Chapter 9
He didn’t remember her.
Emmeline let her feet take her back to the foyer while she ran over the conversation with Leon. Or was it Theo now?
For two days, she’d waited for him to wake up, only for him to not even know who she was. She’d yet to decide whether that made it easier for her—since she didn’t have to explain she’d somehow transported him to the past—or harder. It certainly didn’t make her happier, though.
And what was with the name? Did he use Theo as a cover, or was this his actual name?
And if it was, was he even still Leon, or simply a man who looked like him?
That would make more sense, considering he didn’t know her.
Perhaps he was Leon’s distant ancestor; that would explain the physical similarities.
It seemed impossible she could’ve plucked Leon from her time, sent him here, and given him a different life.
It also seemed impossible she could’ve done that for herself, but at least she still remembered who she was.
“You look awfully lost in thoughts.” The duke’s voice brought her back to Earth, and Emmeline realized she’d been standing by the foot of the staircase for several minutes.
She quirked an eyebrow. “Perhaps I am.”
“Hmmph. You can use those flirtations on younger men,” he said, eyes shining with mirth. “Come for more reading? Perhaps something lighter this time?”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” she said, cheering up. She’d had enough of Debrett’s Peerage for at least a month.
Inside the library, they went over a few shelves until she spotted a familiar name on a row of neatly stacked books. “Miranda Stormcliffe! I had no idea you had her novels.”
“A fan, hmm?”
“I have her entire collection at … home.” Pushing the thought of her books abandoned far away, she skimmed the titles. The Specter of Cunningham House, The Heart of the Moors, The False Heiress—they were all there.
“Pick whichever one you like,” the duke said.
“I’m afraid I’ve read them all. Several times.”
The duke squinted and raised an eyebrow. “I see. What about The Visitor in Scarlet?”
“That’s not one of hers.”
“I beg to differ. It looks like your collection might be incomplete, Miss Grey.”
Impossible. “There’s another book?”
“Miss Grey! Oh, here you are. Good morning, Papa.” Louisa whooshed into the library, the untied ribbons of her bonnet swirling behind her. She pecked the duke on the cheek and looked at Emmeline. “Ready for us to go to Redbridge?”
Right. They were supposed to go shopping for new clothes today. “Sure.”
“I’ll have the book sent to your quarters,” the duke said as Louisa dragged her out of the library.
The town was small for Emmeline’s standards, but it would probably count as decently sized in this part of the country, and in this time.
Several inns and taverns, a postal office, and multiple shops all huddled along a muddy road.
The uniform gray, beige, and white houses, with shingled and thatched roofs and flowering bushes and ivy-sprinkled facades, gave the town a charming, fairytale-like feeling.
A cluster of chickens fluttered over the road as the carriage rocked across the cobblestones.
Emmeline breathed in the buttery sweet smell of bread and pastries wafting from the baker’s, mingling with a fresh morning breeze.
It was the complete opposite of New York City. A dream refuge from the future that awaited her—one she’d cling to for as long as she could.
Louisa dragged her from shop to shop. Undergarments, dresses, hats, and other accessories—in her excitement, Louisa didn’t seem to mind that her family would be paying for it, so Emmeline let herself get carried away, too. Besides, it would be a drop in the ocean for the duke.
“The ribbons perfectly match your eyes,” Louisa said as Emmeline tried on a bonnet with trimming in a forget-me-not blue. “We must get this one for you, Maria—may I call you Maria?”
Emmeline’s first instinct was to say, “I guess it’s as good a name as any,” until she realized it was her name. Well, Miss Grey’s name. According to Debrett’s, Viscount Grey had three daughters, and until now, she wasn’t sure which one she was supposed to represent.
Luckily, it wasn’t Modesty.
After purchasing the hat, they exited onto the street and continued a stroll along the cobblestones.
“I can’t wait for my brother to come back,” Louisa said, shaking Emmeline out of her daydreaming about what a wonderful relief from her life this village was. Not a finishing school in sight.
Emmeline accidentally tightened her arm, looped around Louisa’s. “Is he?”
“What?”
“Coming back? Soon?”
“Oh, most likely not. He’s probably having too much fun with his friends in London, doing all the manly things.” Louisa rolled her eyes, but accompanied that with a smile. “Don’t worry. If he is intending to come here, we’ll receive his letter first.”
Emmeline wasn’t quite sure what she felt, regarding her fake fiancé—or rather, the real fiancé of her fake self—but the first thing, upon hearing Louisa’s reassurance, was relief.
She was curious about him—would he be as sweet and kind and a tiny bit dramatic, like his sister?
—but at this moment, she had too many other things to worry about.
“How about fans?” Louisa said. “You won’t need one right now, and surely you have some at home, but …” She wiggled her eyebrows expectantly.
Emmeline had never used a fan. But maybe she could try. It would be fun to learn some dramatic gestures with them. “Let’s do it.” The idea brought a smile back to her lips, but it faded as she glanced across the street.
Parked next to the inn was a black-lacquered carriage with an emblem of the letter G, set in a shield.
The carriage that had picked up her and Theo.
Emmeline spun Louisa around, so rapidly Louisa almost lost her footing. “I need to—uh—ladies’ business,” she squeezed out. “At the inn. Would you mind waiting for me at the shop?”
“All right.” Unconcerned, Louisa wandered off.
Emmeline waited until she was out of sight, then crossed the street and entered the inn. “Miss Grey?” she asked the innkeeper, who pointed her upward, confirming her fears.
She ascended slowly, wringing her hands. She didn’t know what she’d do yet, but she had to do something. If the real Maria Grey was here, she could turn up at the estate at any moment, and the jig would be up. And if her cover fell, so would Theo’s. What would they do to a spy—execute him?
She knocked on the door; after a short “Yes” from the inside, it opened, revealing a young woman with an oval face, dark eyes, and immaculately styled dark brown hair, dressed in an emerald green traveling cloak.
Judging by the healthy glow of her cheeks and her general disposition, she didn’t look sick at all.
“Miss Grey?” Emmeline asked.
“Yes, that’s me.” The woman tilted her head, inspecting her with curiosity.
“I was sent from Lennemere. May we talk?”
The woman glanced over her shoulder. “If we must.” She cleared her throat over a slight uneasiness in her voice, but let Emmeline in.
Emmeline had half-expected her to be hiding a lover behind the door or under the bed, but the room was empty, and neatly made, too—including Miss Grey’s suitcase, ready and packed on the bed.
She was about to come to the estate.
“I’m afraid I’m still feeling unwell, as my driver must’ve told you,” Miss Grey said. “I cannot visit for at least a few days more.”
“Really? That’s great—I mean, it’s not great that you’re sick.
I wanted to say, there’s been a disease outbreak on the estate, as well—not that it’s your fault, just an awful coincidence”—like the “coincidence” in Three Times a Widow, huh?
—No, concentrate!—“so it would not be safe at all for you to visit, especially in your weakened condition.”
Miss Grey looked at her sideways. “I don’t believe I’ve gotten your name.”
“Em—uh—Ma—Emma. I’m a servant.” Emmeline regretted the words the instant they left her mouth.
Miss Grey’s eyes drifted down Emmeline’s—Louisa’s—fine traveling cloak, trimmed with a satin ribbon. “Thank you for informing me,” she said, her tone cold. “I’ll send my driver to extend regrets to the duke and the duchess—”
“No!” Emmeline spread her arms across the door as if Miss Grey intended to leave for the estate at this very moment.
“Emma, or whoever you are … If you do not remove yourself from my room this instant—”
“Okay, okay, look.” Emmeline extended a hand toward Maria, trying to calm her while her own heartbeat pulsated somewhere in her throat. “I’m in a slight situation. I need you to wait for a bit, because if they find out, I’ll have nowhere to go, and neither will Leon—Theo—uh—”
“I said, leave.”
“Maria, please. I’m sure we can reach an agreement.”
“How do you know my name?”
Damn. “If you’ll listen to me…” Grasping for any reasonable excuse, Emmeline frantically glanced around the room, as if the answer would be conveniently spelled out on the wall. Instead, her gaze landed on the suitcase.
Miss Grey was packed and dressed for travel. But if she wasn’t about to come to Lennemere, and she wasn’t going home, which she would’ve mentioned …
“You’re running away,” Emmeline breathed.
Miss Grey’s eyes widened. “Leave, now.” Despite her rod-straight, threatening posture, her voice shook.
“Wait!”
Everything happened in a split second. Emmeline reached for Miss Grey—only to calm her down, to tell her they could work this out—but as she extended her hand, her finger colored that familiar, dark blue.
She didn’t have time to process it. She touched Miss Grey’s shoulder, and a shimmering appeared around it—like the one she’d seen in the hallway on the ship—and Miss Grey was gone.
For the longest minute, Emmeline stood there, her arm still extended, fingers shaking.
What had she done?
She collapsed on her knees and crawled forward, searching the floor as if Miss Grey could somehow be hiding underneath the planks.
No. No. No.
She had no idea how much time had passed before she wandered downstairs, still shivering. Had she just killed a person? No. Surely not. She … she …
She sent her away. The last time that shimmering happened, Emmeline came here, to a different time.
So, was Maria Grey somewhere else now?
“Miss?” The innkeeper had paused with his pen lifted above a logbook.
“Yes,” Emmeline said, only then realizing she had to do something.
Cover your tracks, Brendon would say. “I’m from Lennemere.
Here with Lady Louisa.” Her voice felt like it was coming from far away.
“We’ve picked up Miss Grey since she’ll be staying with us.
Would you mind telling her driver that she … left.”
“Certainly, Miss.”
She walked out onto the street and, as if in a dream—or a nightmare—headed toward the accessory shop.
No, now she really had no business, and no time, worrying about a possible fiancé. She had to fix this. She had to find Maria Grey again.
And she had a month to do it before her visit with the family would end.