Chapter 17
Henry was lying flat on his back in bed. His wet hair curled against his forehead. The bath had done little to relax him. Nor had the endless glasses of wine. Restlessness gripped him, pulsing through his veins with every beat of his heart.
He had spent the last few days ignoring Eva, doing his utmost to stifle the flame she had lit in his breast, but one look at her vivacious face and all his efforts vanished in the haze. The burning could not be extinguished. He wanted her.
However, he was furious at her earlier behaviour, which made his emotions all the more confusing. She was obviously drunk tonight. Every time he caught a glimpse of her, she had her face in a wine glass with an expression that shouted get me out of here. By the end of the evening, she could barely manage to make it out of the parlour without Lottie’s guiding hand. And that smile to Elias? It had struck a jealous chord in the pits of his heart.
A gust of wind rattled the windowpanes.
He shut his eyes. Once more, sleep would not come easily tonight. Eva’s behaviour aside, his mind was abuzz with duty and desire. Duty for his father’s threat to accommodate the Davenports. Desire for the freedom that was Evaline Quinn. How would he navigate both ends of the spectrum without ruffling someone’s feathers? Or angering his father?
The last time he had been alone with Eva was three days ago. It was maddening that he couldn’t run to her room now. Not only because of her insistence on keeping a barrier between them, but also because of societal restrictions. And to think that it was all for nothing. At some point in the next century, they would lose Asheford Hall. What was the point of keeping up with his responsibilities or reputation? Why must he keep pretending? Because Father will not free you so easily.
With a heavy sigh, he rolled onto his side and fixed his gaze onto Eva’s letter. It was the one she had left in the front pocket of her bag for him to find.
‘Your Song’ by Elton John
That is the name of my favourite song. If you are feeling brave, go to my phone and press the side button to open it. Tap your finger on the icon that says ‘Music’, select the playlist called ‘For Henry’, and select the first song.
Maybe one day, I will sing it for you. For now, enjoy your first ever mixtape.
His fingers reached for her phone. He had seen her handle the device many times and understood on some basic level how it functioned. The rush of holding an alien relic from the future unsettled him. But tonight, he would finally indulge his curiosity, even if he did not know what a mixtape was.
At first, he was distracted by the vivid colours on the screen, even more so by an icon called Pictures, which he needed great self-control not to select. Instead, he followed her instructions with ease. Upon selecting the first song, a quiet piano came from the phone.
He brought the phone to his ear and immediately shut his eyes.
God help me.
The lyrics taunted his vulnerable desire for love. Oddly enough, it also made him feverish with aggression. He thought of their conversation a few nights ago in her bedchamber. She had confessed that she did not have romantic inclinations toward him but how could he interpret her past actions as anything but flirtatious? He shut off the music before the song ended. He had heard enough.
With great difficulty, he sat up and looked at the notes sprawled across his desk. He had yet to write to Clarkson, the policeman in Cooper’s letters who may or may not have acquired one of the time-travelling devices. Eva’s future was in his palm. All it would take was his effort to write a letter and mail it, but he could not bring himself to do it.
He ran a hand through his damp hair.
After the party, he would do it and tell her everything. For now, he would carefully tread through the remainder of the days between duty and desire. Between captivity and freedom.
Whatever path he would take, he knew it would end in hurt.
***
The next morning, Henry’s restlessness grew tenfold as he walked with Fanny Davenport and her mother through his large greenhouse. The humid air was dense with the scent of damp soil and lush tropical plants. The morning sky was pale blue, spotted with grey clouds in the distance. He almost wished for a storm to come. That would at least give him an excuse to be near Eva sooner than anticipated.
At the far end of the greenhouse beneath a canopy of green and orange, the sight of a white dress and a curl of honey-coloured hair caught his attention. Elias reached for two oranges and handed them to Eva and Lottie, who beamed in return.
His lips tightened. Jealousy was unravelling deep within the pit of his stomach. Eva was smiling too much with Elias.
“Mama, does this garden not remind you of the one at Central Park?” Fanny said.
“Yes, darling, although I believe Central Park contains a larger variety of rose blooms. What do you say, Mr. Asheford? Can your garden compete with great American intuit?”
His brow creased with annoyance. It was always about competition. “I am afraid I do not know the answer, Mrs. Davenport. Perhaps we should inquire with the gardeners.”
“Have you ever seen Central Park, Mr. Asheford?” Fanny said.
“No, Miss Davenport, I have not.”
Fanny placed a gloved hand on his arm. “I am certain you would fall in love at first sight.”
Christ.
He did his best to smile, although he was sure it looked grim. To fall in love at first sight was a notion he had not thought possible. Sure enough, he was proven wrong a month ago because love at first sight came hurtling from the sky like a burning star and it was now in his greenhouse, laughing with Elias beneath the orange trees.
“Most people fall in love with New York quickly,” Fanny continued, tugging at his arm. “I do believe it to be the greatest city of them all.”
“Certainly, you do not mean the greatest in the world?” Henry shot back.
“I do, sir.”
“Are you well-travelled, Miss Davenport?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then it is a bold claim to make if you have not seen all the cities of the world.”
They stopped before a green tangle of tropical palms. Fanny met his gaze with round pewter eyes.
Their colour reminded him of what he hated most about London: dust, soot, ash and death. Unlike Eva’s hazel irises, they did not inspire him with warmth or comfort.
“It is a bold claim I shall proudly make, sir,” Fanny finally said, a sly smile on her thin lips. “And I invite you to visit so you can see the magnificence for yourself.”
Dear God, no.
“Perhaps one day I shall make the journey across the Atlantic. I must say that I am quite comfortable in England.”
Fanny laughed. A strand of morning light reflected off her oval face, emphasizing her turned-up nose. It was a nose that said, I expect to be pleased.
“England is traditionally beautiful, but it isn’t exciting,” she said.
“On the contrary, I find England very exciting,” he said.
Her manicured brows shot up. Eva’s laugh echoed out and it took every ounce of strength not to look.
“Then I believe you must prove me wrong,” Fanny said.
“I suggest you travel to London, Miss Davenport. I can assure you that you would get your fill of excitement within half a day.”
“Perhaps you would accompany me, Mr. Asheford.” She smiled. “It would be beneficial to tour the city with a man knowledgeable of such matters.”
She’s flirting with you.
Over the past few days, his father’s intentions had become abundantly clear. It was not business from a monetary perspective because his father would have sent the Davenport patriarchs for that. No. The only value Fanny Davenport had was one of marriage. A union between two families. It was the beginning of a forced courtship.
A roar of laughter came from the orange trees, where a crowd had gathered to listen to one of Elias’s stories of adventure.
It was the distraction Henry needed.
“Will you excuse me for a moment, Miss Davenport?” he said with a polite smile. “I would like to inquire after the uproar in my greenhouse.”
Henry approached the group and stood next to Eva. She subtly glanced up at him and their gazes met. Those hazel eyes would be the death of him.
“And the laddie came out from the brush, soaking wet, manky and hammered wi’ tears streaming down his face for he fell in the johnny house,” Elias explained with dramatics. “Ye should have seen the professor’s face, round and red like a wee tomato.”
“Good God, what an absurd tale. Is life on the road always such a ruckus?” Lord Price said.
“When ye get a band o’ Scots together, aye.”
“Is it a Scottish habit to fall in privies too?” Eva said. “This is the second story you’ve told that involves an accident with the johnny house.”
“Aye,” Elias winked. “And there are a lot more stories to tell, Miss Edwards.”
Eva’s face lit up like the sun.
And it was all for Elias. A bite of envy clamped Henry’s heart.
“The life of adventure sounds so romantic,” Lottie said.
“Dear God, I do not believe so,” Adelia muttered. “Getting eaten alive by ants, falling into privies and accidentally ingesting hallucinatory plants is not my idea of romance.”
“Dinnae forget the spiders the size o’ my palm.”
“No, thank you, Mr. McKenzie!” Adelia shrieked.
“It’s not that bad, Miss Harrison,” Lottie said. “All insects are lovely, including arachnids.”
As the conversation moved on to insects, the crowd dissipated and continued their walk through the greenhouse, exiting by the back doors toward the main garden. All but Henry and Eva, who remained glued in place beneath a canopy of green.
It was the first time they had been alone in days.
“How are you?” he whispered.
She glowered at the orange in her hand. “Well enough. And you?”
“Well enough,” he repeated.
Lies. All lies.
“And your wound is healing quite well?” he asked. “I shall have a doctor come to Asheford Hall next week to remove the sutures.”
“Thank you. As always, I am grateful for your help.”
She was still playing Jane Edwards and he despised it.
He cleared his throat but was at a loss for words. If he could not speak with Eva directly, what could he say? As if catching onto his struggle, she looked up at him and smiled, but her smile didn’t crinkle her nose. There was no glimmer in her eyes. It was forced.
“Fanny seems nice,” she said quietly. “You two make a handsome couple.”
He straightened, hoping the motion would soothe the pain in his chest. “It isn’t like that,” he heard himself say. “I have no desire to marry.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Jane…”
She had already turned toward the front doors. The exposed skin between her collar and nape was bright red, as if touched by the sun.
He chased her. “Jane, wait, please—”
“Mr. Asheford?” A shrill voice that could only be from the American socialite came from behind. “Oh, Mr. Asheford, I require your expert knowledge to identify a plant.”
He halted in his tracks. His balled-up fists trembled.
Through the windowpanes of his greenhouse, he saw Eva hurry across the garden toward his home. Before the day was over, he would speak with her about his feelings. This madness had to end.
It took him another hour to excuse himself from the iron clutches of Fanny Davenport. He left her with most of the guests by the pond enjoying a picnic. He hoped that it would provide enough of a distraction to allow him to find Eva and tell her of his true feelings.
As he entered the main hall, he was greeted with the disjointed notes of a piano. The door to the parlour was shut but the music clearly came from his mother’s grand piano.
Eva’s laughter fluttered out, causing his heart to constrict.
“Please, play a song,” Lottie said.
Eva was not alone. He stepped toward the door and placed his ear against it.
“It’s been a while since I played this song.” Eva played a few notes. “Hold on, maybe I do remember it.”
From the opening notes, he recognized it at once. It was the song from her letter, and it pierced his heart.
Eva sang it softly.
So softly, that Henry’s breathing came out shallow, making his head dizzy. Holy hell. His heart would surely burst if he did not confess now. Like a crazed child on Christmas Day, he darted through the parlour doors and came face to face with Elias’s smitten expression.
Confusion creased Henry’s brows.
The piano came to a halt.
“Och, Henry!” Elias tapped the piano top. “Ye made it in time to hear Miss Edwards’s great musical talent.”
Henry’s scrutinizing gaze bounced between Elias and Eva.
She would play him their song?
Jealousy rushed through his veins like wildfire. Scorching wildfire. A savagery possessed him.
Eva jumped away from the piano as if it burnt her.
“No, no, do continue, Miss Edwards,” Henry said, sneering. “I can see you are doing a grand job at entertaining.”
“It’s just music,” she said feebly.
“Just music.” His lips contorted in disgust. “I am not familiar with this song. Does it convey love? Or have I mistaken the meaning?”
She glared at him with a dark expression. Her clenched fist shook. He knew she wanted to argue back but she wouldn’t dare in front of Elias.
“Miss Asheford, would you escort Miss Edwards to the lovely picnic luncheon by the pond?” Henry commanded. “I would like a word with Mr. McKenzie alone.”
Eva did not wait for Lottie before storming out. The door slammed shut behind them.
“What are your intentions with Miss Edwards?” Henry said.
“Is it that obvious?” Elias said.
“You’ve got the face of a man smitten.”
“And that offends ye for what reason?”
No, it kills me. Frustration swirled in the depths of his stomach. He should not have ambushed Elias in this way. What was his plan here?
“I’ve bin smitten wi’ the lass since I saw her wee bottom danglin’ from the coach, swearing like a sailor.”
“I beg your pardon?” Henry swiped a hand through his hair. “That was a detail you omitted when recounting the tale.”
“I dinnae want to embarrass her before ye.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ye were never one for crass behaviour.”
Henry’s lip curled back. “Elias, we’ve been friends since boyhood. You of all people should know that I am not offended by impropriety.”
“Maybe once upon a time but things are different now. Yer different, Henry. Yer once wild spirit has withered away.”
“Please, not this again.”
“I cannae fault ye for the things ye’ve suffered through. God knows Lottie and I have tried to help ye through the storm,” Elias continued. “But yer still stuck at sea with a rain cloud over yer head. So, forgive me for bein’ distant and keepin’ this from ye, I didnae ken how ye’d react.”
“Am I to assume that you intend to court Miss Edwards?”
“Aye, I do.”
“You will not be successful.”
Elias narrowed his eyes. “How now?”
“Her quip about being a spinster at dinner yesterday was the truth,” Henry lied. “She has a mind to become a bluestocking.”
“Och, is that so? We share similar intellectual pursuits then.”
“No,” Henry said. “No, you do not.”
“She desires a life of adventure and I can give her that.”
Panic had started to grip Henry. “You would trap Miss Edwards in a cage of holy matrimony, chain her like a little exotic bird, and take away her freedom for your desire to marry?”
Elias approached. His eyes were steely green. “Ye speak like a man wi’ hidden affections.”
Henry stilled. “No,” he said coolly. “I am simply her guardian until she is to return to Paris with Lottie under their own chaperone.”
Elias gave him an odd look.
Henry turned away, a burn touching his cheeks. Whether Elias believed him or not, he no longer cared. With a huff, he sat on the piano bench.
“Miss Edwards is her own person. She is free to make her own decisions,” Elias finally said. “And we are both aging bachelors, Henry. Do we not deserve to capture that rare exotic bird when found? No matter if she has a mind to fly away one day.”
Henry gritted his teeth. “Captivity is a cruel thing.”
Elias put a hand on his shoulder. “Life is what you make it, Henry.”
His words reverberated through the room, raising a familiar melancholic storm within Henry. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the wave from drowning him inside out.
Elias squeezed his hand in a gesture of reassurance and left the room.
Silence followed.
There was no music, no sweet exchange of romantic words, no Eva. He stood alone at the crossroads of duty and desire once more.