Back to his Lordship: Clean time travel regency romance (Twickenham Regency Romance Book 2) Read online

  He swallowed. “The very one. Might I thank you? I admit to being uncertain how to go about such a thing.”

  She shook her head. “And you, raised here.”

  Her words were sometimes curious. He didn’t always follow her train of thought, but if she was going to do him the great service of helping ease the way into meeting a proper woman, then he would follow along. They approached Lady Rosemeade, her reddish curls bouncing against her face as she turned to laugh at something the young lady on her right was saying. When she turned back, her laugh cut short and her eyes widened as she fumbled with her fingers. Not the best beginning. But perhaps she was nervous.

  They bowed and curtseyed, and Oliver asked her for a dance without bumbling. He considered it a great coo when he led her out on the floor without so much as a glitch in their interactions.

  As they waited for their turn down the line, he searched her face. Would they feel anything when they touched? Would the beginnings of a romance begin in that very dance? She returned his gaze with a somewhat bold one of her own. “I’ve enjoyed the season.”

  “Oh, yes, I as well. Better this one than last.” He smiled. And wanted to kick himself. All clever thought left the moment he felt compelled to be clever. As if the very act of attempting anything memorable would stifle his best efforts.

  “It’s my first so I don’t have much to compare.”

  “Oh, I know. I’ve been hoping for an introduction since I first saw you.” That sounded way too desperate, but her face colored a charming pink.

  “Have you? I’m pleased we’ve managed one then.” Her responses were safe, calculated, bland. As were most of the proper new debutantes of the town. The more brazen set were perhaps more fun, but he’d heard, not the marrying kind. Could he begin to feel something for this pretty little red head if they never spoke of more than the pleasantries? He wasn’t sure, but he decided he must give them time.

  When it was their turn to scoot down the middle of the row of people, his hands cradled hers and he gazed into her eyes. She smiled at him. He smiled back. But that was the end of it. He felt nothing. They circled the couples at their sides and came back together before returning to their positions, facing each other in line. Her pretty demeaner was heightened by the flush of exertion, and he vowed to ask her to accompany him to the lemonade after.

  “Tell me about your family, your estate.” She surprised him with a question, a personal one.

  “I come from the north of England in a lovely estate and grounds that border the ocean.”

  Her eyes lit with interest. And though he was pleased to see it, he wondered at her sincerity.

  “Do you enjoy the sea?”

  “Oh yes, there is something so lovely about the water, and the waves.”

  She’d hit upon his very interest. “Yes, the sound of them crashing on shore helps me think.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, I wander the shoreline when a problem hits me, something I’m unable to muddle through on my own…”

  Her attention had wandered to her friends waiting her return on the side of the floor. He stopped talking and she didn’t ask him to continue. Perhaps no lemonade after all.

  As the music ended and everyone in the line had their turn to dance, he led her back to her friends, bowing to her and thanking her.

  The duchess showed back up at his side. “Did you ask to call?”

  “Well, no, she seemed rather bored.”

  “Everyone’s bored their first dance. Ask her.”

  He turned around and the eyes of all her friends widened as he returned. “I was wondering if I might call on you this week?”

  She curtseyed. “Why, yes, of course.”

  He nodded, then led the duchess away.

  “Excellent. Now, Ollie.” She was the only one in the world he allowed to call him Ollie. “Be more interesting.”

  “But she’s not interesting.”

  “And the other thing I was going to add. Be more interested.”

  His mouth fell open. Then he closed it. “That’s brilliant.”

  She tipped her head. “I wish I’d thought of it myself. But one key to winning friends and influencing people is to be interested—in them. I threw in the ‘interesting’ part because I think you’re a perfectly lovely person with so much to offer, but only the guys see your more flavorful side. Show a sense of humor, stand a little closer, make her smile and laugh, and give her something to tease and intrigue her sensibilities even long after you’re gone.”

  He watched her face with a growing fascination. “And I might win someone over.”

  “Most definitely.”

  He held up a finger and spoke closer to her ear. “I don’t want a woman to pretend to like me. I am looking for a love match.” He felt his own face burn while he said it.

  “I understand, and those are the only kinds of matches I support.”

  “You do?”

  “Certainly. This whole business of people marrying unhappily for all the wrong reasons does not sit well with me at all.”

  He nodded, finding her refreshingly odd. But he should be used to his friend’s wife’s antics by now. “I shall do my best.

  Hopefully, his best would provide the beginnings of a love match between him and some as yet undetermined woman.

  3

  Eva whirled in her dress. It billowed out all around her. When she stopped again in front of the mirror, the folds of fabric hung in a respectable straight line down to the floor. The brilliant blue made her smile. It shimmered like the water in a windy day, like streams of sunlight sparkling off the water. She loved the water. Perhaps on this trip, she’d find her way to the coast somehow. Brighton. Dover. Bath. Or some of the northern cities. They felt more undiscovered, more rugged.

  She reached for her mask. Wearing her long white gloves, she felt awkward as she tried to pinch her fingers around the small purse. Finally, she moved out into the hall and descended the stairs, ready for the ball to begin.

  Going to a ball in England. That should definitely be added to her Regency bucket list.

  At the base of the stairwell, Lord Danbury looked up and then looked again, and she smiled. “Hello.”

  She moved forward reaching out a hand. “Well, hello to you.”

  His deep tones and lovely accent flowed over her. She could hear these men talk all day.

  “Are we all almost ready?”

  “I can say with certainty that you are.” He stepped away to admire her. “You look lovely.” He was a handsome man, standing taller than most with broad shoulders, thick arms, and a strong jaw line. She could totally get into a guy like him even without his enticing British title and manner of speaking.

  “And so do you. What are you dressed as?” Sometimes at these balls, the mask was only part of the costume. Many came with a theme.

  “I wanted to come as Zorro, but perhaps too expected, a man in a mask, everyone is Zorro, you know?” he stood taller. “So now, I’m simply, Lord Danbury in a mask.”

  She laughed. “It works. You look like Lord Danbury in a mask.”

  “And you are going to turn every head.” His eyes showed interest. She was surprised to see it. He’d always seemed to be more interested in the conquest, in the party scene, but something about his expression hinted that she might hear from him again.

  “Well, thank you.”

  Anna descended, looked between the two of them, and her smile grew. “We’re waiting on the others.”

  As if on cue, the doorbell rang and the butler opened it. The rest of the guys and Bethany stepped into the entry.

  Dr. Charles Smithy, Lord Boxby, and Lord Tindly were equally impressive, filling the space with a massive amount of handsome power. Her heart skipped just standing next to them all. But she also knew their type. She’d been around power hungry American businessmen her whole life. Her major at the university was full of them, her father’s friends and sons were the same. Her own brother and his friends gave the same vibe. But t
hese men were impressive no matter how accustomed she was to their levels of testosterone. And she looked forward to arriving with them to this party. Part of her wanted to watch the heads of every lady in the room turn to look at them. She laughed.

  Anna joined her. “Who’s ready?”

  They turned to climb in the now waiting limo. Eva sat pressed between Lord Danbury and Dr. Smithy.

  “How’s your research?”

  Lord Danbury groaned. “Don’t ask him.”

  “Why not? She wants to know. I sense an equally intelligent mind and someone who appreciates good research.”

  She laughed. “And I just really want to know how it’s going.” She shrugged. “But we can talk about it another time.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Lord Danbury stretched his arm along the back of their seats. “Would you save a dance for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “In fact, I might stay close…”

  “No, you can’t be hovering about like her body guard.” Anna scoffed. “Give her some space and enjoy your dance when it comes.”

  Eva smiled. “Both ideas are welcome.”

  “Understood. How about we meet for the third dance after we arrive, over by the front pillars?”

  She nodded. “It’s a plan. And thank you.”

  The car pulled in the front drive of Twickenham. The estate was situated a mere two miles from Anna’s home.

  “It’s lovely.” Eva craned her head to see out the window. The home was large, larger than she expected. And she was surprised to see gargoyles along the roof line. “How interesting. I’m having a difficult time placing the architecture. What year was this house built?”

  Lord Danbury nodded. “Most people have the same trouble. It stands outside of time, really. So many pieces from different eras make up the whole. I see something different every time I look at it.”

  Eva thought that extraordinarily strange, but as she examined the house again, she noticed the gables and the interesting stone work, none of which she’d seen before. The gargoyles were still there but not taking up the whole of her attention.

  “Fascinating. Like it’s—timeless.”

  They approached the house, and the butler let them all in. He dipped his head to Anna. Music blared from further into the house. Anna laughed. “Aunt Nellie thinks this place is a club now.”

  Dr. Smithy joined her. “Let’s go check it out.”

  They hurried toward the sound and Eva was left wondering what aunt of Anna’s lived here. Aunt Nellie? She’d never heard of her, and that sounded strangely common and even overly familiar for Anna’s crowd. They entered the ballroom and Eva gasped in happy surprise. “This is beautiful!”

  “Better put your mask on.” Lord Boxby lowered his.

  “Oh right, thank you.” She slid the mask over her eyes, resting on her nose. It stretched by band to the back of her head and she could see thorough the holes for her eyes.

  “You look stunning.” Lord Danbury bowed. “Until the third?”

  As soon as he turned away, Anna clung to her side. “What’s this?”

  “I don’t know. He’s acting maybe interested?”

  “You know what kind of player he is.”

  “I know. But maybe this is different?”

  Anna shrugged. “I’d be happy to see such a thing occur for him and you.”

  They moved to the center of the floor, the other men of their party dispersing through the crowds and a new group joining them. The beat was loud, pulsing and easy to dance to but odd in their setting. Eva waved her hands in the air and bounced around in happy abandon.

  When it came time to meet Lord Danbury for her dance, she moved toward the beverages and spun slowly in happy anticipation. It wasn’t every day that she was feeling interest from someone so celebrated. Not only was he titled but he did a lot of work for local hospitals and to support educational opportunities and growth in England’s universities.

  But the start of the next song came and went and still no Lord Danbury at her side. She gave it thirty more seconds into the fourth song, grabbed a drink, and made her way out into the cooler hallways. Lord Danbury was obviously not into her. Perhaps Lord Boxby or any of the others might be entertaining a bit later.

  The air was much fresher and the sounds muffled as she exited the ballroom. The further away she walked, the more loathe she was to return. Eyeing an inviting turning staircase, she hurried towards it instead.

  As soon as her foot touched the bottom stair, she felt compelled to reach the top, one foot after another pushing faster and farther and more incessantly until she reached the top landing. She wandered down the halls, peering into doors, observing the typical rooms of the English gentry.

  She climbed the stairwell at the end of the hall, up and up to the seventh floor where she entered a large portrait gallery, taking up most of the floor.

  Ooh, she loved art, especially portraits. The people in the portraits seemed to be from all walks of life and time periods. Many of them were obviously upper-class. But many were also in jeans, leggings, workout clothes, or ripped up farm hand material. And each one of them had an interesting expression. Some were smiling, but their eyes were full of surprise. Some were deadpan, but their mouth opened as if about to say something. Some were openly surprised. Some were caught mid motion even, which Eva found interesting as she’d never seen a painting look more like an action shot. And some, amusingly enough, looked just like selfies. She wondered if someone had turned a selfie into a painting for fun. Perhaps it was all the rage in modern Britain.

  A woman approached on her left. Regal in her bearing, cheerful in her countenance, Eva waited for her to be near enough, and then she smiled. “Hello.”

  “Are you enjoying our portrait gallery?” Her white hair gleamed in the candle light. Her blue eyes flashed and this seemed odd to Eva, but there was something ancient about her, as though she belonged in this timeless and ancient house.

  “Yes, very much. I find some of the poses fascinating and the talent at capturing accuracy very welcome.”

  “I’m happy to hear it. I do all the work myself.”

  “Oh, that’s incredible. I’m so happy to be able to meet you. I’ve Eva Johansen.” She held out her hand to shake.

  The woman took hers and Eva felt an interesting buzz of energy go through her. “And I’m Aunt Nellie.”

  “Oh! Anna’s aunt. Then I’m doubly glad to meet you. I’m staying with her right now.”

  Aunt Nellie smiled, amused at something. “I’m not really anyone’s aunt, but the name has stuck, and there we have it.”

  They made their way down the far wall of the room until a portrait ahead caught her eye. The blue of a gown seemed strikingly familiar. She hurried forward, leaving Aunt Nellie behind her. When she saw the mask on the woman, the exact same mask on her own face, she ripped it off and whirled around to face Aunt Nellie. “How odd!”

  But no one was behind her, the portrait room now completely empty except for herself. How doubly odd. She turned back to the picture, stepping as close as she dared. The blue was the exact same shade. The dress hung precisely as it did on herself, and her hair was lifted up in the same style with precisely the same curl handing down at the side of her face. Her breathing came faster. She swallowed, feeling somewhat dizzy. But how could Aunt Nellie have painted her in the exact outfit she was wearing when she herself didn’t even know what outfit that would be? She’d gone through at least three this morning and rummaged through Anna’s entire closet. “This cannot be.”

  And yet it was. She wished she had a phone to take a picture. No one would believe such a thing had happened. Perhaps it wasn’t paint at all. Perhaps just digitally manufactured to look like paint and they hurriedly hung portraits of all the guests? She reached out her finger to run along the blue of her dress. But the texture under her finger felt as authentic as any painting. Before she could analyze it any further, the world whirled around her. Everything went white except for the sparkling
snowfall of a glitter like substance. A magically cheerful giggle echoed in the air around her and then it spun in a dizzying madness faster and faster until at once, everything stopped.

  She reached out for something, still seeing nothing.

  “Are you quite alright?” A man. With a brilliant voice.

  She gasped and then opened her eyes.

  The world had returned to full color, portraits hung all around, though they seemed aged, different. Her own portrait looked the same. The room at least was not spinning. But she was not alone.

  A man stood in front of her. Tall, dressed deliciously in the style of the men in Jane Austen’s time, breeches and all. He stepped closer. “Might I be of assistance?”

  His voice was deliciously charming, the accent British, as expected, but with an air of finery, of gentility, she found missing in her group even. He held himself in a straight backed manner, his expression revealing nothing, his stance the practiced ease of those truly comfortable with their manner of dress and lifestyle. But his eyes. They sparkled with intrigue, interest and, she was fascinated to see, a hint of rebellious adventure.

  Without telling it to, her eyebrow rose in challenge. “Assistance? I don’t know, are you free a little later?” She laughed, surprised at her own courage.

  But he tilted his head, eyeing her as though to attempt to understand. “And what might you need a little later on?”

  She stopped laughing, realizing that the man was entirely devoid of a sense of humor, perhaps. “Oh, no, I was…um.” She looked up into his face and he eyed her a moment longer, then his cheeks colored. “Good heavens. You didn’t mean. Later, as in, perhaps I might be available for a dalliance of some kind?”

  His shock and surprise at her joke puzzled her.

  Then he laughed the kind of laugh one attempts to hold in but simply cannot. “And now I’m finally understanding you were in jest.”

  When he finally stopped and wiped his eyes, she stepped away.

  “No, don’t be alarmed. I’m usually much quicker to understand such things, but typically I don’t hear that manner of humor from a lady. Usually it’s coming from the men of my acquaintance, not that I mind. It was refreshingly candid. And you are welcome to try out such humor on me again, if you like.” He waited, watching her with a newfound delight in his eyes.