Belmary House Book Two (13 page)

“We can’t just leave Serena alone any longer,” she said, trying to keep her voice from showing her disappointment.

“Oh, God, Serena,” he said, stricken. “My mind went blank back there. I shouldn’t have walked out, but …”

“If she knew everything, she’d understand. You’ve been through a lot.”

He pulled her closer. “So have you. I’m sorry to bring so much more pain into your life.”

She was strangled by his rough embrace, and even more so by emotion. She shoved away and gave him her fiercest scowl, willing her true feelings to show in her eyes.

“Stop saying things like that, stop thinking them. I’m fine.”

She wrapped her fingers in his jacket and hoisted herself up so she could kiss him, then pulled away even though she wished she could stay locked in his embrace forever, it was so calming and sweet. But Serena had no one to comfort her this way and it wracked her with guilt, probably the merest taste of what Ashford felt.

They returned to the sitting room and Tilly sat next to her on one side, Ashford taking the other side of the settee and awkwardly patting Serena’s back. He explained their hastily cobbled together plan, which was to once again get back on the road, and recruit the Glens into fighting the Povests. She knew he clung to the thinnest thread of hope, but did an admirable job of making it seem like it was a done deal to Serena, succeeding in keeping her from hysterics, and even convinced her to spend the night so she wouldn’t have to go out in the rain.

Clearly exhausted from all his tightly wound emotions and the chore of explaining everything, Ashford left to make arrangements for the next morning. Tilly stood up and stretched, not relishing the idea of getting back in the carriage so soon.

“He doesn’t look well at all,” Serena said. “It can’t have been easy for him to give up his wild goose chase for Camilla. Now he’ll have to finally accept she’s gone.”

Tilly swallowed the acrid taste that rose in her mouth, knowing she couldn’t tell Serena the whole story. There was no need for another person to be plagued with nightmares for the rest of their days. But she didn’t like her thinking Ashford had been on a wild goose chase. He’d been right all along, and the fact that he calmly accepted people thinking he was half mad or a fool didn’t sit well with her at all. She supposed he was used to it, having kept the secret of Belmary House for so long. She decided she could at least free him of that burden.

“There’s a bit more,” she said, shyly returning to her seat beside Serena. “There’s an old spell on his house that lets people travel through time.”

“Merciful heavens, is there no end to it?” Serena asked, then wrinkled up her brow. “But now you say it, there have been some rather cryptic conversations between him and Kostya that make sense now.”

 “Yes, Kostya knew about it. That’s why Ashford doesn’t visit much. He’s busy helping people who get stuck.” Tilly sighed. “I’m one of them. That’s why I might have seemed odd now and then. It takes getting used to, this time.”

Serena’s bright blue eyes widened. “You have seemed quite odd, many times. Oh, no offense Tilly, but now it all makes sense.” She brightened at her next thought. “You’re not really Ashford’s mistress, then, are you?”

Of all the questions that Serena might have asked upon finding out she was from another time, the fact that she settled on that one made her pucker up like a trout. She wished she could stop being jealous of Serena and Ashford’s lifelong friendship. It was clear it was Kostya she loved now, and it was petty of her to think otherwise.

“Well, no, I was never his mistress,” she said, not having a clue what she was to him, and not liking it one bit.

“But he loves you,” Serena said. “Anyone who knows him can see it.” Her eyes welled up. “I thought I could have that as well. Love, I mean.”

“You do have it,” Tilly said. “Kostya only thought of you the whole time he made the decision to stay. He could have returned and cowered, but he wants a good, long life with you.”

“I want it, too,” she sniffed and placed her hands on her still flat stomach. “I feel so selfish, and this— perhaps this child shouldn’t have—”

“Stop,” Tilly thundered. “Don’t think that way for even a second or those bastards win. Kostya wants a life with both of you.” She sighed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but we’re never giving up, got it?”

“I’m glad you’re odd, Tilly,” Serena said. “You make me quite believe you.”

Emma smiled and waved at Dexter and Helen as they left her flat, arms loaded with books. After Helen adjusted to the news, she turned out to be full of ideas and a drive to help get her granddaughter back. She’d demanded to see their research and didn’t want to waste time sightseeing while they worked at the house, so they went to Emma’s flat where she lent her some new books they hadn’t gone through yet. Helen hadn’t been swayed by the sad lack of information, not having been running into dead ends as they had for the last month and a half, and her fresh enthusiasm made Emma think the spunky powerhouse of a granny might just find something they’d overlooked.

After spending the night with Dexter, even the whirlwind morning hadn’t brought her headache back, and for the first time in weeks, she felt normal. Every minute that passed after Dexter left had her believing she’d sink back into pain filled melancholy again, but miraculously she didn’t. She decided to stop worrying about it coming back, either it would or it wouldn’t, and enjoy every second she was pain-free.

There was a moment when her hands wanted to turn the steering wheel toward Oxford, but she managed to shrug it off without much inner turmoil. Speaking to Helen about Dahlia had put things into perspective a bit for her. Her daughter was waiting for her in her proper time, ten years from now. She couldn’t split her interests anymore by wasting energy and getting no sleep, and if she stopped going altogether, and kept close to Dexter, maybe she could wait out the time for Ashford to reappear without going insane. She was actually whistling when she entered her office, she felt so good.

Keeping close to Dexter wasn’t going to be difficult at all. She shook her hair over her cheeks in case anyone passed her office and saw her blushing. She really felt she could love him. The sense of unfairness started to settle over her as reality nosed its rude way into her thoughts.

As much as she admitted to herself now that she wanted Dexter for more than a distraction, she knew it couldn’t last. Not if she made it home, which was the only ending she could possibly settle for. She’d have to decide if she would rein it in now, tell Dexter it was a mistake and they should get back to professional terms or go whole hog until he was torn from her. She wasn’t sure the joy of getting home would be enough to heal the heartbreak that was sure to cause, and wondered if the pain would be worth it.

As if to taunt her, Dexter appeared in her doorway, a vase tucked under one arm and a sheaf of papers in his hand. She got a rush of nerves remembering what those capable hands could do, the pleasurable goosebumps he’d raised all over her body, and felt her cheeks going hot again.

He smiled before immediately showing her the vase, unable to decide which manifest it belonged with, since the descriptions of many of the items being brought back into the house were maddeningly similar. His passion for his job was one of the many things she loved about him, the way he felt the same Christmas morning glee about finding an undocumented end table in the attic or discovering a doorknob was original 16th century.

The pain of losing him was going to be monumental, but definitely worth it, she decided, as her chest filled with the urgent longing to wrap her arms around him. There was no way she could go back to their casual work relationship, and she didn’t think he would allow it at this point, as it clearly showed in his honest brown eyes how he felt about her.

“I’d say it’s this one,” she said after studying them. “Isn’t Deb usually in charge of these types of knick-knacks? She can tell bone china from porcelain at twenty paces.”

“She’s got the flu, remember? Been out for a week now. You signed a card for her the other day?”

He had the worried look she was so used to seeing. She must have been so out of commission with pain she didn’t recall any of that. She decided to come clean with him.

“I haven’t been feeling quite myself these last few days, but honestly I’m loads better now.”

He studied her and seemed to accept it, still reaching over to feel her forehead. She laughed and swiped his hand away. Mr. Wodge was in the next office with his door ajar and she didn’t want him to suspect anything. No matter how well she felt now, it was always on the backburner that she may be stuck here, which meant she needed this job in case…

She shook her head when she realized Dexter had been talking.

“Sorry, what?” she asked sheepishly, thinking he wouldn’t believe her at all now.

His concerned look didn’t fade, but he repeated what he’d said. “We’re all having lunch out today, to celebrate the ballroom ceiling. You’re not going to ditch us again, are you?”

She wondered how many lunches she’d been invited to and missed. “Certainly I’ll go. Come round and fetch me when it’s time in case I get absorbed in something.”

With a glance at Mr. Wodge’s door, he leaned across her desk and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Before she could reprimand him, he took his vase and hurried off, leaving her with a warm, content feeling, something that was completely alien to her, but something she wouldn’t mind getting used to.

***

Solomon leaned back in his plush office chair. It was wide enough for two of him and comfortable enough to sleep in, and utterly ridiculous to him. He listened to Emma’s cheery whistle and kept a surreptitious eye on her as she went about her morning work as if she was actually paying attention, as if she was aware of where she was.

Now that he thought about it, it had to have been at least three days since she’d gone to her former house. He kept a sharp eye on her comings and goings, thinking she could be useful to him in some way.

Ashford had been dodging him for years, the man wasn’t going to just accept his invitation to tea, and the house always had an annoying number of people in it these days. If he were to somehow trap Ashford here, there were too many witnesses. He wondered if he shouldn’t just close it down again, or plant some of the mold everyone was so terrified of to clear it out for a while.

He had to admit his rash plan to rescue the house from demolition hadn’t been well thought out and he was frustrated with being in the same spot for so long. If he had just allowed the damn house to be destroyed that would have been half the battle without him lifting a finger. Ashford would have lost his main means of travel, presumably making him easier to find, and he could have finished it by now. But he was blinded by a greed for dominance over the man who’d so skillfully eluded his grasp for half his life.

Now he was wasting his time, and pouring a fortune into renovating a place that he despised. He could feel the magic buzzing away in his ears, crawling up and down his skin like ants, even with the block on the portal that he continued to meticulously maintain.

So many people knew what he looked like, knew his name. The way they all scraped and bowed no longer amused him, and it took all his self-control not to quite literally tear their heads from their bodies. This year being the last known time his father had been spotted put him on edge too, and he felt like a sitting duck in his giant, unwieldy executive chair.

 If he could somehow get poor addled Emma on his side, that might be his opening to strike. Except she suddenly didn’t seem so addled anymore, and that wouldn’t do. As concerned as he’d been that she would melt her brain before he’d find a use for her, he found he liked her better that way. If she stayed on the course of trying to find answers, she might accidentally stumble across something that wasn’t mumbo jumbo.

He was aware of at least one person in this time who could do the spells he’d forced himself to learn when the portals proved to be insufficient to his needs, some American who’d inherited a vast tract of magic soaked land up in the Highlands. The only reason he left her alone was she seemed as adverse to using the spells as he was. But if Emma found out about her, that would throw a spanner into his already mangled schemes, and waste even more of his time.

After everything he’d done, no one would ever believe it, but he didn’t like killing people. As soon as Ashford was gone, he firmly believed that would be the end of it. No more time travel, no more headaches, no more madness. So many people besides him would be freed. That might be enough for him and he could stop chasing after his father as well, but the thought of a completely fresh start was too much to give up and he knew he’d continue the search. But first, Ashford.

Yes, he had to act fast to get Emma on his side, no more spinning his wheels. He rolled his chair closer to the partly open door and called for her.

“Miss Saito?”

“Yes?” she answered instantly, already rising to come to him.

“A moment, please. I have a proposal for you.”

“Yes, sir?”

He forced himself to smile at her simpering tone. He knew she worried, on top of everything else, about losing her job. He found it cute how she thought she could slip into her old life, relive everything as if nothing had happened, if Ashford failed to show up.