The letter from Lord Ashford! She dropped to her hands and knees and pulled the box from under the bed. When she turned up missing, they’d go through her things. Lizzie couldn’t imagine what anyone might think if they read that letter. She rummaged through the box, then turned it upside down, spreading the papers and shaking out the books. The letter was gone.
Had she put it in the box in the first place? The past month had been a whirlwind of activity and she’d actually been drunk a few more times than she should have been. Did she take it out to read it and put it somewhere else? Perhaps she’d thrown it away. A prickle of dread started at the base of her spine. She knew she hadn’t thrown it away, and felt strongly that she hadn’t put it anywhere else. She wouldn’t have been absentminded about something so important.
Her first thought was to the cook, who she’d bribed that one time. Maybe she’d come back and searched through her things, looking for ways to blackmail her. But she’d never blackmailed her, or threatened her in any other way, the only reason she’d have to steal the letter. Lizzie could almost hear the ticking of her little watch. She didn’t have time to keep looking for the letter or worry about its whereabouts, not if she wanted to speak with Quinn.
Scooping up her bag, she left the room for the last time and hurried down the stairs. Before she could knock on Quinn’s door, it flew open and he burst through, looking like a hurricane about to blow down the whole of London. For a moment, his blue eyes went from wild to relieved when he saw her. He grabbed her shoulders to keep from bowling her over and gently moved her out of the way as he rushed past.
She grabbed his arm to stop him. “Quinn, what is it? Something’s wrong.” She blushed at calling him by his first name after how she’d acted.
He looked over her head as if he wanted to be gone, but stopped and nodded. “Aye.” He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket. “I found this on my bed. I dinna know how much time I have, or if I’m already too late.”
She took the paper from him, and saw it was a short letter from Catie. “Oh no,” she said after reading it. “Eloping? How foolish can she get?”
Lizzie felt sick, sure she was at least partly to blame for this. She’d tried to warn Quinn about Edwin, causing him to refuse permission, and now Catie’s reputation would be in tatters.
“Verra foolish apparently,” he said. He slumped, losing a bit of his frantic energy. “I dinna know what to do, Miss Burnet.”
The knife that lodged in her heart just from looking at him, twisted when he used her name so formally. She wanted to help him, and couldn’t stand the thought of that weasel Hollingsborn ruining Catie’s reputation, but she had no time. Taking his arm, she pulled him into his room and quickly reread the letter.
“We need to find out where they were to meet,” she said, casting around for who would have the best gossip. “The party she went to tonight will just be a cover. She may not have gone at all. You must go and ask to speak to her friend Dahlia. Try not to frighten her, but she’ll know where Catie’s going to meet Edwin.”
“Dahlia,” he repeated. “Ye’ll not come with me?”
She forced herself to look at his hopeful face, no matter how much it hurt, because it was the last time she’d see him. “I’m sorry,” she said, flinching when his eyes turned cold. “I promised to visit my uncle this evening. I …”
He nodded, softening a little. “I shall see ye later tonight with that wee delinquent sister of mine.”
“Don’t beat her, Quinn. She’s in love.” She put her hand on his chest, unable to stop herself. Surprisingly, he covered her hand with his own.
“Aye, love makes ye do stupid things,” he said bitterly, and she knew he didn’t speak only of Catie.
Time, she didn’t have any more time. She could have spent an hour, a day, trying to explain to him why she’d rejected him, but she didn’t have that kind of time. So instead of using a bunch of hollow words, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his shoulder and trying to make all her senses remember him.
“I do love you,” she whispered so softly, there was no way he could hear, and held on tight for the remaining moments that she had.
A second or two passed before he slowly raised his hands to close around her back, soon holding her as tightly as she held him. He kissed the top of her head, her cheek, her mouth. The door to his room was open and she didn’t care, sliding her fingers through his hair and responding joyfully to his kiss. What a fool she’d been to waste the last few days. Just because she couldn’t have him forever didn’t mean her love wasn’t real. She’d been wrong to deny herself, deny them, as much time as possible together.
It was agony to pull away. “You have to go,” she said, holding back tears. She clung to his jacket, finding it hard to let go. “Go bring Catie back. Be understanding.” She pushed away, her throat closing up. She couldn’t cry. He would know something was wrong if she cried and might not leave. And she had to go.
“I promise. I shall see ye tonight?” he asked. The question went deeper than merely wanting to see her later that evening. He smiled at her and the hope in his eyes told her he was asking if she’d changed her mind, if she would accept his offer of love and a place in his home.
The smile was almost enough to make her return to her room and unpack her bag. She didn’t want to blink and miss even that much. With a nod, she reached up and touched his face as he moved past her into the hall. This was how she wanted to remember him.
“Goodbye, Quinn.”
***
Quinn plowed through the streets to the party where he’d been told he could find Catie’s accomplice. On the way, he thought about Lizzie’s change of heart, and even through his rage at wee Lord Hollingsborn and worry about Catie, he felt a soaring happiness. He’d gone over again and again the way she’d acted when he first professed his love, and though it had hurt, and badly, he forgave her.
It had been sudden, and he’d probably frightened her, asking her straight away to live in the wilds of Scotland when she’d lived in London her whole life. If he could, he would move down here in a heartbeat, if it meant being with her. For a split second he felt a begrudging understanding of Lachlan, leaving the clan for his true love. Then it was gone, because Quinn couldn’t, so he wouldn’t. He and Lizzie would just have to work it out.
He knew they would. He believed in their love that much, that it could withstand something even as great as the distance between the Highlands and London.
At the grand house, he waited to be announced, then made his way to different groups of young people trying to locate Dahlia. He swore they were giving him the runaround, first pointing in one direction or telling him to speak to this person, then starting the whole thing again. He’d tried not being scary, and it was getting him nowhere, and he suspected some of the scoundrels were laughing at him. Finally, he took the closest lad by the collar of his jacket and lifted him until he dangled on the tips of his toes.
“I dinna want to have to ask one more person,” he said. “So ye are responsible for pointing out the lass named Dahlia to me. Can ye do that?”
The lad squeaked and nodded. “She’s sitting with her mother over there. She’s wearing a yellow dress.”
Quinn dropped him and stalked to the row of chairs, trying to make himself look smaller and less intimidating as he got closer. He bowed to the girl’s mother and introduced himself, thanking her for chaperoning his sister.
“And where is Catie?” he asked pleasantly.
Her mother looked all around. “Wasn’t she just here, darling?”
He looked pointedly at Dahlia, who stuttered an incoherent reply. He continued to stare at her until she huffed and moved down a few seats from her mother. Quinn sat down next to her and looked off in the opposite direction.
“I know what her plans are. Ye must tell me where they are to meet.”
“I’m sure she’s about, sir. Perhaps she needed some air.”
He turned to look at her. “I dinna know what she’s told ye, but the lad is only after her inheritance.” He thought about appealing to her love of gossip and lowered his voice. “Do ye know he’s badly in debt?”
“No,” she gasped and he continued to reel her in.
“Cards and horses,” he said. “He canna win a bet to save his life. And now he wants to ruin Catie’s.”
“We can’t let him!” Dahlia clapped her hand over her mouth when she realized how loudly she’d exclaimed. Then she proceeded to tell him the meeting place and time.
“Ye’re a true friend, lass,” he said, getting out of there as fast as he could without causing a scene.
If he knew anything about the likes of Catie’s true friend, the story of the elopement was about to spread across London like a rash. Even if he caught up with her in time to keep her from riding off with that lordly reprobate, Catie’s reputation was well on the way to being ruined, and she’d have to leave London.
He couldn’t help but be a bit pleased about that, despite his growing fear of being too late. It was going to be difficult not to throttle her, but he’d promised Lizzie he’d be understanding. He hadn’t made any such promise about Hollingsborn, though, and the prospect of smashing his face cheered him considerably.
As he left the house he noticed the time and realized he might actually get to the meeting place before the lovebirds. It was a remarkable stroke of luck that he’d found the note when he did, and got the information so easily from Dahlia. He couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces. This would be over soon and he could get back to Lizzie and begin planning their future together.
Chapter 21
Lizzie made her way out the back door, flying through the streets and alleys to get to Belmary House on time. Her bag bounced against her side and the heel of her modern shoe poked her relentlessly. She didn’t stop to change the bag’s position on her arm, just pounded over the cobblestones, dodging the few people who were out at that hour and praying she made it on time.
At Belmary House, she skirted around to the back and knocked, trying to catch her breath and smooth her skirts so she didn’t look too frightful. It was too dark out to see the tiny numbers of her pocket watch and she paced back and forth with growing unease when no one answered right away. Past caring what they thought of her, she pounded desperately at the door until a maid opened it, bleary eyed and disgruntled.
“What is it?” she asked rudely.
“I need Lew,” she said, pushing into the kitchen, done with propriety.
“He’s just left.” The maid stood there and blinked at her.
“What?” Lizzie shrieked. Lew knew very well what evening this was. Where could he have possibly gone, and why? The girl turned and walked away.
“I’ll take you somewhere to wait for him,” she said.
Okay, she could work with that. She’d just wait for the maid to leave her alone and she could sneak upstairs by herself. Something awful must have happened to tear Lew away on this night, and the maid refused to answer any of her questions.
“I dunno, miss. He got called away.”
The maid abandoned her in a small room, and she saw she was already past the allotted time. How long was the portal open? Panic overwhelmed her worry about Lew and her heartache that she might not get to say goodbye to him. She stood gripping her bag before shaking off the fear and sprinting out of the room. She made her way to the back stairs, only to be stopped by a different, much sterner looking servant than the apathetic girl who’d let her in the house.
“Miss Burnet?” she asked.
Lizzie’s mind went blank. She couldn’t think of a cover story or even call up Lew’s name to her lips. About to shove the woman as hard as she could and continue running, she slumped with relief to hear Lew’s breathless voice behind them.
“It’s all right, Adelaide, Miss Burnet’s here for me.”
It took forever for Adelaide to shuffle away, and as soon as she rounded the end of the hall, Lew took her hand and they raced up the stairs.
“Where were you?” she asked.
He’d already been out of breath, he could barely puff out an answer as they climbed. “I got a message you sent for me,” he said. “I started for the Amberly’s but turned around.”
At the top, they headed for the fateful bedroom. “A message? That’s madness.”
“It was from your young charge,” Lew said, having to stop and catch his breath. “A moment, please. I ran all the way.”
This news made her head spin, and wondered if Lew was confused. “Catriona Ferguson?” she asked, to which he nodded.
“She said you asked for me. Something seemed not quite right, so I came back. Even if you weren’t here, I thought I should stay and get information from Lord Ashford.”
Could it have been to do with the elopement? Catie knew she would be visiting Lew that evening, perhaps the message had been meant for her, to send her off on an errand and distract her from Catie’s running away with Edwin? It still made no sense, and why would Catie have delivered the message herself, unless she was already on her way out of town with Edwin. Lizzie hoped Quinn caught up with them in time— Time! It had to be several minutes past now and she pulled Lew the rest of the way down the hall.
Outside the door, she stopped and grabbed Lew by the shoulders. Already overwhelmed with the heartbreak from knowing she’d never see Quinn again, the thought of saying goodbye to her only friend in this time nearly doubled her over. She blinked back the burning tears and swallowed the hard lump in her throat.
“I’m going to miss you most of all, Scarecrow,” she said, trying to memorize his kindly face.
He blinked slowly and shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, ever patient with her.
She laughed, the tears spilling over. “I know,” she said, dropping her chin to her chest, then looking him in the eye. “You saved my life, and I don’t think I ever once acted grateful.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry for that.”
“My dear, I cannot begin to imagine what you went through. I’m glad I could be of service.” Lew patted her arm and she struggled to regain her composure so she wouldn’t make him feel any more awkward. “I shall miss you, too,” he said, turning to open the door.
Taking long, slow breaths to prepare herself for the journey home at last, she stepped in after him, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. She looked around while Lew nervously approached the chest of drawers in the corner.
“The rug has been disturbed,” he said, nudging the bunched up corner with his toe. “The dresser has been moved as well.”
“Is he already here, do you think?” she asked, whirling around as if he might be hiding in another corner. “Did he come early?” She didn’t want to say what she knew they both thought. They were too late.
He took her arm and pushed her into the corner, jumping back with a look of mixed terror and hope. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited to feel the sensation of passing out. Nothing happened and she opened her eyes to find Lew taking out his timepiece and shaking his head.
“Perhaps his message was his departure time, not his arrival. Though, it’s never been so before. Let us wait.”
They waited. Lizzie paced to keep her heart from exploding while Lew stood like a sentinel watching the corner. Several minutes passed and she sat on the edge of the bed, feeling like she might faint from nerves.
“It’s well past the time, Lizzie,” Lew said gently a few minutes later.
His voice told her everything she needed to know. Lord Ashford hadn’t come, or they were too late. Even if he’d given the time as his departure, he’d never be late and risk missing the window to leave.
She slid off the edge of the bed and hunched on the floor, pressing her palms against the scratchy wool of the rug, trying to catch a thought from the swirling mass of chaos that churned in her head.
“We’ll try again next year,” Lew said.
She nodded, and maybe she w
as in shock, but oddly enough, she felt fine. In fact, she felt better than fine, and realized during the last couple of days, she’d been dreading the return to her own time. She’d been late in getting here because she couldn’t bear to say goodbye to the best thing that ever happened to her, and had clung to him too long.
How stupid she’d been to think she couldn’t stay here just because she was used to different technology, had different ideas about some things. Love was the same in every century, and she’d never felt anything near what she felt for Quinn in the twenty-first. She loved him, and she was lucky enough that he loved her back.
It didn’t matter what style of clothes she wore, or if she’d have to learn to milk a cow. Even the thought of never being on a stage again didn’t cause her to waver in her surety. If she knew Quinn at all, he’d build her a stage and she could put on shows for his people. She’d teach all the children of his clan to dance. What struck her as shocking was that she was here at all, had even for a second thought she could leave him.
The thought of being able to see Quinn again swept away any last shred of disappointment that she wasn’t going home, replacing it with anticipation. It seemed like hours since she’d seen him last, but it hadn’t been long at all. She couldn’t wait to tell him that all she wanted was to be with him. More than that, she couldn’t wait to show him. Her jumbled thoughts finally fell into place and she remembered where Quinn had been off to, what awful thing Catie planned.
It would be the icing on the cake if the match she’d originally pushed for, then worked so hard to dissolve, ended up taking place anyway, without anyone’s consent or benefit. And Quinn would most likely end up in the hangman’s noose for beating Lord Hollingsborn to death.
Lizzie pressed her fingertips to her eyes, wondering if this was how her life was going to be now. She smiled to realize how excited she was to find out.
Smitten by the Spinster Page 17
