Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty-One
Rose’s eyes slid closed and, to Henry’s horror, her body went limp on the couch, her head and torso pitching forward.
He rushed to take hold of her before she fell forward and cracked her head on the astrolabe lying on the coffee table in front of them.
Her bare arms were chilly to the touch. Terror branched through him like lightning.
She’s dead! It’s my fault! A crime, an escape, a journey to another century and back—it had all been too much.
But her chest moved against his—she was breathing. He rushed to adjust her, cradling her in his left arm, against his shoulder, so he could set two fingers against the artery at the side of her neck. Her pulse beat slower than he would’ve liked, but it was steady.
His own heart was slamming in his chest. She’d fainted.
That was all. He took a steadying breath, then lay her down on her back on the sofa, elevating her legs by tucking the two large throw pillows beneath them.
A doctor had told him, regarding Charlotte, that this would aid in her recovery by speeding the blood flow back to her brain.
It was not unusual for a lady to faint. He still felt a bit seasick, or timesick, himself. He took her hand, still cool and clammy, in both of his and chafed it.
“Rose. Wake up, my love.”
She didn’t stir. He didn’t want to call her name any more loudly.
A lady who has passed out from shock should not endure a second shock of being shouted at.
Did she have smelling salts anywhere? He got up, went over to her purse, and rummaged through it, looking for a vinaigrette.
Like many ladies, Charlotte had always carried one in her reticule: a hinged gold and enamel box shaped like a heart.
He found no such thing there, or in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.
It was too bad, because the strong smell was the surest way he knew to reverse a swoon…
Ha! He had a flash of inspiration. After checking again on Rose, he went to the kitchen and pulled down the bottle of Malort.
It did not smell nearly as bad as it tasted, but it did have a strong, atrocious odor.
He brought it to the living room and held his breath himself as he screwed off the cap.
“Rose,” he urged, sitting down on the coffee table and taking her hand again. He held the open bottle as closely as he could to her nose.
She scrunched up her face and made a sound like unngh as she jerked her head to one side. Her eyelids fluttered open as Henry, feeling very pleased with his resourcefulness, set the devil’s drink aside.
Rose looked around her. “I fell asleep,” she said, and then, “Did we go to another time?”
“No. You swooned.” Henry squeezed her hand.
Her eyes fixed on the bottle. “Did you make me drink that?”
“Good God, no. I used it in place of smelling salts. A noxious smell makes you pull away, which wakes you up.” He screwed the cap back on the bottle and set it aside.
“I told you we might need it,” Rose teased.
He smiled and stroked a damp curl away from her face. “How are you feeling?”
“Uh…embarrassed, I guess,” she said on a laugh, moving to get up.
“Careful, my love,” he murmured as he helped her to a sitting position. “Let me get some water.”
He returned the accursed bottle to the kitchen, then filled a glass from the tap and came back to set it in front of her.
“Thank you.” She took a sip. He must’ve been staring at her, his concern plain on his face, because she waved a hand and said, “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Do you know if you have any problems with your heart?”
“What?” She looked up, and then understanding filled her eyes. “No, I don’t. My heart is fine.” She gave a soft, rueful laugh. “Other than…never mind.”
“Never mind what? Do you ever suffer from palpitations?” He shouldn’t get agitated. It would only make her more agitated, and that was the last thing she needed.
“No, never.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “You fuss too much over me.”
“I believe I fuss the proper amount.”
“You are the sweetest man. You know that?” He had only been described that way by one other person.
She took another drink of water. “I think I was just really freaked out about being in a totally different century, you know?”
“Yes. It is a most disconcerting experience.”
She set her glass down on the coffee table. “At least I knew what was happening. When you first came here, you had no idea. I didn’t understand how…discombobulating that must have been. I teased you too much at first.” Her lovely face filled with distress. “I’m really sorry.”
“Do not trouble yourself,” he said emphatically. “You have been very kind to me, even when I have not always been civil to you, or your friends. I am well aware that I was not the man you hoped for when you did your innocent love spell.”
“You are, though,” she said in a small voice. “You’re exactly the man I was hoping for.”
His throat felt tight and sore. “Meeting you brought me joy, when I thought joy had gone forever from my life.”
She looked at him sadly. “You still want to go home, though.”
His spirits plummeted. “I cannot remain in this strange modern world,” he said with profound regret.
“I know. You’re a duke, with a giant estate.”
“Yes, I have no name here, no property. And here, because I know less than everyone else, I am useless to everyone.”
“Not to me,” Rose whispered. She tapped the astrolabe. “I think that’s why I couldn’t let go.”
If they had found themselves in Everly Park, in his time, what would that have been like for her? Might it have seemed familiar? He cared about Rose herself, but was he insane to think there was the small possibility that in another, distant life, she’d been Charlotte?
“I wonder if you could come to my time,” he said without thinking.
Her eyes widened. “You mean, to live? I couldn’t leave my brother.”
“No, no, not to live,” he said quickly. It had been a ridiculous suggestion.
His whole theory of reincarnation was ridiculous, in fact.
“Of course you cannot leave your brother, or your friends, or your work…I only meant to visit,” he concluded, to save his pride.
“And you would hate it there regardless, I’m afraid.
You’d chafe under the expectations of proper ladies like a… a butterfly in a jar.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” She looked at the astrolabe on the table. “And I don’t think I could just visit now and then. That thing glitches! I could get stranded in some random century.”
“It is dangerous,” he agreed. “Moreover, it may be unhealthy. You must let go.”
“Aren’t you scared to try it again?”
He sighed. “Yes, but I am stranded already. It is worth the risk, I think.”
She nodded sadly.
He had to accept the fact that he and Rose must part. He’d spent two years wishing he could be with Charlotte again; he could not add another impossible yearning. There would be nothing left of him.