Chapter 11
Leo is right about the trip being short, and I’m grateful to be back on land since my stomach never got used to the sea.
The rest of the trip has us in a royal train, which is like a regular train but much more expensive to build, with furniture upholstered in the same cobalt blue of the yacht, thick carpet covering the floor and enough furniture and decorative arts to fill an entire sale at an auction house in my time.
I end up in the train lounge with Leo, Anne, and Abdul, who thankfully doesn’t go out of his way to find out more about his fellow country-person.
Mostly, he wants to talk about himself. It’s a nice break from the rest of the household, who send me hostile looks or aggressive questions whenever I exist near them.
Lucky for me Victoria has decided she likes having me around, and all the cold shoulders from the household can’t take away from the fact that the monarch is throwing her warmth and protection over me. It makes my feelings about her even more complicated than they were before I met her.
She has genuine interest and affection for everything Indian, but it’s always a little condescending, and her empire is exploiting the country.
An exploitation whose effects will still be there in my time.
And the racism that intensified during the period of the British Raj in order to justify the colonization is a whole different issue.
Not that Victoria even has that much power now, since the power of the monarch has been slowly decreasing through her reign and Parliament is really responsible for a lot of the policies that are negatively affecting India.
Finally, I’m shuffled into a horse-drawn carriage for the last leg of travel, like I’ve just done The Amazing Race but in Victorian times. And as a rest stop, I end up at Buckingham Palace.
“I hope I can call on you tomorrow?” Leo asks.
“Our plan won’t work unless we’re seen out and about.” Even though he’s been a nice distraction, I need to find a way home, and I can’t exactly go around asking about time travel with him in tow.
But I can’t exactly alienate an ally here either. So I grit my teeth and smile at him, part of me still giddy at the thought of more time with him, and another part hoping he gets distracted by an heiress and forgets me.
And then another part disappointed at the thought of him with an heiress instead of spending time with me.
All adding up to a very confused me.
“Excellent. I look forward to seeing you.”
But despite us having concluded all the business we could have, Leo stays where he is. So I get to burn this picture into my memory, of Leo, dressed in his complicated suit, standing in front of the entrance to Buckingham Palace. Looking at me.
Looking like a damn romance novel cover model. Or someone in my history books. Either way, I’m turned on.
But just like a picture in a book, he’s not for me.
I can’t trust him with the truth, and one slip up could lead to him exposing me to the others.
Maybe he would even get more credibility if he revealed me as an imposter, and no one will believe me when I say he’s in on it, because I’m the foreigner.
I’m not going to test it, either way. I need to focus on getting back home (primary goal) and soaking in as much history as I can before I leave (secondary goal).
A wild affair with a British aristocrat is not on that list.
So I force myself to nod, turn away, and not look back as Anne leads me inside the palace, who is probably satisfied that Leo didn’t ruin me on the journey over.
She’s twelve years too late, and simultaneously a hundred and eighteen years too early, to guard my virtue. But I appreciate the thought.
I walk into Buckingham Palace, trying to prepare myself for the sight. I’ve studied it, in theory. And even visited the modern building. But like Osborne House, everything is different and despite generally knowing the floorplan, I would be lost without Anne leading me.
She takes me to an exquisite room, but all I can see is the giant four-poster bed with curtains hanging off each side, pulled back to make an inviting bed fort I want to spend all day reading in.
Or as tired as I am, just have the best sleep of my life in.
The gleaming neoclassical desk, the Louis XIV chairs and matching couch, the plush rugs that are so thick my feet are sinking in with every step I take, and the flickering candles nestled in wall sconces reflecting off a giant mirror hung over a fireplace all get ignored for the splendor of that bed.
After time travel, two balls, not knowing where I would sleep, wandering through historic buildings and trying every form of Victorian transportation except early cars, I’m exhausted and I’m going to collapse. Anne helps me take off layers of clothing but puts a few more back on for good measure.
After letting her know I want to skip dinner, I sink into the covers as she pulls the thick window curtains closed, the room slowing turning dark. I fall asleep before the last of the light can leave the room.
* * *
“Ma’am you have a caller.”
“Hmm.” I raise my head slowly and look around. Nope, no chance this was all a dream and I’m back to real life, despite how much I wish I was home. The physical proof of that is right under me, where I drooled on Queen Victoria’s fine pillows.
And how many historians get to say that?
But just in case anyone eventually DNA tests these, I try to wipe up the drool as best as I can. Preferably without Anne seeing what I’m doing.
“Who would call on me?”
“The Marquess of Basildon.”
That gets me up and moving. “Leo’s here? To see me? Do I have anything to wear?” Not just a question that anyone asks before they see someone hot and wonder if anything they have is appealing; a literal question I’m asking because I’m a royal squatter.
But at least I’m distracted from brooding over how homesick I am.
“Yes, miss. Her Majesty made sure of it.” She indicates a trunk that I didn’t notice before, the same one from Osborne.
“Thank you so much.”
Anne nods at me. “The privy’s just down the hall and you have warm water in the basin here.”
If I didn’t have Leo waiting for me, I would be disappointed in myself for how spoiled I’m getting. I can get ready by myself; I’ve done it for actual decades. But I do usually have modern conveniences like reliable running water and zippers.
So instead, I stand still, body awash in anticipation for seeing Leo, while Anne floats around me, pulling and prodding and generally getting me ready for the day.
And every time I try to help, I get a deep sigh that tells me I’m making this harder for her, so I channel a mannequin and let her work.
Finally, Anne steps back and nods approvingly at me. “I’ll lead you to the drawing room.”
I follow behind, ignoring the rare opportunity to gawk more at Queen Victoria’s Buckingham Palace in its original style, ignoring a prime research opportunity, to think about what Leo has in store for me today. He’s breaking me as a historian.
And I’m so broken I don’t even care. Nor do I care about the fact that nothing can happen with this historic artifact and in fact it can all go terribly wrong, so it would be smarter to stay away from him completely. But my feet follow Anne happily.
“Good morning, Leo,” I say as I sail into the drawing room.
Or I feel like I’m sailing along. I’m surrounded by enough fabric and bustle that I feel like a large ship coming into harbor, hoping to not hit anything with my stern on the way.
Leo, on the other hand, gets to wear a black suit with a lot less fabric, one that he can move around in with a little more agility than me.
“Good morning.” He stands and bows. I, not having cotillion training, awkwardly half squat/bow down, keeping my eyes on his to gauge if it passes muster.
He doesn’t look disgusted, so that was probably okay. Or he doesn’t care.
“Are you ready for your first official day of being courted?” he asks.
“I’m ready…for whatever that means.” I don’t think he means that he wants to feel me up in a dark movie theater. Maybe in a real theatre, although I’ve no idea how dark they keep those. Probably pretty dark, lighting being what it is now.
“I thought we might do a compromise. We can go to the British Museum first and then take a stroll in Hyde Park. The museum is for your enjoyment, and the park is to be seen by everyone, as part of our agreement.”
“Sounds great.”
“I also brought you this.” He lifts a brown-paper wrapped package from his side.
“Oh, a present!”
“Part of our deal,” Leo says.
“Right. Because this is a mutually beneficial deal and not a real courtship.” It is surprisingly easy to get distracted from that fact. Something about these damn clothes makes it all very…romantic. Like a fairytale. Damn it.
“Open it,” Leo says.
I follow directions and tear into the paper.
“A notebook. And pens!” I run my hand over the scarlet-red leather cover embossed in gold with a scene of a monk writing in a monastery.
I open the clasp and flip through some of the pages.
It’s almost too pretty to write in. I wish I had one of the hundreds of empty notebooks I have sitting at home instead of this work of art.
I thought they were too pretty to use but they’re garbage compared to this.
“That is not all.” Leo gently places his hands on mine and opens the book, gathering the pages together like he’s about to flip through them. The motion reveals a hidden scene on the edge, in what looks like some landmarks from London: Buckingham Palace, St. Paul’s, and the Houses of Parliament.
I gasp in delight. “This is amazing.” And now it is definitely too pretty to write in.
“I’m glad you like it.” Leo looks satisfied, patting my hand as he retracts his.
I clear my throat at the touch, which is through gloves, and still too much for me to handle.
This is the best present I’ve ever gotten, even if it is part of a deal. There are a lot easier ways to get me a notebook; this one looks expensive and special. Maybe he has a stash of exquisite notebooks to woo nerds, but I doubt it. I hug the book to me.
Leo laughs. “I am not going to take it away from you.”
“I’m not taking any chances. But, well, can you…afford this? I’m supposed to be helping you, not hurrying your descent into debt.”
“It is so little compared to the mess Father left. And soon it will not be a problem at all, because we are going to solve the problem. Honestly, even if I do not find an heiress, it also stops being a problem. When they take my estate away. And the London house. And everything in them.”
“At least they don’t put people in debtor’s prison anymore.” Small consolation for him, probably.
“There is that. Shall we?” Leo extends his arm.
“Yes, please.” I take his arm before I can put my foot in my mouth and remind him about his problems more.
Leo leads me out of the palace and to the front where his carriage and footmen are waiting.
Anne follows us out, and joins us in the carriage, which is made of the finest materials, but is on the older side.
I can tell in the fading paint, in the wood chipped along the frame, in the velvet seats that are fraying along the edges, that Leo has not been able to upgrade his family carriage in a while.
There are flecks of gold on the family crest carved into the door, a horse rearing on the top portion, and a set of trees on the bottom, cut in half diagonally by a silver strip.
While we bump along the pre-modern road, I stare at Leo across from me. Watching the way the light comes in and highlights his black hair before moving on to his high cheekbones. Watching him smile as he points out London landmarks to me as we pass them.
Then I do tear my eyes off him to look outside, because while he’s gorgeous, this is my life’s work and I can only be induced to ignore it for so long. But my head bounces back and forth outside the carriage and inside, taking in all that the past has to offer.
In between looking at history, I take the time to regret that Anne is here so I can’t find out if Leo’s hair is as soft as it looks.
I’m too curious for my own good, but once I find out if it is that soft, I’m sure I’ll be able to focus on the history in front of me.
And after I find out if his plump lips are as kissable as they look.
And after I find out if his chest is as broad as the layers of clothes he’s wearing make it out to be.
Or maybe all of that would only make me want more, something I can’t have.