by Lisa Kumar
Up ahead, a white gazebo shone in the moonlight. Her feet longed for a rest. This could be just the place to offer one. She squinted but couldn’t see the outline of anybody in the enclosure. No sound came from it, either.
But was it far enough from the manor? She didn’t want to be seen, especially since the moonlight came and went with each cloud in the sky. After a glance back at the manor, she shrugged. She could barely see the hulking structure, so she figured it was safe.
She walked at a fast clip across the grass lawn. Soon after she entered the gazebo, she took a seat and sighed. How heavenly! Her poor feet seemed to agree with her, and she relaxed into a contented slump for the moment.
Her mind wandered to Avingdale…Jonathan Blakeley. The name fit him—dignified and debonair sounding. She huffed out a breath. The activity he’d probably been engaging in since their meeting wasn’t so “dignified.”
The communication button on the computer flashed. She hit the button and hissed, “Carson?”
His joking voice came from the minuscule speaker. “How did you guess?”
She growled. “I’m tired and hungry. Do we have a contact nearby or not?”
“We do.”
Relief rushed over Maryanne. Fantastic. Best news of the night.
“Where are you right now?”
“Still on the Barringford property.”
“But where are you exactly?” he asked.
She released a huff. “Why does that matter?”
“Just humor me.”
“Fine.” She remained quiet for a few seconds and then added grudgingly, “The gazebo some distance behind the manor.”
“Okay, do me a favor and hang tight.”
“This better be good.”
“Trust me, it is,” he said. “You won’t be disappointed.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Are you sending someone to me?”
“Got to go now.”
“What? Answer me. Carson? Carson?” Silence met her demands. She scowled at the computer. “Grrr, that boy. He’s asking for it.”
A feminine voice laughingly cut into her thoughts. “Carson at his old tricks again? He was always a blond goof, but cute. That was his saving grace.”
Chapter 2
Maryanne lurched to her feet, her heart practically leaping out of her chest. “Who’s there?” The voice and words had sounded American—and as if the woman were from her time—though a slight accent colored her speech.
“Your contact.”
Maryanne narrowed her eyes, trying to locate the person. The glow of a lamp revealed a figure standing outside the gazebo. “Who are you?”
The contact strode closer, and the woman’s features came into focus. “Here I’m known as the Countess of Correlton. But you know me by another name.”
Maryanne frowned and stepped closer to the entrance of the gazebo. The face—the straight nose, the elegantly arched brows over wide-set eyes—before her looked familiar. So did the black hair. Suddenly, a name popped into her head. “Julia Reynolds. I thought…I thought you disappeared during a mission.”
“Is that the story Intellitravel and the Office concocted? I always wondered.”
Maryanne gave her a puzzled look. “If Carson contacted you, how come you didn’t know?”
“One of the stipulations allowing me to stay here was that I wouldn’t use my devices to contact anyone from the future except for my immediate family, who were sworn to secrecy. Oddly enough, we’ve never talked about what Intellitravel said about my supposed disappearance. I’m lucky I was even allowed to stay in touch with them, but I always suspected our bosses had their reasons. I was right. It comes in handy to have contacts in various ages. No doubt, I’m not the first research scientist to go native, and I won’t be the last.”
Maryanne opened and closed her mouth. Julia had been allowed to stay? Wasn’t that a sin against time-travel’s number one rule: don’t interfere in history? That realization shook the foundation of Maryanne’s beliefs. She couldn’t think of one intelligent thing to say. Shoving that conundrum back into her mind, she found one question lingered. It probably wasn’t a polite thing to ask but…. “Why would you want to stay in this backward century?”
“Love. It drives you to do many silly things. And this time period grows on you and has its benefits.”
Maryanne considered what those benefits could be. “You said you were a countess?”
Julia nodded.
Maryanne’s cynical side pointed out the pros quickly. “So you’re titled. That brings a good deal of power with it, I’m sure. And no little amount of money.” Even though the lamp didn’t provide tons of light, it was enough for Maryanne to see the expensive nature of Julia’s jewels and empire-waist gown. No, the former research scientist didn’t lead a life of poverty. Far from it.
Julia smiled and didn’t appear to take offense. “Those things definitely sweeten life here, but they do offer their own challenges.”
“Not cut out to be a scullery maid?”
Julia shuddered. “No way. But if my James were a footman, I’d do what I had to so I could be with him.”
Nice sentiment and one she could appreciate. “So you’re here to stay?”
The other woman nodded, though she seemed a little pensive. “Even if I wanted to go back, I don’t think I can. It was a one-time deal.”
Wow. “I don’t know if I could make that sacrifice, love or not.”
“Then let’s hope you’re never confronted with that choice. Come, my husband will be expecting us back.”
Maryanne, sucking her lower lip between her teeth, left the gazebo to stand beside Julia. “He knows about me…and where you’re originally from?”
“Naturally. It would be hard to keep it from someone you live with and don’t spend much time apart from.”
“I guess it would be. So I’m staying with you until my two weeks are up?”
Julia walked toward the manor, and Maryanne followed. “Unless you’ve got someplace else to go.”
“Carson wouldn’t have called you if I had.”
“So it’s decided.” The lantern in Julia’s hand wobbled as she turned her head and grabbed Maryanne’s arm with her free hand. “I’m ecstatic to have someone from my own century here.”
Maryanne smiled warily. She didn’t have many friends, and for good reason—they tended to take a lot more than they gave. But having a friend for two weeks might be okay. “I’m glad you’re my contact. It’s nice to be staying with another woman and not with a guy at his bachelor pad.”
Julia started to reply, only to stop. “Is that who I think it is?”
Maryanne followed the other woman’s line of sight. Light from the manor spilled out and showcased a figure descending from one of the manor’s terraces. The form appeared to be man-shaped. She didn’t have a clue who Julia thought he was, so she shrugged. Possibly, it was Julia’s husband. No, she would’ve said so if it were.
Julia leaned forward, squinting. “I think it is. I would’ve thought he’d be charming some woman out of her gown by now, it being after two in the morning and all.”
Great. A so-called rake was coming their way? Men and their libidos. “Charming.” She didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm from her voice.
Julia gave a soft laugh. “He really isn’t that bad. Yes, he’s a bit of a philanderer, but he’s not without his morals, unlike some other nobles you might meet.”
“While that’s nice to know, I’m sure I won’t have much reason to be around him or any other guy.”
“If you’re returning to my home, you might not have a choice. My husband’s friends and relatives visit him quite frequently. You could very well meet one or two of them.”
Maryanne didn’t want to talk about the male sex. They were better avoided in all ways, so she switched the subject. “Where exactly do you live?”
“You’re in luck. At Cranston, the Correlton estate, which is a few miles from here.”
The man
from the terrace headed their way. Maryanne frowned, her attention only partially on what Julia said. “That’s great.”
As the man neared them, disbelief rooted in her stomach. The niggle only grew as Maryanne blinked and blinked again. But that didn’t change the image in front of her. It couldn’t be…it was. The icy light revealed the chiseled features in shadowed relief.
The Marquess of Avingdale, who should be otherwise occupied and not out here.
She and Julia halted as he came to stand before them.
Maryanne’s unease soared to frantic heights. What was he doing outside? Had she changed something by running into him in the hallway? She scoffed to herself. Little, insignificant her—change anyone’s history? Fat chance at that. A horrifying, though unlikely, thought flew into her mind. Had the sight of her repulsed him so much, he couldn’t bare to make love to his mistress?
Unless he’d visited Lady Sutton and, after sharing her bed, left? After all, a lot could be accomplished in two hours. According to all historical records, though, he’d spent the night with her and hadn’t left her room until around the six in the morning.
Of course, historical records could be wrong, but she hadn’t been willing to verify this particular detail. Though she was a research scientist, she drew the line at being a voyeur of intensely private moments. If there were any passionate going-ons where clothing was being shed, she hightailed it out of there.
Avingdale inclined his head, his smile dripping charm. “Lady Correlton, fancy meeting you here.”
Julia lifted a brow. “Lord Avingdale, I could say the same.”
“You and your companion are taking the air during this time of night?”
“Indeed we are. That stuffy ballroom was doing neither one of us favors. We decided to retire to the gazebo for a bit.”
“I see. I hope you are both rejuvenated.”
Frowning, Maryanne watched interplay between them. They seemed…very familiar with each other. Why did she hate that idea so much?
As if remembering her manners, Julia glanced at Maryanne before saying, “My dear, may I present Jonathan Blakely, Marquess of Avingdale?”
Maryanne dipped her head in reluctant agreement. Though they’d already met, sure, why not? She’d take it in stride as if she were used to men being formally presented to her.
Julia continued with the introduction. “My lord, this is Miss Terrance, a friend from America.”
His gaze flashed to Maryanne, and its intensity zapped her to the bone. “We’ve had the pleasure of already meeting.” He dipped his head. “Miss Terrance, I had no idea you’d sneak out here, but I confess I don’t find myself surprised.”
“And I thought you had a prior engagement to which you needed to attend.”
He shrugged. “It was of no importance.”
Yeah, right. Maryanne bet the woman he stood up didn’t feel that way.
“I hope your acquaintance shares your sentiments.”
“It matters not. That acquaintance no longer exists.”
Well…was that good or bad? Both? Bad for history? Possibly good for her ego?
Julia’s gaze flicked between her and Avingdale. “You both must’ve had quite the conversation.”
Avingdale stiffened. “Nay, it was quite short, and in no way improper.”
Maryanne almost snorted. The way he’d checked her out had been downright indecent. Too bad she couldn’t tell if he liked what he’d seen. But all in all, he hadn’t compromised her in any way. Not that it mattered, since she was a modern gal.
“I lay no aspersions of that nature at your door.”
He inclined his head, apparently mollified. “Come, let’s return you two ladies to Correlton before he sends out a search party.”
Julia nodded. “A wise idea.”
Avingdale offered an arm to both her and Julia. The countess willingly placed her hand on his sleeve, but Maryanne stared at the other arm for a second too long. With a jerk, she slapped her hand down on his arm.
Avingdale made a stifled choking sound. When Maryanne glanced at him, his lips were settled into a thin line. Was he angry or trying not to laugh at her? Probably the latter. Most everyone she came across thought her a weird cat lady. They were partially right. At the ripe age of twenty-five, she was a die-hard spinster, but she only had two cats.
Lord Avingdale propelled them toward the manor. Maryanne’s fingers flexed involuntarily on his sleeve, and a nicely muscled forearm pressed back at her. She almost ripped her hand away but didn’t want to appear crazy. Not that touching him was so bad. Normally, she hated being too close in proximity to anyone. Hated how it usually made her skin crawl and had her obsessing if the person in question had washed their hands or taken a bath that day.
A man headed toward them, and Maryanne stifled a groan. Why was everyone accosting her tonight? Okay, two people weren’t exactly a horde, but still…. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention.
Julia broke away from them and glided to the man, who grabbed her hand and kissed it affectionately before saying, “My dear, there you are. I see Avingdale found you two.”
So that must be Correlton. He appeared to know who Maryanne was, and the way he greeted Julia spoke of a close relationship.
Julia smiled at the newest arrival. “James, if you don’t mind, we’re ready to return home.”
“Of course, my dear.”
“Has your chaperone retired for the night?” Avingdale silkily asked, his voice coming near her ear.
She jumped a few inches in the air. When had he got so close to her? Oh yeah, when she placed her hand on his arm. She licked her dry lips and forced herself to reply, “Um, the carriage may have already taken Mrs. Feathering home. I’d have to ask Lady Correlton.”
Julia walked back to them with her husband in tow, and nodded. “Mrs. Feathering has returned home. The poor dear was tired, and I told her you would be fine with me. You know how the trip from America exhausted her.”
Nice save. Julia was more quick-witted than she was. Maryanne would have to thank her later.
Avingdale murmured, “So you had two erstwhile chaperones tonight.” What he left unsaid was clear—that she’d managed to escape both of them when he first stumbled upon her.
Before Maryann could formulate a snappy reply, Avingdale continued on, this time addressing the Correltons. “I’m surprised neither one of you mentioned your…two guests when I called upon you last week.”
Julia and James traded a look, and James shrugged. “They hadn’t arrived yet, and it quite slipped my mind.”
“And I was out during your visit, Lord Avingdale,” Julia said.
“In the village preparing for Miss Terrance’s arrival?”
“Why, yes.”
“And Mrs. Feathering’s?”
Julia’s chin rose. “Of course.”
Unease slithered up Maryann’s spine. Why was Avingdale asking so many questions?
“When did Miss Terrance arrive at Cranston Manor?”
“Last Tuesday.” The words shot out of Maryanne’s mouth before she could contain them.
“Thursday,” Julia said at the same time.
Maryanne cringed. Whoops. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the discrepancy? Yeah, right. With the two different answers being back to back, it would impossible to ignore.
Avingdale turned his penetrating gaze to her. “So you arrived on your Tuesday and Lady Correlton’s Thursday? I thought there was less than a half day’s time difference between both countries.”
A hot flush crept up her cheeks. “My apologies. I get my days turned around, especially when I’ve recently traveled long distances.”
“I see,” he said, his voice light.
He apparently didn’t believe her. Not surprising. She wasn’t a particularly good liar.
Julia pulled away from her husband and frowned at Avingdale. “My lord, Miss Terrance is not used to your brand of humor.”
He flashed a smile, revealing a dimple in his right cheek. “
I’m being called to heel. Please forgive me, Miss Terrance. I sometimes become too enthusiastic in my curiosity.”
Maryanne nearly groaned. Why couldn’t the lantern light be weaker, and why did he have to apologize so charmingly? She didn’t need to see any of his beauty. If all went as it should, he’d soon be dead. She didn’t talk to soon-to-be-dead guys. In fact, with the exception of her colleagues, she didn’t talk to too many guys, no matter the state of their longevity. Even with her male coworkers, she’d learned most interactions were awkward and best avoided.
She forced herself to shrug. “No harm done.”
“Good,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to converse with Correlton for a moment.”
Something that felt like relief and disappointment shot through her. “Of course.”
He glanced down at her hand, which still rested on his arm.
She tore her hand away. “Eek, sorry.” Smooth, Maryanne, really smooth. And you hate touching strangers, so why were you clinging to him like a barnacle?”
His lips quirked upward. “Tis fine.” He bowed shallowly and walked away before she could sketch out a curtsey of some sort.
As Avingdale and Correlton spoke to each other, Julia pulled her away a discreet distance. “He’s the one?” Julia whispered in her ear.
“What?”
“Is he your mission? I couldn’t help but notice your reaction when he came up to us. It seemed more than mere surprise that you met him earlier in the night.”
Maryanne released a long breath. “Yes. Now everything might be messed up. He’s not supposed to be with us right now. Instead, he was to be preoccupied with somebody else.”
“Ah.” Julia’s inflection said it all. “This could pose a problem.”
Maryanne snorted. “Tell me about it, and you don’t even know the worst of it.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It is.” Death couldn’t be more final. That was, if it even happened now. She could’ve well altered his fate. At that thought a shiver iced her spine.
Julia grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Once we’re back at my place, we’ll discuss it.”
Discomfort tickled at Maryanne’s skin. She didn’t like strange people invading her space and taking liberties with her person. Shivering, she forced the feeling back. “Okay, that sounds fine.”