by Gina Lamm
“I’ll have you killed,” Prachett snarled. His face was a mask of crimson, a cut on his forehead seeping blood. “You dare to touch me? I’ll see you gutted for this.”
“If I die for such a righteous cause, I have not lived my life in vain.” His calm answer covered his approach. Pulling back his arm, he smiled. “This is for Leah.” Avery’s left fist met Prachett’s jaw with a sickening crack. The man stumbled backward, both hands clapped to his now-broken chin. “And this is for me.” Avery’s right fist shot outward, finding its mark in Prachett’s soft belly.
The man doubled over with a cry and then collapsed against the cupboard at the bedside.
Shaking out his stinging knuckles, Avery turned to walk away. He was finished.
The mindless shriek of rage behind him was the only warning Avery had. Ducking instinctively, he managed to avoid the bullet as the shot rang out. Glass rained over him, glittering shards falling like spring rain onto the blood-spotted carpet.
The sting of gunpowder burned his nostrils as he raised disbelieving eyes toward Prachett. The dueling pistol still hung from the man’s fingers, smoke curling lazily from the barrel.
“I said you’d die,” Prachett whispered, smiling with his ruined mouth. He dropped the empty pistol and reached upward into the halfway open drawer. The glint of metal caught Avery’s eye as the man drew a matching gun from the cabinet. “Now do it, worthless brat.”
Avery should have been filled with regret, with sorrow for his actions that had brought him to this untimely end. But as Prachett leveled the pistol at him, all the valet could think of was her.
Leah. His angel.
She’d freed him of his torment after all.
Even as he turned to run, he knew it was futile. At this range, the man would not miss twice. When the shot rang out, Avery let himself fall forward.
“I love you,” he whispered into the floor. “Leah, I love you.”
* * *
Leah stopped suddenly, causing Ella to plow into her. She clutched at her chest, trying to steady the ragged thumping of her heart. Something was wrong. Something horrible had happened.
“Pawpaw,” she whispered, tears tracking down her cheeks. “No.”
“Leah,” Ella said. “My phone is gone. It was here a second ago.”
“Did you drop it?” Leah tried very hard to concentrate, but her head was in a fog of distress. God, if it wasn’t Pawpaw, what had happened? It was almost like someone was breakdancing on her grave.
“No, I didn’t. My thumb drive’s gone too.” Ella swayed, clutching her temples. “I’m sorry, but I feel so freaking weird right now. I’m dizzy, kind of sick.”
“I am too.” Leah’s stomach dropped. A sudden thought speared her, and she dug in her bag for the leather pouch she’d brought with her. It was gone. But she’d placed it in the bag only moments before they’d run from Lady Chesterfield’s house, so where could it be?
Her fingers grazed over a glossy paper in the bottom of the bag. She snagged it and brought Pawpaw’s picture into the sunlight. It faded into nothingness in her hand, as if it had never been there at all.
“Shit. Ella, what the hell is happening?” Leah tried to keep hysterics out of her voice, but she wasn’t that successful. Panic ruled her brain. “Everything we brought with us from home is gone. What does it mean?”
“The mirror,” Ella whispered as she absently rubbed at her pocket. “Something must have happened to it.”
They looked at each other for a split second, then took off at a dead run for Granville House. Leah tried not to think of what it all meant. She tried not to imagine the worst. She tried to keep a level head as she and her friend wound their way through streets crowded with horses, carriages, and pedestrians.
She failed miserably.
People stared at them as they ran. Some shouted, others cursed, but none stopped them, a fact for which Leah was incredibly grateful. After all, two unescorted women running headlong in the nicest areas of London was a sight that nobody was used to. Damn it, if only Avery were with her! She could take all this shit if she knew that he’d be there for her.
But he wasn’t. And he wouldn’t ever be again because he thought she’d chosen the duke over him.
“Slow down,” Ella gasped behind her. “I can’t breathe.”
The ache in Leah’s side intensified, and she slackened her pace to match her friend’s. The air burned in her lungs as her slippers pounded against the cobbles. Ella’s too-large slippers, borrowed from Leah’s closet, as was the gown she wore, caused her to stumble. Leah grabbed her friend’s arm and the two rounded the corner to Grosvenor Square.
“There,” Leah panted, pointing. “That’s Granville House. Third one on the right.”
The last few feet seemed interminable, but they finally descended the steps to the servants’ area. Leah pounded on the door as Ella bent over, trying to catch her breath.
“Cook! Mrs. Harper!” Leah’s hand stung with the blows she landed on the door. “Please, somebody open up!”
Nobody came. Leah kept pounding, but eventually Ella grabbed her arm. “Nobody’s answering.”
Leah shoved the door open and led Ella through the empty kitchen. There were pots on the stove, bubbling away. The whole place looked like it had been deserted suddenly. What the hell was going on?
Leah shook her head and kept moving. They had to get upstairs to the duke’s bedchamber and get to the mirror. Either they had to get through it and back home so she could say her good-byes to Pawpaw, or the thing was broken and they were totally fucked.
The house was unusually quiet for midday, and the silence worried Leah. There should have been servants everywhere, going about their normal daily duties. But they’d wound their way through the back stairs, the length of the hallway, and made it to the duke’s chambers before they saw anyone.
“Leah, look.” Ella pointed.
Leah squinted down the main stairs. Smythe’s back was to her, and he and two of the footmen were carrying something large down the stairs. A rolled-up rug? She shrugged.
“Quiet,” she told Ella. “Follow me.”
Leah pushed open the duke’s bedchamber door. She clapped a hand over her mouth to cover her desperate cry.
The mirror had been shattered, and most of the pieces were missing.
She and Ella were stuck in 1817.
Thirty
The mirror’s broken pieces clinked softly in the sack across Avery’s back. Wincing, he pulled the stallion up, forcing the beast to slow from a headlong gallop to a walk. Even though he must hurry or risk capture, he could not afford to damage the mirror further.
He’d never expected for the last hour to proceed as it had.
When he’d landed on the Aubusson carpet of His Grace’s bedchamber floor, he’d believed himself to be dead. It had taken several heartbeats for him to realize that he’d not been struck by the bullet.
“Russell.” The duke’s voice, tremulous but triumphant, wrenched Avery upright. His Grace stood by the doorway, a smoking derringer in his hand. Prachett had slumped to the floor, blood pooling out from the wound in his skull.
Avery’s legs trembled as he pulled himself upright. “Your Grace. Why?”
The duke dropped the gun and wiped his hands on his waistcoat as if to remove the invisible blood from their surface. His eyes, though aged, were clear and untroubled. “Did you think that I’d allow him to harm you any further? Lad, you have borne too much for too long.”
Avery took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “My apologies, Your Grace.”
“None are necessary. I only wish that I could have stopped his evil before it progressed as far as it did.”
Gesturing to the corpse on the floor, Avery said, “What are we to do now?”
“You must go.” His Grace pulled the bell rope. “After the altercation at Jackford, they will suspect you first, being a fighter yourself. I shall rid us of the body and inform the other servants of the need for silence.”
Moved beyond words, Avery bowed. “Thank you, Your Grace.” He tilted his head toward the shards of glass behind him. “May I have the broken mirror? It is very important.”
The duke laughed. “Have whatever you like, lad, but be quick about it.”
Avery had gathered as many pieces of the mirror as he could before stealing away on one of the duke’s horses.
He entered the outskirts of St. Giles with both relief and trepidation. Such a fine horse would surely draw attention in this part of the world, but he had no other choice. If he were to have any chance of restoring Leah to her true home, he must see Mrs. Comstock as soon as possible.
The horse snorted as Avery pulled back on the reins. He tossed them and a coin to a nearby lad with the promise of more if the beast was still there upon his return. Carrying the sack as gently as he would a newborn babe, he ascended the stairs to his aunt’s chambers.
“Mrs. Comstock?” His soft-voiced question floated through the close room. “Are you about?”
The woman rose from his aunt’s bedside, a basin in her hands and a cross expression on her face.
“What’ll you be wantin’? She’s no better, if that’s the word you’re after.”
“Mrs. Comstock, may I be plain?”
She nodded, setting the basin aside and drying her hands on her apron. “I prefer it.”
Avery set the sack gently on the rough wooden table. “I have need of your talents, Mrs. Comstock. Your magical talents.”
The woman’s scowl deepened. “I’ve no more dealings in the Old Ways.”
“It is of vital importance.” He’d beg if necessary. Leah must be allowed to return home if it was her desire.
Mrs. Comstock sighed and gestured to the bag. “Show me.”
When the pieces of the broken mirror were revealed, her countenance darkened. “This is strong magic, this is. Not only time magic, but love-findin’ magic as well. A true sorceress did this.”
“But can it be repaired?” The question was more of a prayer.
She pursed her lips and shoved her straggly hair from her forehead. “I will do me best.”
A wave of relief crested over him. “Thank you, dear lady.”
“Do not thank me yet. I’ve no guarantee it can be repaired, but I’ll do me best.”
* * *
Leah and Ella took their time on the way back to Lady Chesterfield’s. After all, they had no reason to rush anymore.
They’d be living the rest of their lives in this century.
Leah kept her mind blank. She could not afford to think of Pawpaw or Avery or of the way she’d cost her friend her future. One slipper in front of the other. Don’t look right or left. Don’t think of the fact that Avery is probably in Scotland by now, and Pawpaw is probably…
She tripped and sprawled in a sobbing heap on the walk in front of Lady Chesterfield’s house. Ella knelt beside her, pulling her up into a sitting position. It was several minutes before Leah could breathe enough to speak.
“Come on. Let’s get inside.”
Ella nodded numbly, and together they made their way into the house.
“Leah dear!” Lady Chesterfield’s voice floated down the stairs. “Whatever has gone on? Muriel has been frantic since you departed so hastily.” She drew up short when she saw Ella.
“Lady Chesterfield.” Leah fought to keep her voice steady despite the tears that wouldn’t quit. “This is Ella Fowler. She came to take me home because my grandfather is very sick. But…the mirror…” Leah stared at the polished floor beneath her feet, struggling to regain control of herself.
“Oh. Oh, my dears.” Lady Chesterfield gathered them both to her feathered bosom. Leah clung to her gratefully, despite the gray feathers that tickled her nose.
The baroness took them into the sitting room and ordered a big pot of tea. Muriel brought it in and she and Ella stepped into the hallway to talk in hushed voices. Leah stared down into the cup of tea she clasped in both hands, wondering how to make sense of this.
“I must apologize to you, dearest.” The settee sank as Lady Chesterfield settled herself beside Leah.
“For what?” She didn’t look up from her teacup. Little rings of tea spread out from the tear that fell into her cup.
Lady Chesterfield laid a warm hand on Leah’s back. “I did not consider many things in the way I assisted you. I assumed that you were as other young ladies of my acquaintance are—in search of a husband of rank and means. But I was quite wrong.”
Leah’s glance wandered upward. “No, you were doing what you thought was right. And I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, so I just went along with it. I should have told you that I had feelings for Avery before I even got here.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Plucking the teacup from Leah’s hands, Lady Chesterfield gathered her into her arms again. “There is no need for it. In the end, my dear, all I have ever wanted was to be a part of your success. The tale of your friend Miss Marten sparked my imagination as nothing has since I dreamed of fairy tales in my youth.”
“You’ve been amazing, Lady Chesterfield.”
As Leah hugged her patroness, she closed her eyes. Nothing had gone the way she’d thought it would, but she had been really lucky to find such a generous and kind friend. She just hadn’t wanted to move in with her. She’d sort of thought she would bring her true love home with her.
The fresh memory of Avery’s rejection wrenched a sob from her.
“My lady?” Muriel appeared in the doorway. “You and Miss Ram have visitors.”
“We are not receiving,” Lady Chesterfield said calmly as she patted Leah’s back.
“But it’s His Grace, the Duke of Granville, and a servant. A male servant, miss. And he said something about the mirror.”
Leah’s heart leaped. “Does he have light brown hair tied in a ponytail? And hazel eyes and scars on his knuckles?”
Muriel’s head had only dipped in half a nod before Leah was running into the entryway. Completely ignoring the duke, she ground to a halt the moment she saw Avery holding a large object wrapped in brown cloth.
“Avery,” she whispered, the words seeming to emanate from her bruised heart. “You came.”
He set the object on the entryway table, slowly and carefully. The duke and Lady Chesterfield withdrew to the sitting room.
Leah fisted her hands at her sides to keep herself steady. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself at him and bury her face in his broad chest, but considering the way they’d parted last, she wasn’t sure she’d be welcomed. And another rejection from him might just break her beyond repair.
But then he turned, though his face was bruised and battered, and opened his arms to her.
With a glad cry, she ran to him. She clung to him as though they were adrift at sea and he was the only thing that kept her from sinking. It wasn’t really that far from the truth.
“Leah, my angel, Leah,” he said in a rough voice between kisses that he dropped on her hair. “I am here, I am sorry, I love you.”
“I love you too, Avery.” She turned her face up to him and accepted his kiss eagerly. For a moment, her hellish reality slipped away in the wonderful feeling of his body pressed firmly against hers, his lips and mouth possessing her, his arms holding her tightly. She tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him with all the desperate passion she felt.
All too soon, he raised his head.
“I must speak with you,” he said seriously, though he never stopped touching her. “It is important.”
“If you’re here to tell me about the mirror, I know. It’s broken. Ella came to tell me that Pawpaw is really sick, and when we tried to get back, it was gone.” Darkness returned to blanket her, though it wasn’t nearly as dark as it had been before with Avery beside her. But even the presence of her true love didn’t change the fact that her grandfather lay on his deathbed and she couldn’t go to him. She pressed her cheek against Avery’s chest, taking comfort in the firm beat of
his heart.
“Yes, it was broken when Prachett…” He trailed off. Leah looked at him darkly but let it pass. “But Mrs. Comstock and I have done our best, and we’ve managed to piece some of it back together.”
The words rumbled through her, and she raised incredulous eyes to his face. “What?”
He pointed to the flat object on the table. “I gathered up as much as I could and took it to her. It is not a large portion, but it should be sufficient for you to pass through.”
“Ella too?” Leah pulled back enough to gesture toward her friend, who stood beside a silent, staring Muriel.
Avery nodded in greeting. “That should be manageable.”
Relief sapped her, and she nearly fell backward, grabbing Avery’s muscled arm in just enough time to prevent it. “Oh, thank goodness. You’re coming too, right?”
Hope and bitter disappointment crossed his expression right after one another. He looked downward, avoiding her gaze. “I cannot.”
Her fingers curled into his shirt. She wanted to yell, to throw a fucking fit. It was either that or cry, and she was so tired of being soggy. “Why not?”
“Muriel, come in here with me, okay?” Ella’s voice barely registered in Leah’s mind, as did the soft click of a closing door behind them.
Avery tossed a glance toward a pointedly staring Graves. “Is there not somewhere we can be more private?”
Leah took his hand and led him up the stairs, ignoring the huff of disapproval from Graves. Damn it, if this was the last time she saw her Avery, she was going to make the most of it.
She led him into her bedroom and closed the door. In the soft, comfortable room, he appeared even rougher, wilder, more masculine. His clothes were rumpled, his cheeks had stubble, and his eyes were dark and wild. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she patted the space next to her. “Sit with me. Tell me the whole story—what happened when you left me, how the mirror broke, and why you can’t go with me.”
