“That’s right, miss, it’s about your uncle. He needs you straight away.”
All the color drained from her face and Quinn stepped forward to steady her if need be. She turned to him and frowned.
“I really must go,” she said. “He’s been ill. I’m terribly sorry.”
“No need, lass. Family first. Do ye need me to accompany ye?” Quinn glanced at the shopkeeper, sure she’d be glad to keep an eye on his sister for a bit while he walked her wherever she needed to go.
“No, that’s quite all right, I thank you, sir. William can walk with me. It’s just around the corner. Belmary House.” She glanced around. “Catie, Miss Juliet will help you choose. Her taste is impeccable. I’d only agree with anything she said if I stayed. Will you be all right? I’ll return as soon as I may.”
“Go, Miss Burnet,” Catie cried. “Dinna tarry another moment. Quinn is with me. I shall be fine. If we finish before ye return, shall we fetch ye?”
Quinn looked over at Catie, surprised at how capable she sounded, how grown up. He hadn’t even considered meeting Lizzie at Belmary House, whatever that was. He supposed any house that had a name would be known by any carriage driver in the city, though.
“Aye, that is what we shall do,” Quinn said.
With a worried smile, Lizzie left with the footman. The dressmaker tutted, but got back to business as soon as the door closed behind them. She laid out an assortment of buttons, then told Catie she’d be back with a book of designs and fabric swatches.
He watched her turn over the buttons, trying not to dwell on how well she was already fitting in with this new life. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he’d hoped she would throw the world’s worst tantrum, be shunned by her English relations and be forced back to Scotland a disgrace. They could say they tried, she could marry a Scot, and still hopefully get her fortune. Actually, the fortune could bugger itself. They’d lived long enough without it. He didn’t care. With a start he thought maybe Catie cared, though. He didn’t want to ruin things for her. Had he been trying to ruin things for her when he let loose with his evil tongue? No, he’d just been riled by that street urchin kicking him.
“Sorry I’ve already lost the bet,” he said, stepping beside her and nudging a pearl button with his fingertip.
She glance up at him. “Ye are who ye are,” she said with a shrug. “And I dinna think Miss Burnet was too scandalized. Quinn, she’s nothing like what I imagined.”
“Ye like her well enough, then?”
“I like her verra much,” Catie said.
“Of course, as she agrees with ye,” he said.
She sorted the buttons by order of size, placing a large silver one in front of a smaller, but equally shiny copper one. “Maybe so, but it’s more than that. She isna like anyone I’ve ever known, and I dinna think it is just her being English.”
“How’s that?” he asked, shocked because he’d also thought Miss Burnet was different.
“Well, she’s so straightforward.” Catie shrugged. “It’s difficult to say for sure. Confident, I suppose. I’d like to be more like her.”
“Be yourself, lass. Ye’re perfect the way ye are,” he said, almost by rote.
He was lost in thoughts of Lizzie as he realized who she reminded him of, and his stomach plummeted. She made him think of Piper Sinclair, the witch who’d stolen their brother Lachlan away to another century.
It wasn’t her looks, the two couldn’t have looked any more different. Piper was wee like a wood sprite, dark-haired and pale, and Miss Burnet— Lizzie, was golden haired and rosy cheeked, medium height and ample in the places he liked a woman to be ample. If he had to compare her to an otherworldly creature, Lizzie would be an angel.
He shook his head, embarrassed at the addlepated direction his mind had wandered. He had to uncurl his fingers from wanting to wrap them in her luxurious hair while he kissed her cherubic, glossy lips.
No, it wasn’t their looks that made him compare the two women. It was more their demeanor, and the way they carried themselves. It was their bold, direct looks. Their straightforward way of speaking. Confident to the point of fearless. Hadn’t she just winked at him? No lass he knew short of a brazen barmaid who wanted to share his bed would do such a thing. This new line of thinking threw him off course of his budding theory even more than her beautiful face did. Could his sister’s chaperone want to sleep with him? His whole body tensed up at the thought. He certainly would not mind obliging her if that was the case. Preposterous. The wink hadn’t meant that. It was just part of her very open personality. She acted like someone from a freer, more unconventional time, just as Piper did.
Catie shook his arm and he saw that the dressmaker had come back with the patterns. He returned to his spot in the corner to mull over his idea. It was daft. There was no possible way. He could never be so accursed as to run afoul of two women from the future.
Still, the idea had taken root and he was going to keep an eye on her. Even if it just turned out she was interested in a dalliance with him. He smiled. Especially that.
Chapter 5
Lizzie kept pace with William as they hurried back to the manor house.
“Is Mr. Hallifax all right?” she asked.
She’d used Lew’s supposed ill health as an excuse to get away so many times, she couldn’t help but fear that one day it would be the truth. He was in fine shape right now, but he wasn’t young by any stretch and she’d seen what passed as medical care in this time. If he ever really did fall ill, she’d take care of him herself rather than risk some quack butcher bleeding him to death over a fever.
“Yes, miss. Just had a letter for you and said it was of great importance.”
A letter, that was new. Her heart raced as she wondered if it had been left by Lord Ashford. Could she possibly be going home soon? Quinn Ferguson flashed into her mind, the only thing that could distract her from her anxiety. Him and his damn muscular thighs. And chest, and arms. And that face. He was like an archangel or something. More like a demon, she thought bitterly. Sent from Scotland to torment her.
Oh goodness, she had teased him earlier, outside the dress shop. Had she been flirting? No, certainly not, but would he construe it as flirting? Someone so handsome had to have women falling at his feet all the time. No wonder he just stood there and took it all in stride. She was disgusted with herself for adding to his massive ego. But his smile seemed so genuine, and not conceited at all. Hmmph, that was probably how he reeled them in, pretending he wasn’t aware of his effect.
She tumbled into William’s back and nearly knocked him over when they reached the back entrance to the house. She didn’t bother to apologize, he already thought she was addled, and raced past him to find Lew.
She didn’t have to look far. He waited for her, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. Lew never sweated, or paced. What was going on?
“You have a letter?” she asked, taking his arm and leading him to a bench furthest from the roaring kitchen fire. Lew handed her a sealed envelope. “You didn’t read it yet?”
He shook his head. “It’s addressed to you. I don’t know how he got the message through, if he was here or not. As you know, I check that room regularly, and found the letter partially obscured by the rug.”
She turned it over in her hand, and seeing her name scrawled across it, felt oddly elated that Lord Ashford remembered it. Maybe she was a priority after all. Her heart thudded as she slid her finger under the edge, realizing with shock that it wasn’t sealed with wax, but the slightly gummy adhesive of a modern envelope. Inside was a piece of notebook paper, with a raggedly torn side edge. The handwriting looked old-fashioned to her but it was clearly done with a ballpoint pen. She held it up to her face and smelled the blue lined paper and ink. A brief wave of nausea hit her, but she recovered.
“This is from my time,” she said, showing Lew the paper and envelope. Lew ran his thumb over the still sticky underside of the flap. “He mus
t have been in my time, or thereabouts.”
“What does it say, Lizzie?” Lew asked, his voice strained.
“Oh! Yes, of course.” She held it so they could both read it at the same time.
Miss Elizabeth Burnet,
My apologies for the delay. If I am correct it is now 1729 and you have been gone from your own time for a year or more. Rest assured I am doing all that is in my power to recover you. The portal to that particular time is difficult to project, even with near constant monitoring. By my calculations, however, I seem to have devised a pattern. There are two dates that should be in your near future, that I believe I should be able to come through and fetch you. If my first assumption proves incorrect, please do not fear. Merely arrange to meet me for the second date. I am sorry they are so few and far between.
— Ashford
The first date was less than a month away, with a meeting time down to the second, late in the evening. Her pounding heart sank to see that the second date, should the first one fail, was another year away. She sat with the paper getting crumpled in her sweaty hands until Lew gently pulled it out of her grasp.
“Let me copy these dates and times, dear,” he said, taking the paper with him. “One moment.”
He left, while she sat trembling on the bench. The times and dates were burned into her brain, the news that she finally had a light at the end of the tunnel not yet sunk in. Lew returned, pressing the neatly folded note into her hand.
“Lock that away, child,” he said, looking unaccountably frightened. “You don’t want anyone to find it.”
She nodded, turning away so she could stuff it down her bodice, worried she’d lose it if she put it in her reticule. Could it be possible that she’d be home in a month? The news finally hit her and she had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from making a noise. Lew squeezed her shoulder.
“This is it,” he said. “The time will be upon us before we know it.” He looked a little sad, as if he would miss her.
She couldn’t think about that right now. She wanted to run through the streets, tear off her corset, set it on fire in Lady Amberly’s garden and dance on its ashes while she laughed at everyone’s horror at her impropriety. Then she could use her meager savings to hide out in an inn until the day arrived, drinking and trying to think of a possible explanation for her disappearance and long absence.
“Lizzie, you should get back to your young lady, should you not?” he asked, shaking her out of her dazzling day dream.
“Of course,” she said, getting up and straightening her clothes, patting some life back into her cheeks. “Oh dear, I left Catie and her brother at the dressmaker.”
Of course, she had to get back to the way things were. There would be no corset bonfire and no drunken month-long binge. Not when there was the possibility of the first date not working. She’d have another long year here if that were the case.
“Thank you, Lew,” she said.
He offered to find William or another boy to walk with her, but she waved away the offer, too shaken and excitable to be able to walk primly beside some kid. She needed to stomp off some of her nervous energy before she got back to Catie and Quinn.
Quinn. The thought of him took some of the spring out of her step as she got closer to Miss Juliet’s shop. The one thing she couldn’t do was lose her grip just because she might only have another month here. She had to stay on top of things until the last second, until she landed securely back in her own time. She would take Catie around to the parties, introduce her to a titled gentleman who needed her fortune to fix his roof or settle his gambling debts, and she would stop noticing how well Quinn filled out his clothes. If only Lady Amberly hadn’t invited him to stay at the townhouse. How was she going to live with him for the next month?
***
Having Quinn in the house didn’t turn out to be the trauma she thought it would. She’d thought she’d have to spend all her free time skulking in her room, but Quinn turned out to be surprisingly mellow. He’d come upon her in the sitting room the first evening, and before she could flee, he merely chose a book from the shelf, and settled his large frame onto one of the couches.
“Please dinna mind me, lass,” he said, as she goggled at him like an idiot.
His whole body relaxed into the cushions as he opened the book and began to read. He looked so cozy and inviting, she wanted to curl up in his lap and purr.
“Do you like to read?” she asked, mentally kicking herself for opening her mouth when he seemed content to ignore her.
He glanced up, taking a moment to focus on her. His direct gaze rattled her, so unlike many of the men of the time, who either leered uncomfortably or scanned past her like she was a piece of furniture.
“Aye. Things have been quite eventful of late and I havena had the chance as much as I like. I’m grateful to have a bit of peace.”
Abashed at disturbing him, she left him alone. After a while, she became accustomed to seeing him turn the page of his book out of the corner of her eye, and after an hour or so, he invited her to play chess. She agreed without thinking, she felt so comfortable with him.
She beat him, badly, and suspected he let her, or at least was a very good sport about it.
“What sort of things kept you from having time to read?” she asked as they set up a new game. He raised a brow at her and she blushed, hoping she wasn’t prying.
“Ah, difficulties with a neighboring clan. I was accused of kidnapping. Falsely of course.”
“Of course,” she interjected, trying not to let her jaw drop.
“She was my brother’s wife, and I was escorting her back to our land while he, ah, tended to some other things. I knew the marriage was false from the start, but didna know her father was privy to it as well.”
“Oh dear,” Lizzie said.
He glanced at her with a wry smile. “It mostly worked out in the end.”
She remembered with dismay that his brother had recently died. She opened her mouth to apologize and beg him to say no more on what had to be a distressing subject, but he reached across and tapped her lightly on the hand with his king.
“The board is set, shall we start anew?”
The mood lightened during the second game as he told her about his farm. Though she was a city girl through and through, he made it sound delightful, even the stories of the harsh Highland winters. Though his family was every bit as fractured as hers, his mother dead by the time he was three and his father a drunken rabble-rouser, he only seemed to have fond memories.
“You make it sound so wonderful,” she said. The thought of being surrounded by loved ones on a peaceful, secluded farm seemed idyllic.
“Do I?” he asked. “It’s really verra dreadful. I didna mean to misrepresent it so.”
She tilted her head and studied him, his face completely innocent and perplexed. It took her a moment to realize he was teasing her and she swatted his hand with a giggle.
Quinn asked her about her childhood home and she tried to tell the truth as much as she could. For some strange reason she wanted to tell him more, like how she’d got her first starring role as Wendy at thirteen, the zit cream commercial she’d been so chuffed about at sixteen but now prayed never saw the light of day again, the countless auditions and classes, but it only made her melancholy for her old life and against the odds, she was actually enjoying herself with Quinn right now.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed right now. She’d become accustomed to regretfully looking back or desperately hoping for when she’d be able to get to her own time again. She hadn’t felt so relaxed in ages. Danger, a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered, but she ignored it.
“And how did a fine young lady like yourself, surrounded your whole life by the gentry, not get scooped up by some lord of something?” he asked, eyeing her boldly. “I beg you’re pardon if that’s too forward.” He didn’t look sorry at all, and she considered ignoring the question, but he seemed awfully sure he knew
all about her and she wanted to set him straight.
“I’m not a fine young lady at all,” she said. “Working class all the way. My grandmother worked hard and gave up a lot to make sure I got the best education.”
He frowned then. “I wonder if we didna do well enough by Catie. She canna dance or play any instrument, and barely knows two words of French.”
“And are they swear words?” she asked, nudging him with the pawn she captured. He grinned, and for the first time, she didn’t almost get knocked out of her chair by it, but was glad she was the cause.
“Truly, your granny did well, lass. Ye’re verra accomplished,” he said.
“I wasn’t trying for a compliment.” Lizzie felt her cheeks burning. “And Catie seems to have had a lovely upbringing. Her manners are beyond reproach.”
He kept smiling at her, making her smile back like a loon. “All that from merely trying to find out if ye were attached in any way,” he said.
Her smile disappeared as she remembered herself. Or the way she was supposed to be. “Now, that is too forward, sir,” she said, softening the blow with a wave at the board. “Are you going to retaliate against my ruthless taking of your pawn?”
She managed to recover from his basically asking her if she was single and tried to keep from wondering why he cared. They played in near silence, though it wasn’t awkward. He seemed to know she needed a bit of space and she appreciated the quiet friendliness that settled over them. They could have been at her apartment in her own time, just having a nice evening in.
“Are you setting me up?” she asked after she beat him a second time. There was no way someone who was so bad at chess would ever have suggested the game in the first place. “You’re going to propose we wager on the next game and then mop the floor with me, aren’t you?” She leaned back in her chair and enjoyed the false look of outrage that took over his handsome features. She really did like looking at him.
Smitten by the Spinster Page 5
