An Earl Out of Time: Time After Time Book One (Time Out of Time 1)

by Louise Allen

  We made our way out with no further incident and no discoveries. We hung the key back on its hook, so had to leave the door unlocked. Hopefully they would put it down to someone’s carelessness after all the alcohol that had been consumed.

  James secured the gate and climbed the wall again and we made our way along the alleyway to find that Garrick had turned the carriage and was waiting for us, hat tipped over his eyes, the picture of the patient coachman.

  ‘Anything, my lord?’ he asked as we climbed in.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘That was a complete waste of time,’ James said.

  ‘No.’ In the gloom of the interior all I could see was the negative shake of Lucian’s head. ‘Cassie was right, we had to check and eliminate that possibility.’

  ‘What is it? Something’s on your mind.’ James obviously understood the inflexions of his brother’s voice.

  ‘I wish I could like Cottingham but I never feel I really understand him, although I have known him for years. The man feels somehow detached despite all that passion and energy. And I get the feeling that there is more simmering away beneath the surface than at first appears.’

  I had thought the same thing, but I was so ignorant of Society manners that Cottingham’s ability to converse with me calmly and then rant about his sister’s purity and Sir Clement’s perfidy in the next breath might have been perfectly normal. All I knew was that if my sister Sophie had vanished like this, I would have been frantic and completely beyond polite chit-chat with a stranger. But perhaps the worry was responsible for the way he behaved.

  ‘So what do we do next?’ I asked.

  ‘I am running out of ideas,’ Lucian confessed. ‘Selbourne said he would speak to Arabella’s closest friends. They all support the romance, so he is having no problem convincing them he had nothing to do with her disappearance and that he wants to find her.’

  ‘If someone took her for ransom, her brother would have heard by now, surely?’ I was thinking out loud and I didn’t want to raise the other motive for kidnap – that she had been taken for sex, or that we were dealing with some perverted murderer. Talking about it would make it all too real. ‘Or would he have been warned by the kidnappers to keep it a secret?’

  ‘That might be the case. Money could be a motive because he is certainly wealthy. So, come to that, is Arabella. Her money is all in trust of course, but its existence is one reason why Cottingham is convinced it is Selbourne. He has made no secret of the fact that his estate needs investment that goes way beyond what he can afford. Clem could continue as he is now and manage very well in a modest way but, if he wants to fulfil his ambitions, marriage to an heiress would solve all his problems.’

  ‘Who is her trustee? Her brother?’

  ‘You are thinking that if he has squandered her money he has a motive to get rid of her?’ James sounded sceptical. ‘There is absolutely no whisper of anything wrong with his own finances. It is very difficult to keep it quiet if a man starts selling his horses, or cutting back on his servants. He certainly hasn’t started gambling heavily.’

  ‘Then we must start to look for even more sordid motives,’ I said as the carriage came to a halt and Garrick climbed down to open the door.

  ‘If you can join us after you have taken the carriage round to the mews, we need a council of war, Garrick.’

  ‘Very good, my lord.’

  We went in and trooped through to the drawing room. Lucian made for the decanters and James collapsed in a loose-limbed sprawl in an armchair the moment I sat down. Neither of them looked very positive and I couldn’t find much to smile about either. Arabella Trenton might be cuddled up in a love nest with the man of her heart, but that seemed less likely by the day and the alternatives were… unpleasant.

  ‘Sherry, Cassie?’ Lucian held up the decanter.

  I shook my head. ‘No, thank you. I could kill for a cup of tea. I’ll make some.’

  They both looked horrified. ‘What?’ I demanded. ‘I shouldn’t be making tea because I am a lady or Garrick would throw a wobbly if I started messing about in his kitchen?’

  ‘Both,’ James drawled. ‘I would pay a considerable sum to see Garrick throwing a wobbly though.’

  I lobbed a cushion at him. ‘And it will be China tea, won’t it?’ I remembered Mr Grimswade’s Earl Grey at the start of this whole affair.

  ‘As opposed to what?’ Lucian handed his brother a glass of brandy and took the seat facing me.

  ‘Indian. And that is another glimpse of the future that you should forget about.’

  ‘Ah, Garrick, a cup of chocolate for Miss Lawrence and whatever you want for yourself.’

  We got settled at last, the men all cradling glasses of brandy, me sipping happily and wondering how people coped in the days before chocolate and prodding at a niggle that I couldn’t quite pin down but which had been stirred into life by the steaming cup I had in my hands.

  ‘There was no message from Selbourne,’ Lucian said after we had brooded in silence for a few minutes. ‘He promised to let me know if any of Arabella’s friends came up with anything useful.’

  After another unproductive pause I said, ‘What are the motives for this if we assume that Arabella did not go willingly and that the person she went to, or with, is not well-intentioned?’

  ‘Financial gain,’ James said. ‘Either to hold her to ransom or to get control of her inheritance.’

  ‘Revenge,’ Garrick suggested. ‘Someone who wants to hurt her brother for some reason.’

  James and Lucian exchanged looks, then James shook his head. ‘I have never heard of anything – ’

  ‘And you hear all the gossip,’ Lucian teased.

  James narrowed his eyes at him. ‘And very useful it is too. The man is boringly ordinary. No seduced wives, no abandoned mistresses, no tricky dealings at the card table or younger brothers lured into iniquity.’

  ‘Desire. She is young, beautiful and closely guarded,’ I contributed.

  ‘Insanity,’ Lucian said. ‘A perverted desire to murder or to – ’ He darted a glance at me. ‘Ravish.’

  ‘It is complicated,’ James said thoughtfully as he got up, lifted the decanter and walked around re-filling glasses. ‘So much easier to snatch Miss Trenton on the street – why create a mystery at home?’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘Or she could have been taken from a shop or when she was walking in the park. Even with a maid and a footman in attendance the shock of surprise could see her bundled into a carriage in seconds. The streets are full of anonymous black carriages – a kidnapper could have her away and lost in the crowd before any sort of rescue could be made.’

  The mental niggle resolved into one question, but still left me with the uncomfortable feeling of having missed something. ‘Would a young lady, eloping, not take her maid with her? If the man involved had honourable intentions, surely having a maid with them would give some sort of respectability to the affair? It would certainly contribute to her comfort.’

  ‘Depends on the maid, I suppose,’ Lucian said. ‘If she was loyal to her mistress, I suppose it might be an advantage. I am no expert on elopements.’

  ‘I am certainly not,’ James muttered and his brother gave him a warning shake of the head.

  ‘I got the impression that Arabella’s maid, Martha, liked her mistress. And she’s a bright, alert young woman.’

  ‘Hence the need to drug her, perhaps.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose.’ The niggle was almost in my hand, then it whisked away, like a teasing thread pulled in front of a kitten. Damn. I yawned, an inelegant jaw-cracking expression of just how tired I was all of a sudden. Perhaps the shock of ending up two hundred years adrift was beginning to wear off. ‘I am going to bed and to sleep on it,’ I announced and got to my feet.

  The men all stood. It was going to take some getting used to when I got home, not to have that happen every time I moved.

  ‘I will bring you hot water, Miss Lawrence,’ Garrick said.

  ‘Go
od night, Cousin Cassie.’ James lifted his half-empty glass in salute.

  Lucian followed me out and stopped at the door of the spare bedchamber. I turned and found he was close, close enough that if I leaned in a little we could kiss. Infuriatingly he just stood there, politely not crowding me. If it wasn’t for the lowered lids, the slightly parted lips, his very stillness, I would have thought he was thinking of nothing more than the mystery we had been talking about.

  ‘Lucian?’ If he was too much the gentleman, then I was most definitely not going to be a lady about this. I moved forward, raised my head and slid one hand around his neck to pull him down.

  He was not too much of a gentleman to resist a kiss when it was pressed to his lips. He shifted, gathered me in with gratifying efficiency and applied himself to reducing me to porridge. His technique was excellent, confident but not pushy, and he tasted of brandy and toothpowder, like the stuff in the pot that Garrick had left out for me, and definitely of man.

  He nibbled his way along my lower lip, finished with a leisurely slide of his tongue and raised his head. ‘What is the etiquette for this situation when you come from?’ he asked, his voice low. It was shadowy in the hallway but his eyes were dark and intent.

  ‘Between two unmarried people? Either can initiate things, either can say no, at any point.’ My fingers slid into the thickness of his hair at the nape, then slid free. At the touch of his bare skin against mine I was suddenly, unsure. Not like me at all, not when confronted by a staggeringly attractive, willing man. ‘Here, now – I am not certain what I want.’

  ‘I am.’ He made no attempt to move back and that let me feel just how aroused he was. But he did not try and push things either.

  ‘I can tell,’ I said, making it light, and stepped back. I definitely was getting cold feet, but I did not understand why. ‘I think I need more time to come to terms with… this.’

  Lucian nodded. ‘Of course. You must be feeling very unsettled. Are there people in your time who will be worrying about you?’

  I should have thought of that. It was as though my own time was the dream and this was becoming increasingly real. ‘My parents are in the Caribbean.’ It was a very small ship, the wifi was erratic and expensive and we’d agreed they would only get in touch in emergencies. Lucian nodded. I suppose he assumed they owned a plantation or something, which was not a comfortable thought.

  ‘My sister, Sophie – she’ll wonder where I am, but probably not worry for a few days. It was Friday night when it happened and I had no plans for the weekend, my friends knew I have a lot of work on. I’m not on duty at the police station until Wednesday so there are a few days before I am missed, with any luck.’ And, hopefully, no-one would wonder why I wasn’t answering my phone or using any social media. ‘After that, who knows?’

  ‘Friday? It was Wednesday yesterday.’

  ‘Different years, same date,’ I pointed out and went back to worrying. If I was reported missing would the police take it more seriously earlier because I was a Special? I could imagine getting home – somehow – and finding myself having to explain what I had been doing to launch a full-scale missing persons enquiry.

  ‘Oh, and then there’s Trubshaw.’

  ‘Who is that? Your maid?’

  ‘No, my cat. But he’ll go next door and they’ll feed him.’ He would sulk for a week when I got back – if I got back. ‘There is nothing I can do. Worrying won’t help,’ I said. The knack now would be to listen to my own good advice.

  ‘Lucian.’ I reached out and touched his cheek, the evening beard prickling under my palm. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For accepting me. For allowing me into your world. For taking, yes, maybe, later, as no for now.’

  From somewhere behind me there was the sound of Garrick doing his tactful throat-clearing thing. ‘Your hot water, Miss Lawrence.’

  ‘Thank you, Garrick.’ I took the jug from him. ‘Good night.’

  It was dawn before I slept.

  Chapter Ten

  It was an almost silent breakfast the next morning. James had, apparently gone to his rooms in Duke Street, a stone’s throw away, and Lucian had been out riding early. I met him in the hallway and commented on his energy, rising so early.

  He gave me a long, unreadable look. ‘I felt the need for some exercise,’ he said and strode off to his room to change, leaving me to sigh over the sight of long muscular legs in buckskin breeches. And those boots…

  When we sat down to eat Garrick padded about discreetly, as though we both had crashing hangovers, and Lucian was taciturn, although, as always, exquisitely polite. I only had to glance round for the butter or the sugar and they were passed to me and I had to urge him to look at the newspaper when Garrick placed it on the table.

  I wondered if the brisk morning ride had been a substitute for a different kind of exercise. It would probably been easier now if I had dragged him into the bedchamber last night and had my wicked way with him, I thought dismally as the knocker sounded and James walked in.

  Lucian greeted him with a sound verging on a grunt and James winked at me as he sat down and took a cup of coffee from Garrick. ‘You are not at your best first thing in the morning are you, brother dear?’

  This time it was definitely a grunt. Perhaps it wasn’t a fit of male sulks over not getting any sex the night before after all. ‘Is Lucian always this grumpy at breakfast time?’ I murmured to James as I passed him the toast.

  ‘I am in a perfectly tranquil state of mind, thank you.’ The man obviously had excellent hearing, even if he was buried in the Times. ‘I am thinking.’ He put down the paper and reached for the coffee pot and I took the hint. Obviously his lordship was a three-cup man in the morning.

  I was on my second, and beginning to feel slightly less sub-human, when the door knocker went again. ‘It’s like Piccadilly Circus this morning,’ I said and then found two pairs of eyes regarding me with identical expressions of puzzlement. ‘Oh, no, nothing you know about yet. And nothing to do with circuses – well, not the kind with clowns and acrobats.’

  Lucian shook his head slowly. ‘I would find having Grimaldi and the entire equestrian troupe from Astley’s in my drawing room easier to cope with than you, Cassandra.’

  Garrick came in before I had a chance to retaliate. ‘Sir Clement Selbourne has called, my lord.’

  ‘Show him in, Garrick, and lay a place for him, would you?’

  ‘My lord. Sir Clement.’

  The man he ushered in was tall, sandy, freckled and had a face that was immediately likeable. He wasn’t handsome, but he looked masculine, cheerful and absolutely dependable. I took to him immediately and thought that falling for him was probably the most sensible thing Arabella Trenton could have done.

  He walked in smiling, saw me, stopped dead, looked rapidly at Lucian and blushed a deep, and rather endearing, crimson. ‘Oh. Excuse me, Radcliffe, I did not realise… your man said nothing about er…’

  ‘This is my cousin Cassandra from America,’ Lucian said as I stood up and offered my hand.

  Selbourne put out his left, caught himself, changed hands and gave a sort of embarrassed bow over mine. ‘I do beg your pardon for intruding. I had no idea…’

  ‘A surprise visit,’ I said. ‘It is very kind of Lucian to put me up. The American branch of the family is rather an embarrassment, shall we say?’

  ‘Yes, we did not recognise it at all until Cousin Cassandra came into our lives,’ James said. ‘Come and have breakfast, the kedgeree is good.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Still looking confused, Selbourne sat down and gamely made small-talk. ‘I was talking to your Mr Monroe the other day, Miss Lawrence. Interesting chap. Difficult, of course, given his views on the French, but he is sound on trade between the United States and Britain. Very sound.’

  ‘My Mr Monroe?’ I queried faintly. There had been an American President Monroe, I remembered, but surely he wasn’t in London?

  ‘The Minister of
State to the Court of St James,’ Lucian said. ‘You really ought to take more interest in politics, Cousin. Minister Monroe is negotiating the renewal of the Jay Treaty.’

  ‘Oh, of course, the Jay Treaty. Silly me.’ The what? Just so long as I never met Minister Monroe – he would spot more than my ignorance of international relations in 1807 if I ever had to open my mouth in his presence.

  ‘Trade between our two countries has to be a good thing,’ James put in helpfully. ‘Although I understand that President Jefferson is decidedly wary.’

  At least I now knew the name of my supposed President. I kept quiet.

  ‘We have spoken of Miss Trenton’s disappearance to Cousin Cassie,’ Lucian said. ‘She has had experience of a similar situation at home.’

  No, I hadn’t, but I suppose it was the only safe way of explaining why I was involved. ‘It ended happily,’ I assured Sir Clement. ‘The young lady was in hiding. I cannot say any more about the particular case because…’ Why the devil not? I racked my brains. Ah… ‘I was sworn to secrecy. It was all very delicate.’

  ‘So you can see that Cousin Cassie is the soul of discretion,’ James added.

  While we ate Lucian recounted our activities of the day before. Sir Clement shot me a startled glance at the news that I had been part of the housebreaking party but Lucian explained it away as the need for a female presence in case we found Miss Trenton in a distressed condition and he murmured something about my courage and delicate sensibilities that had me squirming inside.

  ‘What news have you, Sir Clement?’ I asked, desperate to shift the focus off me. He was launching into praise for my sisterly fortitude and personal sacrifice and, like him though I might, it was a bit much. I wondered just what these three fine specimens of Georgian manhood would make of being dropped into the middle of, say, my sister’s hen party or an unarmed self-defence class for a mixed group of Specials.