by Kit Morgan
Aldrich was at his side in three long strides. “What?!”
Duncan met the man’s gaze. Aldrich’s eyes held anger, worry and a hint of desperation. He really did want to make things right for the woman. Good. “A small detail none of us thought about when we, um … hired Miss Phelps.”
Aldrich put a hand on each arm of Duncan’s chair and leaned into his face. “What detail, Duncan? What are you not telling me?”
Duncan looked him square in the eye. “You wouldn’t believe me.”
Aldrich stood up straight and crossed his arms, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Try me.”
It was a risk. But if Aldrich didn’t go to pieces, Duncan mused, it would make this job so much easier. “Very well, then, I shall. But you’ll want to sit down for this.”
Aldrich’s brow knit in suspicion for a moment. Then he sat. Unfortunately, it was already too late. Emsworth appeared, an older couple behind him. “The Earl and Countess of Belford, Your Grace.”
Duncan glanced at the butler and back and shook his head. Bad timing, Emsworth. “I’m afraid our chat will have to wait.”
“Your Grace,” the earl said as he approached. “And … Sir Aldrich?” The earl gave Duncan a disapproving look, took the hand of the countess and pulled her forward. “You remember Sir Aldrich, do you not, my dear?”
She gave Duncan a curtsy. “Your Grace.” She peered at Aldrich. “Why, yes, I … then again, I’m not sure. Why would I remember such a thing?”
Duncan stood, as did Aldrich. Best he put a stop to this now. “He is Sir Aldrich Barrow of Kent.” He looked at his friend. “The Earl and Countess of Belford.” There, that was done, minus the usual formalities. Right now he didn’t think old Belford worth the effort after his wife just insulted his house guest. Besides, the countess looked thoroughly annoyed. Duncan did his best to hide a smile.
Aldrich bowed. “We’ve met before. We danced together, as I recall.”
She gasped. “I did?”
“Most energetically.”
Her eyes popped wide. “I beg your pardon?”
The earl made a show of clearing his throat. “Shall we retreat to the drawing room, Your Grace?”
“Yes, I think that’s a good idea. I have other guests arriving and am sure they would prefer it to the gardens.” Duncan motioned Aldrich to precede him, another little slap. He wouldn’t put up with any of the house party guests treating Aldrich poorly just because they saw him as beneath them. His friend had thought Tory too beneath him to consider for marriage, and now look at him!
Maybe it was just as well he didn’t get to tell Aldrich the woman he was falling in love with was from the future. Let him spend more time with her, let the bond between them grow. Then by the time the weekend was over, he’d be less likely to balk – or worse, faint – when he got the news.
“Miss Tory?”
Tory looked up from the book she’d been trying and failing to read. She couldn’t concentrate. All she could think about was Aldrich, and how to protect her heart from him. What if he was just as nutty as Cozette?
“Miss Tory?” Becky said again as she entered the bedroom. “The guests are arriving. You should change.”
She looked at her green day dress. “I suppose.”
Becky seemed sympathetic. “I could choose one for you.”
“Thank you. I don’t have the energy.” She watched Becky open the armoire and rummage through the dresses. “How was the carnival?”
“Oh, it was wonderful, Miss Tory! So exciting.”
“Did you ride the Ferris wheel? I’ve always loved those. I bet it was too small for a roller coaster.”
Becky turned and stared at her but said not a word.
“No Ferris wheel either, huh?” She sighed. “Then I didn’t miss anything.”
Becky nodded. “If you say so, Miss Tory.” She went back to selecting a dress. “How about this afternoon dress?” She pulled out a lovely yellow frock.
“Sure. Works for me.” Tory pushed herself out of the chair.
“I think you should wear the rose dress for the ball,” Becky suggested.
“Ball? Oh, yes,” she said glumly. “Dancing.” She made a circular motion with one finger. “Whoopee.”
“Is something wrong?”
Tory sighed. “Nothing I can’t handle.” Or that you’d want to explain to me without a big fat bribe. Like how no one around here thinks this is weird! Which made her wonder. “So what’s everyone else wearing?”
“Oh, their very best, I’m sure, so they can impress the duchess.”
“It’s her party,” she sighed. “Let’s all try to outshine the hostess. Sheesh, that’s nothing new.”
Becky smiled. “Indeed, Miss Tory.” She brought the dress to the bed and laid it out, returned to the armoire and pulled out another one.
Tory hadn’t noticed that one before. It was a combination of red lace flowers and more red lace against a gold backdrop with gold ruffles. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Must be one of the reasons folks didn’t mind all the playacting – the clothes were incredible. “Oh, wow, that’s gorgeous.”
“Indeed, it is, Miss Tory. Which is why I suggested it for the ball.” She laid it next to the other. “I’ll give it a good airing and have it ready for when the time comes. Shall I choose a dress for this evening too?”
“What? You mean change again?”
“Of course. I know Their Graces are … different when it comes to certain decorum. They have been since your arrival. But when they entertain, they do things properly.” She cleared her throat. “Or try to.”
Tory’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?”
Becky looked pained. “It’s just that …” Her lower lip trembled. “… please don’t let them be mean to Her Grace, Miss Tory.”
“Mean?” Tory joined her at the armoire. “Why would anyone … oh, because the duchess is … a little different?”
Becky nodded. “They talk behind her back. The footmen hear them sometimes.”
“Have you heard them?”
“No. Maids aren’t allowed in the drawing room or dining rooms.”
Tory thought a moment. It was true; she’d only ever seen Becky or the other maids cleaning and tidying the main rooms when they weren’t in use. “They think she’s strange?”
Becky nodded. “Some call her a savage.”
Tory’s jaw dropped. “Why?”
“You haven’t seen her practice with her bow and arrows. She’s a marvel with them.”
“So because Cozette likes to shoot off an arrow now and then, they think she’s a savage?”
Becky nodded worriedly.
“You … care about her, don’t you?”
“Yes, Miss, of course I do.”
She thought about that, not bothering to correct the maid on not using her first name. “Does what they say … hurt her?”
“I know it does. Who wouldn’t be hurt? She invites them here as guests and all they really come for is to gather gossip to take back to London.”
“Poor Cozette.” And she could imagine there was a lot of it. She wouldn’t be surprised if some psychiatrist or therapist came calling, offering his services. Why then did Cozette do it? Why put up with such nonsense? She sighed again. “Because she thinks there’s nothing wrong with her.”
“What’s that, Miss Tory?”
“Nothing.” She managed a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out.”
“As will Sir Aldrich. He always does. And the two of you can work together.”
Tory blanched. She didn’t want to have to hang out with Aldrich, not after this afternoon. Besides, at this point she wasn’t sure who was screwier, the duchess or the so-called knight.
“He’ll no doubt escort you in to dinner.”
Tory was started out of her thoughts. “What?”
“Dinner,” Becky repeated. “He’ll escort you.”
“Why? We’re just walking into the dining room.”
&nbs
p; The maid shook her head in confusion. “People always go into dinner by …” She looked down. “… class. You know that.”
Tory sighed once more. “Yeah, sure, I knew that.” She turned away and rolled her eyes. This would be one long weekend. Still, she hated to think of a bunch of London snobs coming out here and playing dress up just so they could return to the city and talk about Cozette. The woman might be nuts, but she didn’t deserve that. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road. What shoes should I wear?”
Becky smiled. “I know just the pair.”
Tory descended the grand staircase and heard voices coming from the main drawing room. Emsworth stood at the door – if her guess was right, he would announce her. How did people not die from embarrassment back in the day?
Sure enough, “Miss Victoria Phelps,” the butler called out.
Several pairs of heads turned. Cozette’s guests did indeed look like the proper lords and ladies she had pictured in her head, everyone in period clothing. Was dressing up really worth the gossip? Wow, these people had way too much time on their hands.
She spied Aldrich on the other side of the room and her heart leaped in her chest, traitor that it was. Worse, he was heading her way. She gulped and wondered if she should introduce herself to anyone. But as she recalled, that’s wasn’t how it was done. She should have studied that paper on etiquette Mr. Mosgofian gave everyone in class more closely, but she’d been busy worrying about proper pronunciations.
“Miss Phelps,” Aldrich said quietly as he approached.
“Hello,” she said, her voice just as low.
“I trust you’re rested?”
She heard the concern in his voice and studied him. Was he still thinking about their kisses? “I’m fine.” She saw Cozette speaking with a plump, gray-haired woman across the room and wondered if they all had to leave their cell phones at the door. She hadn’t gotten hers back yet. She needed to call Benny and see how he was doing. She went back to studying the woman with Cozette, to keep from having to speak to Aldrich. There was a man with her, probably her husband. Where was Duncan? She glanced around some more.
“His Grace is in the corner with the Marquess of Chester.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Chester? Couldn’t they come up with something more original?”
Aldrich made a face. “Perhaps you didn’t get as much rest as you needed.”
She eyed him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re clearly out of sorts.”
“I am not. Now are you going to introduce me or what?”
His eyes widened. “No, I’m not.”
“What?” She shook her head. “Fine, I’ll do it. I’m not shy.” She turned toward Cozette and the older couple.
Aldrich grabbed her arm. “You’ll do no such thing,” he hissed in her ear and let her go. “Please don’t embarrass the duchess.”
“Embarrass her? What are you talking about?”
“You’re beneath them, as am I. We can’t just introduce ourselves – we must be introduced.”
“Okaaay. Then who can?”
“Wait for Cozette or Duncan to summon you. They’ll do it.”
“Fine.” She glanced around and noticed no one was paying them any mind. “Is it going to be like this the whole time?”
He sighed. “I’m afraid so. I’m sure you do things much differently in America.”
“You have no idea,” she grumbled, still annoyed at her heart. As loud as it was beating, she’d be surprised if he didn’t hear it. He was standing so close and looked so dashing in his, what, afternoon wear? Great, she couldn’t think now either. The man had muddled her brain.
“You look lovely.”
She gasped. She wasn’t expecting a comment on her appearance, and the way he’d said it made her belly flip. “Thank you.” She looked him up and down. Did he have to look so good?
“You’re very quiet. I do apologize for earlier.”
She shut her eyes. Maybe when she opened them he’d be gone and they wouldn’t have to have this conversation.
“Tory …,” he whispered.
“What?” She opened her eyes. He’d used her first name in a setting he shouldn’t. Even she knew that much.
“Ah, here she is …”
Tory turned to find Duncan approaching, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair trailing behind. “May I present Miss Phelps, my wife’s tutor.”
The man looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes before he smiled at Tory. “Charmed.”
“Miss Phelps, the Marquess of Chester.”
She went blank. What the heck was she supposed to do now? Shake his hand or what? Did she lose points if she didn’t do it right?
“Not to worry, my dear,” Duncan said. “The marquess knows Cozette and I spent our formative years in the Wild West. He forgives our occasional lack of decorum.”
“Perhaps she’s never met a marquess,” the marquess himself commented.
“Then you’ve left her speechless,” Duncan said with a smile.
“No, he hasn’t,” Tory said, then turned to the marquess. “And indeed, I haven’t. Nice to meet you, and please forgive me for not knowing the proper term with which to address you.” There, let the old fart chew on that.
Chester, as Tory thought of him, glanced at Aldrich and back, ignoring him for the most part. “So you’re from America?”
“Yes.” She gave the marquess a big smile and wondered if she could get him to crack, reveal who he really was and just enjoy the evening. But these people weren’t here to enjoy themselves, unless you counted humiliating Cozette enjoyable. She had to remember that’s what they were here for.
“And you’ve probably noticed Sir Aldrich lurking about Stantham from time to time,” Duncan went on, interrupting her thoughts.
“Yes, you reside in Kent, do you not?” Chester asked.
“Indeed,” Aldrich said. “His Grace is ever so kind as to let me come to Stantham to enjoy the fishing.”
“Fishing,” Chester said with interest. “Love it.”
Aldrich’s eyebrows rose. “Do you now? There’s a lovely spot about a mile from here.”
“Do tell?”
“Did you bring fishing gear?”
“I’m afraid not,” Chester said. “Pity.”
“I’d be happy to loan you some of mine,” Aldrich offered.
Chester’s eyes lit up. “Splendid!” He put a hand on Aldrich’s shoulder and steered him away. Tory recognized the gleam in Chester’s eyes – it was the same look Aldrich had during their first outing with Emsworth. Well, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about speaking with him for a while. The last thing she wanted to be reminded of was his kisses.
“Don’t worry,” Duncan said. “The marquess won’t keep him from you long.”
Tory’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh, doesn’t bother me.”
“Doesn’t it?” Duncan said with a hint of a smile.
Her eyes widened. “No, of course not.” Just what was he getting at? Had he seen them kissing in the gardens? Oh great …
“He’s a good man, Aldrich,” he added. “Any woman would be proud to be his wife.”
“I’m sure they would.” Tory watched Aldrich speak with Chester near the fireplace. If Duncan saw them kissing, was her position in jeopardy? She didn’t know anymore. The last week had simultaneously flown by and been the longest of her life.
Which reminded her. “Your Grace?”
“Yes?”
“When can I have my cell phone back?”
Chapter Fourteen
Duncan blanched, then said quietly, “Um … you … can’t.”
“What?” Tory’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean I can’t?” She looked at him more closely. Was he turning pale?
“Because …” He cleared his throat. “It’s quite simple, really. It would upset the duchess.”
Tory crossed her arms. “I see.” She glanced around, then tossed her head at the nearest guests.
“Did they have to give up their cell phones too?”
Duncan swallowed. “They don’t have them.”
Her arms fell to her sides. “You mean you didn’t even let them bring them onto the estate?”
He shook his head.
“What if someone needs to make a call? What if there’s an emergency?”
“Then we … take care of it,” he concluded with a nervous smile. “Now let me introduce you to the Earl and Countess of Belford, shall I?” He wrapped her arm through his, eliciting a gasp or two from some of the other women, and steered her over to his wife.
“At least they could gasp for real,” she commented dryly.
“They are,” he whispered.
Tory glanced at him. “You mean they’re in shock that you’re escorting me across the room?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Oh, good grief …”
Duncan didn’t get a chance to reply – they’d reached Cozette and the older couple. Tory waited to be introduced and went through the motions. She’d have to see if she could get another copy of the etiquette rules from Mr. Mosgofian – if she ever saw him again, which seemed doubtful. That meant she’d either have to muddle through on her own or ask Aldrich for help. She didn’t dare ask Cozette or Duncan. After all, what would they do if they discovered she didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing in order to play properly in Cozette’s fantasy world?
Hmm, did the duchess see a therapist? If so, she’d like five minutes with him or her to voice some opinions.
“American,” the countess was saying. “I find Americans to be quite vulgar.”
Tory wanted to comment in the worst way but didn’t want to embarrass Cozette. She covered her mouth and yawned instead. Not that it was any better.
The countess’s eyes looked ready to pop out of her head. And was that a tiny snort of laughter from Cozette? Tory did her best to hide a smile. So it wasn’t such a bad move after all.
The countess whispered something to her husband. They excused themselves and headed for Aldrich and Chester.
Duncan’s shoulders slumped in relief. “What’s wrong?” Cozette asked.
