Belmary House Book Two (15 page)

She blinked her doll-like blue eyes, so beautiful in her heartbreak that Tilly thought maybe she was right. Surely no one could ever refuse her anything?

She’d apparently spent too much time in the dining room and Ashford appeared in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He took one look at the traveling gown Serena had on and quickly disproved her theory.

“No,” he said, taking Tilly’s arm and pulling her toward the hall.

Tilly grabbed her basket and gave her an apologetic look, that she feared was mixed with a bit of I-told-you-so.

“Julian!” Serena squawked, chasing after them. “You can’t stop me from following you, even if you don’t let me in your carriage. I’ll ride the whole way.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said calmly. “You’d never risk it.”

He stopped so she could catch up to them and chucked her under the chin. Tilly stepped away, afraid Serena would hit him for that, but she merely teared up.

Oh, well played, Tilly thought, knowing how Ashford was weak to crying.

It seemed he wasn’t weak to Serena’s crying though, because he merely handed her a handkerchief.

“Don’t be daft,” he told her, but his tone was gentle now. “We’re trying to save your child, so don’t put it in needless danger. There’s nothing you can do, anyway. Stay here and wait for us if you like, since you’ve already packed a bag.”

He nodded at the valise by the door and she frowned. “There’s never anything I can do, it seems. That’s exactly what Kostya said when I wanted to go to France with him.”

She welled up in earnest and Tilly’s heart hurt for her. “Kostya would want you to stay safe. He’d kill Ashford if he let you put yourself at risk.”

Serena mulled it over, chewing on her lip for so long Tilly thought she would keep fighting, but she finally sighed and nodded.

“Between your earnest good logic and Julian’s sour face, I suppose I have no choice but to agree. I don’t like it, though. I hate feeling so helpless.”

“That’s a good lass,” Ashford said.

Tilly couldn’t help herself and hit him in the bicep on Serena’s behalf.

“What’s that for?” He rubbed his arm and cast her a wounded look.

“You’re such a donkey sometimes,” she said.

Serena nodded solemnly. “Indeed, he is,” she agreed. “I don’t know why you’re dawdling around, it’s practically noon already.”

It couldn’t have been past eight, and Tilly threw her arms around her, squeezing her tiny bird frame until she coughed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have good news when we return.” She prayed it was true.

In the carriage, Ashford continued to look put upon for several miles, until she couldn’t stand all the negative energy that wafted off him any longer. She pulled herself over to his side and got under his arm. It took a moment, but he finally relaxed and hugged her close.

“I don’t know why you think I’m the donkey, when you agreed with me,” he said. “You know Serena couldn’t go with us. I honestly have no idea what the Glens will be like. For all I know they’ll throw me in a dungeon.”

Tilly shivered at that thought, not completely certain he wasn’t joking. It was hard to tell with Ashford, he was so bad at it, poor thing.

“You just went about it a bit insensitively,” she said, unable to berate him when his arm was around her. “She’s little and weak on the outside but she has the heart of a lion.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Ah, you’re quite right. I’ll make it up to her somehow. I don’t know why, but she always ends up forgiving me.”

Tilly craned her neck to look up at him, realizing with sadness that he really didn’t understand why. “You’re as good as family to her, Julian.”

“Do you think that’s what it is? That’s lovely, then.”

She pulled the curtains and crawled onto his lap. “This is also lovely,” she said, kissing him.

He grabbed her hips to keep her from tumbling backwards when the carriage hit a rut, and got a mischievous look in his eyes.

“It’ll be hours before we stop,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

She loosened his cravat and began working the buttons on his shirt as he raised her skirt over her knees. “I bet it’ll fly by,” she said.

***

Time never actually flew in the early nineteenth century, and by the time they arrived in the small, quaint village of Castle on Hill two days later, Tilly was exhausted once again from the lumbering mode of travel. Even after Ashford’s pleasant distractions, she couldn’t wait to get out of the carriage.

After they checked into the inn, Ashford showed her a broom closet under a stairwell that housed the other portal he’d spoken of.

“Don’t come near here without me,” he said, keeping a firm grip on her hand. “Nothing’s happening right now, but I don’t have a good schedule for this one.” He took out the tattered little notebook she hadn’t seen in months, and flipped to the back pages, then consulted his watch. “Oh, this is lucky. If we wanted to go to 1670, it should open in about seven hours, and in three days it might open to 1910, but that one’s iffy. Or—”

“That’s okay,” she said, backing away from the dusty closet. “Unless it’s the year I came from, I’ll pass.”

He furrowed his brow. “Unfortunately, I have no idea about that. It’s not to say it doesn’t open to that time, but unless you want to walk in blind, which I do not advise,” he squeezed her hand tighter, “there’s no way of knowing. It’s irritating to say the least.”

“I won’t go near it,” she promised. Seeing him so absorbed in his notebook gave her an eery sense of deja vu. “What if it opens when you’re on the stairs?” she asked nervously.

“You’re quite safe on the stairs,” he said, eyebrow raised in disdain. “It can’t pull you through walls.”

Oh, but pulling you through centuries was completely feasible. She scowled at him for making her feel stupid and then sighed.

“I guess we should get settled, maybe get a meal? We should probably turn in early, too.”

“Yes, my dear, that’s exactly what you should do. I, however will leave at once for the castle.” He wisely stepped away from her after delivering this line and immediately held up his hands. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable. And you’re definitely persuasive.” He took her shoulders and smiled at her. “But you should stay here.”

She sputtered. “If you think I’m capable and good at persuasion, why do I have to stay?”

She wriggled out from his grasp and stomped up the stairs toward their room. She was glad he’d finally given up any sense of decorum during their recent travels, because she hated being away from him. He’d taken to showily announcing he needed a room for his wife and him, the first time winking at her and nearly landing her on her butt. She’d liked him saying it, even though it was clear he enjoyed the jest, and with his penchant for making up stories, she made sure not to take it too seriously.

He followed her and she made him go through first, as if she could trap him in the room and not allow him to leave without her.

“I really should go, it’s probably another hour’s hard ride up the hill. And of course I may not be offered any hospitality, which means I’ll have to ride back again in the dark.”

“Don’t try to get me off track with worrying about you riding after dark. Why can’t I go with you?”

He sat down on the bed and pulled her next to him. This was more like it. She could easily distract him into staying until it was too late to leave, then work on him through the night into letting her go. He didn’t stand a chance.

“Matilda, the reason I don’t want you to go, is because I don’t know anything about these people. I share a distant relation to them, but by all accounts, they aren’t the most welcoming lot.”

“And you’re worried about my safety,” she said.

He shook his head. “I’m worried about my own. If they do indeed decide to waylay me, I’ll need you to rescue me.” He said it quite seriously, his dark silver eyes boring into hers with quiet intensity.

She didn’t know how to argue with such logic. He was absolutely right. Even if she couldn’t ride in on a steed to rescue him like he implied, she was the only one who knew he was going up there. If they both went and never returned, no one would care, or even be the wiser.

“Do you think the Glens are that awful?” she asked, frightened they might be trying to work with people who were no better than the Povests.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t like not knowing.”

“Well, I’ll stay here, then,” she said, frowning at his triumphant smirk. “How long should I wait before I send in the cavalry?”

“Give me to tomorrow nightfall. Even if they’re amenable to helping us, I shall return for you. You have a good mind for planning so I’d like to have you near.”

“Thanks, Julian,” she said, her cheeks heating up at his compliment.

“You’re very pretty, too,” he said, touching her nose.

“One more.”

He sighed, but she could tell it was teasing. “Your skin is like the finest satin. Your eyes transfix me with their multitude of hues. Your kindness is as vast as the sky.”

He leaned down and kissed her, her heart swelling at the tender touch and lovely words that flowed so easily. For a curmudgeon, he could certainly be romantic at times.

He rose and put on his coat, back to business. It took her a second to remember that Kostya was in the clutches of his wicked family, Serena’s unborn child had a ticking time bomb hanging over it, and they were burning daylight with their frivolous emotions. Still, she held onto him for a long time before letting him out the door. He stroked her back and made her swear she wouldn’t leave the inn until he returned, then swept out the door in a dramatic flurry of his tailcoat, his broad shoulders straining at the fabric, his breeches clinging to his hips.

Ah, she hated him to go, but she loved watching him leave, and for several minutes she sat daydreaming about when he’d return. It took less than an hour before she realized there was no way on earth she could keep her promise and stay in the inn. The quaint village that she could see from first her bedroom window and then from the dining hall window called to her with a siren’s lure.

She decided the porch counted as not leaving the inn, and leaned over the very edge to look down the street. She made out what looked like a hatmaker’s shop several alleys away at the end of a fork in the road, and she itched to run her fingers through the ribbons. It was broad daylight, well, as broad as it could get this far north, and while the streets weren’t exactly bustling, they weren’t deserted either. If she went straight there and popped in for a bit, then came straight back, what harm could befall her?

She waffled for another few agonizing minutes before setting out. She put it down to a sign of her times. She couldn’t sit still for very long with nothing to do. The availability of books was scarce while they traveled, and it wasn’t worth bemoaning the loss of television. Unless she had someone to gossip with, needlework became intolerable after twenty minutes or so, and the few ladies who sat around in the drawing room of the inn didn’t seem overly friendly. She was always afraid of seeming odd or saying something that would cast suspicion on her, so shied away from strangers as much as she could beyond basic pleasantries.

It was walk to the hat shop or go bonkers. Surely Ashford knew it was a foolish promise to wring from her, if he knew her at all. She smiled, thinking he was probably ruminating about what trouble she’d get into while he left her behind. She did love him so much. She wondered if she could get away with buying something, or if he’d notice something new and be onto her.

Once she got in the store and began chatting with the friendly shopkeeper and tried on different bonnets, she decided it was worth the risk and ended up buying a cute straw hat with black velvet ribbons and a dark green frothy thing that had swathes of glorious netting. She didn’t have anything to wear it with, but knew she had to have it. If she got to go back, Dex and his research friends would go crazy over the lavish detail. Her mother would probably cry at its beauty.

Thinking of her mother put a damper on her haberdashery lust and she took a moment to sit on a bench outside the shop, her packages on either side of her. Despite keeping a brave face on for Ashford, there were plenty of things she missed about her home. The weather was taking an alarming turn toward winter and she was a southern California girl born and raised. She’d always suffered during the Christmases they spent with Dex’s family in London, and Scotland threatened to get much colder than that.

She missed how hectic it got at her mother’s studio, the fun of sewing late into the night with the radio blaring. She missed music whenever she wanted it. Sometimes the silence here was deafening, and it was uncomfortable at first, to be left alone with her thoughts. She was getting better at it, though, and found being in this century forced her to live in the moment more, not get too caught up in what came next, but just enjoy the scenery that moved so slowly outside the carriage windows.

It was crazy to think that if they were in her time, they could have hopped on a plane and been to Kostya’s family land in a few hours. She wondered if they could save him, or if he could negotiate his own release somehow. So much time had passed already, getting from France to London, back to Ashford’s estate in Albus, and now they were in this tiny Highland village. She knew in her own time, she’d be crawling out of her skin to get something done already, but now, it was just the way it was.