Jane woke the following morning to the reminder of all that had happened the day before. Fresh panic rushed through her veins, jolting her into an upright position. Oh God, oh God, oh God! She’d travelled through time and was now the only suspect in the murder of Lady Tatiana. Additionally, she’d sensed a deep attraction between herself and the earl. He’d certainly looked his fill at her when he’d visited her room. Even though it was only her calf that had been on display, his eyes had scorched her skin and left her feeling dizzy.

Which was silly. Nothing could come of it. She was not the aristocratic lady he ought to be pursuing. And besides, his mistrust of her would be a huge hindrance. Not to mention that she had no business inserting herself in his life. In fact, the less the two interacted the better since it would make leaving so much easier when the time to do so came.

Clasping the bedspread, Jane pulled her knees up to her chest and wondered how to proceed. She needed to calm down, that much was certain. Having her heart race along at a constant gallop wouldn’t help in the least. Neither would staying in bed and ignoring the truth.

With this in mind, she got up and dressed, then rang the bell-pull and waited, unsure of what to expect next. Would a maid bring her breakfast or would someone escort her downstairs to the dining room?

A knock at the door a few minutes later announced the arrival of Mrs. Fontaine. “Good morning,” she said after letting herself into the room with crisp efficiency.

Jane tried to smile even though Mrs. Fontaine’s scowl distressed her. “Good morning.”

The housekeeper gave her a once over before saying, “If you’ll please come with me then.” She gestured for Jane to follow. “There is breakfast for you downstairs after which you’re to meet with his lordship.”

Drawing a breath, Jane followed the housekeeper through the hallway and down the long flight of stairs while wondering what else she might tell the earl. She did not have the information he sought and had no desire to share any further details about herself for fear of revealing too much. Wasn’t that time travel lesson number one? Not to interfere with the past? As it was, her presence alone might cause a serious ripple in the timeline if the movies she’d seen on the subject were anything to go by.

This meant that maintaining her cover as a woman who’d fled a displeasing match was of the essence. And thankfully, Camden had already offered her the chance to stay. Because not only did she have no idea where else to go if he didn’t, she was also reluctant to leave the manor in case the portal materialized once again. Staying here was probably her only hope of ever returning home. A prospect she tried to ignore, considering how unlikely it would be for her to travel through time not once but twice in one lifetime. And end up where she belonged.

But since hope was all she had and getting hysterical over her dismal odds would not help at all, she tried to keep a level head. Especially since doing so would make it easier for her to avoid getting charged with a crime she had not committed.

Passing the parlor on the way to the dining room, Jane caught a glimpse of Tatiana. She was laid out on a long table that must have been brought in for this purpose alone, for it looked out of place in the intimate seating space. A footman stood guard near the door to the room, eyes hardening with undeniable contempt as they locked with Jane’s. Reminded of her position here, she averted her gaze and hurried after Mrs. Fontaine, eager to have breakfast over with so she could speak with Camden again. Perhaps by then she would think of a way to defend herself against the accusation she faced.

Unfortunately, such a scenario was highly unlikely considering the facts. It was the typical plot she’d seen in a hundred movies where some poor fool was found standing over a corpse, oftentimes with the murder weapon in their hand. At least the knife the killer had wielded had not been found anywhere near her. But even so, from Camden’s and everyone else’s perspective, she was the stranger who’d been found in a spot where she shouldn’t have been. Convincing them of her innocence would not be simple, especially when DNA and fingerprinting were out of the question. All there was, was circumstantial evidence, and right now, everything pointed to her.

Pushing the unpleasant thought aside, Jane entered the dining room and took a seat at the table. Unlike the tasty meals she described in her books, porridge was the only food awaiting her this morning. She took a few bites, chasing them with a sip of hot tea.

“Good morning, Miss Edwards.”

Jane turned to find the earl casually striding toward her. He looked incredibly handsome this morning, dressed in a charcoal grey jacket and black trousers. His hair was neatly combed, making him look more tamed than the previous evening. Although more elegant, Jane decided she rather preferred the messier appearance.

“Good morning, my lord.” She set her spoon aside. The porridge wasn’t terrible, but neither did it stir her appetite.

As if reading her mind, Camden said, “I thought it best to offer you only a simple meal. Just in case you are guilty, in which case you do not even deserve as much as that.”

His suspicion of her could not be plainer. Jane grimaced. “You needn’t explain. I understand your reasoning completely.” Especially since she’d claimed to be seeking employment as a maid. It was unlikely such a position would warrant better fare than what she’d received.

“Indeed.” Camden studied her with no small degree of thoughtfulness. “In that case, if you are done, I would like you to join me in my study.”

Jane followed him from the room in complete silence. She still wasn’t sure how to prove her innocence. Hopefully inspiration would strike sooner rather than later. “May I sit?” she asked upon entering the study. She would feel better not having to stand.

“By all means.” Camden gestured toward the vacant chair that stood across from his desk. Another chair was already occupied by the second man who’d arrived on the terrace last night. “This is my secretary and valet, Mr. Snypes.”

Mr. Snypes gave Jane a look of distinct disapproval. “I cannot say it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Jane chose to answer him as bluntly as he had addressed her. “As far as I know, I have not yet been found guilty.”

“I believe that is only a matter of time,” Mr. Snypes said, “all things considered.”

“Enough!” Camden lowered himself to the last remaining chair. “Arguing won’t yield any results. What we need are facts.”

Mr. Snypes nodded. “Which leaves us with Miss Edwards standing over your sister’s body last night.”

Forcing herself to stay calm, Jane thought back on all the murder mystery novels and TV shows she’d enjoyed over the years. Perhaps it would help if she could prove she lacked motivation? It was worth a shot.

“I didn’t know Lady Tatiana, so what reason would I possibly have to kill her?”

“It is possible that you came here intending to rob the place and she intercepted you. Killing her could have been an act of self-preservation on your part,” Mr. Snypes pointed out.

“If that was the case I would not have been dressed as I was. Nor would I have remained on the terrace for you to find me.”

“Perhaps you were too shocked by what you did to think about fleeing.” This comment was made by Camden, reminding Jane that he did not trust her and that he had no intention of dismissing her as a suspect any time soon. No matter how well he’d treated her thus far or the fact that he’d seemed to find her attractive the previous evening.

He probably felt guilty about that today and was trying to keep his guard up around her.

She clutched her hands in her lap and looked from one man to the other. “May I ask if the murder weapon has been found?”

“It has not,” Camden said.

“And you don’t think it would have been if I was the one to wield it?” she asked. “Would it not have been on my person or somewhere nearby?”

Both men shared a glance before Camden finally nodded. “A definite point in your favor, Miss. Edwards.”

A knock at the door brought Hendricks into the room. “I hope you will pardon my intrusion, my lord, but Harrington and Rockwell would like to speak with you. May I show them in?”

* * *

James gave his consent. It had already been a busy morning with the upholsterer arriving before he’d even finished his breakfast. He sighed as he thought back on all the requests he’d made, like for Belgian Blacks to pull the hearse and for them to be fitted with ostrich plume headbands. He’d asked for the coffin to be dressed in purple silk velvet rather than black and for the engraving on the silver breast plate to include a bouquet of violets, Tatiana’s favorite flowers.

It had been a depressing conversation, but at least the necessary arrangements were now taken care of so he could focus more fully on solving the crime. Which might be harder than he’d anticipated without the help of the magistrate. Apparently the man had gone away on business and wasn’t expected back for another two weeks. His clerk had sent a brief missive, apologizing for the inconvenience.

Uselessness, more like, James had decided while muttering an oath and resolving to catch the villain himself.

At least he had his servants. Snypes would handle the preparations required for the visitation of mourners along with any immediate business dealings. The man had been in James’s employ for over five years and was perfectly capable. James trusted him completely, which was part of the reason why he’d asked him to sit in on this meeting with Miss Edwards. He’d wanted a second opinion – some solid feedback. But perhaps that had been a mistake considering Snypes’s hostile response to Miss Edwards. His remarks had not been conveyed with the open-minded objectiveness James had hoped for. Rather, it was clear that Snypes had already judged Miss Edwards and found her guilty. Which was not very helpful at all.

“Camden,” Rockwell said upon entering the room with Harrington by his side. Both men’s faces were set in tight lines. “Is it true? Has your sister really…” He stared at James in disbelief, allowing the rest of the words to remain unsaid.

“It is.” James turned toward Miss Edwards. “May I present my good friends, the Earl of Rockwell and Viscount Harrington. They have been visiting me for the past week.”

“A pleasure,” Miss Edwards murmured. She’d risen, allowing both gentlemen to assess her, which they proceeded to do with unashamed interest.

Bothered by it for reasons he couldn’t quite comprehend, James went to pour himself a brandy. Behind him, he heard Rockwell murmur, “Indeed, the pleasure is entirely ours.”

To which Snypes immediately added, “Perhaps you will reconsider that sentiment upon hearing that Miss Edwards may be the villain responsible for her ladyship’s untimely demise.”

“That will be all, Mr. Snypes,” James clipped. He cast a disapproving glance at the servant while making a mental note to remind him of his boundaries. James might enjoy his advice, but it was important for Snypes to know when to keep his mouth shut.

A momentary hush followed and then, “As you wish, my lord.” Snypes departed, closing the door behind him.

James turned more fully toward his guests. “Miss Edwards’s role in all of this has yet to be determined.” He invited Rockwell and Harrington to sit, which they did while he himself remained standing. “I made her acquaintance last night when I arrived on the terrace to find her standing over Tatiana’s body.”

“Good God!” Rockwell stared at Miss Edwards as though she might threaten to kill him next.

“However,” James added, noting Harrington’s narrowed eyes, “the murder weapon has yet to be recovered. It was not in Miss Edwards’s possession at the time of her apprehension, nor has it been discovered in the garden.”

“In other words,” Harrington drawled, “she did not dispose of it right before you found her.”

James took a sip of his drink, savoring the soothing heat as it slid down his throat. “It doesn’t appear so. No.”

“Which would mean she did not do it,” Rockwell said.

“It is becoming increasingly unlikely,” James agreed. He eyed Jane who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. “I still have a great number of questions, however. Ensuring you have no hand in this matter will take time – time you will spend here at Summervale under my watchful eye.”

He pinned her with a stare, determined to make her understand the severity of the situation in which she found herself and that he would have no qualms about seeing her punished if she were found guilty. But rather than show defiance or fear, she blushed and allowed her gaze to fall away from his.

“Yes, my lord.”

She murmured the words with a touch of sensuality that quickened his blood. Confounded and discomforted by it, he returned his attention to the side table and busied himself with pouring drinks for his friends. Anything to alleviate the wild imaginings he’d started having about a woman he probably ought to despise. Fantasizing about her would be extremely inappropriate.

“Brandy?” He offered a glass to Rockwell and then to Harrington, but both declined.

“We’ve not yet broken our fast,” Rockwell explained while James set down the glasses.

“When we discovered what had transpired, we thought to seek you out first,” Harrington said, “but the truth of it is, I am famished.”

“Me too,” Rockwell said. “So if you do not mind, we will take ourselves off and fill our aching bellies.” His brow creased in contemplation, his eyes darkening with sympathy. “Perhaps we can go for a ride later? You look as though you could use a distraction.”

James shook his head. “Forgive me, gentlemen, but you will have to go without me. With all that has happened, there is too much for me to attend to. People are expected to arrive later today to pay their respects. I have to be here.”

“Of course,” Rockwell said. He and Harrington stood. “No need to worry about us. We will keep ourselves entertained.” They left the room at a solemn pace.

“Fine friends,” Miss Edwards said, drawing his attention back to her. “Have you known them long?”

“We attended Eton and Cambridge together.” He wasn’t sure why he was letting her draw him into personal conversation, but she was here, innocent until proven guilty. So he took the seat Harrington had vacated and set his half empty glass of brandy on the table.

“You did not offer me one.” She nodded toward the glass.

He laughed, surprised by her candor. “English women don’t usually imbibe at ten o’clock in the morning.”

“Did I forget to mention that I am American?”

He shook his head. “No. Indeed you did not.”

“Then perhaps you will allow me to enjoy a glass with you? The last twenty-four hours have not been easy. I believe a drink might help.”

Lord, the woman was assertive! He’d never encountered anyone from the working class who would have dared speak to him so boldly. Once again it made him wonder if Miss Edwards was more than she claimed to be. Because surely, even an American would know class difference ought to prevent her from addressing an earl so directly. She intrigued him though, which was why he chose to set the glass he’d intended for Rockwell within her reach.

“Thank you.” She took a sip without even wincing. “Excellent vintage.”

“You are familiar with brandies?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “My father was a collector and connoisseur. He taught me to appreciate the best varieties.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The daughter of a man wealthy enough to indulge himself in such an interest has fled America and now seeks work as a maid?”

“As I said, my funds were stolen, so what else should I do? I will not beg or prostitute myself.”

“I should bloody well hope not!” He was on his feet again, striding toward the window, unable to understand why the thought of her lowering herself to such a degree would bother him when he scarcely knew her. What she did to earn a living was none of his goddamn business. And yet, her statement had shot through him, compelling him to forget himself and making him curse in front of a woman for the second time in his life. It was unforgiveable, the behavior he subjected her to.

Shoving one hand into his trouser pocket, he drank deep from his glass while staring blindly out of the window at the driveway leading into the distance. “My apologies. My language just now was inexcusable.”

“Please don’t worry. It doesn’t offend me in the slightest.”

The honesty with which she spoke conveyed a lack of pretense he’d rarely witnessed in any woman. It was thoroughly engaging. “Are all Americans so indifferent?”

“I’m really not sure.” She sounded pensive now, as if the question puzzled her. “Perhaps there are those who would protest to a man expressing himself so overtly in front of a woman, but I rather appreciate the honesty.”

“Honesty?” He turned to meet her gaze.

“You must confess, allowing an expletive to slip, unhindered by the presence of others, is the very epitome of candid communication.” She knit her brow. “It is now quite clear to me that you abhor the idea of me having to beg or prostitute myself and that, in the event I am found guilty, you would rather see me dangling from the end of a rope because…” Her sentence trailed off as if she hadn’t quite managed to figure that part out just yet.

He decided to help. “Because that would be just.” He returned to his seat and leaned forward with his elbows resting firmly on his thighs. “If you are indeed capable of doing the unspeakable, of taking a blade and slicing it neatly across an innocent woman’s throat, then you deserve far worse than the hangman’s noose. But begging and whoring?” He winced, imagining her in such a scenario. “Whoever you are, you are better than that.”

“Hence my reason for seeking an honest job.”

Her determination was evident. She wanted to stay, which was yet another point in her favor. If she’d really killed Tatiana, would she not do her best to convince him she must return to her parents or something? Would she not simply attempt to flee?

But she hadn’t. Not yet at least.

“Have you ever worked as a maid before?” He doubted it, but felt compelled to ask.

“Not exactly, but that doesn’t mean I’m unfit. I’m a quick learner and I need the money.” She sounded sincere. And desperate.

Something about her story still bothered him though. “You said you arrived at Plymouth?” When she nodded to confirm this was true, he said, “That is quite a distance away, at least a week’s travel by coach.”

“I hitched a ride.” She held his gaze without flinching.

“You hitched a ride?” He knit his brow, surprised by her colloquialism and her explanation, which was bizarre at best. “With whom?”

“I do not know. The drivers, for there were a few, were not aware of my presence since I stowed away at the back of the carriages.”

“In the rear boots?” He could not help but sound appalled.

“Yes. Exactly. It wasn’t too terrible.”

He paid attention to her tone. The manner in which she spoke was different from when she’d told him she hadn’t killed Tatiana. If she had really gone through such an ordeal to get here, then surely her voice would convey it. And yet she sounded as though she were telling him of a story she’d once read. It lacked conviction.

Still, he decided to play along, because if this was the lie and her innocence was the truth, then he really did not understand her at all, though he was more determined than ever to try. “So then, what made you stop here?”

Her fingers caught the grey wool of the dress she was wearing and toyed with it while she spoke. “As I said, it looked like the sort of place where a woman in need of a respectable job might find one.”

“That doesn’t explain why you chose to walk around to the back of the house and enter from the terrace instead of going to the servant’s entrance at left of the front door.”

“Well, I did try to knock there, but I suspect the thunder must have drowned out the sound.” She took another sip of her drink while he did his best to avoid declaring her a liar.

It was no use. The story she’d woven was too unbelievable, and his pride would not permit him to let her think she’d managed to fool him. “I’m not sure you killed Tatiana, but I know for a fact that your explanation just now regarding how you arrived here is complete fabrication.”

She blinked and had the good grace to look as though he’d just caught her trying to rob him. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Trust me. If I told you the real truth, you would laugh at me and send me off to a home for the insane.”

He considered her closely. The way she spoke did not align with someone who’d lost the use of their mental faculties. In fact, she was perfectly capable of carrying a conversation with astuteness, responding quickly and intelligently.

“Nevertheless, I ask that you try to give me the absolute truth.”

It was her turn to consider him. She crossed her arms and pressed her lips firmly together. “Are you sure you don’t believe that I hitched a ride on a few different carriages from Plymouth to Cloverfield?”

“Quite.” Her dissembling was getting tiresome. He wanted answers, damn it!

“Right.”

She still didn’t look as though she intended to tell him the truth. Which made him want to shake her. Instead he reached for a state of calm that was swiftly leaving his grasp. “Please. Whatever it is, perhaps it can help with the investigation. Because if you did not kill Tatiana, which has yet to be determined, then someone else did, and in order to find that person, I need to know everything that happened last night.”

“My arrival here has nothing to do with the crime.” She stood and started to pace as though she needed to walk a few miles in order to calm her nerves. “Explaining it will not bring you any closer to finding the real killer.”

“I disagree.” Unable to sit still for one more second, he stood as well. “If there is one thing I know, it is that solving crimes requires facts, and you, Miss Edwards, are keeping a very large piece of the puzzle secret.”

She came to a halt, but not because of what he’d said apparently, but because of something she’d seen. Approaching the bookcase, she reached for a slim leather-bound novel and pulled it free from the shelf. “Pride and Prejudice.” She gave her head a wistful shake. “I love to read, and this is definitely one of my favorite novels.” Flipping it open, she raised her gaze to his in utter amazement, her eyes sparkling as though she were a pirate princess who’d just discovered a chest full of diamonds. “And it is signed by the author, with a dedication addressed to you!”

“Indeed. It is one of my most prized possessions, which is why I keep it here instead of in the library.”

“So you have read it?” Her voice had taken on a dreamy quality that sounded rather alluring.

“Of course. Miss Austen is a friend so it goes without saying that I would read one her books if she gifted it to me.”

Miss Edwards stared at James in amazement. Staring straight back, he forced his body to remain calm even as blood rushed through his veins. Her interest, the admiration with which she spoke, was dangerous. It reminded him too easily of the celibate state he’d confined himself to since breaking things off with his mistress, and of the fact that he was presently alone with the loveliest woman he’d ever seen.

Schooling his features, he quoted the opening line. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

Her lips stretched into a wide smile that dimpled her cheeks. “Now you’re just showing off.”

He couldn’t deny it. “It is also a truth universally acknowledged that an eligible gentleman is wise to avail himself of the opportunity to demonstrate his accomplishments.”

A pair of sparkling eyes met his. “Are you flirting with me, Lord Camden?”

“Perhaps.” He hadn’t meant to, but there was something so irresistible about her, he could not seem to help himself. “Just a little.”

“I’m sure your friends would advise against it.” She returned the book to its spot on the shelf. “As would I.”

It felt as though she’d just turned down his suit. Which was monstrously preposterous since he had no intention of letting himself get carried away to such a degree. But the thought that she might not find him as attractive as he found her was bothersome. It niggled at his male pride and put him in a prickly mood.

He crossed his arms. “Very well.” She’d captivated his interest though, which wasn’t something he could ignore. But she was right about the flirting. It wasn’t appropriate by any means. So he decided to try ferreting out more information about her instead. “How old are you, Miss Edwards?”

“Twenty seven.”

Tilting his head, he pondered that answer for a second before asking, “Are you a widow or a spinster?”

She gaped at him for a full five seconds before telling him archly, “I have never been married before.”

“And yet you fled from your fiancé.” He could not make sense of that. “Are you sure that was wise of you?”

“He gave me an ultimatum, and I decided to choose my writing over him.”

It was James’s turn to gape. She truly was addled in the head. “I see.” It was all he could think to say.

“You don’t approve.”

It was a statement, not a question, to which he responded with a shrug. “It is not my position to judge you, but in all honesty, I wonder how a woman of your age can turn down a proposal in favor of pursuing her own interests.”

“Erm…twenty-seven isn’t really—”

“You are firmly on the shelf, Miss Edwards, even by American standards.”

She returned to her chair and sank onto it in a despondent way that nipped at his heart. “Perhaps, but Geoffrey was the first man who ever proposed to me, and the first I ever considered marrying.”

“Then your decision to break your engagement makes even less sense.” Figuring out Miss Edwards was like rebuilding a shattered vase. There were pieces that didn’t make sense and some that refused to fit. “As a woman, the easiest way to secure a comfortable life is if you have a husband to support you and offer protection.”

“I’m sure that’s what you think, but perhaps—” She broke off the rush of words that formed her response and bit her lip.

Curiosity nagged him. “What were you going to say?”

“Just that…” she hesitated a moment before offering up a defeated sigh “…maybe your opinion on matrimony is somewhat archaic.”

James could feel his forehead knitting tightly together above his eyebrows. “I do not believe they differ much from anyone else’s. Except perhaps yours, it would seem.”

A knock at the door brought Hendricks into the room, saving Miss Edwards from having to comment on that remark. James made a mental note to resume this conversation later as he waited for his butler to state his business.

“My lord.” Hendricks met James’s gaze without blinking. “Betsy has just been found.”

“What wonderful news!” Relief filled James at the prospect of getting additional answers. “You must take me to her at once.”

“My lord—” Hendricks darted a wary look at Miss Edwards.

James understood him at once. “Please ask Mrs. Fontaine to see Miss Edwards returned to her chamber.” He turned to his guest. “I hope you can understand the need to confine you until we determine what happened last night.”

To his surprise, she did not argue as he’d expected after her confiding her radical views on the need, or rather lack thereof, for a woman to marry. Instead, she went with the housekeeper without complaint, adding to James’s instinctual conviction of her innocence.

Determined to remain objective, however, he pushed this feeling aside and followed Hendricks from the room, a little surprised when they did not head toward the servant’s quarter or bellow stairs. More so when the butler led the way outside to the stables.

Apprehension slid along James’s veins. His muscles tightened and he quickened his pace. “Why has Betsy not been brought back to the house?”

“I tried to tell you,” Hendricks said. “Betsy is—”

But James wasn’t listening. He already suspected he knew the answer to his question. It was confirmed seconds later when he entered the stable to find his head groomsman standing next to a large pile of hay. “The stable boy was fetching fresh fodder for the horses when his pitchfork struck this.”

James took a step closer and followed the groomsman’s gaze. A face had been uncovered – a familiar face with a vacant stare and a blank expression.

“Betsy.”

James cursed and closed his eyes for a second while anger tore through him. Whatever she might have been able to tell him would now go unheard.