The Wolfe Match

by Kit Morgan

  Not a bad thing, mind, unless someone paid witness to her snaring her prey. How would he explain it?

  Duncan set the thought aside and drained his lemonade. They were outside enjoying a light snack on a back terrace near the gardens. “I think it’s a splendid idea.”

  “You do?” Aldrich said in surprise.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Duncan asked with a hint of suspicion. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Aldrich took a deep breath.

  Uh-oh, Duncan thought. This couldn’t be good.

  “I … kissed her in the library,” Aldrich confessed.

  Duncan’s face went blank, right before he burst out laughing. “Is that all?”

  “And the gardens. Especially the gardens.”

  Duncan laughed harder. “My good man, is that what this is all about?” He suddenly sobered. “You do love her, don’t you? She hasn’t been compromised?”

  “No, of course not! As to love, I didn’t think it possible, but … I believe I do love her. If not, then I certainly will.” He shifted in his chair and leaned toward him. “Duncan, she is the most fascinating woman I have ever met. I should be appalled at some of her behavior but I’m not. Instead I find it wildly attractive.”

  Duncan sighed in relief. “Thank the Lord.”

  Aldrich raised an eyebrow. “Something the matter?”

  “No, not at all,” Duncan said. “I’m happy for you. When love strikes your heart, what can you do?”

  “And she’ll not lose her position because of it?” Aldrich asked in all seriousness.

  “Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Gossip.”

  “Gossip? What gossip?”

  “I’m sure one or more of your housemaids saw us in the garden earlier while I made my affections clear.”

  “Oh, I see. Yes, that could be a problem. Especially with the house party only a few days away.”

  “Where are those maids now?”

  Duncan made a face. “At the carnival. Most of the staff was allowed to attend the first half of the day with us. Now that we’ve returned, the rest were allowed to go. I apologize I didn’t inform you of our leaving.” But I wanted you to have time alone with the girl! He tacked on silently.

  “Right. That means they’ll be spreading it all over the village.”

  Duncan picked up a cookie. “And what, exactly, will they be wagging their tongues about? It’s not like you ravished her … is it?”

  Aldrich took another deep breath.

  “Oh, you didn’t …”

  “No, I didn’t!”

  “Then why do you look like that?”

  “Because what I did was bad enough!”

  Duncan stood. “Aldrich, what did you do?”

  Aldrich not only stood, he began to pace. “I kissed her, then kissed her again. I wanted to make sure she had never been kissed like that before. I …”

  “You claimed her.”

  Aldrich, now on the other side of the terrace, spun to him. “Yes.”

  Duncan slowly nodded. “I see. That must have been some kiss.”

  “Kisses,” Aldrich corrected.

  “No wonder you feel … well, I would imagine a mix of obligation, love ...” he joined Aldrich and put a hand on his shoulder. “How does she feel?”

  Aldrich squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

  “Oh dear, that is a problem.” A big problem, he added silently. But at least Aldrich was smitten. One down. One to go. “Where is Miss Phelps now? I haven’t seen her since we returned.”

  “I don’t know.” He opened his eyes. “In her room I would imagine. I told her I’d leave her alone.”

  “Alone?” Duncan glanced at the house, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me, friend. Just how did you leave things between the two of you when you parted?”

  Aldrich frowned. “Not good.”

  Duncan looked at Aldrich, then at the gardens beyond. He had less than a week to make sure the two of them wed before danger came lurking. “Describe ‘not good.’”

  Aldrich shrugged. “She thinks I’m play acting.”

  “Play acting? What the devil is she talking … oh dear …”

  “What?”

  Duncan returned to his chair and sat. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh bloody dear…”

  Aldrich was at his side in three, long strides. “What?!”

  Duncan met the man’s gaze. Aldrich’s eyes were a mix of anger, worry, with just 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 got within inches of his face. “What detail, Duncan? What are you not telling me?”

  Duncan looked him square in the eyes. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  Aldrich pushed himself to a standing position. “Try me.”

  A single eyebrow rose in challenge. It was a risk, a huge risk. But if it worked, it would make his job so much easier. “Very well then. I will. Oh, you might want to sit down for this.”

  Aldrich’s brow knit in suspicion for a moment or two, and then he sat.

  * * *

  The village magistrate studied Tory’s coins with fascination. “These are silver.” He bit one. Just like they did in the movies.

  “Oh please, isn’t this taking things too far? It’s a twenty pence piece and you’re acting like you’ve never seen one before.”

  “Not like this I haven’t, love. Now quiet.” He picked up her one pound coin. “This is more like it.” He narrowed his gaze as he looked at her. “Where did you get it?”

  “From under my bed, if you must know. I spilled my purse the other day.”

  “Under the bed, a bed up at Stantham Hall, you mean?”

  “It is where I’m staying,” she reminded him.

  He fingered the coins in front of him. She had a 20 pence, a 50 pence, some pennies and several one pound coins. You’d think the man had never seen money before.

  “And who is this?” he picked up the penny. It’s not Queen Victoria.”

  “Of course not. It’s Queen Elizabeth. Sheesh! I’ve had about all I can take of you people. I know the duchess is rich and all that, but can’t you drop the act for two minutes? All I wanted to do was find some chocolate!”

  He leaned forward across the table. “And all I want is the truth. Did you steal it?”

  “Steal it? It’s less then five dollars for one, and yes it’s mine!”

  He laughed. “Of course it is. And if so, then what sort of treason is this? Who is this Queen Elizabeth?” He leaned closer. “You know what I think? I think you’re part of some plot to assassinate the queen, that’s what I think!”

  “What?! Are you out of your frigging mind?”

  “No. I’m not.” He rose so fast he knocked his chair over, whipped around the table, grabbed Tory by the arm, and pulled her to her feet.

  “What are you doing? Let go of me!”

  “Not on your life, lovey.” He dragged her to a door. “You’re not going anywhere until I find out what’s going on!” He pulled her through the door and down a hall to a staircase.

  “Where are you taking me?” she demanded and batted at the hand on her arm.

  “I’m locking you up.” He gruffly yanked her down the stairs.

  “What? You can’t do that!”

  They reached the bottom. He grabbed her to him, pinning her, and pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket. He opened the door and shoved her through. Tory stumbled from the force and fell. By the time she got to her feet the door was closed, a key already turning in the lock.

  “Are you kidding me?!” she exclaimed and rushed the door. She banged on it. “Let me out! You can’t do this! Dang it! Open this door!”

  “I will. When it comes time to transport you to London.”

  Tory froze. What was he talking about? “London?”

  “Of
course love. That’s where they imprison and hang traitors! Or at the very least, counterfeiters.”

  Tory closed her eyes and took a calming breath. “It’s okay, Phelps. Get a grip. This one’s just over zealous.” She opened her eyes. “And over acting his part! LET. ME. OUT!”

  Silence answered, followed by the heavy clomp, clomp, clomp of booted feet going up the stairs. A sound that soon faded to nothing.

  Tory stood in shock. “How can this be happening?”

  She turned a circle in her cell. The room was entirely made of stone, complete with a barred window near the ceiling that, from the sounds of it, looked out onto the street. But instead of cars she heard carts and horse-drawn wagons, men and women hawking their wares, children, and the sounds of the carnival. Make that an old carnival.

  No matter how she sliced it, the whole thing was nuts.

  Tory spied a bench against one wall and sunk onto it. Now what was she going to do? How long would she have to wait before someone came for her? The actor’s quitting time? And did everything have to be so …

  Tory stopped breathing. “No, it couldn’t be. Everything’s reproduction.” But her mind now had hold of an idea. A positively, outlandish, idea.”

  Tory jumped up, dragged the bench to the high window, and stepped on to it. If she got on her tip-toes, she could see out. “No cars, no wires, no telephone poles…”

  She went cold. She hadn’t seen one telephone pole on her trek to the village. But she knew she’d seen them when she first arrived at the duke’s estate. The car had passed a truck and crew about a half-mile from Stantham Hall. They were working on the lines.

  “What the heck is going on?” She ran a hand through her hair, loosening it from its pins. Half of it fell and spilled over one shoulder. Tory didn’t care. Her mind was running at full speed in a direction she didn’t like. Problem was, she didn’t know how to stop it.

  “No, no, no!” she jumped off the bench. “That’s nuts, Phelps, that’s insane! Don’t let yourself go there!” But she was, and her brain started bringing up all the weird stuff that had happened since she took this job. She’d been so desperate to get out of her hometown, away from Benny, away from everything, that she didn’t look at the red flags. Oh, she knew they were there. She just didn’t want to deal with them. At worst, she’d fallen into a scam used by sex traffickers to get their hands on unsuspecting women. But that didn’t make sense now. They’d have carted her off to some vile man or worse, as soon as her plane landed.

  “No, it couldn’t be … I’m not really in the past, am I?” But how could she not be? And how could she possibly have wound up in another century in the first place? Speaking of which, which century?

  Thankfully she’d watched enough old movies with her mother to at least guess the time period. Judging from the clothes and hairstyles, even if Hollywood did put their own twists on them, this looked like the mid-late nineteenth century.

  Her breath caught as her brain wrapped itself around the idea. When it came down to it, who in the world was crazy enough and especially that rich to pull a charade like this off?

  “Good grief, my sanity is hinging on economics,” she muttered. Because when it came down to it, money could prove she wasn’t crazy, pure and simple. Look how the magistrate reacted.

  Is that why MacMos International Educators had picked her? Was she part of some experiment? Maybe they knew desperation when they saw it. If that’s the case, it was also a matter of education and the simple fact she had none. Not a lot anyway. If the duchess of Stantham really wanted a good tutor, why not get one from a fancy university right here in England? Like Oxford or Cambridge, or someplace like that? Why hire a chick from Stockton, California who had nothing but a high school diploma and a handful of classes from the local community college? It didn’t make sense.

  “Unless,” Tory said with an audible gulp. “Unless they wanted someone that was expendable.”

  She began to pace. “Oh, no way. No, no, no, way. Get a hold of yourself, Phelps. Don’t lose it.” But she was losing it. And wasn’t sure if lost, she’d get it back.

  She stopped in the middle of her cell, fists at her sides. “Don’t. Go. Crackers.”

  Then another thought popped into her head. “Aldrich. What about Aldrich?”

  Her heart sank to her knees as tears suddenly filled her eyes. “Ohhhh, dang it!” She quickly wiped them away. “Great, just great! I’ve fallen for a man that’s either from the past or a super con artist.” She took a shuddering breath. “Or one of the best actors I’ve ever met.” She didn’t want to think of him as bad.

  Tory ran the back of her hand over her eyes to catch stray tears, then sat once more on the bench. “Whatever he is, I’ve get to get word to him.” If the duke and duchess really were three sandwiches short of a picnic basket and bizillionairs besides, she still needed to get out of there. Actor or not, Aldrich seemed fairly sane. And, if by chance she was in the past, well, he was still the only one she knew well enough to trust. After all, she’d spent the most time with him, was getting to know him, was falling in love…

  Tory stood. “Oh, nuts.” She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. “What if I’ve fallen in love with a crazy person?”

  But at this point, she didn’t care. Tory went back to the bench, hopped onto it, and peeked out the window again.

  Fifteen

  “Are you all right?” Duncan asked. “Do you need another drink?”

  Aldrich sat, eyes riveted on nothing. Everything. They’d since moved to the library. Duncan, drink in hand, sipped it slowly, watching Aldrich with casual interest. The duke was still on his first brandy. Aldrich, his fourth. He took another long swallow. “Give me … a moment.”

  “Take all the time you need,” Duncan said.

  Time. That word had a whole new meaning. But how much of what Duncan told him was true? He’d known the man for years. Duncan Sayer wasn’t one to come up with something so preposterous. For one, he was a rotten liar and Aldrich knew it.

  “If it’s any consolation,” Duncan said, interrupting his thoughts. “When Dallan MacDonald first told me, I, um … fainted.”

  Aldrich snapped to attention. “You? Faint?!”

  Duncan nodded. “Circumstances were different, of course, and he told me a few things besides, but yes. I dropped like a stone.”

  Aldrich stared at him in disbelief. Not because the duke lost consciousness, but because it was one more thing that made his story believable. Nothing could make Duncan Sayer faint. Nothing. Except for the impossible.

  “And the crusades?” Aldrich said. “That’s how this man proved he could travel through time?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Fool that I was, I chose the place to be used at proof.” He frowned. “I was almost skewered by a scimitar. If I’d been smart, I’d have picked something more familiar. Like watching the demise of that bloody, stuffed crocodile I keep in my study. Thing’s been dead for over sixty years.”

  Despite the circumstances, Aldrich laughed. It felt good. He was tense, terribly so and wasn’t sure how he’d react when he saw Tory next. “That monstrous trophy? Well, That would be a sight. Your relative battling the huge beast, bringing it to its end.”

  Duncan coughed into one hand. “Oh, quite, but enough of my relative’s trophies. We were talking about you.”

  Aldrich sat back in his chair and eyed the brandy decanter on the sideboard. “Yes.”

  “And?” Duncan prompted.

  Aldrich took a deep breath. “I still want proof.”

  “As I told you, it’s easy enough to provide. I just have to find Dallan.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In my woods.”

  “What?”

  Duncan shrugged. “They’re keeping you and Miss Phelps safe.”

  “That’s the part that worries me. But aside from that.” He waved a hand in the air. “Let me get this straight. You’re helping this MacDonald chap pair two people from different centuries and for what a
gain? So these time traveling friends of yours can get their hands on the off spring? My off spring? Bloody hell, Duncan!”

  The duke fingered the rim of his glass. “From what I know you would raise your children as you wish, their paths in life would still be of their own choosing.”

  “Would they? Then why do these people want to make sure Miss Phelps and I fall in love and have children to begin with? Why fall in love at all? Why not just …”

  “Enough! I’ve said all I can. I don’t know anything else.” The duke stood and began to pace. “I only know that you are key, Aldrich. And so is Miss Phelps.”

  Aldrich wiped a hand across his mouth. He wanted to hit something. Make that someone, preferably this MacDonald chap. If he existed, that is. Perhaps the duke was completely barmy and none of this was real.

  Problem was, deep in his heart, he knew it to be true. When he thought back on Tory’s behavior and mannerisms, the way she spoke, her boldness, her free spirit, how could it not be? He’d met Americans before and she was so different from them.

  And, of course, there was the undeniable fact he was in love with her. What was he to do with that?

  “Do yourself a favor, old man,” Duncan said.

  “What?”

  “If you love Miss Phelps, marry her. No matter where or when she’s from. Live your life, raise whatever children you have and to hell with the rest.”

  Aldrich sighed. “And if these people come for my children one day? What then?”

  “I don’t know. What I do know is that Dallan MacDonald is an honorable man. He does nothing for himself. He’s only trying to protect a family line.”

  “And what about my family line? I’m a knight. My ancestors were nobles and knights, warriors who served their kings. But that’s not all I have in my family tree Duncan and you know it. There are murderers and thieves, adulterers, traitors, shall I go on?”

  “I don’t think this has anything to do with them. This is about blood and something called … what was it now? Genes.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Suffice to say, I’m sorry. I took a risk in telling you. It was a gamble at best and I’ve lost. Forgive me, my friend.”