the monstrously large fortune he’d inherited from Clive Idrest’s estate, and he and Gil had just come from Outworld 15, where the disgraced Delphinia Rhodes, posthumously convicted of her husband’s murder, had been cremated in a ceremony attended by only Alexander and Gil.

  Gilbert was taking Alexander to Earth, where he was going to see his sister for the first time since he’d been a child and she’d saved his life.

  Alexander looked over at Gil, who’d also saved his life and continued to do so every day.

  “I love you,” he said simply, and Gilbert nodded in reply.

  Chapter 142

  Is this woman never going to let me rest? Johnny thought as he looked up at the vision who was sitting astride him. He stroked her exquisite breasts while she did the most incredible things that any woman had ever done to him. I hope she never does.

  “My God, my God, my God!” she shouted as she climaxed for the third time that morning. “Johnny!”

  When she was finished, Johnny turned her over and moved slowly in and out of her, watching her radiant face, gleaming with sweat and lust. He pushed a strand of thick, wet blond hair off her forehead, quickened his pace, and rose up in ecstasy as he emptied himself into her and she came yet again.

  Finally, Charlotte Churchill thought. Finally I’ve found a lover who can satisfy me. Not like that stuffy farmer Ephraim Croft, whose idea of a good time was riding that stupid Hyperion around his boring fields, or worse, his ludicrously romantic friend Wyatt Conroy, who thought if you brought a woman out to some scenic vista she’d swoon with pleasure. Or, even worse still, the idiotic bore Abel Fulton, who she’d actually married, but only because the equally poor—maybe the worst of the lot—lover Clive Idrest had told her it was necessary.

  But now that Idrest was dead, now that she was well rid of both Croft and Conroy and would soon be rid of Fulton, she could relax and have the fun she’d always wanted. The fun that she’d always known was waiting for her if only she could find the right person.

  And the day she’d seen the handsome redhead at the stables on the Conroy ranch she’d had a feeling that Johnny Beach might just be that man. Since then he’d proven her right and was about to prove her right again, she saw as she reached over and felt him harden.

  Finally, someone who understood her, someone who understood the joys of sheer pleasure.

  “You can’t mean it,” Johnny said, smiling and grinning down at his own cock.

  “Oh, but I do,” Charlotte said, laughing without inhibition, as she now intended to do everything.

  Chapter 143

  “I’m sorry to have brought you here,” Eli Calvert said to his new wife. “But I thank you for coming.”

  “Of course I had to come,” Pamela Hyland said. “We had to come.” They’d been on Outworld 217 for nearly a week now, and Pamela had seen the worst of it.

  She’d sobbed her heart out the day that Eli had taken her to the remains of his house, which were still largely as he’d left them. She’d been hoping perhaps they’d find something he could hold on to in the rubble, but there was nothing, only ashes. And Eli himself was always so stoic, which had made her cry even more.

  “I’ve had a brai
nstorm,” Eli said, putting down his sandwich.

  They were sitting at a café having lunch, maybe the worst lunch Pamela had ever eaten, yet it couldn’t have tasted better, she thought, looking over at Eli Calvert, her husband, her mate, her partner. In all her hopes and dreams, she’d never thought she’d find such a remarkable man, such a beautiful, heartfelt, strong, intelligent, loving man.

  And the two of them made a formidable team.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “It’s all the oxygen here,” he said. “They’re in the wrong business.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Pamela said.

  “Water,” they both said, and nodded in agreement. There was hope for Outworld 217 after all, and for the drought in that part of the galaxy as well.

  Pamela took another bite of her own terrible sandwich and looked across the table at her husband. Not everything could be fixed, could be cured, could be made right, but if something could, the two of them together would do their best to find a way.

  A brief memory of Hollyhock Manor arose and disappeared in Pamela’s memory. Of Violet, who she’d be seeing again in a few weeks. Of Marguerite and Nicholas, who she and Eli were also visiting on their upcoming trip.

  Of the first time she’d seen Eli Calvert and of the leap her heart had taken.

  She looked at him across from her and her heart leaped again.

  “I love you, you know,” Eli said.

  “I do know,” Pamela said.

  Chapter 144

  “My goodness, Rosie, will this day never be over?” Violet said.

  “Come on, Vi. Just another scene. You’ll be fine.”

  “This dress is getting tighter and tighter on me,” Violet said, sighing and pulling at the waistband.

  Then she laughed, remembering all the sighing everyone did on Outworld 5730, which outworld she’d been convinced she’d never get clear of, especially after the relapse of outworld sickness. Yet that was when . . .

  “Five minutes, Miss Aldrich,” came the call from outside her room.

  “Do you really have to go back to New Zealand, Rosie?” Violet said. “Again? It’s so so so very far away.”

  “Hah,” Rosie said. “My husband’s there and you know it.”

  “And Johnny, of course,” Violet said. He was running the Conroy ranch now, and very capably at that. Also, he was best friends with Wyatt’s father, who no one at all liked, not even Wyatt, really.

  “Oh, Vi, wait’ll you hear. You’ll never believe it,” Rosie said. “Charlotte Churchill,” she said, but was interrupted by a knock on Violet’s door.

  “One minute, and you’d better get out to the set now,” said the young boy who’d opened the door and was poking his head inside. “You know how Skip gets.”

  “Okay, okay,” Violet said. But she knew Skip, Mirage’s creator, writer, and director, would wait another minute for her. Even though her part was that of a lowly maid, Violet Aldrich was the star of the fabula, as she’d always suspected she would be.

  You’re damned lucky we waited for you, Skip often reminded her, and she always thanked him, even though she was a star now and even though he was half joking.

  But not that long ago she’d been a failed actor, playing the part of a lady’s maid in the most disastrous majestic ever staged—although somehow that disaster had turned into a huge success, something Violet still didn’t quite understand—and she’d been stuck on 5730, her outworld sickness relapse the worst case of it that Doc Hoffstead said he’d ever seen.

  Yet he and Ephraim and Rosie and Pamela had taken such good care of her. And now she was doing what she’d always dreamed of.

  Even better than that, she’d gotten Rosie a job in the design department of Mirage, and she’d quickly risen through the ranks. She was going to be the chief designer for all the sets in their locations in Northumberland next season.

  “Vi,” Rosie said. “You’ll never believe it.”

  “I’d better get out to the set, Rosie,” Violet said. “It is the last scene before the break, and if I don’t get home and see Eph soon, I’ll go mad.”

  “You’ll never listen to me, will you, Vi? Like I keep telling you,” Rosie said, laughing, “he’s no good for you, that haughty lord. You need a nice, quiet farmer, someone who’ll love you and appreciate you.”

  “For God’s sake, Vi,” said a man’s voice. Skip himself was now standing at Violet’s doorway. “Get the hell out here now. Everyone wants to go home.”

  Chapter 145

  “Theo, get back here this instant,” Marguerite said, but Theo, as usual, was not paying any attention to her. He was fascinated by something going on just outside the tent, and he was determined to get to it, no matter what his mother said.

  “Listen to your mother, Theo Coburn,” Beau Ogden said. He scooped the toddler up in his arms and handed him back to his mother.

  “Where’s Nicholas?” Marguerite said.

  “I thought Nick was right behind me,” said Beau. “Must’ve gotten delayed. You know how he is.”

  “I do know,” Marguerite said. “And I’m finding out more every day.”

  She held Theo on her lap and looked around her inside the tent. It was the only tent left on the property, but Nicholas had insisted on keeping it there, a reminder of what had happened, of the lives that had been lost, but also a kind of oasis from the rest of the business and the rest of life.

  There was always something being repaired or replaced or worked on in their new house, and here, in the tent, it was quiet and serene. So much so that nearly everyone who worked for Nicholas also found their way to the tent at least once a week. Any excuse would do.

  Marguerite and Theo were usually there as well, which was another draw. Especially Theo, who’d charmed everyone at the company and in fact everyone who met him.

  “Marguerite,” Nicholas said as he peered into the tent. “What are you still doing here? Alexander’s going to land in less than an hour.”

  “It’s that late?” she said, standing up and watching Theo as he toddled over to his father. Theo had her auburn hair and Nicholas’s too-serious expression. “But I have so much left to do.”

  “It’ll wait,” Nicholas said.

  “I’ve never heard him say that before,” Beau said, laughing.

  “That’s because I used to spend all my time in Sunbury waiting,” Nicholas said. “But now that I don’t have to wait anymore, I see its value.”

  “I’ll never understand him,” Beau said.

  “Nor I,” said Marguerite, “although it’s my life’s mission.”

  “Come on, my love,” Nicholas said. He held out his hand to her.

  He’d been trying to bring Alexander and Marguerite together since Clive’s death, but Alexander kept making excuses. Now, finally, the brother and sister would be reunited. And, better still, Marguerite no longer had anything to fear.

  “I just wanted to see her again,” Marguerite had said the night Nicholas told her what her mother, Delphinia, had done before her death. “I wanted to go home.”

  “This is your home now,” Nicholas had said. “I’m only sorry she can’t be here with us.”

  Marguerite may’ve wanted to mourn her loss, but she was so busy taking care of Theo that she’d had no time.

  With the burden of ever-persistent fear lifted, something essential had changed in Marguerite. She was more herself now, more relaxed, more open, and often more angry.

  The epic argument she and Nicholas had had three nights ago—it was exactly what he’d always wanted, the freedom to be at home with his wife, arguing about nothing at all, relishing every minute, loving her more every second.

  Nicholas and Marguerite, with Theo between them, went out to the landing field together.

  When Alexander stepped off the transport, the scene Nicholas had pictured, one of the long-separated brother and sister embracing, didn’t occur.

  Instead, Theo broke free of his parents’ grasp and ran over to his uncle,
throwing himself into the man’s arms and saying his first word: “Alex.”

  Chapter 146

  Wyatt and Ephraim had ridden out together to the far reaches of the Croft property’s old boundaries, now restored.

  They were sitting on their mounts, Wyatt on a dappled gray and Ephraim on his white Arabian stallion, Hollyhock, a gift from Violet on his last birthday. The two men and their horses were perched on the ridge overlooking the vast Northumberland farmlands.

  “I still say you shouldn’t’ve done it, Wyatt,” Ephraim said as the breeze picked up.

  Violet would be home tomorrow. He hadn’t seen her since she’d left for the last round of the season, and now that she was pregnant, he worried about her every day.

  “It’s your land, Eph,” Wyatt said. “For generations. I bought it only so you’d be able to get Charlotte out of your system. Now that she is, it’s only right that you should have it back again.”

  “Damn you for that,” Ephraim said. “I rather enjoyed my role as the piteous once-great landholder.”

  “More than your role as the arrogant Lord Trevelton?”

  “Well, that was rather fun,” Ephraim said.

  He had to admit even to himself that he’d actually enjoyed the arrogant Lord Trevelton and sometimes wished he could be more like him. He was even building a hut in the woods out past the pastureland. The bronze sea goddess he’d brought back on the transport with him would grace its table.

  “Saybrook wasn’t a bad chap either,” Wyatt said. “But I’m well rid of him. He couldn’t figure out a way to get the glorious Rose Beach to marry him, but Wyatt Conroy had no such difficulty.”

  “She doesn’t know, does she?” Ephraim said.

  “Thinks she’s going back to New Zealand tomorrow,” Wyatt said. “This trip’s a surprise.”

  “Violet will be glad to have her here.”

  “Used to Vi’s celebrity status yet?”

  “Never. But they did move the production here for next year, and they wrote her pregnancy into the script. So I guess she is rather important on that silly fabula.”