Saving Lord Avingdale

by Lisa Kumar

  Carson’s soberingly serious voice called out, “Come in, you two.”

  With her heart thumping in her throat, she pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Jonathan followed her in and shut the door.

  Carson offered them a forced smile and waved a hand to the chairs in front of his desk. “Why don’t you both have a seat?”

  She and Jonathan sat down without saying a word.

  “They have an offer for you,” Carson said without preamble.

  Cautious hope exploded in her chest, and anxious anticipation caused her to grip the armrests of the chair tighter. Next to her, Jonathan breathed in sharply. He was as nervous as she was, and had a lot more at stake—his very life. His hand rested on his armrest, so she laid her hand on his in the most comforting manner she could manage. Jonathan entwined their fingers and held her hand in a firm grip.

  “What is the offer?” Jonathan asked, his voice flat.

  “Let me rephrase that—they have a joint offer for both of you.”

  “W—what?” Maryanne shuttered.

  “For whatever reason, the bosses decided they don’t want Avingdale here. But they no longer seem so keen on sending him back to die.”

  Jonathan’s brows snapped together. “Those two options are mutually exclusive, so if they like neither of them, what do they propose?”

  “Something I hadn’t foreseen. They’ll let you go back, but only if a few conditions are agreed upon.”

  “And those are?” Jonathan prodded.

  Maryanne still couldn’t find the words to speak, so she was glad Jonathan still retained his verbal functions.

  “That’s part of the catch. Maryanne has to go with you, and you’ll both be required to undergo certain…missions for them. Also, you won’t be able to reclaim your former identity, at least not exactly.”

  Her brain clunked to a stop on the first criteria, barely noticing the other two Carson listed. “Me go back? Why?” Intellitravel couldn’t care less about her feelings for Jonathan, so why would they want her in 1813 England?

  Carson shrugged. “Not out of love for you, I’m sure. I think they believe a married couple could better do their reconnaissance for them.”

  “Reconnaissance? Married?” she parroted back. Carson’s words couldn’t be registering properly. Yeah, that had to be it.

  “I believe I might understand some of what this offer encompasses,” Jonathan said, his tone neutral.

  She started and stared at him. For a second she’d forgotten he was seated next to her with his hand under hers. A hot wash of shame overtook her. She’d been so caught up in her confusion that she’d allowed herself to lose sight of the most important person in her life. In an effort to show support, she squeezed his hand.

  Jonathan glanced at her. “I believe Carson’s bosses want us to go back to my time under assumed aliases and as a married couple, though what they propose to do about my supposed death is a mystery. If I’m alive, I don’t know anyone could find proof of my supposed death. There’d be no death. In fact, Lord Sutton would appear to be the injured one if we went back right after the shooting. So why does my old identity have to change?”

  “Because history says you died, and so die you must, even if it’s a faked death. Intellitravel will arrange for a body to be discovered.”

  Shock catapulted Maryanne out of her stupor. “They’ll make someone look like Jonathan and, after killing this random man, have his body take Jonathan’s place?”

  Carson shook his head. “Nothing quite that bloodthirsty. Though it’s harder to replicate features, a recently deceased person can be used. A prime candidate would be a criminal who died in prison.”

  “Oh.” That was all she could manage to choke out for a moment. Then she discovered her voice. “If we go back as other people, who will we be? What will our station in life be? Jonathan is used to wealth and status. And I’m used to…well, modern amenities. Living as a noblewoman would be hard enough, but to live as a servant or a peasant….” She shook her head, not wanting to even picture such a fate.

  In fact, she wasn’t sure how she felt about the whole prospect. She wanted to be with Jonathan, but the thought of living anywhere other than the present day sent a shiver of fear through her. Give up technology and all the wonderful conveniences she loved to use? Sure, she did without them when she was on a mission, but she always knew she’d come back home.

  Carson gave a slight smile, and this time the cheer in it wasn’t fake. “When I said he wouldn’t be able to claim the exact identity he had before, I meant that. But he has the next best thing.”

  “Though I relish the idea of returning to my time, I don’t know of any other life I’d remotely want to take up other than my own.”

  Maryanne nodded because she understood that sentiment only too well.

  “Tell me, do you have an heir to inherit your title and estates?” Carson asked.

  A deep sadness covered Jonathan’s face. “No, more than likely the title and estates will revert back to the Crown.”

  Carson’s smile grew brighter as he fingered a file sitting in front of him. “Hmm, how peculiar. These documents show that your cousin Bertram was next in line for your title.”

  “He was at one time, but after a fire that burned down the inn in which he was staying, he was declared dead.”

  “But did they ever find his body?” Carson asked.

  “No, but the fire erased most traces of the patrons who died within the inn’s walls.”

  Carson slapped the desk in front of him and nodded vigorously. “Exactly! Which leaves a fabulous loophole for us to get you back to something resembling your old life.”

  The astonishment that was making Jonathan’s expression go slack was thundering its way through her body. “How is that possible?” she muttered, without realizing she gave voice to the words until both men gazed at her.

  “It’s possible because history shows that Bertram claimed the title after Avingdale died. He miraculously returned to England a few weeks after Avingdale died so he could claim his rightful inheritance.”

  “But he really died, right? Jonathan would be taking over his identity?”

  “Bingo. And guess what? You get to go back as yourself—the friend of the Countess of Correlton. Your entry into Society will be eased by her presence and that of Avingdale’s grandmother.”

  “But how can I go back as myself? Won’t that arouse suspicion? If someone saw me go into the morning room with Jonathan, won’t people comment once ‘his’ body is found? Plus, I knocked Lord Sutton unconscious. I don’t know the severity of his injury, but I don’t want to be charged with attempted murder or, worse, murder if I go back.”

  Carson waved away her concerns. “Nobody saw you. At least there are no historical accounts of it, so you’re in the clear. Plus, you have to go back as yourself.”

  “What?” She couldn’t make sense of it all, and her brain felt like it would implode.

  Carson shifted in his chair, his grin slipping. “A Miss Maryanne Terrance is set to marry Bertram Blakely, the new Marquess of Avingdale, on December 18th, 1814, by special license.”

  She shook her head slowly. “But I’m not a part of history.”

  “Our research says otherwise,” Carson gently reminded her.

  But what about her research? None of hers had shown any hint of Jonathan’s cousin miraculously joining the world of the living again and marrying someone with the same name as hers. That would’ve been a discovery she wouldn’t have forgotten.

  Then something slammed home, and a nauseous feeling in her stomach built until she feared she’d throw up. She’d only researched a two months’ period around Jonathan’s death because she’d had no reason to do otherwise. His killer was already known. Only Jonathan’s motivation for running away with Lady Sutton was in question.

  If what Carson said was true, that meant that she had to go back. History would change if she didn’t, and any possible descendants would cease to exist. Ack,
she couldn’t wrap her mind around that thought. And how had she married Jonathan on December 18th when she’d never been to that exact time? Maybe Carson could shed some light on this craziness, so she asked him.

  Carson steepled his fingers and gazed at her over them. “For all intents and purposes, time travel from the present to any time in the past occurs in a cycle.”

  A cycle? Yes, she did remember hearing about that theory when she’d first taken her mission training, but before she could question Carson further, Jonathan beat her to it. “A cycle how?”

  “At some point in the past, Maryanne found a way to 1813 England and married you, starting the cycle. My guess is that she met you through Intellitravel, and you’ve been traveling on the same course over and over—where you meet, she brings you forward, and then you both go back.”

  The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them. “How about if we break the cycle?”

  Jonathan inhaled sharply next to her, and Carson sent her a piercing look as he said, “Even given our technology, that’s not an exact science. Some changes in each cycle might still lead to the same previous outcome, while other such changes could affect the timeline that’s in progress. But affect it how we can’t say for sure.”

  “Oh.” That’s all Maryanne could articulate. It had been a stupid question to ask, not to mention she’d already known the answer. Breaking a cycle was risky business because changing the past affected the future. Given her brush with this current cycle and how it was impacting her life, she should know that better than anyone.

  Though she was overjoyed that Jonathan had a chance to live and that she could share in his life, she’d somehow pictured they’d be doing that in her time, not his. While she wasn’t saying no to the possibility of returning with him, she did want a choice.

  Stay, and do what? Talk it out with Jonathan? Since her mind was such a mess right now, she wasn’t even sure what she’d say to him.

  The room closed in around her, and her skin felt four sizes too small to contain everything bubbling up inside her. She wanted to run and hide, yet she wanted to stay.

  The injustice of it all was that the mission had been funded by some rich group who’d nothing better to do than bet on an obscure historical happening. Funny how something so seemingly insignificant had now shaped her life nearly beyond comprehension. But how could she bring herself to regret something that had saved this wonderful man’s life?

  Jonathan stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “It appears we both have much to think about. Carson, how can I take Bertram’s place? While there was a family resemblance, we couldn’t pass as identical twins.”

  Maryanne cringed. She hated where this question was leading, and the response Jonathan would get.

  “Just like we’ll do with the body that will stand in for yours, we’ll use some complicated medical technology to replicate your cousin’s features on your face. As long as you two were around the same height and build, we should be able to pull it off.”

  “My face won’t be my own anymore?” Jonathan asked, lines of stress rimming his mouth and turning his lips white. He gave a dark laugh and shook his head. “Of course not, how else could I assume Bertram’s life?”

  “I know this comes as a shock.”

  “That is a vast understatement.”

  “I understand that, but unfortunately, this is the only option you have if you want to stay alive. Plus, even though you’ll have to take up another’s man life, at least it’s that of a family member’s.”

  “True,” Jonathan said grudgingly.

  “And think—your cousin Bertram died without issue, so we won’t be messing up his direct descendant’s timeline since he has none. If you go back, you have a chance to revive your family’s title.”

  Jonathan raked a hand through his hair, making the black strands stick up in odds to his immaculate appearance. She wanted nothing more than to smooth them down and make everything all better.

  Jonathan sighed. “And what happens with Lady Sutton?”

  “Her future hasn’t been decided and is independent from both of yours.”

  “I…see,” Jonathan said, though his tone belied the meaning of his words.

  A twinge of sympathy pulled at Maryanne’s chest before she attempted to dismiss the irksome sensation. Lady Sutton had chosen her fate when she decided to come along—as simple as that. But it that were true, hadn’t she, herself, chosen Jonathan’s fate, as well as her own?

  The enormous pressure on her and Jonathan’s shoulders pressed down on Maryanne. It seemed their course was set before them, all neat and orderly. But there was nothing simple about it. And the worst thing was she was helpless against it all. She’d never allow the man she loved to die.

  Maryanne cleared her throat, the invisible band constricting it threatening to cut off her words. “So what happens next? We go back and what?”

  “You pick up your lives and gain entrance into Society. Abigail and her husband, along with Julia and James, can know who Avingdale is, but they’re the only people who should.” Carson paused, seeming to choose what to say next. “You’ll be under Intellitravel’s thumb somewhat for the rest of your lives. Both of you.”

  Maryanne groaned. “There’s no escaping that.”

  “Well, you’re fortunate I went to bat for you. Intellitravel can’t pester you about missions more than once a year, though they want me to stay in contact with you on a monthly basis.”

  “Won’t claiming the title under his cousin’s name change the future—our present—too much?”

  Carson shrugged. “We’ve considered all foreseeable possibilities, and while some minor events are affected, the new winds don’t ruffle too many of history’s feathers. I pulled a lot of strings to get you two this option, so consider it carefully.”

  Maryanne clung to Jonathan’s hand as if it were her lifeline and leaned forward in the chair. Otherwise, she was afraid she’d float away and give into the lightheadedness swimming about her.

  “Option?” she asked with a strained laugh. “We really don’t have one, do we?”

  “You always have a choice, even if you don’t like the choices presented.”

  Ha, some option. But she left her opinion unvoiced since it would probably prove unpopular.

  “May I speak to Miss Terrance alone?”

  At Jonathan’s words, she jerked her head to stare at him. Miss Terrance? Not Maryanne? But then, Jonathan was an old-fashioned gentleman who was used to calling nearly all women of his acquaintance by their last names. Yeah, that had to be it.

  Carson nodded. “Sure, I have some other people to bug so feel free to use my office.” He stood and walked to the door. “You guys only have a few days to decide what to do.”

  “A few days?” Maryann asked weakly, collapsing farther back into the chair.

  “Yes, so you have a lot to discuss, I’m sure.”

  She was still stuck on “only a few days.” That would barely give any time for discussion or contemplation. If she had to go back, she wanted to be fully organized and ready.

  After the door closed behind Carson, Jonathan got up from him seat and walked to the window behind Carson’s desk. “You do not seem pleased by the idea of returning to my time.”

  She’d been so obvious? What a ridiculous thing to ask herself—of course she’d been transparently obvious. She contained no filter for disguising her emotions. What could she say that wouldn’t hurt him or paint her as heartless? “I’m sure it’s the shock of the idea.”

  He spun around on his heel and lifted a brow. “Is that what it is?”

  What did he mean by that? It seemed as if he were accusing her of something. Maryanne nodded warily. “Once I get used to it, I’m certain everything will fall into place.”

  “You have to ‘get used’ to the idea of joining your life with mine?”

  His attitude sparked a sliver of anger. “I have to acclimate myself to the idea of marriage and permanently living in
a time that offers none of the conveniences I rely on.”

  “I see,” he said, staring at her. As the seconds ticked by, his jaw set into a firmer line.

  She knew from experience that expression, combined with his “I see,” in such a situation as this meant that he didn’t believe what she said. Hopeless frustration built up in her chest. Why would he believe her when she didn’t believe herself?

  Jonathan stalked toward the door, visible anger leaking off his every step.

  “Where are you going?” She cursed the uncertainty in her voice.

  “We have nothing left to discuss,” he said, and the door slammed behind him.

  Confusion and hurt hit her from all directions. How were they going to discuss the future if they weren’t talking? Surely, nothing she said had been that offensive?

  But if not that, what had him so worked up? As she considered the different possibilities, her chest constricted. Maybe he didn’t want her joining him in the past. His hesitance, unlike hers, wouldn’t stem from leaving everything familiar behind. No, the only cause for concern he might have would be him having to take on a new identity and accepting her into his life.

  Apparently, he hated one or both conditions. Why else would he pick a fight with her?

  Maryanne took in a gulping breath, staring at a blank space on the wall by the window. Though she knew she should go back to her apartment, she couldn’t force herself to move from the chair. All energy had deserted her.

  When she finally did leave the room, her stiff muscles protested. Right now, she felt like an old lady in every way. Thankfully, the halls were pretty barren, and she didn’t run into Carson or, worse, Jonathan. Tears welled at the thought of his name, but she swiped them away.

  She could wallow in her misery once she’d dragged herself back to her apartment.

  ***

  As Jonathan strode down the hallway toward his room in the medical facility wing, tiredness and a sense of hopelessness dogged his steps. His exhilaration from earlier that day had been completely replaced with the brutal truth. Maryanne didn’t want to return with him. That realization stole all the breath from his lungs and left him shaken. But he wouldn’t force her hand, confounded time cycle or not. After witnessing some of the wonders of her world, he couldn’t blame her.