by Kit Morgan
“Ball room? This place has a ball room?” she asked and buttered her toast. “By the way.” She glanced around. “What’s with the lack of electricity in this place? There’s not a light switch in sight.”
Aldrich’s smile vanished as his face, for once, looked blank. “I beg your pardon?”
She closed her eyes in frustration. This again, was it? Didn’t these people know when to quit? “The duchess isn’t here. I don’t see why you keep up the act.”
“Act?”
“Yeah, your act. ‘I’m an English gentleman from way back when’ act.”
His head slowly cocked to one side as his brow knit. “Miss Phelps, whatever are you talking about?”
“That!” she pointed at him. “Like you stepped out of a history book or something. It’s 2018! Join the party.”
His face took on a disbelieving look, and for a moment, he simply stared at her. “You are a strange, strange, woman, you know that?”
“I’ve been called worse,” she muttered as thoughts of Benny rushed in. She’d been here a week and wondered what shape the house was in. She really should call to see what he’d been up to. Speaking of which, “So where were you keeping yourself yesterday?”
“Here and there. I escorted the duke on his rounds. Can take a couple of days to visit the tenants. We’ll resume tomorrow.”
“Oh yes, I forgot. Landlord and all that. Keeps him busy.”
“How are lessons with the duchess?” he asked and took a bite of fish.
“Great. It’s strange though.”
“What is?”
“The way her mind stops, like it can’t remember how to make her mouth and throat work. I’ve never heard of that before.”
“She was mute for years, as I understand it. Since she was a little girl.”
“Yes, the duchess said she was four when she lost the ability to speak. Some sort of trauma.”
“Did she share with you what it was?”
“No, not yet.” Tory saw his eyes flash with knowing. Maybe he knew what it was. But she wasn’t going to ask. No, it was better the duchess told Tory herself. “So what about this ballroom?”
He cut into a piece of sausage. “The duchess will be having a house party in seven days time.”
“A house party? What’s that?”
He stopped slicing his sausage and looked bemused. “Don’t tell me they don’t have house parties in America?”
She laughed. “Oh, they have house parties all right, but not the kind someone like you would attend.”
He arched an eyebrow, which only served to increase her amusement. He resumed his slicing. “This particular house party will last several days. Guests come for the weekend. They arrive as early as Thursday and leave the following Monday. It’s a small affair, but there will be guests from London attending.”
“Really? Sounds like fun.” She attacked her eggs.
He watched her eat a moment and smiled. “You’re not afraid to be yourself, are you?”
She stopped chewing and swallowed. “What do you mean?”
He stabbed a couple pieces of sausage onto his fork. “You wear no social pretenses. You are what one sees.”
“Now that, we also say in America. Only we say it like, what you see is what you get.”
He mulled that over as he chewed and swallowed. “I like it.” He stabbed another sausage. “Do you dance?”
“You already asked me that,” she pointed out. She reached for a small crystal bowl filled with jam. “This looks yummy.”
“Indeed it is. The duchess’s jam.”
“Is there anything this woman doesn’t do?” She put a healthy dollop on her toast and began to spread it. “Oh, and yes, I can dance. You?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you ask?” She took a healthy bite of toast.
He smiled. “Because there is always a dance at a house party.”
* * *
“Duncan, how can you be sure?” his wife asked as he took her in his arms.
“She’s not left the estate,” he answered. “That means she’s none the wiser. Now kiss me.” They were in the library and he had her all to himself for a few moments.
Cozette put a finger against his lips. “She is not …” she swallowed hard. “… stupid. She is going to figure it out.”
Duncan closed his eyes and let his head fall back. “My dear, sweet, wife. Even if she does figure out ‘when’ she is, she’ll be no better off than you or I when we found out, um, things.”
“Yes, but we found out in our own time. And you fainted.”
He gave her a stern look. “I thought we agreed never to bring that up.”
“In public,” she countered.
He shook off her remark and continued, but not before plopping them into his favorite chair. She giggled and smacked him on the arm. He traced her jaw with a finger. “Is she helping you? Really helping you?”
“Yes. Lany says the materials he gave …” she licked her lips. “… gave her, will help me speak better.”
“I hope so. Because if by some cruel twist of fate this doesn’t work, I at least want you to get some benefit.”
She smiled as she drew her arms about his neck. “I love you.”
He smiled back. “I know.” He kissed her, long and slow. Twenty years ago he’d been a simple pig farmer outside a little town called Clear Creek in the Oregon territory. Until he and his brother Colin were falsely accused of cattle rustling and thrown into prison. Their world turned upside down, those days still didn’t compare to the day Dallan MacDonald showed up at Stantham Hall and told him he was a time traveler. Not to mention a weapons master. Naturally Duncan didn’t believe a word of it. That is until the big Scot took him on a little “excursion” and landed them in the middle of the crusades to prove it.
Duncan broke their kiss and held her tight. “It will all turn out. But I dare say, I’ve never seen 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’m not going to 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. “I know, Lany told me. He expects trouble?”
“They are taking precautions. If things work out, 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, then smiled again. “Have I ever failed you?”
“Never.” He kissed her back. Best he get his wife upstairs. After all, with his luck, Barnes 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. She’d shot apples off his head at the last one.
Eleven
“Let me see, there’s the quadrille, one of the duchess’s favorites,” Aldrich said as he recited a list of dances he wanted to teach her.
Two days had passed since he asked if she could dance, and they were finally talking about getting in some practice. But she didn’t mind. The last two days had been fun just spending time with him here and there. She was getting to know him better and felt her heart begin to melt every time she saw him. Whether or not that was good or bad she didn’t want to think about. What she did think about, and often, was how fascinating he was. He was so unlike other men.
“Then of course there are various country dances,” he went on. “Along with the polonaise, the waltz …”
“I know that one!” Tory blurted.
Aldrich arched an eyebrow at the interruption.
“Really, I do. We had to learn it in my high school gym class. It was either that or square dancing.”
He looked curious. “High school?”
Her face twisted itself into confusion. “What do you call it here?”
“School, o
f course, but …” he made that funny scoffing sound of his. “You’re a woman. I had no idea women attended institutions of higher learning in America.”
“Higher learning?” she said affronted. Was he kidding? “Since when do women not 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. They were in the library, and if she were any closer to a shelf of books, she’d be 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 and then snapped it shut. Good. He knew he was in hot water. How could he possibly think …
Tory squeezed her eyes tight as realization dawned. “It’s the way I talk, isn’t it?”
He looked sympathetic as she opened them. “I’m afraid it is.”
“But you can’t assume I’ve no education. I’m here to tutor the duchess.” Good grief, did she really sound like she’d been raised in a barn? But then, she didn’t have the greatest education when it came to higher learning. “I’m not English,” she finally said. “So of course I don’t talk as proper 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?”
“TV?”
“Oh, but wait, you …” she shut up. Best she not say what was on her mind. She was beginning to think he was a 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 that doesn’t happen.”
“Let us hope,” she repeated. “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 took in her pale yellow-colored gown. Not to mention the figure beneath.
“What? It is!”
He turned from her, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say it was to keep from laughing.
“Fine, I’ll try dancing in this get up, but if I faint 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, most unconventional woman I have ever met.”
“But you still like me,” she teased.
“Yes, I dare say, I do.” He looked at her then, the way he’d did when looking into her soul. It was all Tory could do to stand still. “My God, but 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, melding them together gently at first, but then like their lives depended on it.
And she liked it. Oh, how she liked it! And doggone if she didn’t kiss him back.
Aldrich broke the kiss, released her and stepped away. “No. I can’t.” He quickly glanced around the library, as if expecting Barnes to jump out from behind a bookcase. “I apologize. I’ve behaved less than a gentleman. I’m sorry …”
“I’m not,” she said weakly. Because really, after being kissed by the likes of him, she was surprised she was still standing.
“Miss Phelps …”
“Tory,” she corrected lamely as reality began to sink in. At this point it didn’t matter if he was playing a part or not. They were co-workers, so that meant he shouldn’t have kissed her while working. Unless he was telling the truth and he really was a guest of the dukes. But she still wasn’t sure. Come to think of it, she was becoming unsure about a lot of things. Getting kissed by a gorgeous man didn’t help matters.
“Tory,” he said, his voice low. “I’ve done a terrible thing. Forgive me.”
“Sure, 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?
Aldrich stepped back, putting some distance between them. “Perhaps Barnes would be a better dance instructor than I.”
“No!” she blurted. “I mean, like you said, it won’t happen again. It can’t. Not if we both want to keep our jobs.”
He cocked his head in that way of his, making her stomach flutter. He looked … well, he looked totally confused, and Tory wondered what he was thinking. She waited for him to say something, anything, but he didn’t. He just stood there staring at her like she had two heads.
“Aldrich, can we … start over?” she hedged.
“Start over?”
“Pretend like this never happened.”
His eyebrows rose in comprehension. “Oh, that’s what you mean.” He blew out a breath. “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 so classy as you, that’s for sure. Now can we just forget about it and move on?”
He watched her a moment, chuckled, and shook his head. “Tory Phelps, you intrigue me.”
She smiled. “Yeah, well, you’re pretty intriguing yourself. Now how about you refresh my memory on how to waltz?”
He smiled back. “Very well then.” He closed the distance between them. “Let us begin.”
* * *
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 the fact she could laugh at her mistakes. Most women of his acquaintance would blame him, throw a temper tantrum or give up. But not Tory Phelps. She was like a breath of fresh air in his life, even if she was rough around the edges and spoke strangely. He could write a book on all the odd and outlandish things that came out of the woman’s mouth.
“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 an accompaniment to their dancing, but was glad she enjoyed the sound of his voice. It was passable, but nothing special. “I try. A small orchestra is nicer, though the duchess might only hire a string quintet.”
“I don’t care if she uses a good old fashioned record player. I just want to make sure I don’t step on anyone’s toes.”
He laughed. “Record player?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. There’s not going to be one of those around here.”
“I should say not,” he agreed. She had to be talking about a recorder or flute player. What else could it be? But the duchess would hire a quintet, nothing more.
“Now let me see, I believe you would say phonograph.”
“Oh, I say, I know what you speak of. A contraption recently invented by that Edison chap.”
“Thomas Edison, yes, that’s right.”
“Someday I shall 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. One day.”
/> 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 gave him a bright smile. “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 just imagine what you’ve been taught, because you’re exactly what I’ve been taught.”
“Oh? Do tell?”
“I probably shouldn’t. But I do 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 smiled and blushed besides. “Good to know. Now what shall you teach me?”
He sobered and studied her. She knew the waltz and just needed a little practice. “Why don’t I explain to you the Quadrille?”
“All right, how does it go?”
And so, as best he could, he taught her the Quadrille. Not easy as it was a group dance. He did the same with “The Hole in the Wall.” That is, after he got her to stop laughing over the name and referring to it as a tavern.
After two hours of lessons, he realized no one had disturbed them. Not even Barnes. What was going on? That was not only a stroke of good luck, but alarming. Where was everyone?
“I think we need a break,” he said. Best we check the house and find what’s amiss.”
“All right, I could do with something to drink.” She fanned herself with one hand. “Whew, what a work out. 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, do you?”
“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.
“What?”
He stared at her a moment. He wouldn’t have kissed her if he didn’t find her attractive. Surely she’d figured that one out on her own. So why didn’t he want to say it?
