“I came to seek a position.” It was in fact the first thought that popped into her head.
One elegant eyebrow shot up, creasing his forehead. “Why not say so at once?”
“Because the first thing you said when you saw me was that I would hang.” Keeping utterly still, she held her breath and prayed he’d believe her.
He did not look convinced. “A position as what, exactly?”
“I don’t know but I need the funds and thought I’d inquire.” When he continued to stare at her, she slumped back against her chair with a groan. “The truth is I recently arrived from America.” Which was true. “The few funds I brought along with me were stolen almost immediately after disembarking in Plymouth, so when I spotted your estate I saw a potential opportunity. That’s all.”
* * *
He narrowed his eyes and peered at her as if hoping to read her mind. The intensity of it, along with the dread of what might happen if he were to doubt her, made Jane’s heart thrash about inside her chest.
“So you are American?” She nodded and his frown deepened. “I suppose that explains your peculiar speech pattern and…your strange choice of clothing.”
He allowed his gaze to slide over her without apology. A wave of heat assailed her, banishing the chill of her still-wet clothes. In spite of her unappealing circumstance, awareness sparked so acutely, she all but gasped.
Instead, she responded tartly to hide the reaction. “I would have dressed more appropriately if I’d known I’d be conversing with aristocracy.”
The edge of his mouth twitched enough to convey a spark of humor. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, buried beneath his serious demeanor. “Regardless, I have no need for an additional maid. As to what you may have witnessed, however…”
“I saw no one else.”
A lengthy pause followed before he turned away and strode to the door. Stopping there, he glanced back at her. “In that case I have no further use for you right now. You will remain here under watch until I confirm what you say is true. If you are indeed as innocent as you claim, you shall be released. If you are not, the magistrate will see to your arrest.” He held her gaze for a long second before inclining his head. “Good evening, Miss Edwards. I do hope you enjoy your stay here at Summervale.”
He was gone before she had a chance to say anything further. Enjoy her stay? Was he serious? At least if she did remain here there was still some hope she might find a way back to her own time.
Any lingering possibility that the recent events had not been a reenactment arranged by the museum had been dashed as soon as she’d been taken inside by Hendricks. Everything had looked different from how she remembered. The furniture seemed newer and there were pieces present that hadn’t been there before, while others were missing. Some paintings had also been moved. But it was more than that. It was that the house now felt lived in.
The door opened and a woman appeared. “Miss Edwards.” Her tone was very precise. “I am Mrs. Fontaine, the housekeeper. If you would please come with me, I will show you up to the room in which you are going to be staying.”
Unsure of what to expect, Jane hesitantly stood. “I’m very cold,” she confessed.
Mrs. Fontaine looked her up and down with a pair of sharp eyes. “Yes. I imagine you would be. The sooner we get you out of those clothes the better.”
Jane followed her from the room, quickening her step on occasion in an effort to keep up with the housekeeper’s pace. They ascended the grand staircase and made their way along a corridor until Mrs. Fontaine came to a sudden halt in front of a door. Opening it, she ushered Jane inside. “The maid’s quarters are full, so his lordship has asked for you to be put in here.”
The room was gorgeous, more extravagant than any other she’d ever seen. Pastel shades of blue dominated the space, accentuated by white accents. The furniture itself was extraordinary. Intricately carved, it consisted primarily of a tall wardrobe, a dressing table, and a magnificent four poster canopy bed fit for a queen. “It’s lovely.”
“I will bring some clothes for you so you can get changed. A hot bath has already been ordered, though you ought to know that it is only to prevent you from catching your death.” Mrs. Fontaine spoke with obvious discomfort and without ever meeting Jane’s eyes.
“I didn’t kill Lady Tatiana.” Jane felt a sudden urgency for the housekeeper to believe her. “I could never do that. I truly hope whoever did it is found and punished.”
“Thank you, but until that happens, I intend to remain on my guard.”
In other words, she was not about to trust Jane.
“Of course.”
Mrs. Fontaine straightened her spine. “And since you claim to have come here seeking employment, I hope securing this room for yourself will not encourage you to forget your position within society.”
Jane understood completely. The housekeeper thought her unworthy and rightfully so. Especially considering the time period in which she found herself. “Understood.” She added a nod for good measure, hoping to ease Mrs. Fontaine’s concerns.
Mrs. Fontaine did not look the least bit relieved but rather than comment, she went in search of the clothing she’d promised, returning moments later with a bundle of white and grey fabric in her arms. “Stays, chemise, dress, and stockings,” she said, laying the items out on the bed. “One of the maids was good enough to provide them when I asked. Considering her size, I believe they ought to fit you well enough.”
A knock sounded, announcing the arrival of four footmen who carried a tub. They were followed by two more footmen, each bringing a pail of steaming hot water with them. The bath was prepared under Mrs. Fontaine’s supervision while Jane stood by, appreciating the cordiality with which she was being treated, all things considered. Surely, if the earl truly believed her guilty of murder, he would have thrown her in a dungeon instead.
Or perhaps his code of honor – something lacking from everyday life in the twenty-first century – compelled him to see to her comfort regardless.
Either way, she looked forward to the bath and was grateful when the footmen departed. “I will help you undress,” Mrs. Fontaine said. She took a step toward Jane, who took an immediate step back.
“Thank you, but I am perfectly capable of doing that on my own.” Especially since she had no wish for Mrs. Fontaine to see the zipper in the side of her dress or her very un-nineteenth-century underwear.
All of the above would likely shock the woman. She’d probably show it to her master and, as mortifying as that would be, Jane’s greatest concern was that he might choose to tell the authorities. Jane would then be brought in for questioning and perhaps lose her chance to return to her own time. It wasn’t a risk she was able to take.
Thankfully, Mrs. Fontaine respected her boundaries. “Very well then. I will lock your door for security reasons. If you need something, you may ring the bell.” She pointed toward the red velvet rope that hung in one corner of the room.
Jane dipped her head. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
Without further comment, Mrs. Fontaine departed, leaving Jane to her bath and the myriad thoughts swirling through her mind.
Staring into the fireplace, James downed the remainder of his brandy and muttered a curse. What a God-awful day this had been. His sister had been brutally murdered for reasons he could not begin to understand, and the only person he’d found at the scene was an utter enigma. Jane Edwards. A curious woman with secrets carefully guarded behind deflection and lies. Any judge in the land would find her guilty. And yet instinct told him the opposite was true.
He was fairly certain she’d fabricated the story about seeking employment. But then why the devil had she been walking through his garden? What was her purpose for being on the terrace this evening?
Re-filling his glass, he took another sip. Her story bound her to Summervale instead of allowing escape, which suggested she wanted to stay. But why? Unable to figure it out, he turned down the oil-lamps and
exited his study.
A quick glance toward the parlor made his chest ache. Tatiana now lay there, surrounded by candles and flowers, while footmen took shifts keeping watch. Mrs. Fontaine had done a wonderful job, preparing her for the upholsterer’s arrival in the morning. If they’d been in London, the funeral furnisher they’d used when his father had passed would have been called, but here in the countryside where few could afford such extravagance, the task fell on tradesmen.
Strangely, Tatiana’s personal maid had been unable to help since she had apparently gone missing. The girl had not been seen since earlier in the day. Footmen had been sent out to search for her, but Betsy had not yet been found. James could only hope that her absence was not connected to the crime. He rather liked the young maid and her spirited personality and would hate to discover her capable of committing murder.
Sighing, he started up the stairs on heavy feet. Tomorrow he would question the servants again and in greater detail, hopefully with the help of the magistrate Snypes had sent for. A new search party would be sent out to find Betsy, and Miss Edwards would give him some proper answers if he had to wring them out of her himself.
Passing her door, he paused, considering. Light spilled beneath it, suggesting she’d either forgotten her oil-lamp on or remained awake. Would it be improper of him to inquire about her well-being?
Yes!
He hesitated, torn between guilt and anger and an inexplicable need to see Miss Edwards again, if only for a second. Which was wrong. She might still have wielded the dagger that Hendricks had found in one of the flowerbeds. Which was why he’d insisted on making her his prisoner until such a theory could be completely dismissed. But all things aside, he was still a gentleman, and as such, would the proper thing not be to inquire if she needed anything before he retired?
That’s what the servants are for.
Yes, but she was still his responsibility and if she was innocent of the crime…
He rapped lightly on the door. There was a pause and then a very soft, “Yes?”
James steeled himself. “Are you all right in there?”
“I cannot complain. The room is lovely.”
“Excellent.” He ought to leave it at that and be off, except her voice held him captive, and damn him he wanted to hear more of it, even though he knew he couldn’t yet trust her. Caught between the urge to see her punished for the crime she might have committed and the strange desire to protect her if she was innocent, he asked, “Do you have all that you need?”
It was not until the words were out that he realized how propositional they sounded. Which got his mind thinking about things he really should not be thinking about. At all. If only she would say something. Except she didn’t. She kept silent for an infernally long moment while he began wondering how best to take his leave and spare them both additional awkwardness.
But then she said, “Some food would be nice.”
“You have not eaten?” He could not believe it.
“I did not want to bother the servants any more than I already have and I thought…I thought I could manage until morning, but now I’m suddenly ravenously hungry.”
Her comment surprised him. What sort of cold-blooded killer would spare a thought for the comfort of servants? Making his decision, he told her quickly, “I will fetch something for you. It won’t take long.”
“But—”
He did not linger to hear her protestations but hurried downstairs to the kitchen. It was well after midnight, so all the staff had retired, leaving him to rummage through the pantry alone. He was used to it though since he often enjoyed a late night snack and was loath to wake a maid or a footman to do a chore he could easily accomplish himself.
Finding a plate, he made an arrangement of ham and cheese, some bread, an egg, and a few tomato and cucumber slices. He then climbed the stairs, returning to Miss Edwards’s chamber and knocking gently on the door. “May I come in?” When she answered in the affirmative, he grabbed the key to the room from the hook where it hung on the wall and unlocked the door.
Pushing it open, he entered, and froze as soon as he saw her. Because there she was, sitting on the bed in the plain chemise Mrs. Fontaine had provided and with not just her feet or her ankles but her entire calf showing. The pose was casual, relaxed, and the coverlet mostly tucked around her, but still, he was a man and she…Hell, he could not for the life of him tear his gaze away from the beauty of that limb. The skin was perfect, unblemished and…he almost forgot the plate, straightening it not a moment too soon before the egg rolled over the side.
Irritation followed on the heels of his visceral reaction. Because she’d known he was coming and had not bothered to make herself descent, making him wonder if she’d deliberately chosen to uncover herself in some ploy to provoke him.
Clenching his jaw, he tightened his grip on the plate and glared at her with intentional ire. “You should cover yourself,” he clipped.
“Oh!” It was as if his presence had just occurred to her then for she quickly pushed her bare leg under the coverlet and pulled the entire mass of fabric all the way up to her chin. “Sorry. I forgot myself completely.”
He chose not to comment and made a point of leaving the bedchamber door wide open while he approached the bed. If she was toying with him, she’d soon be disappointed by his unwillingness to participate. “This may offend you,” he said and handed her the plate, “but I must inquire about your situation.”
She bit into the egg and James watched while giving himself a silent set down. He could not afford to want this woman. Whatever happened, he had to resist her.
“My situation?”
“You say that you are American, which in and of itself explains your boldness. To some degree. But the carefreeness with which you welcome me into your room while in a state of dishabille makes me wonder if…” He waved his hand as if this would be enough to get his point across without actually asking what he wanted to ask. When she simply stared at him, he finally said, “Are you a courtesan?”
She gaped at him.
“It is a fair question.” He would not apologize for asking it. “And since the information you have volunteered about yourself has been rather lacking, I am forced to assume that there is something you are hiding. So, with this in mind—”
“You wish to know if I might bring shame upon your home even if I did not murder your sister.” Rather than look offended as he’d expected she might, her expression conveyed a sense of understanding. “You need not worry, my lord. I am not a loose woman, nor have I ever been married, though I did come close once. In fact, the reason I’m here is because I wished to escape my fiancé.”
“I see.” Her story made a little more sense now. And the way she told it was quite believable. He was sure she was telling the truth about that, even though she might still have murdered his sister. “And do you expect this fiancé to come chasing after you?”
She shook her head. “No. He has no interest in me anymore, nor I in him. I simply wish to start over.”
Which was something he could help her with. “In that case, if you are proven innocent and wish to remain here afterward, I am sure Mrs. Fontaine can find a position for you.”
It would keep her close, but to what end? So you can find a means by which to get her into your bed, you scoundrel. The thought tore through him with lightning speed. It quickened his pulse and pricked his skin. Christ! She might have slit Tatiana’s throat without a second thought and here he was, lusting for her regardless. And with Tatiana lying lifeless downstairs in the parlor.
He ought to be ashamed.
“Thank you, my lord.” Miss Edwards tore off a piece of bread and placed the ham and cheese on top. She added a slice of tomato and bit into the sandwich she’d created. “Perhaps you would like to pull up a chair and keep me company while I eat?”
He was tempted, but he’d already stayed too long. Best to keep his distance from her until he discovered the truth about Tatiana’s murder. “It h
as been a long day,” he said while backing away. “So I will wish you a good night instead.” He reached the door, sketched a quick bow, and quit Miss Edwards’s room before her questioning gaze could stay him.
Locking the door behind him, he expelled a breath he had not realized he’d been holding. She was dangerous. Innocent or guilty, it made no difference when it came to the tumult she was bound to inflict on his life. He pondered this while he continued toward his own bedchamber, the need Miss Edwards had stirred in him as fiery and hazardous as a blazing inferno.
Chapter 3
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.
The Girl Who Stepped Into The Past Page 3
