by Gill, Tamara
Richard sat forward to open the door as the carriage pulled up before their newly rented Mayfair home. Built in the classical Georgian design, it looked well pleased with its situation in life. Sarah followed Richard onto the sidewalk and started toward the front steps, a hired footman opening the front door before they had the opportunity to reach for the knob.
They walked into the library that overlooked Berkeley Square. Sarah laid her pelisse over a chair and flopped into the chaise before the unlit hearth.
“We will work as fast as we can.” Richard sat behind his desk and started to unfold the morning’s paper. “You’ll see, we’ll be home before you know it, our errors remedied and our continued employment with TimeArch ensured.”
“I hope you’re right,” Sarah said, the awful dread still churning her stomach.
Chapter Four
The Hendon House ballroom took Sarah’s breath away. Guests mingled before them, their heels clicking against the parquetry floor, the women’s gowns as bright as the jewels nestled about their necks. The grand chandeliers above glistened with a multitude of wax candles, casting a golden hue on the scene.
It was amazing.
The Earl of Earnston’s ballroom had been shrouded in a cloud of smoke by the time they had arrived the previous evening. Tonight the gamblers hadn’t yet graced the ballroom with their cigars.
“Welcome to Hendon House, Lord Stanley, Miss Baxter,” Lady Cottlestone greeted them at the doors.
Sarah curtsied. “Thank you again for inviting us, Lady Cottlestone. We’re so excited to be here tonight.”
Lady Cottlestone smiled and nodded, her diamond earbobs catching Sarah’s eye. “My pleasure, my dear. Come,” she gestured toward the guests, “enjoy the ball. I believe you’ll find Lady Anita near the supper room doors with the Duchess of Winters.”
Sarah thanked her ladyship and took Richard’s arm. Social approval made their journey from one side of the room to the other quite the opposite experience of Lord Earnston’s ball. Tonight, although no one stopped their conversations to speak to them, the ton still bestowed its smiles and acknowledgement.
Sarah relaxed and set out to try and enjoy the grandeur of a nineteenth century ball.
“Miss Baxter,” Lady Anita greeted, as she spied them approaching. “So glad you could come. Let me introduce you to my mama.”
Sarah had never met a Duchess before, but the woman’s warm smile and welcoming manner, very much like her daughter’s, left her feeling accepted if not equal.
“Anita mentioned you are recently from Rome, Lord Stanley. Allow me to welcome you to London.”
Richard bowed. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Miss Baxter, would you care to take a turn about the room?” Anita asked.
“Yes, of course.” Sarah walked beside Anita as they headed toward the open French doors. Guests mingled on the flagstone veranda that overlooked the home’s extensive garden.
“I’m so glad, Sarah, that Lady Cottlestone invited you here tonight. I find that always meeting the same people in society can cause stagnation. It is so refreshing to have you a part of our set.” Anita clasped two champagne flutes and handed one to Sarah. “Oh, I do love pink champagne.”
“I agree. It’s a lovely beverage.” Sarah chuckled as she took in the scene. Richard stood beside the Duchess in discussion, appearing relaxed and elegant. Others danced a quadrille, their gowns an assortment of vibrant colors. People mingled in groups discussing all manner of things, some casting inquisitive looks their way.
“Hmm, yes.” Anita clicked her tongue. “See the lady arriving now, the one speaking to Lady Cottlestone?”
Sarah nodded toward the doors. The young woman was extremely tall and very elegant. Her silk gown fell from a body made for a fashion runway. She was exquisite, but the distaste Sarah read on her face marred her beauty.
“That is Lady Patricia Meyers, Lady Cottlestone’s goddaughter, and if the woman has her way, my cousin’s future wife.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes. Beautiful she may be, but she certainly looked cold. “I assume you mean the Earl of Earnston is going to marry Lady Patricia?”
Anita scoffed. “She hopes to. You see, before his death Lord William was betrothed to Lady Patricia. Their marriage was set for the end of this very season. But of course, the accident happened and … ”
Sarah knew exactly what Anita meant. At the sound of the quadrille winding down, Sarah looked across the sea of dancers and met the surprised gaze of the earl himself. Heat washed across her skin from their last embarrassing meeting. How was she to talk to the man without falling at his feet and apologizing profusely for killing his brother? Or babbling like a fool due to his good looks. Sarah mentally chastised herself for being an idiot. What was she worrying about? No one knew their real identity and nor would they ever. If they kept to the plan, everything would work out fine.
“I do not believe Lord Earnston has any intention of marrying just yet,” Lady Anita continued. “But Lady Patricia is determined and so, too, are my aunt and Patricia’s mother.”
“So they’re not betrothed?” Sarah couldn’t blame the Earl for his decision. To marry your brother’s betrothed just because he died didn’t seem very romantic to her.
“No. I feel for Patricia, though. It would be awfully difficult to see the new Lord Earnston about London and at all society events.”
“Why?” Sarah asked.
“They were twins, my dear. Had I not told you of this?”
Sarah nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy for Lady Patricia. “I had forgot.”
Lady Anita sipped her drink. “I will introduce you to Lord Earnston this evening, Sarah. I am determined he make amends for his behavior.”
“I look forward to it, but I don’t want to be any trouble to his lordship,” Sarah said.
“Nonsense, my dear. An introduction is no trouble.”
Sarah inwardly cringed. Would the earl be rude or pleasant? She deserved the worst of his temper after what she’d put his family through. All of whom had no idea the woman gracing their ball was the late earl’s murderer.
Including the earl. Sarah’s stomach churned with the thought.
“Are you well, Sarah? Would you care for some air on the terrace?”
“I do feel a little faint. Perhaps some fresh air will do me good.”
Anita clasped her arm and led her outside toward the balustrade. The cool night air was a welcome reprieve from the heated ballroom. Sarah looked out on the extensive grounds. Crickets clicked and somewhere in the darkened foliage of the garden water trickled and flowed. She clasped the rough railing and took calming breaths until her stomach stopped churning.
“Lady Anita, are you going to introduce me?” rumbled the same voice that had ordered her to stop on that horrible night. Her stomach reacted faster than her mind could.
Yet tonight, instead of the hardened command, the voice was deep and rich, pouring over her like chocolate on her tongue.
Lady Anita spun about. “Eric, you scared me. Don’t you know it is rude to sneak up on people?”
“Forgive me, cousin.” He smiled, and Sarah once again reminded herself to close her mouth and calm her nerves. His lordships dark blue eyes took in her features and gown and Sarah wondered what he thought of her.
“Lord Earnston, this is Miss Sarah Baxter.”
Sarah curtsied. “Good evening, Lord Earnston. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Lord Earnston smiled and Sarah felt her insides flutter. So handsome and athletic, his strong broad shoulders would draw the eye of any woman wishing to admire fine masculine art.
“Allow me to apologize, Miss Baxter, and make amends over my rudeness last evening. But I’m sure you will agree that strangers are not usually invited to one’s entertainments.”
Sarah refused to blush at this reminder of her mistake. “You have nothing to apologize for, my lord. I would have reacted the same in your situation.”
The wind picked up, and the cool refreshing breeze became chill. Sarah rubbed her arms and pulled her shawl over her shoulders to ensure her scar remained hidden.
“Perhaps we ought to return indoors. Miss Baxter, would you do me the honor of the next dance? I believe it is to be a waltz.”
A waltz. Most of the dances she had learned over the past two months had been easy, but she had not mastered the flowing steps of a waltz. Furthermore, it would make her nervous to dance with this man even were she accomplished. These two facts predicted a disastrous half hour.
“Of course,” she found herself saying.
Lady Anita moved toward the French doors and Sarah took Lord Earnston’s arm. He met her gaze, and all the warmth she had read in his manner a moment before was replaced with uncertainty. Mustering a smile, she stepped inside.
• • •
Eric looked down at the attractive woman lightly touching the crook of his elbow as they walked into the throng of dancers. She was tall for a woman and yet displayed elegance with every step, no awkwardness with her uncommon height. “I understand you’re recently from Rome. How are you finding London so far, Miss Baxter?”
“Most interesting, my lord.” She turned toward him and checked her gown.
“How so?” The silk of her dress and the lush curves beneath sent heat spiraling through him. Eric pulled her closer than was necessary and swept her into the dance.
“London is very different to where we’re from.”
Miss Baxter looked over his shoulder and refused to meet his eyes. Eric inwardly frowned and wondered why such a thing troubled him. Many times he’d danced and never bothered to converse with his partner. “Are you always so vague with your replies, Miss Baxter?”
She did look at him then, and Eric found himself grinning at her discomfort over his question. A rosy hue bloomed on her cheeks and made her more attractive than he cared to admit.
“No,” she smiled. “I’m normally a very good talker. If you wish me to talk your ear off, I can certainly try.”
Eric laughed, the sound unfamiliar to his ears. Was this the first time since William’s death he found himself enjoying the moment? “What strange wording you use, Miss Baxter. Talk your ear off — such speech must only be used on the Continent.”
Sarah nodded, her expression serious. “Of course. Only on the Continent.”
“I should imagine you have high expectations for your first season in London?” Eric noted her green eyes darkened — but in displeasure or fear he couldn’t tell. He raised an eyebrow and fought not to smile.
“I’m not interested in marriage, my lord. I’m here to enjoy the delights of the season and that is all. I’m not looking for the season’s delights to include a husband.”
“You surprise me yet again, Miss Baxter. Not only was that not the answer I was expecting, but it wasn’t vague in the least.” Eric did laugh then and swept Sarah into a turn, which brought forth her own chuckle. The delightful sound doing odd things to his body.
“Do you ride?” Eric asked, hoping she would say yes. She would look delectable in a riding habit among Richmond’s or Hyde Park’s trees and beautiful grounds.
“I do. I love to ride, although we have no horses stabled in town.”
“Would you ride with me tomorrow morning, Miss Baxter? I have a mare who’s placid enough for town.” Eric held his breath for her answer. Why, he couldn’t fathom. And at present he didn’t want to delve into such musings. All that mattered was he was dancing with a beautiful and intelligent woman. One he was attracted to not only physically but intellectually. Eric would have to thank Anita for resurrecting his association with Miss Baxter.
“I would like that, my lord. Thank you.”
Miss Baxter smiled once more, and again Eric felt his breath seize in his lungs.
He swept her to a stop as the last strains of the waltz sounded. Regrettably, he bowed. “You waltz beautifully, Miss Baxter.”
Her chuckle brought another smile to his lips. “I do believe you’re in denial, my lord. I could think of a different word than beautiful to express my dancing.”
“I cannot.” Nor could he. Miss Sarah Baxter was a breeze of fresh air in an idle society. She was an intriguing woman, and he wished to know her better.
Eric turned as Lady Patricia came to stand beside them. Anita trailed behind, a mulish look on her visage. He greeted his late brother’s betrothed with a bow, then made the necessary introductions.
“Would you care to dance, cousin?” Eric asked Anita. As much as his brother had loved Patricia, he did not. It was better for all involved that he make himself scarce whenever she came into his sphere, lest he injure her further by denying his family’s and hers of their wish for them to marry. He ignored Patricia’s disappointment, and held out his arm to Anita.
“I don’t like country dances, Eric,” Anita said, taking his arm anyway.
“Until tomorrow, Miss Baxter,” he said turning before he was out of her hearing.
“Tomorrow,” she said.
Eric smiled. It was already too many hours between now and morning.
“What has you looking so jovial, cousin?” Anita asked, a knowing twinkle in her eye.
“A good friend of mine once said, ‘A gentleman never tells.’” Eric placed Anita in line and stepped back with the other men to commence the dance.
“How curious. And yet I do believe I know.”
Eric laughed. “I believe you do.”
• • •
Sarah allowed the music to flow over her as she watched Lord Earnston dance and laugh with Anita. She had thought him handsome when serious, but now, smiling, talking, and laughing made him more devastatingly so.
She sighed in relief at having not tripped over her own feet during her waltz with the earl. Lord Earnston was a skilled dancer and had overcome her dancing inadequacies. The memory of him clasping her against his broad chest, his muscular shoulders that would look magnificent if ever bared for view, left her looking forward to the next time they danced. Never would she forget her waltz with a lord in nineteenth century London. She would cherish the memory forever.
“I know what you’re up to, Miss Baxter, and it will not work.”
Sarah started and turned to face Lady Patricia. “I don’t understand.”
“Using your wiles on Lord Earnston are wasted, my dear. He is not for you.”
Sarah beat back the urge to put the high and mighty Lady Patricia in her place. “Lady Anita introduced me to his lordship. That he danced with me I’m sure was his way of being polite. I have no interest in Lord Earnston.”
“It would be a waste of your time. Our families are, at this moment, finalizing our wedding contract.”
“Lord Earnston has proposed?” Sarah asked, looking about the room. She paused when she spied an older woman looking their way, her dark eyes hard and full of malice.
“Not yet. But he will. Lord Earnston always does what is correct. So you see, Miss Baxter, it is best not to form a tendre for his lordship.”
Sarah bit her tongue and nodded. “I assure you I will not.”
“Very good, and let me conclude by saying that I do not believe it is appropriate for you to associate with Lady Anita. She is a duke’s daughter, you know.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed at the woman’s implication that she was beneath such people. “Lady Anita is my friend, and one I will continue to see. Should Lord Earnston wish to speak or dance with me, I will not deny him as he seems a nice enough sort of fellow. If you have a problem with such facts, Lady Patricia, it is not my concern.”
Sarah curtsied and walked away, grabbing a glass of champagne from a
passing footman. The audacity of the woman! Had she not left at that moment, Sarah wasn’t sure what would have come out of her mouth next. For all her angelic looks, blond hair, and alabaster complexion, Lady Patricia was the devil’s spawn.
• • •
“Are you okay, Sarah?” Richard asked, coming to stand beside her.
Sarah filled him in on her conversation with Lady Patricia.
“She could be a complication we don’t need,” Richard said practically.
“Yes,” Sarah said looking away. “I believe I have an enemy.”
“And an admirer, if Lord Earnston’s besotted gaze is anything to go by.” Richard elbowed her. “Don’t worry, rumor has it Lord Earnston isn’t interested in Lady Patricia.”
“Gossiping already. How vulgar.”
Richard laughed. “Vulgar, maybe. Amusing, yes.” Richard pulled her toward a group of chairs and sat. “Lord Earnston is unattached and looks to be for some time. And while you were dancing with his lordship, I snuck out and had a look about.”
“Did you find anything?” Sarah asked, unable to disguise the hope in her voice.
“Lady Cottlestone’s collection seems to sway toward furniture — pianos and pianofortes to be precise. She has hardly any trinkets at all.” Richard sighed. “Keep with the plan. We’ll be home before you know it.”
Sarah nodded, trying to keep the disappointment from her face. Keep with the plan. Simple enough, or perhaps not. Not when every time she was beside the delicious Lord Earnston, she had an overwhelming urge to beg his forgiveness and throw herself against him. Such specimens of men shouldn’t be allowed in history. It didn’t make a twenty-first century time traveling archaeologist’s job at all easy.
And judging by the heated gaze from his lordship at this moment, he would be an easy conquest.
Sarah sculled the last of her champagne. What a conundrum.
Chapter Five
The Bow Street Runner flipped through his notepad, his pasty face pinched in serious contemplation. Eric wondered if he’d have been better off doing the job himself. The runner, for all his contacts, hadn’t produced one ounce of information worth Eric’s trouble.
