by Kit Morgan
“Of course, what can I do otherwise? Not after this.”
“But, but … you can’t be serious!”
That stung. What sort of a man did she think he was? Just how did they handle things like this in America? “I most certainly am,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m no cad, Tory.”
“I didn’t say you were,” she said, flustered, and tried to squirm away.
“I am a gentleman, a knight!”
“And I’m the Queen of England, let me go.”
“No.” He pulled her close. Her head tilted back from his hold, exposing her neck. He wanted to nibble his way down to her shoulder and back up the other side, but he had to make her see reason first. If she was to stay in the duke’s employ, he had to make things right for her, for them. Because at this point there was no letting go of her.
In short, Duncan was right. Aldrich needed someone in his life, but after meeting this spit-fire, he wouldn’t settle for anything less than the wild blaze she’d created in him. Her free-spirit had invaded him body, heart and soul. If he didn’t make her his, and now, who knew what the consequence might be? A broken heart? A lonely life? Abject misery? Bloody hell! What was it about this woman that could make him feel and think this way?
“Aldrich,” she finally said.
He looked at her, saw her sad expression, and went cold. “Tory …”
“Aldrich, I don’t know how you were raised, if this is customary, or if you’re just … I don’t know … making all of this up. But I can’t.”
He swallowed hard. “You can’t what?”
“Marry you. It’s insane.”
Air escaped him, as if he’d been punched in the gut. “You jest.”
“No. This isn’t something to joke about. I’m just being realistic. You don’t kiss a girl a few times then ask her to marry you. Not in this day and age.”
He stiffened. The world was changing, true, but he didn’t think he was far behind it. Things must be more different in America than he thought. “You need time, I understand. I’m only trying to do the right thing and protect you.”
She blushed, then smiled shyly. “Thanks, but I don’t need protecting. What I need is this job.” She looked away. “But …”
“But what?”
“The idea of marrying someone like you does have its appeal.”
He groaned. What was wrong with this woman? And what was he thinking? He was still holding her, and anyone with eyes on them might as well start writing up the banns this minute. How could she not understand that?
“I don’t believe I like the way Americans think. Surely your reputation means something there.”
“Of course it does. I’m not some floozy.”
He snorted. “You’re still in my arms.”
“Because you’re still holding me!”
“I’ll let go.”
“Fine, do it then.”
He shuddered. Shuddered! What was that about? But deep inside, he knew that once his arms dropped, she would be gone. And the parts of his heart now with hers, would be lost to him forever. But he wasn’t going to force her to marry him. He wanted her heart first.
Aldrich closed his eyes, and let her go.
Thirteen
Tory stood, spied the round of cheese on the pebbled walk, and snatched it up. “I’m going back inside.”
Aldrich also stood. “I’ll accompany you.”
“No, I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now. You … you’re too confusing for me.”
He looked sympathetic. “I’m sorry if my actions have offended you in anyway.”
“Offended? Geez! I don’t find them offensive, just out dated.” She turned away, took a deep breath, and finally said what she needed to say. “Look, you’re a good looking guy and any girl would kill to have you propose to them, after the proper amount of time. I don’t know what year you think you’re in, but it’s sure as heck not the right one.”
His face screwed up with confusion. “Tory, I know where you come from things are blatantly different …”
“No,” she interrupted. “It doesn’t matter if it’s here or there, you just don’t go assuming someone is going to marry you after a few kisses and, and … whatever that was that passed between us.” Whoops, she shouldn’t have said that. Now she sounded crazier than he did.
“You felt it too,” he said gently. “I thought at first it was just me.”
Her face took on a blank look. Was he totally playing her, or what? She knew she felt something happen between them. Something deep and powerful, or had she just dreamed of moments like that enough times to make her imagine she did? What if, in reality, he was a total ass? Playing her for all it was worth? But then, what was it worth? What would he gain out of such a thing?
She waved a hand in the air. “I’m going back to the house. I have to think.”
He looked at the bowl of apples on the bench and picked it up.
“I’ll take that back to the kitchen unless you’re going to eat them,” she said. Because if he was, she’d find the biggest, baddest candy bar she could and devour it. Apples and cheese weren’t going to be enough for this. She’d have to go to the village. She hoped she had enough cash to get a few things. She had some British currency, but not much. She figured she could get more when she got paid.
Aldrich picked up the bowl and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed together and heat shot to her toes. And something else, the same something that made her want to believe him, every last word. But how could she? How could he possibly be sincere? It wasn’t possible. Unless of course he was some weirdo who’d been working for the duke and duchess for so long, he believed his employer’s historical fantasy world was real.
Figures.
“Look,” she turned to go. “Maybe I’ll see you later.” After all, he was a nice guy, even if he was possibly deranged. After all, the duchess was nice and look what she was into.
“Very well, I shall respect your privacy. You may send for me when you’re ready.”
“Send for you? Where are you going?”
He looked into her eyes. “Not far. I’ll be near enough should you need me.”
Tory couldn’t think straight, and realized she never could while in his company. He made her dizzy with that odd thing between them. She wished she knew if he really and truly felt it too. But he wouldn’t be the first man to give her a line of bull just to get into her pants. Oh, please don’t let him fall into that category. She thought. Let him be crazy instead. I can handle a little cray-cray.
She retraced her steps back to the house. When she reached the servant’s entrance she suddenly realized she’d lit out of the gardens without so much as a good-bye. “Fine, he probably thinks I’ve lost it.”
She entered the house, went into the kitchen and began her search for the refrigerator. After a minute she rolled her eyes and tossed one hand in the air. “Oh, of course there’s no refrigerator,” she said loudly. She looked at the ceiling. “Because this is a freak show!” She shut her eyes and felt her shoulders tighten with tension. She needed to think, to do that she needed to move. She also needed that chocolate she’d thought of earlier. “I’m taking a walk,” she announced to no one.
Tory set the bowl and cheese on the worktable, left the kitchen and went stomping up the stairs.
* * *
Aldrich walked through the gardens, thinking. He’d speak to Duncan, of course. He had to tell him everything. He was the one who encouraged his spending time with Tory in the first place. Well, a fine kettle of fish that turned out to be! Aldrich didn’t know whether to shake Duncan’s hand or punch him in the nose. Had Duncan known all along how hard Aldrich would fall? How easy? Aldrich didn’t know his heart could find such a state of affairs, but obviously Duncan did.
What galled Aldrich the most was that his friend’s matchmaking attempt had worked. And with nary lifting a finger! He hoped that little piece of gossip (albeit true) didn’t reach Kent too soon. He wouldn’t have a mome
nt’s peace. Everyone would begin to inquire about a wedding. And poor Tory, how would she fare when word got out?
If word gets out, old chum, his brain countered.
“It most assuredly will. Servant’s aren’t ones to keep silent,” he shot back aloud.
But Duncan can be counted on to make them keep their mouths shut …
Aldrich stopped his aimless stroll and sat on a random bench. After a brief battle with his pride, and thinking of the odd pairing of Duncan and Cozette, he was open to the idea of a match between him and Tory. Devil take the ton and what they thought of it. If Duncan could manage, so could he. Besides, Cozette’s ways and mannerisms were much stranger than Tory’s. People expected an American to be, well, a little wild. Unless of course, they were from the aristocracy. Tory Phelps was clearly not.
But she was a tutor, a governess. And though she didn’t attend any of the institutions in England to become one, she would still be recognized as such. Especially after working for the duchess herself. Something he should have realized before trying to talk himself out of the matchmaking notions Duncan put into his head.
Did Aldrich believe in love at first sight? No. At least not the kind that hit you between the eyes and made you want to die without the other person. But he did believe in taking a second look, not to mention a third, and now he was lost. And to think in just a matter of days!
His initial intrigue had turned into something much more powerful, deep, and God help him, permanent. He didn’t think he could ever get the woman out of his heart and soul, despite their short time together. He might as well have been hit between the eyes on the first day.
But realizing he’d lost his heart to her over the course of a week wasn’t the current problem. What was, was the fact Tory didn’t believe he could. And, judging by her words, she didn’t believe she could either. So what to do?
Aldrich watched a honey bee fly past toward a bed of yellow roses. “Time,” he said to himself. “She just needs time.”
He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. Fine, he could wait. But would gossip? He knew someone had to have seen them in the garden. Soon word would get out, then what? Tory feared losing her position. That was obvious. If he did the right thing and told Duncan what he’d done and been witnessed, the duke would naturally insist he do the honorable thing.
But this was 1877, not 1827. A lot had changed in the last fifty years. Some would consider a mere dalliance in the garden nothing. What were a few innocent kisses? Though he had to admit, his weren’t so innocent. He was surprised they hadn’t set the roses on fire. But if, say, he’d really compromised her, gotten Tory with child, then of course he’d marry her, whether she wanted to or not. It was the only way to protect her and the babe. It wouldn’t matter if he were in love with her. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t take care of them?
However, there was still the problem of her thinking him mad for wanting to marry her in the first place. Nor have such strong feelings for her in so short a time. He wouldn’t have thought so either, and didn’t realize what his feelings were until today. Truth be told, they’d taken him as much by surprise as they had her.
To sum things up, if he told the duke and tried to marry her, she’d balk and perhaps, position or no position, sail straight back to America. On the other hand, if he didn’t, the gossips would tear her apart, (once word got out) and she’d never find another position other than with the duchess. Aldrich was sure Cozette would take her under wing, but for how long? Cozette’s speech problem needed some sorting, but it wasn’t something that would take years.
He sat back on the bench and stretched his long legs in front of him. He’d have to wait, that’s all. See what happened. If there was any gossip it would explode by the time Cozette’s guests began to arrive, if it didn’t arrive with them. Juicy tidbits traveled fast from county to county. Fast enough to get picked up at an inn between here and London by the end of the week.
Aldrich pitied those foolish enough to make sport of Tory come Friday. He wouldn’t stand for it. Not one bit.
His mind made up, he rose from the bench and made his way back to the house. He had business to conduct with Duncan once he returned.
* * *
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tory said as she looked over the village. True, there was a carnival going on. But not the kind she was used to. There were no Ferris wheels, no mini roller coasters for the kiddies, not tilt-o-whirls, and no screaming. Well, maybe a little, but it was coming from an audience of children gathered around a tiny stage. A puppet show was in process, a rather violent one from the looks of it.
“How much money does this woman have?” she said under her breath. Everyone, and that meant literally everyone, was in period dress. Even the village looked like an English village of over a hundred years ago. Maybe two. She hadn’t studied much history other than the stuff she’d been taught by Mr. Mosgofian, but nothing prepared her for this.
A woman tugged at her dress sleeve, extinguishing her thoughts. “Pasty, Miss? A penny will see your belly filled.”
“A penny!” Tory said in shock and looked at the tray she carried. “For a, a … what are those? Hot pockets? Meat pies? Are you kidding?”
“No, Miss. A penny is what satisfies the hunger.” She looked Tory over. “Oh, you must be the new governess I hear tell about.”
Tory sighed. Yep, the duchess was not only loaded, but certifiably insane. Who pays for an entire village of people to dress up and play along? Her employer, that’s who!
The meat pies, hot pockets, or whatever, looked and smelled wonderful. She could do with a bite. She’d eat one then look for chocolate. She pulled out some money from the little old-fashioned purse she’d found in the armoire. She didn’t find her things anywhere, but remembered dumping her purse out on the big swan bed that first night. Some of the change fell onto the floor and somehow found its way under the bed.
The woman stared at the coinage in Tory’s hand. “What’s this? I’ve never seen money like that before. I … I can’t take it.”
“Why not?” Tory asked as her stomach growled loud as a truck.
“Because I don’t know what that is. I can’t use foreign money.”
“What? How can you not know this is British currency? Heck, I don’t know what coin is what, but that’s to be expected. I’m not from around here.”
“Trouble, Daisy?” a gruff voice sounded behind them.
Tory turned to find a man standing there. He was older, a little portly and well-dressed. He eyed her with suspicion and tipped his hat, exposing thin, white hair. “Afternoon, Miss.”
“Afternoon,” Tory said, just as suspicious. At this point, the whole history thing was getting on her nerves.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“She can’t pay, and is trying to give me foreign money,” the pasty lady piped up.
“Is she now?” the man said. “Let me see your money, Miss.”
“Sure,” Tory handed it to him. “I don’t know what the fuss is about. Money is money.” She leaned toward him a little. “I mean, I know it’s not historically accurate, but geez, give me a break, will you? I’m hungry.”
The man eyed her a moment, then looked at the money in his hand. “What the devil?”
Tory let go an exasperated sigh. “Oh pah-leez! Can’t you people drop the act for two seconds? I just want to buy a meat pie or whatever that is. Better yet, chocolate. Do you know where I can find a Snickers bar? There isn’t a convenience store around here, is there?”
A crowd was beginning to gather. “A what?” the man asked. “I’m afraid you can’t buy one of Daisy’s pasties with this.” He closed his fist over the coins. “I’m afraid your money’s no good here, Miss. Who are you?”
Tory sighed again and muttered “Oh boy.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m the new governess for Her Grace,” she said sweetly. “I’m from A-mer-i-ca?”
The man, the crowd, and of cour
se, Daisy, all looked blank.
“America?” she said again flatly. “You know, home of the brave, land of the free?”
“We know what America is!” the man snapped.
“Is she trying to pull one over?” someone called from the crowd.
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out,” the man took Tory by the arm.
“Now just a doggone minute here!” she wrenched herself free. “I work for the duchess, and if you people could stop this nonsense and just let me buy a candy bar, I won’t say a word to her. Not one frigging, word.”
“Of course you won’t,” the man said. “Because you’re coming with me and telling me where you got these coins from.” He grabbed her arm again, none too gently, and pulled her after him.
“What’s the deal?!” she asked and tried to squirm away.
“Are you resisting me?” He gave her arm a yank.
“I most certainly am! You people are nuts!”
“Was that an insult?”
“Yes!”
“That’s what I thought. You’re under arrest!”
“Arrest! For what?”
“For resisting a magistrate,” he sneered. “Now come on, love. Let’s you and I sit down and talk about those funny coins.”
Fourteen
“You want to marry her?” Duncan sputtered, spilling his lemonade. He grabbed a napkin from the table between them and wiped at his trousers. “Just like that?”
“Don’t look so surprised,” Aldrich said after taking a sip from his own glass. “I know it’s sudden, but things … well, they’ve changed. I’ve changed. And I’ll never meet another woman like her.”
“You can say that again,” Duncan muttered. He eyed Aldrich, thinking. What a stroke of luck! If Aldrich married Miss Phelps within the next few days, they’d be ahead of schedule. No worrying about madmen from another time infiltrating his happy home and upsetting things. After all, murder, or in this case attempted murder, wouldn’t sit well with his dinner, not to mention his wife. Oh dear, what a bloody disaster that would be! She would be out for blood, hunt the blackguards down and try to kill them.
