Chapter 7
“Oh my god!” Leo says as my feet fly over my head and my already angry back (from all the time I spend hunched over books and my laptop) finds the sharp edge of every stair.
I try to remind myself that this is what I wanted. That it’s a good thing and this is my very painful ride back to the future (I really should watch that movie now…) but my body and underused muscles, overwhelmed with pain, don’t care to hear it.
“I’m coming!” I vaguely see his shiny shoes move rapidly down the stairs above me.
No, I have to go now. But when I get back to real life, I’m going to look up how your life went. Maybe I’ll even write a little paper about how kind you were one night to a stranger. Put flowers on your grave.
Fantasize about what could have been if I met you at a faculty party or on one of my research trips to England.
But the same blackness that overtook me the first time isn’t happening, and I keep getting flashes of the blue sky, the tan-colored building material, and Leo’s legs encased in black pants as I tumble.
And then I stop in a heap at the landing of the stairs, on my back, still very awake, and very confused. And in lots of pain. More than the first time, actually.
As I’m trying to suss out whether I succeeded in getting to the right year, Leo’s head blocks out the sun, his short curls framing his face, looking kind of like an angel since he’s backlit.
Even though he helped me yesterday, this is not a comforting sight and my heart sinks at my plan’s failure.
“Are you all right?” Leo kneels down next to me, taking my hand in his strong one and gently helping me up to a sitting position. I would appreciate the warm hand on my back much more if there wasn’t so much happening right now.
No, that’s a lie. So much is happening, but my brain is still taking the time to notice a tingle where his hand is firmly touching my back. Through layers of clothing, no less.
Horniness finds a way.
It’s not my fault; he’s looking so concerned about me while he’s touching me. It’s sweet.
“I—I’m fine.” More disappointed than hurt, even though the pain is not an insignificant factor right now.
“That was quite the fall. I heard you speaking to someone, but they must have run off.” His voice is imbued with derision over the person who abandoned me in my time of need and he drops his hands, which disappoints me more than I care to admit.
“No. Just talking to myself.”
He arches an eyebrow up in a way that makes my two eyebrows that only ever act in unison jealous. Probably because without threading, they are one. “To yourself?”
Eventually, he’s going to realize how strange I am, and he’s going to tell the palace guards I need to be locked up for the safety of the country.
And that moment is going to come sooner rather than later if he thinks I’m talking to myself, but I already went with honesty, so it’s too late to backtrack now. I’ll try to mitigate instead.
“Yes,” I hiss in pain at the end of the one-word answer. And take a few more deep breathes before trying to talk more. “Just thinking out loud. Everyone’s doing it in America. Helps stimulate the brain by stimulating the body.”
“Well, they did want to leave our superior care and governance, so I would expect them to be a bit mad.”
“Yes. Completely irrational to want autonomy. Taxation with representation and all that.” As someone with the heritage of two former colonies (India and the US), I put a lot more sarcasm in there than is strictly necessary, considering my survival depends on the kindness of him and other people here.
But something about Leo makes me forget I’m shy. He’s so easy to talk to that the things I would normally keep to myself come out without permission until he’s laughing with me, genuine warmth in his eyes. He charms it out of me.
And he’s never made me regret it, like other people have when I say what I’m really thinking. So far. In our short acquaintance.
But he also doesn’t know the truth, either.
“No one wants to take the time and effort to vote; you must have hit your head harder than you think. Can you remember my name?” He slows his voice down and raises his volume in a way that he might think helps, but I doubt would even if I had an actual brain injury.
“People do so want to vote. Leopold Too-Many-Last-Names-hyphen-That-Are-Pretentious. Marquess of Eliteness.”
He quirks one side of his mouth in a smile.
“Close enough, I suppose. Let’s get you up.
” He gently retakes my arm and lifts me all the way up with little input from me.
The tingle returns at the easy way he helps me to standing.
It’s been too long since I’ve been on a date if a simple touch is sending me into these levels of lust.
“What are you doing here?” I resign myself to the fact that I’m stuck in this time for another day at least.
Maybe I need to hit my head harder. That’s not a pleasant thought.
“I came to check on you. Make sure you made it through the night you were so worried about.” A pause as a furrow forms between his eyebrows.
That’s unusual. Sure, I’ve only known him one night, but he doesn’t seem the type to be worried about anything, living that rake life and all. “And I have a proposition for you.”
“Me?” My voice gets so high on that question that I suspect only dogs can hear it.
“Yes.” He takes my arm. “Let’s call for some refreshments and a doctor, and I will tell you all about it.”
“I don’t need the doctor.” I don’t need another person questioning me, even if they’re concerned with my physical well-being.
Better to lay low and talk to as few people as possible.
And not get the attention of Victoria’s court.
I think I’d rather just soak in a warm bath and hope nothing’s broken. “But I’ll take some food.”
Leo nods in agreement, willing to compromise on the doctor since I am walking on my own-albeit slowly. Too slow considering how impatient I am to find out why he’s here.
“What is the proposition about?” I ask as we make the long trek through the same hallways I walked this morning.
I never thought of the logistics of having a mansion; it’s kind of exhausting to walk around all the square footage doing daily tasks.
At least this is not a problem that modern me has to deal with.
No, when I forget my water bottle, it takes seconds to get it from the other room.
“I will tell you soon. Once we obtain food,” Leo says, and he sounds kind of nervous. Which is not helping my curiosity at all.
Leo ignores any other attempts to get him to tell me sooner, making us walk in silence, and then sit in silence waiting for an entire plate of snacks to be brought in.
He waits to long that Anne reappears and hovers in the corner of the room.
I’m about to tell her she doesn’t have to stand there, when I realize she might be… chaperoning me.
I don’t like it, but I don’t think I can tell her to leave.
“About that proposition…” I begin.
He swallows a bite of scone on a sigh, then puts the rest of it back down on his plate. “Can you please get us some more tea?” Leo asks Anne.
She looks uncertain. “I can call for—”
“I tried the bell, but no one responded,” Leo motions vaguely to where the bell system must be, and I don’t remember seeing him actually do that.
Anne chews on her lip, apparently not convinced, but must not want to contradict a peer. “I’ll go arrange for the tea.” She rushes out of the room.
“We will have to be quick, she will be back soon.” Well, I am intrigued now, if this is evade-the-chaperone serious. “I know I did not mention much last night about my personal history, but I have recently inherited a title.” He looks at me expectantly.
“Um. Congratulations on all the hard work that must have taken.” Hard work waiting for your relations to die, you ghoul involved in a ghoulish system. You’re just one of the lucky ghouls.
But this is confusing. I thought I would have known if there was a half-Indian titled man running around Victoria’s court. I didn’t realize last night because of…everything. But I should know his name. And I don’t.
“Thank you.” Wow, he does not pick up on sarcasm at all. Guess they don’t teach that at the Oxbridge schools. “Unfortunately, we are rather title and land rich, but money poor.”
“That must be so sad. For you.” Not the thousands of people you’ve taken advantage of over hundreds of years, extracting labor out of them to build your fortunes on while you do nothing but live in a big house and party in London, while they struggle in shacks.
“Yes, it is.” He looks relieved that I understand. Poor, simple man. Hot, but simple. And kind, I suppose. But also a little bit of a parasite.
“Oh. The influx of cheap corn from America and the resulting agricultural depression can’t be helping you any,” I say as I realize exactly what’s happening right now. Desperate to distract myself from my revelations about him and his character.
“Well, yes. Actually.” Now he looks puzzled, head cocked like a confused puppy. “How does a woman know about that?”
“Oh, no.” I pause to take a breath to prepare for my rebuttal to this dinosaur, both in his age in comparison to me and his outlook on life.
“There are these things called newspapers and books. I read them, occasionally.” Or all the time.
In fact, I spend all my time reading books and newspapers from and about this particular era.
“Sometimes, I even understand what they say. Even with this woman’s brain, I somehow manage to hold a coherent thought about the world around me.
Because it turns out that women have brains and they won’t faint if they have to use them to have a thought or two. ”
Leo holds his hands out, not wanting to poke the bear any more than he already has. “Most ladies of my acquaintance do not exactly bother themselves with the newspapers. I don’t even want to read the blasted things. Constantly giving me depressing information,” Leo grumbles.