Clandestine (34 page)

Haldon Manor

Late evening on March 2, 1814

K
it angsted and fumed over her situation all the way back to Haldon Manor.

Angry at Daniel.

Angry at a mother who had left.

Angry at a father who had retreated and ignored her.

Angry at Marc who had let Daniel walk away.

And then angry because Marc had been all understanding and helpful about it.

Which just made her furious at herself.

Because only a truly awful person would be angry with someone for being helpful and kind.

Which pulled her back to being angry with Daniel for making her angry with Marc.

Starting the cycle all over again.

It was a vicious circle.

Daniel just needed to grow up and come home to the life and century into which he had been born.

That was it. Problem solved. End of discussion.

Except, apparently, Daniel wasn’t going to do that.

You need to find peace,
Virtuous Angel whispered.
This has possessed you for too long.

Wicked Angel was more obnoxious. She hummed ‘Let It Go’ from
Frozen
for hours on end.

Neither of which improved Kit’s mood.

They arrived back at Haldon Manor well after sunset, cold and battered from the long carriage ride. The house blazoned with light. A welcoming sight. Though really Kit just wanted her bed.

Well, that wasn’t true. What she
really
wanted was a long hot shower, followed by some Indian takeaway and time in front of a television with a heated blanket, soft cotton pajamas and two sleeves of double-stuff oreos.

But
that
obviously wasn’t going to happen.

And if she decided to stay in the past with Daniel, it would
never
happen. So . . .

As Marc steered the gig around the medieval walled garden and toward the stables, Kit sighed. The thought of getting up the next morning and chasing errands for Lady Ruby made her physically ill.

“Dash it, Marc! Where have you been?” A voice called out from the doorway of the walled garden.

Marc pulled up on the reins as Arthur stepped out of the shadows, walking quickly over to them.

“I heard you pull up the lane and slipped out before anyone else notices your return. Miss Ashton.” Arthur coolly inclined his head in her direction. Condemnation evident in every line of his body. “You both owe me a detailed explanation as to why you stole my gig and absconded together. Such behavior hardly reflects well on either of you and is obviously grounds for Miss Ashton’s dismissal.”

Arthur rested a hand on the gig, glaring up expectantly at them both.

Kit suppressed a weary groan. When faced with serving Lady Ruby or being turned out into the cold night, she would obviously side with having a roof over her head. She doubted Marc or Daniel would let her starve, but the fact that neither man was from this century did limit how much they could help.

Mostly, she was just tired of playing all these nineteenth century societal games.

Marc tensed at her side, clearly having heard her soft sound of distress.

“Good evening to you too, Arthur. We are happy to be returned to your loving care in one piece. Thank you so much for your kind concern in asking after our welfare.” Marc’s tone was a masterpiece of sarcasm.

Arthur stiffened. “This is no time to be difficult. I have housed and cared for you as if you were my own brother. And this is how you repay me? Have you no thought for propriety?” Arthur stole a look at Kit, obviously trying to scold them without revealing too much. “It’s well known you ran off together. Miss Ashton’s reputation is in tatters, and I can hardly keep such a woman under my roof—”

“Stop, Arthur,” Marc interrupted quietly, frustration evident in his tense voice. “Miss Ashton isn’t going anywhere. Turns out, she’s from 2014 too. Her brother, Daniel Ashton, is the blackmailer I’ve been seeking—the one who attacked me in Duir Cottage—

“What?!” Arthur’s eyes went wide with shock.

“—Fortunately, Miss Ashton’s brother was not actually attempting to blackmail me,” Marc finished.

Arthur stared at her in stunned silence for a moment, trying to piece everything together.

“Is
anyone
the person they seem to be?” he finally asked faintly.

Marc chuckled. A grim, dark sound echoing in the night.

“That’s a philosophical question for the ages, but not one I care to debate right now. Daniel helped us recover the items stolen from Kinningsley, and we are working to uncover the spy plot.”

“Thank heavens! Linwood was terribly upset and rushed off right after it was found you two had left. Of course, Marianne and I and our house guests returned immediately home. I understand Linwood returned to Kinningsley yesterday evening a little worse for wear. I am not sure what transpired, but I know he will be pleased to hear what you have uncovered.”

“Yes, I suppose he will. But, for now, we need a way to smooth this all over. Miss Ashton is actually the daughter of Lord Whitmoor in 2014 and is a respected, well-known woman. I refuse to watch someone of her stature reduced to serving Lady Ruby. She needs to be upgraded.”

Kit’s breath hitched at Marc’s unwavering defense of her. He really was just the sweetest—

“Upgraded?” Arthur questioned, clearly unfamiliar with the term.

“Yes. She needs to have a more proper position within your household. Something more like a guest of honor than a servant. I’m sure it’s what James would want.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, obviously not liking his older brother being used as a bargaining chip. Marc’s bland expression clearly said he would not back down.

Silence hung.

“Arthur, we are tired and have had a long day. We have done much to help you and Linwood—”

“I do not see how it is possible to explain your behavior, Marc.” Arthur’s shoulders sank, conceding the argument. “It is well-known that you left together. Miss Ashton has no reputation—”

“I say, Arthur, is that you out here in the moonlight?” A voice called across the back terrace. A high-pitched, nasal voice.

All three of them instantly quieted. But it took Jedediah less than a minute to find them.

He strolled through the same door in the garden wall, taking in Kit and Marc still sitting in the gig. A footman followed closely at his heels, moving quickly to hold their horse.

Placing them all in a nice bind.

Biting back a few bitter words, Marc climbed out of the gig, reaching up a hand to assist Kit down. All under the censorious eyes of Arthur and Jedediah. Jedediah, in particular, watched Kit with almost predatory glee.

It was
not
a particularly good moment.

“Well, cousin,” Jedediah said, turning to Arthur. “I cannot imagine you would allow people of such deplorable character to remain under your roof. I am sure they can find their way from here.” He gestured into the frigid, dark night, his eyes gleaming in delight.

Ugh. He was
such
a jerk.

Arthur stood frozen, obviously torn between propriety and the sense of obligation he felt to both Kit and Marc.

Marc straightened his spine beside her, obviously not willing to go down without a fight.

“I would ask you to speak more carefully around my cousin, Mr. Knight.” Marc fixed his gaze on Jedediah. “She has had a long day. While staying at Kinningsley, Miss Ashton and I realized she was the long lost daughter of my mother’s sister. Our family has been looking for her for years. I cannot express our great joy in having her brought back to us.” He raised Kit’s gloved hand in his, bestowing a light kiss on her knuckles. “I must apologize for our abrupt departure from Kinningsley. We had urgent family business to attend to.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, impressed with Marc’s story. It
was
almost plausible.

Jedediah, however, looked decidedly skeptical.

“Hogwash, Lord Vader!” Jedediah scoffed. “As if anyone would believe such a Banbury tale. Everyone has seen how you have been panting after Miss Ashton, and now we are to accept that you are
cousins—
”

“Lord Vader! I am so delighted to discover you and Miss Ashton have returned without harm.” Marianne rushed past Jedediah, stopping beside Kit to place a concerned hand on her arm.

Was
everyone
outside tonight?

“Did I just overhear Lord Vader saying that you are, in actuality, cousins?” Marianne asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Knight,” Kit managed to reply. “It has been a most unexpected pair of days—”

“How marvelous! Why that just explains everything does it not?” Marianne exclaimed, looping her arm through Kit’s. “Come inside, all of you. ‘Tis far too cold to stand around outside chatting. Let us sit in front of a warm fire, and you can recount your tale.”

“But . . .” Jedediah spluttered, “surely the propriety of this situation—”

“Enough, Jedediah.” Marianne turned to him, steel in her voice. “Miss Ashton has been a model of virtue and kindness to all of us. I will not stand here and listen to you impugn her reputation. If Lord Vader says she is his cousin, then she is. And as his cousin, there is no dishonor in their traveling together. I will hear no more disagreement on the subject. Is that understood?”

For the first time, Kit clearly saw the resemblance to the viscount in petite Marianne Linwood Knight. Head held high. Eyes snapping. When needed, Marianne could be as haughty and intractable as her brother.

Arthur nodded, an appreciative smile tugging his lips. “Well said, my dear. Now, let us get out of this cold.”

He clapped Marc’s shoulder and led the way indoors.

And that was that.

Haldon Manor

March 3 thru March 9, 1814

Kit welcomed the ‘upgrade’ from paid companion to honored guest. Even better, the change came with Fanny as her maid, more of Georgiana’s altered clothing and hot baths.

Ah. Hot baths.
Such
a luxury.

The next morning, she and Marc returned the papers to Linwood, who through a swollen lip and black eye, grudgingly thanked them for their efforts. Marc promised to let him know if they received any more information from Daniel . . . er . . . their ‘source.’

And then, suddenly, there wasn’t much else to do. Except wait for word from Daniel.

No more fetching shawls and plating food for Ruby, thank goodness. Though the old lady had
not
been pleased to lose her paid companion. Fortunately, a young woman from Marfield had been found on short notice to help.

Kit’s days were her own, so she spent them with Marc. All the while, falling deeper and deeper.

A week passed and still no word from Daniel.

All of her angst morphed into anxiousness. Kit hated just sitting and waiting. She wanted to be out and doing. Searching for Daniel.

His promise to Marc lingered in her head. He was going to send word of his location. She could remain permanently in the nineteenth century with Daniel. All she had to do was join him.

The big question lingered. If Kit decided to stay, would Marc stay with her?

For his part, Marc refused to discuss
that
. Every time she brought it up, he skillfully changed the topic. He obviously didn’t want to confront the issue one way or another.

When she finally pressed him, he insisted he was Switzerland. Neutral territory. He wasn’t going to make a decision that might sway her one way or another.

His face unreadable. Intractable.

A look she had seen too many times on the faces of men she loved.

Her father whenever she dared speak of her mother. Daniel as she pleaded with him, again, to find a path for himself.

But Daniel
has
found a path,
Virtuous Angel muttered.
You just don’t like the path he chose.

True that,
Wicked Angel agreed.

Stupid, dumb shoulder angels. She shrugged them off. Who needed them anyway?

So instead of pressing the issue, she and Marc spent the week discussing their twenty-first century lives.

Her ideas for expanding FauxPause. His plans for future movie projects.

The places they had traveled to, the places they still wanted to go. Common likes (beaches, fast cars and bacon), common dislikes (crowded cities, slow drivers and cilantro) and things they agreed to disagree on (pop versus rap, soccer versus football).

They met early one morning in the walled garden in the clothing they had been wearing when they arrived. Up to this point, Kit had enjoyed the sight of Marc in a full nineteenth century gentleman’s getup.

But Marc in designer jeans, tight t-shirt and a leather jacket . . . positively swoon-inducing. It had taken her almost a full minute to start breathing again. Talk about broad shoulders . . .

Granted, he had been equally appreciative of her skinny jeans, green silk shirt, black puffer jacket and knee-high black leather boots. If staring for an awkwardly long time with heated eyes qualified as
appreciative
.

His exact words had been, “Your figure is utterly wasted on those stupid Empire-waist dresses.”