The butler looked from one to the other and raised a brow. “Indeed.”
Breathless, Ellie managed a guilty smile. “I, um, I had better go. I still haven’t unpacked.”
“Of course.” Taking her hand again, James swept into a low bow before touching her fingers to his lips. She was sure he took longer than necessary, but she didn’t pull away. All she could do was stare. His eyes spoke of sex and seduction as he released her and excused himself.
Ellie watched him go with a sigh. She definitely wouldn’t mind falling into bed with the charming Lord Dabney, she thought, surprising even herself. She couldn’t help but smile. England was turning out to be just like a novel after all.
CHAPTER 4
She gazed at her reflection in the gilded mirror, grinning broadly as she adjusted the ringlet curls framing her face. Matthew always said her hair made it seem like she set the world on fire. She’d always thought that a funny notion, until he reminded her that she was his world.
She couldn’t wait to see him again, even if it was under the ever-watchful eye of her father and her betrothed. It was easy to slip off unnoticed for a moment or two whenever her family threw a ball, and oh, how her mother loved to entertain.
Pinching her cheeks for color, she straightened her pale blue muslin gown, admiring how the top layer flowed over the white cotton beneath. Her father had it imported as an early birthday present, and she couldn’t have been more pleased.
“Elizabeth!” her cousin Sarah called, running down the hall. “Hurry, Lizzie, they’re all waiting on you.”
Laughing, Elizabeth spun, loving the way her dress flowed freely around her body. “Let them wait,” she declared, her green eyes blazing with mischief. “The party is for me, after all. Why not make an entrance?”
Sarah beamed at her shaking her head. “I could never be as brave as you. Your father would skin you if he heard your talk.”
Elizabeth linked her arm through Sarah’s. “Nonsense, dear cousin. Father adores me.” The two girls giggled like conspirators as they ran down the hall.
The ballroom was crowded and noisy, and exactly the way Elizabeth liked it. She greeted her guests with a distinguished, proper air, just as her mother had taught her; all the while, searching the crowd for Matthew. One of the waiters passed by with a tray of Champagne. Elizabeth took one, spinning once more as the bubbly drink slid down her throat.
Where was he?
There. Across the room, near the far door, Matthew stood, casually leaning against the wall. Even from a distance, she loved how his blue eyes roamed over her body, as if he were undressing her just with his eyes. Her entire being ached to be with him again, and a slow, easy smile played across her lips. His answering smile promised long kisses and answering sighs in the dark.
“He’s here,” Sarah exclaimed from beside her, and Elizabeth jumped. She couldn’t know Elizabeth had been searching for the McKinnon heir. No one knew; no one could know. The McKinnon’s were a good family, but poor as far as Lords went, and her father would never allow the union. Especially since he had already agreed on a dowry with the Dabneys. But if Sarah knew she had been secretly seeing Matthew for the last fortnight…
Luckily, Sarah was pointing excitedly in another direction. Elizabeth followed her cousin’s gaze and spotted the young Lord Dabney talking to her father. He wasn’t so bad, really, she conceded. He was handsome, charming, dark and mysterious. As the heir to his family fortune, she would never be wanting for luxury. And, she had to admit, she was attracted to him. Something about his smoldering gaze was enticing. And yet, there was just something off about him. Something a little too possessive which made Elizabeth want to keep him at arm’s length.
She knew her duty, and she would honor the marriage without a fight, but she didn’t love James Dabney, and she doubted if she ever would.
“Ah, here she is,” her father announced, drunkenly placing an arm around her. Elizabeth beamed at their guests around her father’s portly form. “I was just telling Lord Dabney how excited you are about your upcoming nuptials. Aren’t you my dear?”
Though her smile wanted to falter, Elizabeth forced it to stay in place. Lord Dabney’s eyes narrowed just a little. “Of course. Any girl would be pleased with such an advantageous match.” She let out a breath when his expression relaxed. The ladies around her began to gush at how lucky she was as the men turned to the morning’s hunt. Elizabeth watched Matthew slip out of the room to the hallway and hurried to excuse herself.
She had just made it through the doors to the hallway when strong arms pulled her around a corner. Her back knocked against the wall and suddenly Matthews’s mouth was on her, his lips pressed to her neck. She gripped at his clothing, her fingers clawing into the heavy wool of his jacket, trying to bring him closer. Their heavy breaths were the only sounds in the hallway and she delighted in the danger of their affair.
Matthew yanked down the top of her dress and chemise, exposing her breast before clamping his mouth around it. Elizabeth moaned greedily as he suckled her nipple, wishing more than anything that neither of them were clothed.
“I have to have you,” Matthew whispered against her ear, brushing his lips seductively against her cheek. Heat flooded through her down to her center and she knew she would never deny him.
“Come to my rooms tonight,” she instructed. “I shall leave the window open for you.” His answer came as a kiss so deep and full of longing that she found herself moaning again.
The door opened at the end of the hall, and both of them froze. “Elizabeth?” a man called, and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “Are you back here?”
“It’s James!” she whispered urgently. “I must go.” Hastily, she covered herself again, straightening her dress and fixing the curls that had gone astray. Matthew merely grinned and pressed a kiss to her throat. “I have to go,” she exclaimed, but she was smiling broadly.
“I will have tonight,” he promised, while Elizabeth shook her head in amusement.
Taking a steadying breath, she stepped out around the corner and greeted her fiancé. “Yes, my Lord, I’m here. Just feeling a little flushed is all. I wanted to get some air.”
Lord Dabney’s eyes were guarded, but his voice was kind enough. “There isn’t much fresh air back here, I’m afraid. How about a turn in the garden?”
She smiled as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “A walk would be lovely. Just what I need.” Elizabeth let Lord Dabney lead her away, determined not to look back. She would see Matthew in a matter of hours; she just needed to keep up the charade until then.
Lord Dabney led her through the ballroom and out to the gardens before he handed her another glass of Champagne.
“Why thank you.” She loved the way the drink felt on her tongue, cool and soothing. “That’s delicious. And didn’t come from our stores, I would know. Where did you get it?”
“It’s one of mine, from the vineyards,” he replied, taking her hand and spinning her around. “I may have slipped it in under my coat.”
“You are a devil, my Lord,” she told him, taking another sip. Everything began to take on a rosy glow. “How did you manage to do that?”
Dabney chuckled. “My dear, Miss Hargrove, I promise you, I have my ways of getting what I want.”
Elizabeth laughed and it was full and throaty. A small part of her wondered why she suddenly felt so comfortable with him, but the rest of her didn’t care. She let him lead her around the courtyard in a dance to the music filtering out through the windows and doors, enjoying the euphoric feeling that had invaded her senses. As he spun her again, she tripped and fell against him, clutching at his lapels to find her balance. Elizabeth giggled. “My Lord, I do believe I have had too much to drink.” Feeling slighting drunk, she gazed up at him through a rosy veneer and all she could think about was how much she wanted to kiss him.
But that couldn’t be right, she thought, trying to find the thread that would lead her to why. What about…
; “Not until it’s finished, my dear. I swear to you; the last drop is worth the wait.” Dabney pressed the glass to her lips and tipped the rest of its contents into her mouth.
All other thoughts of denial disappeared and the only thing Elizabeth cared about was the man in front of her, the man she was going to marry. She didn’t pull back when he clutched her to him, or when he possessively pressed his mouth to hers as if he wanted to devour her. He was all that mattered. She would be his, and her heart would belong to no one else.
CHAPTER 5
Ellie stepped out of Seton & Associates into a light misting rain. The legalities of her grandmother’s will were fairly straightforward (or so she’d been told). If she were being perfectly honest, Ellie was still in a bit of shock. Not only had she inherited Hargrove House, but her family’s fortune as well. She was rich. Her entire life just changed.
The revelation was almost enough to pull her thoughts from the dream she’d had the night before. That was the second time she had found her subconscious in the early 1800s. What had her name been? Elizabeth, but her surname had still been Hargrove. And dream Elizabeth was most definitely different from the real Ellie.
Never in her life could she imagine she would carry on a steamy affair with a man in the hallway outside a party. Even if that man was as ridiculously handsome as Matthew had been. Though, she had to admit that the affair was, well, hot. She usually found it hard to even talk to men, much less invite one to her bed in the middle of the night. But oh, if she had, if she could ever be that brave and brazen…what must that be like?
If only she could live in such times as the Regency Era, she thought, thinking back over her research. The architecture, the fashion, the parties, the courtships. The romance. It was like living in a dream. Literally, since she was, in fact, dreaming just that.
The downfall, of course, was being auctioned off like cattle to a man she didn’t love. But Elizabeth had loved him, hadn’t she? Well, maybe. Ellie frowned. The drink her fiancé had given her had muddled her senses. It had almost been like magic. But love potions and the like weren’t real. Were they?
Ellie’s head was beginning to hurt. It was all just too strange.
Glancing down at the brochure she had picked up that morning, she spotted an ad for St. Margaret’s Museum. It looked like it was connected to the Pines Garden as well, which suited Ellie perfectly. Maybe there was someone there who could tell her a little more about her family. And if Elizabeth Hargrove actually existed.
The Pines Garden wasn’t crowded, though the Tea Room seemed to be a local favorite. Conversation and laughter filled the air as Ellie walked through the small restaurant toward the door labeled “Museum.” Inside was a plethora of history and memorabilia about the locals and what it was like to live in the area during World War II. The historian in Ellie was pretty much in heaven, though the practical side of her still wanted answers.
She walked slowly through the rooms, gazing at the displays and smiling politely at the other patrons. There didn’t seem to be anyone of authority around, but maybe someone from the Tea Room would know who ran it. Just as she was about to turn around to go ask, a man came through a side door, his arms loaded down with a pile of books and papers. Ellie couldn’t see his face, but that didn’t stop her from mustering up the courage to go speak to him. When it came to history, she was shameless.
“Excuse me,” she said as she approached him. She thought she’d said it quietly, but the man jumped nonetheless. Ellie pressed a hand to her mouth to stop the laugh. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s fine,” he said from behind his burden. “What can I do for you?” He continued walking until he reached a small cabinet on the other side of the room. Ellie followed close at his heels.
“Well, actually, I was hoping I could bother you for a bit of a favor.” The man dug into his pocket for a small brass key and unlocked the cabinet, haphazardly situating the papers inside. “You see,” she continued, “I just inherited my grandmother’s estate, and I was hoping to get a little bit of history on my family. I’ve never actually met them, but it seems silly to be the heir to the Hargrove fortune and not know anything about them.”
Finished, the man stood up slowly and turned to look at her, a mix of astonishment and curiosity on his face. Ellie gasped. It couldn’t be…and yet, it was. The man in front of her looked exactly like Elizabeth Hargrove’s Matthew from her dream. The same sandy brown hair, the same kind, piercing blue eyes. He looked significantly more disheveled and modern than the other man, but it was most definitely him. A strange pull started from low in Ellie’s stomach and worked its way up to her chest. There was a familiarity, a connection, there that she couldn’t describe.
The man gaped at her. “You’re Victoria Hargrove’s granddaughter?”
Surprised, Ellie’s eyes widened. “Yes. You knew my grandmother?”
“No, not really. I met her once at a function in Dover, but I didn’t know her personally. The family’s history is interesting, though. They’re one of the most wealthy and influential families in Kent.”
“Oh.”
A slow, crooked smile crept across his face and he stuck out his hand. “I think I can help you.” Her face lit up, and he laughed. It was a sweet, rich laugh, and Ellie found she wanted to hear it again. “My name is Matt. Matt McKinnon.”
Her breath caught. There had to be some mistake. Either that, or she was losing her mind. It was only a coincidence that this man looked exactly like the Matthew McKinnon from her dream and had the same name. Wasn’t it? “I…um.” Get a grip! She shook his hand. “Ellie Fitzgerald.”
Matt’s gaze turned quizzical. “Ellie. Short for Elizabeth?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” he replied with a shrug. “There was another Elizabeth in your family. Did you know that?” She nodded. “I thought it might be a family name. Though the first Elizabeth’s story is a bit depressing.”
Alarmed, Ellie followed Matt as he moved back through the displays towards the side door. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t know? Well, legend has it that Elizabeth Hargrove was the belle of the town. Beautiful, smart, full of life. A bit of a handful, actually, if you believe the tales. She fell in love with a poor nobleman from the country.” Opening the door, he beckoned her inside. Ellie followed.
The room was small and dusty, and the walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves filled with all kinds of books, clipping and incredibly old newspapers and magazines. In the center of the room was a carved wooden desk with an oil lamp, laden down with even more papers and things. Pens and pencils sat in a coffee mug next to a shiny silver lap top. A paper cup had been knocked to the floor. Matt hastily picked it up and tossed it in the trash.
“Sorry, it’s a bit cramped.” Pulling an old chair from a corner, he offered it to her. “So anyway, rumors of Elizabeth and her nobleman’s love became the talk of the town, but not before Elizabeth’s father had promised her to another.”
Ellie frowned. “I apologize, I don’t mean to be rude, but that was typical of the time, wasn’t it? Women were only as worthy as the match they made and fathers would marry them off to the most advantageous suitor. It’s sad, yes, but hardly merits remembrance when it happened like that all over the country.”
Amused, Matt leaned back in his captain’s chair and grinned at her. He had a bit of a devil-may-care attitude that Ellie found intriguing. “You know your history, I’m impressed.”
Ellie blushed a little at the compliment, her cheeks turning a radiant shade of crimson. “I’m writing my dissertation on Regency England.”
“I see. Well, you would be correct, but a loveless marriage is not what makes the story of Elizabeth Hargrove so sad. You see, shortly after Elizabeth and her love decided to run away together, she suddenly decided she didn’t want him anymore and became utterly devoted to her betrothed. Most of society at the time believed she was just doing her duty, but M
atthew - a relative of mine, actually - didn’t believe that, but there was nothing he could do. He was forced to stand aside while she married the Lord Dabney.”
“Wait a second,” Ellie interrupted, frowning a bit. “Would that be the same Dabney family that is still here?”
Matt nodded. “The very same. The Dabneys have been in Dover for generations, though their fortune is significantly more depleted now days.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know the particulars, but there was something that happened a while back, gambling or something, that drained their accounts. Word around town is that they’re still struggling just to remain afloat, and that now, instead of using the Lordship as a supplement to the family income, the Dabneys are relying on it. They’re always looking to marry into money, and I’m all but certain the Dabneys have tried to marry a Hargrove woman in every generation.”
Ellie’s frown deepened. Is that why James had shown up the day before? He was after her money? It seemed a shame, since he had been so charming, though she had felt something was slightly off about the man.
Matt cocked his head. “Have you met the Dabneys?” he asked.
“One. Lord James Dabney. He came over last night after I arrived. Said he was a friend of my grandmother’s.”
“Hmm.” He tapped a finger thoughtfully to his chin. “And? Did you believe him?”
Perplexed, she merely shrugged. “There didn’t really seem to be a reason not to. He was kind, polite, charming. Exactly the way I assumed an English gentleman would be. Maybe too exact, I guess.”
Matt tapped his finger again. “Curiouser and curiouser.”
Despite herself, Ellie laughed. “Okay, Lewis Carroll. So, what happened to Matthew and Elizabeth?”
“Ah, always the romantic, I see. Very well. Matthew never believed Elizabeth had stopped loving him. In fact, he was convinced that Dabney was controlling her somehow, holding her captive to keep her as a possession, but he could never prove it. It wasn’t until Elizabeth gave birth to a little girl that Matthew finally confronted Dabney, saying the child was actually his and that Dabney’s sorcery was about to come to an end. The two dueled, and Matthew was slain on the White Cliffs of Dover.
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