Chapter 13
The first thing Theo heard were the soft tones of violins. Then, voices—hushed, murmured—and the clinking of glass. Perhaps a standard post-death reception?
Damn. Wescott will not stand for me dying.
He opened his eyes to a dimly lit corridor of some mansion, or a castle, even, with a patterned red-and-gold rug that ran along the hallway and a few lit sconces casting soft shadows upon the stone walls.
“No chance.” Emmeline was next to him, getting the scope of their surroundings. “I did it again.”
He touched his cheek—felt warm and real enough. “We’re not dead. How are we not—where are we?”
“I have an inkling.” She grabbed him by the hand and led him down the hallway.
It opened into a long, spacious room. There were the violins—in the arms of a quintet, performing on a raised stage—and there were the murmurs and clinking of glasses from dozens of people, dressed in elaborate clothes: wide-skirted gowns for the ladies and embroidered coats with lace jabots, long waistcoats, and silk stockings for the gentlemen.
They wore masks, ranging from simple black bands to entire sculptures topped with gems and feathers.
Mirrors, decorated with wide silk ribbons in different colors, lined the walls, reflecting the guests and the light from the massive chandeliers hanging off the vaulted wooden ceiling.
By the shorter wall opposite the musicians’ stage stood a table lined with plates of pastries and a massive bowl of punch.
None of this made any sense.
“We’re back,” Emmeline whispered. She seemed more excited than shocked, or surprised, even.
“Back where?” What happened? Did they fall and survive, but he hit his head so hard he’d forgotten everything?
“In the past.” Emmeline ventured toward the dancing and conversing guests.
“Now, hold on.” He ran after her. “The past? How are we alive?”
“Oh. Right. This one is difficult to explain, especially because I’m not entirely sure of it myself, but …” She looked around, lowering her voice. “I think when we fell, I transported us here.”
“You what?”
“Sometimes I make these—” A waiter passed by, offering champagne glasses. She took one and offered Theo another. He accepted—he felt he might need it. “Passages between different time periods,” she finished.
On the other hand, maybe she shouldn’t have any more alcohol.
“You mean you took us from … out of …”
“Our time, yes.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’ll get us back, I promise!”
“Back—” he pulled her out of the way of a swirling couple. “What do you mean, back?”
“Lovebirds, you’re not doing a very good job of masquerading,” a lady with a tall powdered wig housing an entire ship replica tutted as she walked by.
“Okay, listen.” Emmeline headed to the side of the room.
She took two decorative ribbons off the mirrors and used a knife from the cutlery table to cut inch-long streaks into them.
“I think it happens when my emotions run high, and given I was about to die, I’d say they were pretty high. This shimmering in the air appears—”
“I saw it.”
“And if you go through it, you end up somewhere else. Like it happened with us.” She wrapped the white ribbon as a makeshift mask around her eyes and handed him the red one.
“You’re saying you’ve done this before?”
She shrugged. “Once or twice.”
This was insane. Absolutely, positively insane.
As insane as the fact that they were both still alive. And yet, that was also true.
“I know it’s bizarre, but you have to believe me.” She gestured at their surroundings. “Doesn’t this look like the ballroom we’d just explored?”
Now that he compared it—yes, it did. But in a much better time. An earlier time, before the fire?
He couldn’t believe he was considering this. “If we are somewhere else, how do we get back?”
“I’m not sure.” She smiled nervously. “My best bet is I need to have another emotional surge.”
“So we need to go throw ourselves out of the window?”
“Any emotion would do, I think. Hopefully, a happier one.” She glanced around. “Do you like dancing?”
“I … know how to.” That was the most he could say about it; like so many of his other skills, it wasn’t one frequently employed on the farm. He’d found it fun to learn, though. Matching the figures to the rhythm of the music was a bit like a filling in a math equation.
“I love to dance.”
He tied his ribbon mask behind his head. “Well, then, Miss Grey, may I ask for a dance?” He offered her a hand.
“You may.” With a mischievous grin, she took it, and he led her to the dance floor.
They joined three other couples, positioning to start the dance by standing side by side.
The musicians struck a lively tune—a quadrille, he judged.
But as the couples started the dance, turning toward each other, then weaving their arms behind their backs, Theo realized, in a burst of panic—he didn’t know this figure.
“What are we dancing?” Emmeline flashed him a similarly panicked look.
“It’s a—” Damn. It was a cotillion—out of fashion by the time Wescott figured Theo should get his dancing lessons. It being similar enough didn’t help when the figures were different.
“Improvise,” Emmeline whispered.
Right. If the equation wasn’t complete, he only needed to find the missing variable by taking the rest into account. He took her hand with a renewed conviction and spun her around.
It was rather chaotic at first. Emmeline stepped on his foot, and, trying to sync up with the rest, they bumped into another pair.
But as if prolonged contact made their thoughts and moves align, Emmeline soon molded into his arms, perfectly reacting to every step, every lead—even spinning away from him and back when he prompted her with the slightest nudge.
“Hold on,” the gentlemen next to them said. “What was that?”
They stopped on the spot, still holding hands, undoubtedly looking like two naughty children about to be punished.
“Do it again,” the man requested.
“Yes, let’s do that figure,” a woman said to her dance partner.
Emmeline winked at Theo; he made a step back, and she whirled toward him.
The other couples followed, repeating the motion.
“Looks like you’re setting a new trend.” Emmeline was close enough that she only needed to whisper. Her breath tickled his neck and sent pleasant shivers down his spine.
“Again?”
Her wide smile was reflected in her eyes. “Again.”
And they danced.
“That was amazing.” Emmeline leaned on the table for support once they made their way out of the crowd. “You dance very well.”
“I had a great partner.”
She giggled and grabbed a plate of desserts. “Oh, this is good. Here.” She was about to hand him an éclair but stopped halfway. Her eyes grew wide as she stared over his shoulder.
“Lady Scarlet,” she whispered.
“Huh?” He didn’t even have time to turn. The plate of desserts forgotten, Emmeline took his hand and led them to the other side of the dance floor; not an easy feat when they had the crowd and the women’s hooped skirts to fight against.
“What are we doing?” he asked.
“She’s real,” Emmeline mumbled to herself.
Theo glanced over the crowd. Emmeline wasn’t interested in the dancers, so it had to be someone else.
Several people milled about at the far wall: a group of gentlemen in a lively discussion and two couples.
One pair wore coordinated sapphire blue and gold clothes; another was a man in deep purple, talking to a brunette in a striking ruby-red gown, her perfectly curled, unpowdered hair glistening with red highlights.
She laughed while she twirled a glass between her fingers. As her glance stopped on them, she paused, then hurriedly walked away.
“No!” Emmeline pressed through the crowd. They got out, but the lady in red was nowhere to be seen.
“She had to have gone up there.” Emmeline pointed to a hallway and a staircase leading up, shaded in darkness.
“Who is she?”
“She’s—she—I can’t believe it.” She turned toward him, walking backward once they ascended the stairs. “The castle, the masquerade ball, Lady Scarlet—they were all real!”
“What do you mean?”
“They were in a book.” Emmeline opened a nearby door, glanced inside, and closed it again, heading further down the hallway.
Up here, the corridors were decorated in a typical castle manner, with tapestries and ceremonial weapons displayed on the walls.
“But if that’s real, it means …” She opened another door—a delicate feminine yelp came from inside.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” Emmeline rapidly closed it, coloring up to the tips of her ears.
“And why are we chasing her?”
“Because she knows how to help me.”
She was all riddles today—or tonight—wasn’t she?
“She can probably even help us get back.”
“I thought you knew how to do that!”
“Well, I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it any minute—” As they rounded the corner, Emmeline stopped dead in her tracks.
A man blocked their way, dressed in all black, a matching, simple silk mask disguising the upper half of his face. He brandished a polished walking cane with a silver head, pointing it at them. “Where is she?”
Emmeline froze.
“Where’s the pendant? The two of you are after her. Did you get it already?”
What the hell was he talking about?
Emmeline tightened her grip on Theo’s arm. “De Villiers,” she whispered.
“What?” the man said.
“You’re not getting Starry Night!” Emmeline took a defensive stance. “Only over my dead body!”
The man twirled the cane, drawing a long, thin blade from it. “That can be arranged.”
What in the Shakespearian drama was this?
Emmeline stepped forward, only to flinch away as the blade pierced the sleeve of her upper arm, red drops soaking the fabric. The man advanced a few more inches, keeping the weapon pointed at her. Emmeline pressed a hand on her wound.
Theo feverishly looked around for help—another person to call, to break up this insane situation, an exit, or … the pair of rapiers crossed over each other on the wall.
While the man’s eyes were on Emmeline, he grabbed one and pointed the blade at him. “Back. Off.”
Emmeline let out another gasp, this one sounding more of surprise.
“Are you insane?” the man said.
“I’m having an overwhelming night,” Theo responded with a scoffing smile.
The man’s eyes narrowed for a brief second—then he jumped forward into an attack. Theo parried, moving a step to the side, trying to get him away from Emmeline, who plastered herself against the wall and moved sideways.
He didn’t intend to hurt the man. Perhaps he’d had a drink too many and wasn’t quite in touch with reality.
In that case, a scare would do. But the man kept pressing—another lunge there, a feint that nearly lured Theo into his trap, and another forced parry.
With a light swishing motion, Theo deflected the blade and followed with a thrust, grazing the man’s neck.
It was a surface-level wound, only enough to draw blood and maybe bring the man back to his senses. Still holding his weapon, he grabbed his neck, then stared at the crimson drops left on his fingers. He looked up at Theo in disbelief. “You hit me.”
And then a dull thud sounded, and the man collapsed onto his knees. Emmeline stood behind him, a blue-and-white porcelain vase in her hands.
“You had it coming,” she said in a shaky voice.
The man grunted on the floor but didn’t get up. Theo ran past him and grabbed her good shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Ye—ah—let’s go.” She grimaced and ran down the hallway. They tried a few doors until one gave in, revealing a bedchamber with moonlight streaming in from the open window.
Theo closed the door and blocked it with a chair. “We need to take care of your arm.” He went around the room, pulling out drawers to find anything useful as a medicine kit.
“Theo. I’ll be fine.” She gently touched his back. “It’s just a scratch. See?”
He squinted at the wound. She was right—it was small, surface-level. A bit of alcohol to clean it up, and she’d be fine.
“How do you know how to fence?” she asked, eyes wide in wonder.
“Lessons.” He walked to the bed—there, on the bedside table! Apparently, this occupant was in the habit of drinking before bed. Literally. “Sit down for a second. Please.”
She did.
He grabbed the decanter, poured a bit of what smelled like a very decent brandy on the wound, and tapped it with a handkerchief from the drawer.
Emmeline hissed as the alcohol touched the scratch, but otherwise bore through the procedure patiently and let him tie another handkerchief as a bandage around the arm.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Who was he? You knew him, but he didn’t know you.” The first would be impossible, anyway, if they were in another time.
“He’s the villain.”
“You called him de Villiers.” He raised an eyebrow. “And you mentioned a book. Are you trying to say …”
“Yes, I know the name is very on the nose,” she said. “It does have a good ring to it, though, doesn’t it?”
“I preferred the ring of that vase against his skull.”
She laughed.
“You’ll have to explain all of this properly one day soon.”
“I will, once I clear it up in my own head.” She got up and walked to the window. A curtain fluttered in the breeze; she pushed it aside and looked out.
He joined her, momentarily struck speechless by the view. A velvety night embraced the castle, making it feel hidden, safe. The gibbous moon reflected off the ocean. Several stories beneath them, waves crushed against the dark, craggy rocks.
“What is this place?” he breathed. It was a castle, yes, and it overlooked the ocean, like the ruins they’d been at before. But here, it was … more. It was magical.
Emmeline looked at him, nursing a mysterious smile.
The dark and the moonlight melded in her eyes, the first painting them a deep blue of midnight, the second adding silvery sparks, making them look like they’d captured the starry night sky.
Her mask still covered the upper half of her face, and he felt the inexplicable need to reach behind and untie it, and lay a kiss on her eyebrows, and her nose, and—
She didn’t say anything, but there was a plea in her eyes, one that matched his trail of thoughts.
With all respect to his betters—Lord Farenham was an idiot, ignoring someone like her.
Theo couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun; strange fun, true, but entertaining nonetheless.
And it was all because of her. He didn’t understand half of what she was going on about, but it—she—was irresistible.
She weaved a new life around him, a life full of excitement and adventure.
He wanted that life.
He wanted her.
He leaned down, just an inch. She took in a breath and parted her lips.
Bad idea, his brain warned.
Not my first one.
He leaned in more. She let out the tiniest moan, and then—
“Oh, no,” she peeped. Her face shimmered as if she’d dipped under the water’s surface, and the room around them disappeared.