“Are you all right?” Duncan asked. “Do you need another drink?”
Aldrich sat, eyes riveted on nothing. Everything. They’d since moved to the library. Duncan, drink in hand, sipped it slowly, watching Aldrich with casual interest. The duke was still on his first brandy. Aldrich, his fourth. He took another long swallow. “Give me … a moment.”
“Take all the time you need,” Duncan said.
Time. That word had a whole new meaning. But how much of what Duncan told him was true? He’d known the man for years. Duncan Sayer wasn’t one to come up with something so preposterous. For one, he was a rotten liar and Aldrich knew it.
“If it’s any consolation,” Duncan said, interrupting his thoughts. “When Dallan MacDonald first told me, I, um … fainted.”
Aldrich snapped to attention. “You? Faint?!”
Duncan nodded. “Circumstances were different, of course, and he told me a few things besides, but yes. I dropped like a stone.”
Aldrich stared at him in disbelief. Not because the duke lost consciousness, but because it was one more thing that made his story believable. Nothing could make Duncan Sayer faint. Nothing. Except for the impossible.
“And the crusades?” Aldrich said. “That’s how this man proved he could travel through time?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Fool that I was, I chose the place to be used at proof.” He frowned. “I was almost skewered by a scimitar. If I’d been smart, I’d have picked something more familiar. Like watching the demise of that bloody, stuffed crocodile I keep in my study. Thing’s been dead for over sixty years.”
Despite the circumstances, Aldrich laughed. It felt good. He was tense, terribly so and wasn’t sure how he’d react when he saw Tory next. “That monstrous trophy? Well, That would be a sight. Your relative battling the huge beast, bringing it to its end.”
Duncan coughed into one hand. “Oh, quite, but enough of my relative’s trophies. We were talking about you.”
Aldrich sat back in his chair and eyed the brandy decanter on the sideboard. “Yes.”
“And?” Duncan prompted.
Aldrich took a deep breath. “I still want proof.”
“As I told you, it’s easy enough to provide. I just have to find Dallan.”
“Where is he?”
“In my woods.”
“What?”
Duncan shrugged. “They’re keeping you and Miss Phelps safe.”
“That’s the part that worries me. But aside from that.” He waved a hand in the air. “Let me get this straight. You’re helping this MacDonald chap pair two people from different centuries and for what again? So these time traveling friends of yours can get their hands on the off spring? My off spring? Bloody hell, Duncan!”
The duke fingered the rim of his glass. “From what I know you would raise your children as you wish, their paths in life would still be of their own choosing.”
“Would they? Then why do these people want to make sure Miss Phelps and I fall in love and have children to begin with? Why fall in love at all? Why not just …”
“Enough! I’ve said all I can. I don’t know anything else.” The duke stood and began to pace. “I only know that you are key, Aldrich. And so is Miss Phelps.”
Aldrich wiped a hand across his mouth. He wanted to hit something. Make that someone, preferably this MacDonald chap. If he existed, that is. Perhaps the duke was completely barmy and none of this was real.
Problem was, deep in his heart, he knew it to be true. When he thought back on Tory’s behavior and mannerisms, the way she spoke, her boldness, her free spirit, how could it not be? He’d met Americans before and she was so different from them.
And, of course, there was the undeniable fact he was in love with her. What was he to do with that?
“Do yourself a favor, old man,” Duncan said.
“What?”
“If you love Miss Phelps, marry her. No matter where or when she’s from. Live your life, raise whatever children you have and to hell with the rest.”
Aldrich sighed. “And if these people come for my children one day? What then?”
“I don’t know. What I do know is that Dallan MacDonald is an honorable man. He does nothing for himself. He’s only trying to protect a family line.”
“And what about my family line? I’m a knight. My ancestors were nobles and knights, warriors who served their kings. But that’s not all I have in my family tree Duncan and you know it. There are murderers and thieves, adulterers, traitors, shall I go on?”
“I don’t think this has anything to do with them. This is about blood and something called … what was it now? Genes.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Suffice to say, I’m sorry. I took a risk in telling you. It was a gamble at best and I’ve lost. Forgive me, my friend.”
Aldrich stared at him a moment in shock. He knew the duke well enough to know that his words were heart felt. Aldrich sighed and closed his eyes in resignation. “She doesn’t know, does she?”
“No. Not yet. In fact I’m surprised she hasn’t figured it out by now, but then, these people did think of everything. Almost.”
“What do you mean, almost?”
“They didn’t think about what would happen if I told you the truth. Which I have.”
Aldrich stared at him a moment. The only sound in the library was the ticking of a clock on the fireplace mantle. Within those few seconds of silence, he missed Tory. Missed her deeply and realized that no matter what Duncan told him, he couldn’t give her up. Wouldn’t. She was his and his alone. He’d see to it. As to any possible threat to his unborn children, he’d think about that later. After all, he could only handle so much at one time.
Time, there was that word again. “I have to speak with her,” he said. “She must be in her room.”
“I can send Becky to fetch her. Would you like to meet with her in the drawing room?”
Aldrich looked at the clock on the wall. “I’ve an hour until tea. Perhaps that would be a better time. She’s probably resting.” He sighed. “I planned to court her, you know.”
“Planned?”
Aldrich gave him his full attention. “I will court her, even if I have to take her to London to do it. She could stay in your townhouse, could she not?”
“Of course, anything that suits you,” the duke agreed. He, too, looked at the clock. “I’m not crazy, just so you know. I’ve been living with this knowledge for years.”
Aldrich ran a hand through his hair. “And Cozette? What about her?”
“She’s from this century,” Duncan confessed softly. “We both are. There’s nothing fantastic about us. Not in that way, at least.” He gave Aldrich an odd look then quickly turned away.
Aldrich studied him as another thought struck. “I’ve known you for a good long while, Duncan. My father said you were a good man, that I should get to know you, that I’d be glad I did.”
The duke watched him a moment. “Are you?”
“Until this moment, yes.”
Duncan closed his eyes with a sigh. “And now?”
Aldrich took a deep breath. “Now I’m not sure how I feel.”
Duncan opened his eyes and nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry, Aldrich. I had hoped my telling you wouldn’t affect our friendship.”
Aldrich looked at his friend. “It wouldn’t have such an affect, Your Grace, if I didn’t believe you. But the fact is, I do.”
* * *
“Pssst, you there, yes you.” Tory’s voice was low. She didn’t want to frighten the child as she played near the cell window. “Come here, sweetie, I won’t hurt you.”
The little girl stared at her with wide blue eyes. She couldn’t be more than four or five. She held a stick in her hand and was scooting a rock through the dirt with it.
“Hi,” Tory said gently. “I’m Tory, what’s your name?”
The child continued to stare.
“Hey, I work for the duke and duchess up at the big house, Stantham Hall. I need to get a message to them or a Sir Aldrich.” Actually, at this point, Barnes the butler would do. She had to get out of there! If the magistrate was, indeed, a real magistrate and not some over-zealous re-enactor, then the last thing she wanted was to get carted off to London. If that happened she could be lost forever in a time she knew very little about.
Tory pushed the thought aside. “Look, sweetie, I need you to find your mommy or daddy and have them get my message to Stantham Hall.”
The child blinked a few times and continued to stare. She had blonde hair, was cute as a button and made Tory’s heart squeeze for a moment. What would it be like to have children with a man like Aldrich?
But there wasn’t time for that. “I’m the duchess’s tutor … make that governess. Tell them I’m stuck in here under false pretenses.”
The little girl backed up a few steps.
“Oh no, please, don’t leave!” Tory thrust an arm through the bars. Like that would help.
Naturally, it didn’t. The child bolted into the crowd and disappeared.
“Nuts!” Tory drew her arm back inside. “Now what?”
She turned and looked at the dimly lit cell. Once night fell, it would be swallowed in darkness. She didn’t like the dark. She preferred well-lit streets along with electricity, cell phones and microwaves. If her crazy idea of being in another century was correct and she was stuck there, then what? What if Aldrich never came to rescue her?
“Oh my gosh,” she said with a sudden realization. “He … he really does have feelings for me.” Because if there was one thing she knew from all the romance novels she’d read was that back in the day, a man did profess love for a woman quickly. In fact, people married after a kiss in the garden all the time. Well, at least in the regency novels. But she wasn’t in the regency era. This had to be the Victorian era.
“Wow, he’s into me,” she whispered, her smile growing. “He’s really into me.”
Of course, that would mean …
She looked at the window above her. The light was still good. But it had to be getting close to teatime, by her calculations, if it wasn’t over all ready. When she didn’t show up, would someone come looking for her? She certainly hoped so. Because she could be in real trouble. Worse. She could be dead.
* * *
Aldrich stood at the edge of his favorite section of the gardens. He stared over the fields to the woods beyond, where “proof” of all Duncan had told him was wandering. Make that patrolling.
If someone was out there coming to harm Tory and marrying the woman would protect her, then of course he’d do it. To keep Tory safe he’d do anything. The thought of losing her ripped at him, accompanied by an odd cold, an icy emptiness that made his insides quiver. The sensation lasted only a minute or two, but that was two minutes too long in his book. He never wanted to feel like that again.
But what now? Even if he believed Duncan, would Tory? And if she did, would she want anything more to do with him? Or would she demand to be taken back to her own time?
Perhaps it would have been better if Duncan never told him. He’d have continued to pursue Tory, as was his plan. Aldrich knew how to woo a woman and wanted the pleasure of wooing Tory Phelps. He’d spare no expense and knew she would enjoy long walks in the gardens, fishing, riding, a trip to London …
But those were things that one did while courting in this century. What did they do in Tory’s?
“That’s it,” he said to himself. “By jove, that’s it! I’ll not tell her.” Because wasn’t that the original plan? To bring her to him, let them fall in love, so on and so forth? Except what did the duke’s friends have planned for them after that? Tory would have to be told the truth at some point. Were they not planning to tell her and only shock him with it? If so, then that would mean …
“Bloody hell.” Aldrich spun on his heel and headed back to the manor. He didn’t know how much information Duncan was holding back, but holding he was. Aldrich knew there was more to it and questions had begun to form. But his questions could wait. Protecting Tory was the most important thing right now. That is, if there was an actual threat. From the sounds of it, so long as he could marry her and leave (the question was to where, or in this case, when) she would be safe. Him too for that matter.
Aldrich was half-way back to the house when he stopped and spun around. “Duncan’s in the woods,” he reminded himself aloud. He glanced at the house and back. He wouldn’t be able to speak with Duncan until he returned. And when he did, would he have MacDonald with him?
One of Aldrich’s hands balled into a fist. He’d still like to punch the man in the face. But then, if not for him, he never would have met Tory. What plan was this of the fates? Was he destined to marry a woman from another time? Would he have been able to resist her otherwise? Normally he’d consider someone like her beneath him. But he was drawn to her, so much so he knew he had to win her.
But first things, first. He had to calm down. He didn’t want Tory to see him like this. She’d be heading down to tea about now. Best he join her.
Aldrich took a deep breath and continued toward the house.
* * *
Tory awoke to an odd sound, like a key turning in a lock, but too cumbersome to be her front door.
“Rise and shine, Lovey,” came a gruff voice. “It’s time to go.”
Tory snapped awake and almost fell off the bench. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep. She’d only slept because she’d been so frustrated a flood of tears escaped. Once they started, they were impossible to stop. She hadn’t cried herself to sleep in years.
She noted the lantern the magistrate hung on a peg near the door and wondered what time it was. Just after dark? Midnight? Who knew?
“I said, get up!”
Tory looked at the village cop, then at the set of manacles in his hands. “You have got to be kidding!”
“Afraid not, Lovey. Now be a good girl and come along quietly. We’ve a long road ahead of us.”
Tory stood, despite healthy protests from aching muscles. “You are not putting those on me!”
“And why not, you traitorous wench? Be glad I don’t have a good old-fashioned brank to shut that pretty mouth of yours.”
“Brank? What the heck is a … oh, never mind. I don’t want to know.” She sidestepped away from him. “I have rights!”
“Traitors have no rights.” He backed toward the door. “William, get down here!”
Footsteps came stomping down the stairwell and a brown-haired, gangly teen appeared in the doorway. “Yes, sir?”
“Our prisoner isn’t cooperating. I think she needs convincing that she’s not above the law.”
The teen looked at Tory and grimaced. “But, you told me she told you she works for the duke.”
“She’s a traitor to the crown, part of a plot to usurp the queen. The proof is upstairs, son. You’ve seen it! When the duke finds out he’ll be furious. We’ve got to take her to London and hand her over. It’s what he’ll want.”
“Are you sure there’s a reward, Father?”
The magistrate smiled. “For the likes of her, I’ve no doubt there is. Now help me.”
Tory locked eyes with the youth as he nodded and said, “Yes, father.” His expression suddenly changed to one of determination.
“Uh-oh,” she said under her breath and backed up a step. Gangly teen or not, she was no match for the both of them. Not in a small cell and without a weapon. And what was this bit about a reward? Oh, no …
“You’re taking me without telling the duke!” she backed into the bench. “You’re after the reward!”
“Ah ha! So there is a reward,” he said with a sneer.
“That’s not what I meant!”
“No? You might as well have signed a confession with that statement, Lovey.” He then lunged.