by Lisa Kumar
After a few more stiff sentences were exchanged, Lady Sutton walked away. Julia turned and whispered, “I’m so sorry. We didn’t invite her. She came with a few of the other guests staying at Barringford.”
Maryanne feigned nonchalance. “It’s okay. She’s an unpleasant one, but we only have to put up with her for a few more hours.”
Julia opened her mouth, but at that moment the door opened, and the gentlemen entered. When Avingdale strode in, Lady Sutton’s face lit up. She made a beeline for Avingdale, and the memory of where Maryanne had heard her name came hammering back. Nausea gripped her stomach, and the little bit of food she’d eaten threatened to come back up. It looked like the floozy wasn’t done with trying to kill him, no matter how unknowingly. She was the reason Avingdale still might get shot in six days.
Lady Sutton latched onto Avingdale like a leech, and he appeared only too happy to be her victim. If he only knew the fate she might bring him, he wouldn’t so eager for her company. But Maryanne wouldn’t interfere any more than she already had. He’d either run away with Lady Sutton, or he wouldn’t. Did it even matter in the scope of things? His fate would probably be the same, regardless of his actions. If destiny didn’t see to his demise, Intellitravel most likely would.
She sighed, glancing around and wanting to escape. To have to mingle with other women was bad enough. Adding men to the equation made it that much worse. Maryanne scoped out the exit. Surely no one would notice her leave? Especially not Avingdale, the stupid man.
Inching toward the door, she made slow progress. She held her breath as she slipped through the door. So far, so good. With every inch crept down the hallway, she was an inch closer to freedom.
Where to go? Her room didn’t sound like a good hideout spot, not that anyone would come looking for her, but still…. Ah-ha, how about the library? And quite conveniently, that room awaited her straight ahead
With a little spring in her step, she sailed down the hallway. She’d find a good book, curl up in a wing-back chair, and—
“Where are you absconding to?”
Avingdale. Maryanne skittered to a stop, her heart jumping a mile high. Why was he following her? Didn’t he have Lady Sutton to keep him busy? A smidgeon of happiness ate into the worry until she forced her elation away. “What do you want?” she snapped. “I thought you were otherwise engaged.”
“It did appear that way, didn’t it?” he readily agreed, coming to stand next to her.
Fumes had to be leaking out of her ears. “It sure did.” She walked on, trying to ignore the tall figure of Avingdale loping by her side. Maybe if she pretended he wasn’t there, he’d go away. Yeah, like that ever worked before with him.
“You were headed to the library?”
What, he was a mind reader now? “Is it any of your business?”
“As the Correltons’ cousin, it is my duty to see to your welfare when they can’t.”
“Of course, it is.”
The sarcasm in her voice apparently wasn’t lost on him, for he chuckled. “You do not like anyone looking after you.”
“I can see to myself.”
“I’m sure you can, but why not let someone else do it for a change?”
“Be…because I need no one, least of all a man.”
“So independent and fiery. Your American ways must be much different than ours.”
“You could say that.”
She slowed down as they neared the library, hoping to ditch him. He didn’t take the hint, so he remained at her side. Lucky her. “I’ve made it safely to the library, so you can go back to your pleasantries in the drawing room.”
“I think not. I much prefer to accompany you.”
Maryanne froze, her hand on the knob of the door. “My lord, this is highly improper.”
“Somehow I don’t think it’s the lack of propriety that bothers you.”
“What do you mean?”
His hand removed hers from the knob, and he opened the door. With a gentle push, he prodded her into the library. Her legs wobbled but seemed to move of their own accord.
Avingdale firmly shut the door, and she swallowed. This couldn’t be good. Being alone with him was too tempting.
“What do you want?” she tried again. His reason for stalking her was pretty clear—he saw her as some kind of freak he had to figure out. She only had to decide if she’d let him fulfill his agenda. “Haven’t satisfied your curiosity enough?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, huffing and shaking his head. She nearly laughed at the child-like image he presented.
His eyes narrowed as he watched her. “I can’t puzzle you out. You’re an enigma that’s begging to be solved.”
Though she’d expected his words, they still stung. “Yes, that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You getting your curiosity satisfied by studying me like I’m some sort of exotic animal species that has no human feelings.”
“No, it’s not that exactly. You’re different, but you’re all too human in my eyes. You’re wonderfully awkward around people.”
“Thanks,” she said drily. “Such a gentlemanly thing to say.”
He shrugged. “You’re not the type for false compliments.”
“So you think I like to be insulted?”
“But it wasn’t intended to be one.” His gaze raked up and down her, leaving her feeling exposed and breathless.
He circled about her, swooping in closer each time. “Something’s strange about you.”
“I thought we’d already decided that.” Every muscle in her body drew inward as if seeking to fade into nothingness, though something treacherous within her pulled her forward ever so slightly every time they came face to face.
He continued on as if she’d not spoken. “And it’s not just awkwardness.”
She twitched. He was caging her in both physically and mentally. She had no means of escape, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted any. Her hands fisted at her sides.
“What is it, then?”
He gave a harsh laugh and swept a hand through his hair. “If I knew, do you think we’d be closeted within the library?”
“Let it go.” She sighed. “Trust me, there is nothing you should know.” Should being the operative word.
“I cannot.” He stopped in front of her, a good foot away. “Something’s pushing me to uncover your secrets.” Closing the distance between them, he reached out and touched her cheek. “It’s become an obsession.”
As the delightful tenderness in his touch penetrated her heart, her eyes fluttered close. Human contact, usually so abhorrent, suddenly seemed as essential as breathing. She leaned into his palm, the warmth of his skin melting her reserve. His fingers glided over her lips and made them tingle.
Her eyelids flicked open as he lowered his head until his lips hovered a fraction above hers.
“I’ve wondered how your lips taste,” he murmured.
How her lips tasted? It was more a question of what flavor his would be. His mouth looked decadent, like he would taste of dark chocolate.
He pressed his lips against hers, and sensory overload nearly caused her to jump out of her skin—in a good way. She’d been kissed a few times before, but it’d never been a pleasant experience. This, she wanted to repeat over and over. His firm, yet soft mouth didn’t make her skin miraculously itch, crawl, or chafe. She sighed happily and ignored the little voice in the back of her mind that screamed about her out-of-character kissing session.
His hands slid to cup the back of her head, and with a gentle sweep of his tongue across the seam of her lips, she opened for him. He groaned like a thirsty man finding relief.
The sound was nearly as heady as his touch. She—strange little Maryanne—was putting him in this state? It seemed impossible, but here was the proof.
His head tilted, changing the angle of the kiss and deepening it. Her hands ghosted over his back, and under the superfine cloth of his tailcoat, strong muscles flexed.
A smart rap on the d
oor shot a hole through the sensuous haze surrounding her, and she and Avingdale sprang apart.
The door swung open to reveal Julia. She had a smile on her face, but it seemed a little bit too sunny. Reality came zooming back to smack Maryanne in the face. Had Julia seen them?
A blush spread up Maryanne’s neck. Still, if anyone had to discover them, it was best that Julia happened to be the one.
Julia walked a few feet into the room. “There you two are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Maryanne. Then Correlton mentioned that Avingdale has disappeared….”
Avingdale inserted smoothly, “We both needed a quiet moment away from the drawing room, and by chance, we wandered into the same place.”
“Hmm, well, do be careful. It is fortunate I found you two before anyone else could.”
“I assure you nothing untoward occurred,” he drawled.
“I know your definition of ‘untoward,’ so I’m sure that’s true.”
He smirked. “You know me too well.”
“Unfortunately, I do. Why don’t you head to the drawing room? In a few minutes, I’ll escort our Miss Terrance back so there are no whispers.”
Maryanne’s head swiveled back and forth as she watch the volley of words between Julia and Avingdale. A shadow of doubt crept into her mind. He seemed so comfortable with Julia. Was Maryanne serving as second best, and he’d kissed her only because he couldn’t have Julia? Maybe she reminded him of Julia in someway. After all, they were both American time-travellers, so there had to be some similarities, albeit even if small ones.
Avingdale shrugged an elegant shoulder and inclined his head toward Julia. “I’ll bow to your superior judgment.”
Julia gave a light, tinkling laugh. “For once.” She made shooing motions with her hands. “Now out you go.”
“Yes, my lady,” he said, bowing. Before he turned and left, he smiled at Maryanne, “As I am sure you know, there is a ball here at Cranston tomorrow night. I do hope you will save me a dance.”
All thoughts of doubt evaporating, Maryanne felt a goofy smile unwittingly curving her lips. She must still be hung-up from the kiss. Yeah, that was it. “I think I can do that.”
As the door closed behind him, Julia rushed over to her. “Are you fine? He didn’t hurt you?”
“No, he kissed me.” She touched her lips, barely caring that she wasn’t acting like herself.
Julia’s brow puckered. “Yes, I saw that. He didn’t push his attentions on you? Not that Avingdale would normally do such a thing, but he’s acting out of character with you.”
At Julia’s words, a warm heat kindled in her chest, which befuddled her even further. “No, it was just a kiss—and a mutual one at that.” Some part of Maryanne hated her verbal bout of diarrhea, but she couldn’t stop herself. She shook her head in disbelief. “And it was good.”
“Well, it’s generally supposed to be.”
“But it has never been.”
Julia’s lips quirked. “Avingdale probably knows what he’s doing, so that fact helps.”
Maryanne sighed dreamily. “Yes, it does.”
“Come on, my love-struck friend.”
That drew Maryanne up short, ripping her out of her fond recollection. “Love-struck?” Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears.
Julia’s smile faltered. “You may not love him, but it’s clear you feel something for him. I don’t think you’re the type to go around kissing men you don’t care for.”
“I don’t kiss guys. Period.”
“If anyone can make a convert out of you, it’s Avingdale.”
“You sound like you speak from experience,” Maryanne said, her tone conveying more bite than she’d intended.
Julia smothered a chuckle behind her hand. “Other than him kissing my hand, I have no experience with his kisses.”
“Oh.” Could she feel anymore petty?
“While he might’ve showed an initial interest when he first met me, he never seriously pursued me. And now, he acts very chummy just to rile up James. He means nothing by it.”
Maryanne shrugged, uncomfortable with the thought that Avingdale had ever been interested in Julia. “The whole incident with Avingdale doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ll be leaving in a few weeks.”
“I said the same thing concerning James, and look at me now.”
“Our situations are totally different.”
“Hmm, really?”
Maryanne scowled but remained quiet. So what if no convincing answer came to mind? It didn’t mean Julia was right. Maryanne would, though, need to redouble her defenses against Avingdale. She’d allowed herself to become too lax. A call to Carson would be in order to see if anyone had scheduled a date for her retrieval. With any luck, she’d get a positive answer and could put this unsettling interlude behind her—where it belonged.
A horrifying realization struck. She didn’t know how to dance, at least not by Regency-era standards. Even then, she was not gifted with a good sense of rhythm or beat.
She groaned and slapped a hand to her forehead. “I don’t know any English country dances.”
Julia slipped her arm through hers. “Then it looks like we have some work to do. We’ll have to ensure that any dances you take part in have simple figures.”
With a sinking sensation in her stomach, Maryanne nodded, though she was sure nothing good could come of trying to learn the steps. Plus, while dancing in the Regency was tame by modern definitions, it was still much too intimate for her, like baring her soul for all to see. Her space was her own and nobody else’s. Only a select few could violate her personal bubble without her feeling extreme discomfort.
Should she be worried that Avingdale seemed to have earned—okay, more like demanded–a prominent place within her bubble? And in such a short time, too?
Chapter 5
The evening of the ball started as the sun retired for the night. Maryanne wished she could do the same thing. After all the primping Sarah had put her through, she wanted nothing more than to go to bed and wrap herself up in a good novel.
Instead, she was standing in front of her vanity mirror, staring at the lovely sight she made. Sarah had arranged most of her hair in a chignon and threaded pearls through the up do. The tendrils that had been left loose were curled to strategically frame her face. A light blue silk gown, with its empire waist, flattered her curvy figure. She glowered at the image reflected back at her. Why had Sarah made her look so…so passably pretty?
Not that she looked beautiful, but in this case, the less attractive she appeared, the better. If Lord Avingdale sought her out, she didn’t want him getting any ideas. He already seemed to have enough. And a determined Avingdale was an enticingly tempting Avingdale. She didn’t trust her reactions around him. Everything within her went haywire at a glance, at a touch.
To make matters worse, Carson still didn’t have the date of her retrieval. He’d been most apologetic, saying, “Kiddo, I’d love to knock some heads together, but I know it won’t do any good. But if it’s any comfort, I think your retrieval date will be soon, so be ready.”
Maryanne sighed at the memory. Be ready? She was ready yesterday. But like always, government bureaucracy was working at its best to slow any progress down. Her wants and wishes didn’t even factor into it—or her safety. Not that she was in any physical danger, but still….
She couldn’t afford to get attached, because she’d be leaving…and even if he were serious, by all rights, he should be a dead man in less than a week’s time. Her hand trembled as she tucked an errant curl behind her ear. That destiny still may await him, and who was she to interfere?
No one. She was no one and knew it was a fool’s dream to believe she could be anything more—that they could be anything more. Normally, her isolation didn’t bother her, and she was content with her life. Avingdale, though, had chipped away at her shields and made her feel. Was it weakness now that caused her see the emptiness of her existence? Or had Avingdale truly opened her eyes and sh
owed her what was missing?
Maryanne groaned, slapping her hands over her face. Waxing philosophical wasn’t getting her anywhere except to headache land. She’d better get downstairs before the guests arrived and find her corner now. Julia would be busy as the hostess, which would leave Maryanne drifting like a rudderless boat. So, yeah, corner, here I come.
On impulse, she grabbed a box from beneath the bed. She dug through the material that covered the treasure—or was it curse?—hidden within. Once she held her transmitter, she shoved it between the shelf-like cleavage her stays created. Thank the stars, the little device was thin and not overly heavy. She didn’t even know why she was bothering with it, but some intuition called her to take it. As dread over the evening washed through her, she left the room. The feeling rested like a stone in her stomach, weighing her down.
After she traipsed down the stairs, she breathed a sigh of relief. No guests in sight yet. She found Julia flitting around in the ballroom, checking over last minute details. Flowers, plants, and urns decorated the space and added splashes of color to the bronze-trimmed ivory room. Musicians tuned their instruments in the little gallery above.
Julia paused and smiled at her. “My, don’t you look pretty? I think Avingdale will heartily approve.”
Maryanne scowled at her friend. “I didn’t dress up for him. In fact, Sarah is responsible for all this,” she said, motioning to her hair and dress.
She froze, realizing how she’d thought of Julia. Her friend? Maryanne didn’t have friends. She had acquaintances. What was this place doing to her? She couldn’t get back to her time too soon.
Julia appeared not to notice the stunned expression she surely wore. Instead, Julia grinned. “I know. Isn’t Sarah great?”
“Yeah, real great,” Maryanne muttered.
“You’re hopeless, you know that? But I still like you.” Julia slipped an arm through hers. Maryanne cringed a bit at the contact, but if Julia noticed, she didn’t comment on it and instead barreled on. “Now, as I’m sure you’re planning to find the darkest corner possible, why don’t you stay by my side for a little until I can introduce you to some nice people?”