He led her into the kitchen, where wonderful smells of home cooked meals tantalized her nose. Before she'd come here, when was the last time she'd eaten anything home cooked? A large woman standing at a counter chopping vegetables glanced up when they entered. Her eyes widened at the sight of Izzy. Did she look as if she had two heads? Must be the fact that they weren't used to seeing strange women in the house.
Sebastian guided her farther into the kitchen. "Please, Lady Isabella, make yourself comfortable. While some may think it unseemly to sit and eat in the kitchen, I for one think it's a grand idea. You get to taste all the scrumptious morsels while they're hot and fresh." He popped some sort of pasty into his mouth and crunched loudly.
By then, several servants were peering around the edges of various doorways, taking peeks at Izzy and whispering behind their hands.
Sebastian chuckled. "Come in, come in." He waved a hand toward the gawkers. Hesitantly, the small crowd stepped into the warm, fragrant room.
Man, word sure traveled fast around here. Izzy had only been sitting there for a couple of minutes. Where had all these people come from?
Sebastian stepped closer to Izzy and rested his hand lightly on her shoulder. The warmth from his skin calmed her. Why couldn't her father have been warm and kind? Glancing up past the man's large belly to his face, Izzy felt the corners of her mouth turn up. Maybe he could be a sort of father figure to her some day?
Sebastian chuckled. "It's all right, everyone. Don't be alarmed at a new face. This is Lady Isabella. She's to be your new mistress. His grace has proposed marriage to her and she's accepted."
The gasps, which flew around the room, gave Izzy chills. Were they upset? Peeking at some of the faces, she realized they wore pleasant expressions, even if they didn't make eye contact with her. At least some people thought her marrying Charles was a good idea. Now if only she could convince the groom.
Chapter Nine
Charles sat in his den, stewing over his last conversation with Isabella. He'd been harsh with her, but if he weren't, she'd stay. She'd had this dream of doing something to please her father for so long, if she didn't accomplish her goal and instead stayed here with Charles, she might regret it for the rest of her life.
He didn't want to be the cause of Izzy not realizing her dream. Charles knew all too well how it felt to lose what you cared most about, because life with Isabella had been his dream. If she stayed, she might even resent Charles. No, he couldn't let that happen, as much as it pained him.
It would be all too easy to wrap his arms around her and carry her back upstairs. As it would also be too easy to marry her and have her stay here forever. Charles sighed and ran his hand through his hair. If they were meant to be, it had to truly be Isabella's choice. She'd have to be sure, without doubts that staying here was what she desired. Until that happened, he'd have to push her away, if necessary, even though it broke his heart.
A commotion came from the hallway. Charles opened the door to see two maids laughing as they walked up the stairs. What were they going on about? Usually they were so quiet he didn't know they were around, which was the way he had always preferred it. He was sure if Isabella had her way, they'd all be quite friendly with each other and speak to each other on a regular basis. Charles hoped he got a chance to find out what that would be like. He'd change most anything about the way his home was run if it meant the woman he loved was overseeing his staff.
Charles followed loud voices coming from the direction of the kitchen and stopped short in the doorway. He widened his eyes at the scene. Sebastian and Isabella were sitting at the kitchen table, laughing so hard their eyes watered. What was going on?
He strode to the table and stopped, arms crossed as he waited for someone to give him an explanation.
Sebastian tilted his head and winked at Charles. "Merry Christmas, nephew."
Why was his uncle shouting? He frowned and switched his gaze to Isabella. She giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. Leaning closer, he could see her eyes were bloodshot. They'd been drinking?
Charles grabbed Isabella's glass and sniffed. Brandy, good and strong. He slammed the glass back down, sloshing some liquid onto the table. "What do you two think you're doing? You're making spectacles of yourselves in front of the servants. I saw two maids laughing on their way up the stairs. Now it's apparent to me what, or should I say whom, they were laughing about.
Isabella leaned over so far in her chair that she almost toppled to the floor.. "M-merry Christmas, Charlie."
"Charlie? Who's that?"
She pointed a shaky finger in his direction. "That's you, honey."
Charles shook his head. "You're drunk. Let's get you upstairs to bed."
Her eyes widened. "Now? Oh good."
Charles rolled his eyes as he tried to will the heat from his face. Now everyone in the house would know what they'd already done. He leaned down and helped Isabella to stand. She was as stable as a wet rag and soon wilted. Walking with her was not an option. Bending over, he caught her at her midsection and flipped her over his shoulder. She laughed, clapping her hands on his back. He felt her lift one hand from his back. What was she doing?
"Bye, S'bastian!"
The fool was waving good-bye to his uncle. He sighed. "Come on, Isabella. You're going to bed."
"Oh good."
"Alone."
"Rats." She hiccoughed.
Charles swung around just enough to glare at his uncle. "I can't believe you gave her alcohol and intoxicated her. I'll deal with you later."
Uncle Sebastian waved to Charles. "Good night, Charles. Have fun."
Laughter followed Charles all the way up the stairs.
After he'd trudged up the long, steep flight of stairs carrying Isabella, he stopped for a moment at the top. Finally catching his breath, he carried her the rest of the way to her bedroom. Sarah stood in front of the door with her hands folded in front of her.
"Sarah, I need help with Lady Isabella."
"Yes, your grace."
"My uncle gave her…" Why was he telling her this? That was something Isabella would do. "Never mind. Just open the door."
"Yes, your grace." Sarah opened the door wide, giving him room to maneuver his load to the bed. He flopped Isabella down on her back then pulled her legs over until he was certain she wouldn't fall off. As much as he'd like to stay and help Isabella himself, it wasn't the time.
"Sarah, get Lady Isabella comfortable for bed."
"Yes, your grace."
Charles left the room and closed the door, leaning against the other side once he was in the hallway. As he ran his hand down his face, he couldn't keep a corner of his mouth from rising. Even inebriated, Isabella was irresistible. He made his way wearily to his own rooms and sighed. Charles wished Isabella was staying and they were already married. Would his dream of them being together come true?
****
The next morning, Charles heard voices in the hallway, just as he had the evening before. What was happening this time? Was his uncle up to his tricks again? Were the maids laughing at his antics? Charles walked to the door and opened it to find his butler with his fist in the air, just ready to knock. The butler lowered his hand and waited.
Charles frowned. "Yes, Giles?"
"Your grace, there is a Mr. Havendash here to see you. About renovating the closet."
Charles tilted his head and then remembered. The closet had some water damage from a past heavy rain. He'd decided to enlarge the tiny space at the same time as having the repairs done. "Please show him in, Giles."
"Yes, your grace."
As Charles waited on the handyman to enter, his breath caught in his throat. The closet. The one in which he'd found Isabella just over two weeks ago. Had it been such a short time? He knew in his heart that since meeting Isabella, he'd never be the same.
****
Izzy rolled onto her side and groaned. Why did her head ache so badly? She rubbed her temples with her fingers, hoping to ease the pain with a small ma
ssage. A memory from the previous night teased at the edge of her mind. Why did it have something to do with Charles' uncle?
Sitting up with care, she leaned against the large headboard for support. She swallowed and wondered why her mouth and throat were so dry. What happened last night to make her—? Oh no, now she remembered. Sebastian had led her into the kitchen and told all the servants she was engaged to Charles. Then he offered her a drink of some sort. It must have been alcohol!
This was not good. She made it a habit to not drink for that reason. Her low tolerance level for anything alcoholic had gotten her into trouble more than once in college. Apparently swearing off the vile stuff hadn't stopped Uncle Sebastian from getting her to drink some, although she'd been unaware at the time what it was.
Had Charles seen her in that condition? She shuddered. Hopefully he'd stayed in his study where they'd had their talk. Where he'd scolded her. Oh yes, it was all coming back to her now. She'd pledged her love to the man and he'd turned her down flat. Well, she'd just see who got the last word. She wasn't planning on giving up without a fight.
After dressing with Sarah's help, Izzy marched down the stairs at a fast clip. Fueled by her renewed anger, she was determined to make Charles listen to her. She'd finally figured out she wanted to stay. It was what he'd said he wanted. Why was the stubborn man making things so hard when it seemed they both wanted the same thing?
Izzy stood outside the door to the den and was just about to knock when the door opened. A man she'd never seen before stood before her. He wasn't dressed like Charles, in expensive pants and a coat, but wore clothes that appeared a bit old and frayed. Who was he?
The man tipped his hat in her direction. "Begging your pardon, miss." He stepped around her into the hallway, and the butler showed him to the door. Izzy wasted no time heading into the den. She stood in front of the desk, waiting for Charles to look up. When he didn't, she crossed her arms and tapped her boot. Still nothing. Why was he pretending she wasn't there?
"Charles."
Without looking up, he pointed toward the couch. "Isabella, please have a seat."
Izzy frowned. He was doing it again! It was getting pretty tiresome having him boss her around and not letting her make her own decisions. She huffed out a breath, stomped to the couch, and plopped down. After she fidgeted with the lace around her neckline, she clenched her teeth together.
How long was she supposed to sit here waiting on the man to read? What could be so important he couldn't give her five minutes of his valuable time? Izzy crossed her arms and glared at the top of his head.
Just when she was ready to say something to get his attention again, he laid down the stack of papers he'd been reading. He stood and walked to the middle of the room and paced.
"Isabella, something has come to my attention that I think you ought to know."
She frowned and folded her hands in her lap. "All right. What is it?"
He angled his head in the direction of the closed door. "The man who just left? He's a handyman."
"Okay. So…" She made the continue motion with her hand, not even caring if he was familiar with the gesture or not.
"Mr. Havendash is going to do some renovations to the closet. He's scheduled to begin tomorrow morning."
Izzy shrugged. What did any of this have to do with her?
Charles stopped pacing and sat next to her on the couch. "Isabella, he's going to be making changes to the closet. The closet where I first found you."
"Oh? All right. But I still don't see—"
"Listen, let me explain." He swallowed hard, seeming to have a hard time forming the words. "I've been doing some reading." He indicated the desk. "I have several books and articles written by scholars with scientific interests. They study the possibility of time travel."
Her eyes widened. "Oh." She nodded. "Okay, Charles, but why does it have you so agitated?"
He glanced away from her. "After years of interest in time travel books and studying some of the papers I've mentioned by these scientists, it appears your window of opportunity may soon disappear if the closet is altered in any way."
She shook her head. What did this all mean? "Why are you telling me this?"
He grasped both of her hands with his. "Isabella, I'm afraid if you don't use the closet, the portal as it were, before it's renovated, you may forever lose your chance to return home to America."
She squeezed his hands. "I understand now what you're saying but honestly, I meant what I said when I told you I wanted to stay."
He was shaking his head before she'd finished speaking. "No, I won't let you give up your dream because you think it's what I want to hear. I know you love me, Isabella, but you've wanted to have this job opportunity for financial independence your whole life. Didn't you say you needed to be back shortly after Christmas for your meeting?"
"Yes but—"
He released her hands and stood. "Then for any opportunity of you not missing your chance at your dream, you must leave. Tonight."
****
Izzy sat in the middle of the large bed in her room. What was she going to do? She couldn't stay in a house where the owner didn't want her, could she? Would he call the police and have her hauled off if she didn't leave? Where would she go in 1812 London if that happened? There were no options for someone like her, with no money, no family or friends, and no job skills that didn't involve computers and modern equipment. Izzy was stuck.
Trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, she might not have any choice but to try and return to America. It was ironic that just when she could have everything she always thought she wanted, she now wished for something completely different. The more she'd tried to please her father, the more foolish she'd been. If she'd put her interest and energy elsewhere over the years, she might even be married and have children by now.
No. Then there would be no chance for her to be with Charles, the one man she truly loved more than life itself. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. She'd already lost her chance when she refused his marriage proposal. He'd made it clear he wanted her to pursue her dream. She supposed she couldn't blame him. After their night together, as wonderful as it had been, she'd been stupid enough to turn the man down flat for an old dream that wasn't a true dream after all.
What an utter fool. Sighing, she decided to do what made the most sense. If she didn't at least try to go back to her time, there'd be no chance at all for that job. It seemed now, since Charles had made it clear they were through, it was her best option. Staying in England without being with Charles was terrifying as well as heartbreaking. At least if she were able to go home, the constant reminder of Charles wouldn't be everywhere she looked. Although, nothing in the world could ever make her forget, it seemed it was time to move on.
Izzy changed out of her dress, by herself for a change, which seemed odd. She'd actually gotten used to the long skirt and low-cut bodice. When she'd first been told she needed to wear the heavy dresses, she'd shuddered and thought she'd hate it. Now, though, that wasn't the case. The style of 1812 clothes made Izzy feel connected to Charles, but there wouldn't be a need for wearing them now.
She walked to the large dresser and found her shirt and pants folded neatly in a bottom drawer. While holding them close to her nose, she realized they smelled clean. Bless her heart, Sarah must have laundered them after Izzy's first day here. Izzy hadn't even noticed. Sarah was a jewel and Izzy would miss her. Even though Sarah was a servant and Izzy was her supposed mistress, she considered Sarah a friend.
She headed to the door of her bedroom and opened it, slipping into the hall. If what Charles said was true, tonight was her last chance to try to go back. Everything in her wanted to stay right here in this time, this place with Charles, but she'd ruined her chance with him.
Izzy stopped at the top of the stairs and glanced over the hallway and foyer below. Was it just yesterday she'd braved walking down there alone in broad daylight? She shook her head as she remembered laughing
in the kitchen with Sebastian. If things had been different, Izzy felt sure they could have become close.
She took the stairs slower than she needed to, savoring the last few minutes of her time here. If things went as planned, she'd be back in the year 2012, almost instantly. Izzy shrugged and realized she didn't have a plan that went farther than that for getting home.
There'd never been any sign of her purse or its contents after it had fallen on the floor right after Charles found her in the closet. Had one of the maids disposed of it? With no money or passport, she'd somehow need to contact one of her co-workers to wire her some money for a plane ticket home. But that was the least of her worries right now. Just getting back to her time with her heart intact was going to be a major endeavor.
****
A knock sounded on Charles' study door.
"Yes, come in." What did his pestering uncle want now? Hadn't the man caused enough trouble? Charles reached over and rubbed Henrietta's ears, glad to have the cat's company. Before Isabella, it never would have occurred to him to take pleasure in a pet.
The door squeaked as it opened, reminding Charles of the door to Isabella's bedroom. His heart squeezed tight, threatening to stop altogether. How long would it take for him to not think of her every minute? She'd left last night, but Charles hadn't had the heart to watch her step into the closet. There was only so much a man could take.
He glanced down at the figures he'd calculated. With Isabella no longer here to occupy his time, he needed to get back to his work. He was behind in caring for tenants who lived on the estate. What was taking Sebastian so long? Henrietta meowed and jumped from the desktop, trotting toward the doorway.
As he darted a glance at the now-open door, Charles widened his eyes. It could not be! Isabella? He jumped from his chair too quickly, causing it to topple over. Charles ran across the room, stopping just short of the woman he loved. Wait. She'd said she was leaving, that it was best for both of them. She'd broken his heart. Why was she still here?
He crossed his arms over his chest, regretting making such a hasty dash across the room. "Isabella. Why are you here?"
Time for a Duke Page 9