Saving Lord Avingdale

by Lisa Kumar

  Once inside the manor, they headed to the cloakroom to retrieve the men’s beaver hats and Julia’s shawl. Maryanne, of course, didn’t have one. At Lord Avingdale’ raised brow, Maryanne said as much.

  “It’s such a warm night, I forgot to bring one.”

  If he found it strange that Julia or Mrs. Feathering hadn’t mentioned her lack of a shawl, he didn’t mention it.

  As the Correlton’s carriage was brought around, Avingdale made his goodbyes to them.

  “You must come around soon,” Julia said.

  “Oh, I will. I think your dear Correlton has been remiss in telling of my change in accommodations.”

  Julia’s brow furrowed in the light provided by the ceiling lamps of the portico. “He has?”

  Correlton shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, Avingdale is retrieving his valet and his possessions. He will be joining us at Cranston a bit later tonight.”

  “Oh.” Julia appeared at a loss. Maryanne understood the feeling well. Avingdale was going to be staying with them? He needed to remain at Barringford to fulfill his destiny.

  Julia recovered first and said in a bright tone, “You are most welcome in our home, my lord.”

  “My cousins, you do me a great privilege by opening your home to me.”

  Julia gasped. “Forgive me. I didn’t introduce you to Miss Terrance as our cousin.”

  “Your gracious hospitality will more than make up for it.”

  A coachman driving a carriage pulled up beside them. That must be their ride. How…quint.

  Correlton helped his wife in, but before he could do the same with Maryanne, Avingdale grabbed her hand in his. Bringing it up to his lips, he murmured, “It was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to furthering our acquaintance.”

  Maryanne’s mouth became dry like the Sahara, and her tongue felt two sizes too big for her mouth. “The same here.” The same here? What was wrong with her? She was pretty sure that wasn’t proper slang for the time period. This is why she avoided the male sex. At least she hadn’t said ditto to him. That was some progress.

  Without a word, he handed her into the carriage. Julia patted the seat next to her and said, “You can sit by me.”

  On suddenly weak legs, Maryanne sank down on the upholstered cushion. She resisted the temptation to glance out the window to catch a glimpse at Lord Avingdale.

  As the carriage set into motion, Julia broke the silence. “You seem to have an admirer.”

  A nervous, little laugh escaped Maryanne’s lips. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that.” He couldn’t be interested in her. It was simply impossible, and she had to find some way to get his predestined future back on track.

  “On the contrary, I think my wife is correct.” Correlton leaned back against the seat. The moonlight and the hanging lanterns along Barringford’s drive revealed a small smile playing about his lips. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t be staying with us. Avingdale said something about avoiding a scorned woman. As he was at the beginning of his…dalliance with Lady Sutton, I believe something—or someone had to change his mind. You, my good Miss Terrance, are that person, I believe.”

  Maryanne groaned. “No, this can’t be happening.”

  “Why ever not?”

  She shook her head in disbelief. Did he understand nothing? “You do know where your wife and I are from?”

  “I do.”

  “So you should know the problems this could present.” The frustration in Maryanne’s voice leaked through.

  “It does complicate matters, but I think it will enliven our lives even more. Seeing my cousin pursue a person such as you will be great fun.”

  Person such as her? What did that mean? She didn’t know whether to be insulted or not.

  Her dilemma must’ve shown on her face because Correlton smiled apologetically. “No offense intended. I meant I would love to see my cousin chasing someone from the future. After all, he thinks he knows everything. His astonishment will be quite pleasurable. So far, his only concern is making sure his valet ties his cravat in the latest fashion, so I think we need to broaden his…education.”

  Julia sighed. “James, don’t encourage him.”

  He held up his hands as if to fend off his wife. “You forget who we’re talking about. Avingdale doesn’t need any encouragement to pursue what he wants.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Julia said, groaning. “He’s as arrogant as you are, so I’m well aware of both your tendencies.”

  Maryanne shifted on the seat, trying to dislodge the butterflies in her stomach. “I’m sure he has no interest in me. He was merely being polite.” Too bad she didn’t believe that. Everything in his gaze and touch had said otherwise.

  Correlton shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  Thankfully, the conversation turned elsewhere, with Julia telling her of all the local places they could visit. Maryanne listened half-heartedly, responding only when necessary. The carriage bumped over the road a few times, but the ride was surprisingly smooth.

  “There are some wonderful estates that you have to see,” Julia said, clapping her hands. “Oh, I’m so excited to have you here.”

  Maryanne pasted a smile to her face. “It’s nice to be here with you.”

  “We’re nearly home,” Correlton drawled. “If you look to your left, you might be able to see something of the estate.”

  All Maryanne caught was a glimpse of lights in the distance before the coach turned onto another road. Tiredness dragged at her lids, but her mind raced with thoughts—not a combination she appreciated.

  The dark outline of trees lined the road to Cranston Manor. After a few minutes, the carriage slowed and rounded what Maryanne figured was a circular drive. Before her stood a grand manor styled in the neoclassical architecture so popular in the Regency. There was a name for it, but what was it? Maryanne furrowed her brow until the answer came to her. Palladian—that was it.

  When the carriage halted before the portico in front of the manor, a footman opened the door. Correlton helped both her and Julia get out, and escorted them up the steps to the manor’s entrance.

  Maryanne’s hand twitched, but it wasn’t the same feeling she’d experienced when holding Avingdale’s arm. No, touching him made her knees wobbly and sent funny tingles through her extremities. Still, she hated sharing her personal space with either man, but it looked like she best get used to it. Everyone was so touchy-feely here. Back home, people knew to keep their distance, just the way she liked it.

  Another footman opened the door for them, and Correlton ushered them inside. A middle-aged man who was probably the butler stood nearby. Correlton turned to him and handed him his hat. “Graves, please tell Mrs. Honeycutt to ready a room for Miss Terrance. She’ll be staying awhile with us, and is a dear friend of Lady Correlton. Oh, and Lord Avingdale will also be arriving tonight, so mention to Mrs. Honeycutt to have his normal room in order.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Graves bowed his graying head before spinning neatly on his heel.

  Maryanne gazed around at the entrance hall. The flickering candles revealed a hint of the grandeur surrounding her. An ornate, albeit shadowy, plasterwork ceiling greeted her overhead. White marble, specked with swirls of light gray, made up the floor tiles. The two staircases were wrought out of the same stone and curved upward to meet each other on the landing above. All in all, an impressive sight. No matter what era one visited, money always spoke.

  Correlton bowed to her and Julia. “I’m going to retire to my study for a bit. Why don’t you two go talk in the drawing room?”

  “Splendid idea.” Julia grabbed her arm and propelled her up one of the stairs. Maryanne followed along reluctantly, letting the other woman drag her forward in her enthusiasm. They passed into an anteroom that, if Maryanne remembered correctly, tended to serve as a holding area for day visitors until they were taken into the drawing room to see the lady of the house.

  Once in the drawing room, Julia motioned for her to sit and rang for tea. Maryanne sunk onto a pr
etty cream-colored settee and glanced around. Paintings and mirrors lined the light green walls. Stripes of a slightly darker green gave depth to the silky looking wallpaper. No, not wallpaper. It’s called paper hangings in this era. Curtains drawn over four huge windows, which spanned nearly floor to ceiling, hid the night view.

  Julia sat down in a chair adjacent to her and giggled. “I’m getting used to the English craze for tea.”

  Maryanne wrinkled her nose. “Tea’s not my thing, unless there’s more milk and sugar in there than tea.”

  “We might convert you yet.”

  “Maybe.” Not likely. She wouldn’t be there long enough to develop a fondness for it.

  After a few minutes of awkward chitchat—at least on Maryanne’s part—and tea, Julia’s face grew serious. She set her cup down on the tray in front of them and said, “Now tell me about Avingdale and what your mission has to do with him.”

  Chapter 3

  Anticipation and some other hard-to-define feeling drew Jonathan Blakely toward Cranston in the moonlit dark of the night. Heavens knew why. He and his cousin barely tolerated each other, though James’ marriage to Julia had improved that situation…somewhat. But to James’ aggravation, Jonathan loved to flatter Julia shamelessly and watch James’ face turn red with jealousy. Maybe that was why he and his cousin weren’t still as close as they could be.

  That all paled, though, in the face of him meeting Julia’s enigmatic friend. Miss Terrance was a conundrum he didn’t know how to place, and he prided himself on knowing all the mysteries of a woman.

  The warm breeze flowed over him but did little to calm his conflicting emotions. He blew out a deep breath. The beat of his Thoroughbred’s canter broke the silence of the night. His valet rode in the chariot far behind, so no prying eyes watched him.

  Still, being alone outside at night offered a little sliver of peace. The moon provided plenty of light, not that he needed it. He knew the roads well.

  Part of him questioned why he’d forgone an amorous romp in Lady Sutton’s bed and left Barringford’s during the night. The lady would be furious with him, so what did he seek to accomplish? He was settled in his ways, so why change them? Innocent misses didn’t appeal to him. They sought one thing — marriage. If he ever married, he’d probably choose a beautiful widowed woman who wouldn’t be disillusioned when they went their separate directions. In too many cases, love didn’t last and infatuation always faded. Basing a marriage on such inconsistent qualities would be folly. With the help of Correlton, Miss Livington had taught him that.

  When they were both young men, Correlton had torn Miss Livington’s affections away from him. Though Jonathan had been anything but pleased at the time, he now appreciated that his cousin had unwittingly saved his neck from the marriage noose.

  So why was he on the road to Cranston? Scoffing, he shook his head. He wasn’t offering for Miss Terrance’s hand. He was satisfying a curiosity. Nothing more.

  After all, Miss Terrance wasn’t beautiful, and he had his pick of stunning women. While her pert little nose had character, her bottom lip had too much fullness. And her hair was a common brown — nothing ugly about it but nothing eye-catching, either. Her lineage was more than likely as common as her hair color. He bet a guinea that her family was involved in some kind of trade, which was abhor— He cut off his inner monologue. Why was he thinking upon such matters as these? She wasn’t worth all the effort.

  Time to get to Cranston and figure why Miss Terrance bothered him so. After he did, he would put this unpleasantness behind him.

  ***

  Maryann stared at Julia. What does my mission have to do with Avingdale? A bubble of hysteria formed in her chest. What didn’t it have to do with him? She bit her lip. How was she to tell Julia, his cousin by marriage, that he was supposed to die soon?

  “He…. You see, he….” Oh, spit it out, Maryanne. Tact isn’t your thing, so why start now? “I was sent here to follow the events that led up to Avingdale’s death.”

  Julia blinked and then blinked again, the color leaving her cheeks. “Oh, no. So that means he’ll….” Julia trailed off, apparently not wanting to finish her line of thought.

  “He was supposed to, but now I don’t know.”

  Julia rubbed a hand over her face. “Please go on.”

  “He was supposed to meet with his mistress tonight. In fact, I think tonight was the first time they would’ve slept together.”

  Julia nodded sagely. “I know who you’re talking about. Lady Sutton has been carrying quite the flirtation with him. Her husband is crazy jealous. Doesn’t stop her from having lovers, but she’s been increasingly reckless, especially with Avingdale.”

  “That’s how Avingdale dies—her husband kills him.”

  “In a dual?” Julia asked, her brows snapping together.

  Maryanne shook her head. “Lord Sutton murders him when Avingdale runs away with Lady Sutton. He was to catch them in bed tonight after barging into Barringford Manor unexpectedly. A few weeks later, Avingdale and Lady Sutton attempt to flee to the Continent. Apparently, that affront topples Lord Sutton over the edge, and he gives chase. Once he catches up to them, he guns down Lord Avingdale.”

  “But since he no longer discovers them in bed, will any of that happen?”

  “Good question and one I don’t know.” Maryanne sighed. “It’s all up for grabs now. Anything could happen.”

  Julia sat in silence for a few moments before words exploded from her. “Why would Avingdale run away with her? It doesn’t make sense. She’s nothing more than a piece of fluff to him. I’m sure of that.”

  Maryanne shrugged, not knowing the answer herself. “Part — no, most of my mission – is to discover the why of that.” Something in her chest lightened at the knowledge that Avingdale probably wasn’t in love with Lady Sutton. Surely, it was because she didn’t want the woman to mourn too deeply if her lover still died. Yeah, that had to be it.

  “Surely after Avingdale’s death, Lady Sutton said why they ran away.”

  “You would think so, but she remains closed-mouthed about the whole thing, even with the authorities. Rumor had it that she was a bad wife looking for a good time.”

  Julia gave a snort. “So she ruined her reputation for some fun? In this society, I don’t think that’s anyone’s idea of a good time. I don’t buy it.”

  “Rumor doesn’t always have much to do with the truth. The way everything’s supposed to play out is that Lord Sutton kills himself before his trial begins, and soon after that, Lady Sutton disappears without a trace. Since Lord Sutton is dead, he can’t be blamed directly for her disappearance. A few people think he hired a contract killer who wasn’t able to take her out until after Sutton’s death, but most hold to the belief that she either escaped in shame to the Continent or killed herself.”

  “No one ever figures out what happened to her?”

  Maryanne shook her head. “It’s all part of the mystery, but she’s not the main reason I was sent here. Avingdale is. I need to find out why he ran away with her, or Intellitravel will have one very displeased client.”

  Julia sat up straighter and drew back her shoulders. “We have to stop his death.”

  “What?”

  “We can’t let him die.”

  Maryanne gulped. “We don’t know if he’s going to die now. Since he wasn’t discovered with Lady Sutton, the timeline could’ve been messed up.”

  “With any chance it has!”

  “You know that it’s not that simple. Him being alive could have a ripple effect and influence events that shouldn’t be changed. And you know Intellitravel’s ‘clean-up’ crew won’t allow that to stand.” Unless they have an ulterior motive like money and have carefully calculated that messing with history won’t produce any negative outcomes for them. She left that cynical thought unsaid, though, not sure how Julia would take it. Not everyone could face the truth of what Intellitravel was — a corrupt organization willing to sell its services to the hig
hest bidder as long as they could maintain their pristine cover.

  Julia sighed. “You’re right. Even if his fate has been altered, Intellitravel will set it back on its correct course. Through fair means or foul.”

  “So you know of … their less desirable practices?”

  “You can’t work with Carson and not know. His diatribes against them are infamous.”

  Maryanne snorted. “True.”

  “So I guess we wait and see what happens,” Julia said.

  “That would be my suggestion.”

  “The waiting game.” Julia grimaced. “I used to like this part not too long ago while on missions. Now that I’m retired, I hate it.”

  Maryanne understood almost instantly. “Because you’re personally involved.”

  Julia nodded, not saying anything else.

  The awkwardness of the moment weighed on Maryanne. She wasn’t good with emotions, so she filled the silence with some inept babble. “If only my transmitter hadn’t failed.”

  “I’m not sorry it did. It bought Avingdale some extra time, and you get to stay with me for awhile. With the exception of James’ grandmother, nobody I know here is from the future.”

  “What?” Had Maryanne heard her wrong? And was her mouth hanging on the floor?

  Julia put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, you don’t know, do you?” A smile crept to her lips. “His grandmother, Abigail, is from the future. You’ll like her.”

  “From the future,” Maryanne asked stupidly. “Like from our future kind of future?”

  “The Intellitravel kind? Yes, that exactly.”

  Maryanne shook her head. “What were the chances of you marrying the grandson of someone from our time?”

  “Quite the coincidence. I still can’t believe it myself.” Julia’s face expression sobered. “About your transmitter, I wish I could offer you mine, but I can’t. It’s my only link to the future — and my past.”

  Maryanne’s mouth grew dry. She’d never ask such a thing of Julia. “I know.”