Belmary House Book Two (10 page)

Like a fool, she told herself. You’re gazing at him like a fool. But she couldn’t look away from the lashes that rested against his cheekbones, the softly parted lips that had covered almost every inch of her the night before. No, it hadn’t been a mistake.

A rush of heat made her look away, and the pounding that woke her in the first place started again. Dexter’s eyes fluttered open and he looked confused to see her for a moment, then gave her an angelic smile that made her glad she was already sitting.

She returned it, pulling the sheet tighter around her and looking around for her discarded clothes. The closest item was several feet away and she sighed and made a dash for it, quickly pulling the top over her head and tugging it down over her hips.

“Aww, I hoped you’d be the exhibitionist sort,” Dexter said mock sadly, jumping in alarm at the renewed knocking, now louder than ever. “Oh, hell, that’s real. I thought I was dreaming about the construction.”

She smiled to herself as she wriggled into her skirt and found her shoes. Dexter popped out of bed and wrapped a robe around himself, and she followed him into his living room, planning to slip out as soon as he dealt with whoever was at the door.

“Bloody hell, who could be—” After peering through the peephole he went pale. “No, no, no.” He grabbed his phone and scrolled through its contents. “I should have read my messages. Oh, my God, I should have met her at the airport. She’s going to skin me alive for this.”

He looked at Emma as if he was about to face the gallows, slipping his phone back into his pocket in defeat as the pounding started up again.

“Dexter Jacobs, open this door,” a voice shouted from the other side.

“Who is it?” Emma asked, retreating toward the kitchen, suddenly feeling the need to hide.

Dexter put his hand on the doorknob and closed his eyes as if praying for strength. “Tilly’s grandma.”

Ashford and Tilly rode at a breakneck pace until the hex seemed to dissipate a few miles out of the village, where they slowed to a gentle trot. It was a shock, having the extreme fear she felt suddenly stripped away like someone ripping off a bandaid.

She was left with a profound sadness and let her horse slip behind so Ashford wouldn’t have to feel he needed to comfort her. She felt guilty for not stepping up and comforting him, but she was spent after learning exactly what sort of things Kostya’s ruthless family was capable of. The white hot hatred she felt toward them was a relief, after all the draining emotions she’d had over the last few days.

After a couple hours, Ashford stopped and wordlessly helped her down from her horse, gathering her into his arms and holding her for a long time. He loosened his grip to lean back and look at her, but didn’t let go, only frowning down before kissing her nose.

“We should be able to book passage tomorrow or the next day. Will you be all right?”

She didn’t relish the thought of being on a ship again, but wanted to be back in England. She closed a firm door in the face of what they’d have to deal with there, only wanting to be away from France.

“Maybe I won’t be so sick this time,” she said, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “I hated being so bothersome to you.”

He kissed the top of her head and chuckled. “I don’t know if I should admit it, but I rather liked caring for you. You’re normally so capable, and of course I don’t want you to suffer, but it felt good to be needed.”

“I do need you,” she sighed. “More than you can know.”

She pulled herself up against him so she could get a proper kiss on the mouth, and what was meant to be a quick peck became slow and lingering. As much as she didn’t want to mount her horse again, she wanted to get back to Cachette-sur-Mer and sleep until Ashford found them a ship to get home.

Home. She hid her face against his neck, feeling her skin get warm at thinking of his time and country that way, and not wanting him to notice her reaction and ask about it.

How much time had she been with him now? Six weeks, eight weeks? It was nothing in the grand scheme of things, but in comparison, it was the only thing that felt real to her anymore. Her old life was like something she’d read about once, and while she still felt awful about how her family must be taking her disappearance, even that was fading into the background. Ashford, here in front of her, not wanting to let her go, was the only thing that mattered.

Giving him a hard squeeze around the middle, she pushed away from him toward her horse. “Let’s go,” she said. “I’m hungry.”

He patted his stomach and marveled at her. “I believe I am as well. I didn’t think it could be possible again, but I am.”

Life carried on, she knew that from hard experience, and while she knew there would be plenty more tears and worry over Kostya, right this moment she felt content. It was all she had, so she clung to it.

***

When Tilly saw Belmary House again through the carriage window, she felt a pang, her old life rushing at her with a powerful kick. She missed Dexter, and worried about everyone worrying about her. She hoped Emma was faring all right. Everything rested on whether or not the portal had resumed working while they were gone.

Ashford reached over and tipped up her chin, and she realized she was clenching her hands while forcefully lost in her thoughts.

“That glad to be back?” he asked, frowning.

She shook out her arms and tried to lose the sense of unease that she had. She scooted to his side of the carriage and slipped under his arm.

“A little nervous, honestly, but I’m not sure why.”

He sighed and knocked on the roof to have the driver let them out. They were halfway up the long drive, only a few minutes from being dropped off, but she was grateful he remembered how she liked walking when she was stressed, and how it cleared her mind.

“As much as I’d like to rest a few days, I feel we should leave as soon as possible for Scotland,” he said, tucking her arm under his. “I can’t leave Serena in the dark, and sending a message …”

She shook her head. “No, you can’t send a message. Of course we should go right away.”

It seemed they were earlier than planned for and the troops of servants still struggled to get into greeting formation when they entered the main hall. She hurriedly looked at Ashford to catch his pained look. He hated having a fuss made over him, and she tugged on his arm to keep him from being too brusque with the well-meaning staff. As she looked down the long row of uniforms, she was surprised and delighted to see Duncan, and waved before remembering decorum.

“I’m glad to see you, Duncan,” Ashford said, when they were ushered to the library.

Someone rolled in a table full of refreshments, and Tilly’s stomach growled, having suffered upheaval on the ship. It was a shorter journey as promised, but also less calm. They were plagued with storms the entire way, and she’d barely managed a few crusts of bread the entire crossing.

“How long have you been back?” he asked his valet.

He grimaced at Tilly and she knew he didn’t relish telling the older man they’d have to make the journey again so soon.

“Not long at all, Lord Ashford, and never gladder to be home.”

Ashford grimaced harder, and blurted out the bad news, turning Duncan’s wizened shrunken apple head face even more sour than usual. He bounced back admirably though, and began filling him in on various matters pertaining to society.

Tilly filled a plate with food and settled into one of the deep couches and tuned them out, content enough for the moment to be sitting on something that didn’t sway. When she was done eating, Ashford and Duncan still mumbled to one another at Ashford’s desk, and their low voices and the rustling of papers lulled her into a comfortable doze.

She was startled into sitting up straight and almost tipped the remains of her meal onto the rug when a young man burst into the room, quickly bowing at Ashford. He was a bit shorter than Ashford, with a mop of shaggy light brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses half sliding down his thin nose. He was dressed somberly in a black coat and brown breeches, his cravat loosely tied and one of his cuffs wrinkled up in his jacket sleeve. He turned to her and his boyish face flamed crimson before he bowed to her as well. She remembered she was Ashford’s mistress as far as anyone he knew was concerned and she tried to keep from looking bitter about that while smiling at him.

“Adkins, that was the quickest you’ve ever responded,” Ashford said, taking out his pocket watch and smiling approvingly, before turning to her. “Miss Jacobs, allow me to present Thomas Adkins.”

“Miss Jacobs,” Adkins said, bowing again, his hair flopping all over the place. For a moment he looked truly delighted to see her, then his face fell. “I’d love to ask you so many questions, but I’m afraid I have only bad news in return.”

She gasped. Did this kid know about her? Certainly he wasn’t interested in mistressing tips. She recalled Ashford telling her about someone he trusted to keep an eye on the portal in his absences.

“You’re the solicitor’s lad?” she asked. “You know about— er, you can use the portal?” She whispered the last words.

“Yes, ma’am. My father’s firm is one of the oldest and most reputable in London.” He grinned at her. “I can indeed use the portal,” he said, lowering his voice as well, and she suspected he had a rather cheeky sense of humor. “Though I’ve never gone so far ahead as when you came from.”

“Oh, well, I’d be happy to answer any of your questions,” she said, feeling like it might be nice to talk about it with someone.

For the most part she honestly didn’t miss many of the conveniences, but she did get homesick sometimes. Adkins’ baby face nearly split with his gleeful smile and he threw himself onto the couch next to her. He reminded Tilly of a puppy and she turned to him expectantly, quite liking Ashford’s eager assistant.

“Well, if you could explain electrics, and of course I must know about motor cars,” he started, grabbing her hand, then dropping it when Ashford cleared his throat loudly.

“I beg your pardon, Adkins, but were you invited to tea?”

Adkins jumped to his feet, face red again. “Certainly not, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I’ve come to give you a report.”

Tilly shook her head at Ashford’s churlish treatment of him, her stomach turning over with anxiety at what he might have to report. She realized she wanted to avoid it as much as Adkins did, as he twisted his hands behind his back.

“What news, Adkins. Out with it.” Ashford clearly didn’t share their reticence and crossed his arms impatiently.

“Well, sir, nothing’s changed,” Adkins said with a shrug before glancing apologetically at her. “Still no activity.”

“None at all?” Ashford asked, wilting as visibly as Tilly at the abrupt report.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Very well. You’re dismissed.”

Adkins looked longingly at the food, then even more longingly at her before taking a deep breath.

“But, sir, couldn’t I have a bite to eat before I leave? And Miss Jacobs did say she’d be happy to answer my questions—”

“More than happy,” Tilly interjected, earning herself a piece of the scowl Ashford currently bestowed on the boy.

“I’m sure cook can give you something on your way out, if you need sustenance to get you home. Miss Jacobs and I have things we must discuss.”

It was clearly a dismissal Adkins didn’t feel confident in arguing, and with a bow in both their directions, he left in as much of a whirlwind as he came.

“That was mean,” she said. “You couldn’t let him hear about cars for a few minutes? He was so excited.”

Ashford grumbled. “I’m certain he has things to do for his father, and is merely wasting time, the reckless flirt. He’s determined to end up a wastrel. Sometimes I don’t know why I enlisted him.”

“You act like it’s a war you’re fighting, Julian. And I’m positive he wasn’t flirting.”

“Don’t act as if you weren’t charmed by the wee hooligan,” Ashford said, his fierce look dissolving into disappointment. “Ah, I’m sorry Matilda. I was hoping for better news.” He paced a few steps before turning back and sitting beside her. “I can’t believe the house is gone. I mean, in your time. It’s just a house, I suppose, and none stand forever, but it’s more of a blow than I imagined it would be.” He took her hand and kissed it absently, somewhere else completely. “All the times I wished it would be gone, and now it is …” he shook his head and looked down at her seriously. “I have been going about it as if it was a war. For half my life I’ve been fighting this damn house, and now I’m not quite sure what to do with myself.”

He seemed so lost, occasionally opening his mouth as if he wanted to say more, then firmly closing it again. She didn’t know how to comfort him so sat quietly holding his hand, not bringing up the possibility of others like herself who might be trapped in the wrong time, with no means of getting home.

She was positive Ashford already tormented himself with those thoughts, and the fact that she no longer had a choice upset her more than she’d first thought it would. Somehow the idea that she could stay with him and pop back through the portal for holidays had stupidly begun to take root in the back of her mind, a way of coping with not knowing if she could give him up when it came time to decide. But now that was gone. She leaned against him for strength, knowing as long as Ashford was near, she could keep the nipping dogs of doubt at bay.