by Kit Morgan
But all those turns had turned out for the good. He was still unsure of the latest one, though, which happened the day Dallan MacDonald showed up at Stantham Hall and told him he was a time traveler. Naturally Duncan didn’t believe a word of it – until the big Scot took him on a little “excursion” to the early 13th century and the Crusades to prove it.
Duncan broke their kiss and held her tight. “It will all turn out,” he told her, more to convince himself than anything. “But I dare say, I’ve never seen Mr. Mosgofian so agitated. He puts on a calm front, but he’s worried, I can tell.”
“About Aldrich and Miss Phelps falling in love?”
“About several things, but I won’t bother your pretty head about them now. Just keep an eye out, all right?”
“For what?”
“Strangers on the estate, for one.”
“Oh, that.” She rearranged herself on his lap. “Lany told me. He expects trouble.”
“Hopefully, there won’t be any trouble. Just see to it that Aldrich and Miss Phelps spend as much time together as possible.”
She smiled, kissed him, smiled again. “Have I ever failed you?”
“Never.” He kissed her back. Best he get his wife upstairs. After all, with his luck Emsworth would walk in on them. The poor man was already beside himself with worry over the first house party Cozette had given in years. As well he should be – she’d shot apples off his head at the last one. Who knew who’d she pick to use as a target at this one.
Four days had passed after Aldrich asked Tory if she could dance before they finally got around to practicing any of them. But she didn’t mind – it had been fun just spending time with him here and there. She was getting to know him better and felt her heart soften every time she saw him. Whether that was good or bad, she didn’t want to think about. She’d rather think about how fascinating he was. He was so unlike other men.
Though not always in a good way, as she found out that day in the library. “Let me see … there’s the quadrille, one of the duchess’s favorites. Then of course the various country dances, along with the polonaise, the waltz …”
“I know the waltz,” Tory admitted.
Aldrich arched an eyebrow at the interruption.
“Really, I do. We had to learn it in high school gym class. It was either that or square dancing.” She made a face.
He looked curious. “High school?”
Now she was confused. “What do you call it here?”
“School, of course, but …” He scoffed again. “… you’re a woman. I had no idea women attended institutions of higher learning in America.”
“Higher learning?” she said, affronted. Was he kidding? “Don’t women attend high school and college around here?”
“Of course they do. There’s Queen’s College in London and the Cheltenham Ladies’ College, but …”
Tory’s hands went to her hips. Surrounded by shelves of books, she was tempted to throw one at him. “But what?”
He looked her in the eye. “Forgive me. I assumed you had no formal education other than what is normal.”
“What?!”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Good. He knew he was in hot water. How could he possibly think …?
Tory squeezed her eyes shut momentarily as realization dawned. “It’s the way I talk, isn’t it?”
He looked sympathetic. “I’m afraid so.”
“But you can’t assume I’ve got no education. I’m here to tutor the duchess.” Good grief, did she really sound like she’d been raised in a barn? “I’m not English,” she finally said. “So of course I don’t talk as properly as you do.”
He sighed and smiled reassuringly. “You don’t have to talk like me, Miss Phelps.”
“Tory. Just call me Tory.”
“But that would be …”
“Improper? Really? C’mon, when no one’s around let’s just be cool and call each other by our first names, okay?”
He smiled. “There’s that word again. Cool. I rather like it.”
“I still can’t believe you’ve never heard it. Don’t you ever watch TV?”
“Tee … vee?”
“Oh, you can’t expect me to believe …” She shut up. Best she not say what had just come to mind: that perhaps he was as loony as the duke and duchess. “Never mind. So you can teach me these dances?”
“Of course.”
“And I’ll be able to do them without falling flat on my face?”
“Let us hope.”
“Okay. So when do we start?”
“Right now, if that’s agreeable.”
“Sure, but maybe I should go change into some different clothes. This corset is going to kill me.”
Aldrich made a show of clearing his throat as he looked over her pale yellow gown – and the figure beneath.
“What? It is!”
He turned away – if she didn’t know any better she’d say it was to keep from laughing.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll try dancing in this getup, but if I pass out it’ll be your fault.”
He chuckled and faced her again. “I’ll bear the blame as best I can. And catch you besides.”
“Thanks. It’s reassuring to know you won’t let me land on my face.”
He burst into laughter. “You are the strangest woman I have ever met!”
“But you still like me,” she teased.
“Yes, I dare say I do.” He looked at her then like he was looking into her soul. It was all Tory could do to stand still. “By Jove, you’re so … so …”
“What?” she whispered.
Aldrich had her in his arms so fast she didn’t have time to think. Before she knew it his lips were on hers, gently at first, but then like his life depended on it. And she liked it. Oh, how she liked it! Soon she was kissing him back.
Which made it even more of a shock when he broke the kiss, released her and stepped away. “No. I can’t.” He quickly glanced around the library, as if expecting Emsworth to jump out from behind a bookcase. “I apologize. I’ve behaved less than a gentleman. I’m sorry …”
“I’m not!” she declared. After that kiss, she was surprised she was still conscious. Wow!
“Miss Phelps …”
“Tory,” she corrected lamely as reality sank in. At this point it didn’t matter if he was playing a part or not – they were co-workers, so obviously he shouldn’t have kissed her while working. Unless he was telling the truth and really was a guest of the duke. She wasn’t sure. She was becoming unsure about a lot of things, and getting kissed by a gorgeous man wasn’t helping matters.
“Tory,” he pleaded quietly. “I’ve done a terrible thing. Forgive me.”
“Okay, whatever,” she said. “I’m sorry too.”
“You’re sorry – for what? My behavior was appalling. I assure you it won’t happen again.”
Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Did he regret kissing her? Not because it might get them both in trouble, but because he … oh gad … didn’t like it? “Wait, wait a minute …”
Aldrich stepped back, putting some distance between them. “Perhaps Emsworth would be a better dance instructor than I –”
“No!” she yelped. “I mean … I mean, like you said, it can’t happen again. Not if we want to keep our jobs – I get that.”
He cocked his head in that way of his, making her stomach flutter. He looked … well, totally confused, but then he often did. Tory wondered what he was thinking, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he just stood there staring at her like she had two heads. “Aldrich, can we … start over?”
“Start over?”
“Pretend like this never happened.”
His eyebrows rose in comprehension and he sighed in relief. “You don’t think me a cad?”
“For one kiss? No – why would I?”
His brow furrowed. “Just what sort of gentlemen are you used to dealing with in America?”
“None as classy
as you, that’s for sure. Now can we just move on?”
He watched her a moment, chuckled and shook his head. “Tory Phelps, you intrigue me.”
Tory smiled. “Yeah, well, you’re pretty intriguing yourself. Now how about you refresh my memory on how to waltz?”
Aldrich smiled back. “Very well, then.” He moved closer again, albeit cautiously. “Let us begin.”
Chapter Eleven
She was clumsy at first and stepped on his toes, but Aldrich didn’t care. All he wanted to do was look into her eyes. He saw amusement in them and liked that she could laugh at her mistakes. Most women of his acquaintance would blame him, throw a tantrum or stomp away, but Victoria Phelps was made of sterner stuff. She was like a breath of fresh air in his life, even if she was rough around the edges and spoke strangely – or possibly because of it.
“Am I doing all right?” she asked with a laugh.
“You’re doing splendidly.”
“You know, you have a very nice voice. You should sing more often.”
His chest swelled with pride. He’d been humming in time to their dancing, but was glad she enjoyed the sound of it. His voice was passable, nothing special. “I try. A small orchestra is nicer, though the duchess might only hire a string quartet.”
“I don’t care if she uses an old-fashioned record player – I just want to make sure I don’t hurt myself or anyone else.”
He laughed. “Record player?” He could write a book of all the odd and outlandish things that came out of the woman’s mouth.
“Oh yeah, I forgot – there won’t be one of those around, will there? Pity we’re not allowed to bring in a good DJ.”
“Deejay” – another term unfamiliar to him. Probably some music-making contraption, like a player piano. “Someday I must go to America and see for myself all these things you speak of.”
“You should. I think you’d like it there.” Her cheeks went pink. “I could give you the grand tour …” Her last words were hesitant, as if she wasn’t sure she’d ever set foot on her native soil again.
“I’d like that.”
She looked at him in surprise. “You would?”
“Of course – who better to show me such things?”
She smiled brightly. “Yes, I guess I have talked about them a lot.”
“Unceasingly,” he agreed. “But I like hearing about your country. It’s nothing like what I’ve been taught.”
She made a face. “I can only imagine what you’ve been taught. You’re exactly what I’ve been taught.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“I probably shouldn’t. But I like a lot of what I’ve learned.”
He snorted with laughter. “And I like the way you put things.”
She bit her lower lip as she blushed. “Good to know. Now what’ll you teach me next?”
He sobered and studied her. She knew the waltz and just needed a little practice. “Why don’t I explain the quadrille?”
“All right, how does it go?”
And so he taught her the quadrille – no easy feat, as it was a group dance. Same with the Hole in the Wall, made all the more difficult because she kept laughing at the name (apparently in America it was a term for a small tavern). It occurred to him that in two hours of lessons, no one had disturbed them, not even Emsworth. That was not only a stroke of good luck, but alarming. Where was everyone? “I think we need a break. Best we check the house and find what’s amiss.”
“All right, I could do with something to drink.” She fanned herself with her hand. “Whew, what a workout. And what do you mean, amiss?”
“If you mean the exercise, then yes, dancing is a lot of work. And I mean, no one seems to be about.”
She smiled. “You are too funny.”
“You find my translations of your idioms amusing?”
“Yes, I do.”
He laughed. “And I find a woman who speaks her mind the way you do …” He cut himself off before he said attractive.
She caught his hesitation. “What?”
He stared at her. He wouldn’t have kissed her if he didn’t find her attractive. Surely she’d figured that out on her own. So why didn’t he want to say it?
“Well?”
Oh yes – because that way lay trouble. There was no way a romance with her could work, no matter what Duncan thought. “Perhaps we should ring for some refreshment. See if anyone’s about that way.”
But she wouldn’t let him off that easy. “What you were going to say?”
Aldrich was no coward, not even when cornered. He was known to speak his mind too. But he was also good at keeping a woman at arm’s length. “Interesting,” he finally said.
She scrunched up her face. “Interesting? Well, at least it’s not a turn-off.”
“There you go again. I’ll never remember all these sayings of yours.”
She laughed. “Good – then you’re less likely to remember the bad ones.”
“Bad? I’ve heard nothing bad.”
“Haven’t you?” she teased. “Maybe you don’t know that they’re bad.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare take advantage of my …” He made a face, just as she’d done earlier, “… naiveté.”
That made her laugh again. “Personally, I don’t think you have a naive bone in your body. You’re really quite good.”
He straightened at her words. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your acting. You’re one of the best I’ve ever seen.” She headed for the library doors. “Now let’s go raid the kitchen – I’m starved.” Not waiting for him, she opened them and strode off down the hall.
“Acting?” he said aloud. What did she mean? Did she think his attraction to her was an act, that his kiss meant nothing? No – if that were the case, she would have called him a cad when he gave her the chance. Though maybe he was anyway – while his intentions were as honorable as they could be when stealing a kiss, he was by no means pretending. And he was attracted to her, very much so. It’d been all he could do not to take the kiss further.
He sighed in resignation. He liked her a lot. More than he should – more than was safe. He could get himself into a scandal with Tory Phelps, the kind of scandal that led to the altar, and what would his peers say? The ton would view her as a heathen, a guttersnipe. She was wild, uncivilized. Why that drove him mad, he had no idea, but it did. She kept him on his toes when he was around her and he liked that. She made him feel alive. If he felt any more alive, he’d wind up proposing.
Torn between his desires and the expectations of his position, Aldrich left the library and headed for the kitchen. There was no sign of Tory – had she already headed down the servant’s stairs? What a shock Mrs. Dryden was about to get – he almost expected to see her chasing Tory back up. She got upset when he ventured down there, and he could get away with a lot in the duke’s house. All the other servants liked him, except Emsworth, who tolerated him for the duke’s sake. Which made needling him all the more fun.
He shook his head. None of the servants seemed to be around. Where were they? They couldn’t all have gone to the carnival. With the guests for the house party beginning to arrive tomorrow, there had to still be a few around to make preparations. Yes, the village carnival was scheduled to begin today, but some people would’ve stayed around to keep the place running …
He turned down the hall, descended the stairs to the servant’s level and entered the kitchen. Tory stood at the worktable, slicing an apple. “I don’t know where everyone is. It’s like the house is abandoned. Did they all go to town or something?”
“It’s beginning to look that way. The village carnival began today. But surely we would have been informed if luncheon was to be held outside or if we were to make other plans.”
“Hmm, could be. And it is lunchtime – no wonder I’m so hungry. Apple slice?” She held one out to him.
He took it and began to munch. “Mrs. Dryden keeps some very nice cheeses about. I’ll fetch some.”
She nodded as she sliced up another apple. “Maybe we should go look for everyone after we’ve had our snack, in case they’re having lunch in the garden and forgot to tell us. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to spoil my appetite. That cook of the duke’s is da bomb.”
Aldrich, halfway out of the kitchen, stopped in mid-stride. “Bomb?”
She must have caught the alarm in his voice. She laughed. “Mrs. Dryden’s cooking is excellent. Now go find us some cheese to go with these apples.”
Aldrich shook his head, smiled and continued on his way. As unorthodox as she was, he didn’t know if he could ever say goodbye to her. Maybe Duncan was right and to Hades with what the ton thought of her or anything else.
He entered the pantry and took a deep breath. He would have to make a decision: let go of the notion of courting her, or pursue the woman with everything in him. His mind leaned toward the former, his heart was pressing for the latter. Regardless, he’d wager he wouldn’t find another like her in his lifetime. So should he leave off and vanish (after the house party, because he wasn’t about to let Tory handle the likes of the ton on her own) and live a mundane but socially acceptable life, or plight his troth and do what he could to keep her in England.
Which begged another question – would she stay in England? Did she wish to? Did she wish to be with him? Even after he made his intentions clear, she might still reject him. For all he knew, she was dallying with him, though he didn’t think so.
Either way, Aldrich knew he’d have to act soon. He felt an odd sense of urgency … though he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.
The Stantham estate, present day …
“I miss Shona,” Kitty Morgan took a bite of her sandwich. She chewed, swallowed, then wiped her mouth with a napkin. “But I do like getting to house-sit.” She glanced around the large kitchen. “Make that estate-sit.”
“Indeed,” her companion said. “It is rather yummy, isn’t it?”
Kitty smiled. Her best friend Shona, now the wife of a Time Master, was letting her stay at the estate and work on her latest book while she and Dallan were on assignment. Besides, someone had to take care of the place in this century. The estate couldn’t sit empty. And currently it wasn’t – it was full of Muirarans. Okay, not full, but occupied – Melvale and a couple of others were wandering around.
