Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

“ T ime travel,” she said, after what felt like several hours’ worth of silence. “That’s what you’re telling me.”

“Would you believe it happens all the time?” Lord Weatherby’s voice broke in.

While she’d been staring around the room, he’d arranged himself in an ornate armchair in the far corner and was primly adjusting his clothing.

“There’s at least a dozen of you travelers at this stage, maybe more. I’ve genuinely lost count.”

Before Amelia could ask any further questions on that subject, the door behind her swung open, and she gritted her teeth as a familiar figure stepped into the room with that same unpleasant smirk on his features. It was the man who’d been leering at her through the doorway earlier, the heavyset man in the strange white wig. She felt Baldric tense up a little at her side, heard a slight constriction enter Lord Weatherby’s voice as he spoke again.

“Ah. I suppose we might as well introduce our guests to one another, hm? May I introduce Lord Percival Taffington, a cousin and delightful presence around the manor of late.” There was something about his tone that made her interpret that last part as sarcastic… though she supposed it could have just been the nature of his accent. There was something about that particular way of speaking that always made her nervous, as though even the positive things they were saying were somehow tinged with an irony she couldn’t quite parse.

Still, at least Weatherby didn’t look at her the way this guy did. She’d take vague passive aggression over this kind of leering any day. Lord Taffington swept forward at the sound of his name, stooping into an obsequious little bow as he did so and lashing out to grab her hand. His rubbery lips pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles, and she pulled her hand firmly out of his grip to put a stop to it, the urge to break his nose returning in full force.

“A pleasure,” he said in a voice that grated on her nerves. “A delight, even. I hadn’t thought I’d be fortunate enough to encounter anyone so lovely while here…”

“Miss Amelia Cosgrove,” Baldric said tautly.

Though his tone was clipped and polite, somehow Amelia could feel him bristling with the same revulsion she felt. There was something going on here, she suspected, and if she hadn’t been currently grappling with the unbelievable revelation that she’d traveled through time, she’d have been curious to find out what it was.

“A name as lovely as its bearer,” Taffington crooned.

Did he think this was actually effective? she wondered. Or did he not really care one way or the other? He held himself like a man who was used to getting what he wanted — she’d met enough rich men to know that type very well indeed. At best, they were annoying. At worst, they were downright dangerous… and she definitely didn’t like the way his eyes were roaming across her body. Sir Baldric seemed to be aware of it, too — or was it a coincidence that he’d moved casually forward to stand so that his considerable bulk was obscuring her form a little? She reflected with a grimace on the women she’d seen in the hallways — each one wearing enough fabric to make a whole second outfit, from what she could tell, enormous skirts that swept down from waist to floor, obscuring every trace of leg and hip. Compared to them, she was basically naked right now, and this realization made a full-body shudder move through her.

“Are you chilly, Miss Cosgrove?” Baldric said quickly, reaching up to unclasp the black cloak he was wearing. “Please, take this.”

She wasn’t cold in the slightest — if anything, the stuffy atmosphere was making her sweat — but she accepted the cloak gratefully, wrapping it completely around herself. Sure enough, a vague flicker of disappointment moved across Taffington’s face, though he quickly obscured it.

“Well, I shan’t outstay my welcome,” he said, his tone cooler than it had been. “There’s a bottle of brandy awaiting me in my quarters, at any rate. I’ll bid you all a goodnight… especially you, Miss Cosgrove.”

She fought the urge to grimace at the way he said her name.

“I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.”

There was a grim silence once Taffington had left, broken by an impatient huff from Lord Weatherby. “For a man who’s so eager to have his debt repaid, he’s drinking me out of house and home,” he grumbled to Baldric, seemingly forgetting that Amelia was there.

“Watch out for that one,” Baldric said quietly, as if to himself. Then, as if he hadn’t spoken: “As I was saying before we were interrupted, Miss Cosgrove, you’re not alone in this predicament.”

“You mentioned others,” she said, wanting to get away from the subject of Taffington as quickly as possible. “Other — people who arrived as I did, is that it?” Part of her was still hoping all of this was some kind of elaborate joke, but the more practical side seemed to have taken over. If it was a game, there was no harm in playing along. If it was real… well, she needed to get on top of the situation as quickly as possible. She’d wasted enough time already. “Do they live here at the manor?”

Lord Weatherby gauffed, an amused smile on his lips, which Baldric ignored.

“No, Miss. The majority of them live up at the Keep, having found husbands among the Clan there.”

“The Keep?” she repeated slowly, remembering dozens of pamphlets with rocky ruins displayed proudly on the front. “Do you mean the ruins nearby?”

Baldric smiled faintly. “MacClaran Castle is far from a ruin, Miss. It’s one of the largest strongholds in the area, and Clan MacClaran is the most powerful family of the area as well. We’ve sent word to them that you’re here, and they’ll no doubt be coming to fetch you tomorrow. For tonight, of course, we’ve guest chambers prepared.”

“Thank you,” she said, not quite dazed enough to forget her manners. “It’s kind of you to take me in. But — these MacClarans, what do they have to do with me?”

“They’ll explain that better than I can,” Sir Baldric said with a shrug. “But I can assure you that they’re good people. We’ve a long and rather interesting history with them, of course,” he added, shooting a smirking Weatherby a quick glance. “But the peace we’ve established in the area says a lot about their strength and their honor.”

“Yes, yes, we all love the MacClarans,” Weatherby said impatiently. “More to the point, Miss Cosgrove, there are a dozen or so women with your strange accent who’ll be able to explain what’s happened to you. Then I suppose you’ll do the same for the next stray that wanders in.” Weatherby shook his head. “And the whole cycle will begin anew.”

“Let me show you to your room,” Sir Baldric said gently, seeming to sense that she was feeling a little overwhelmed by all of this. “I imagine you’d like some time to think about all of this.”

“Thanks,” she said gratefully. “And — thank you, Lord Weatherby, for your hospitality.”

The Lord seemed a little pleased by her attempt at a curtsey, though it might have been amusement. “Oh, you’re more than welcome,” he said casually. “It’s a refreshing change, a guest whose date of departure is clearly known. Goodnight to you.”

Another prickle of curiosity at that — she had a feeling she’d noticed more than a touch of tension between Lord Weatherby and the leering Taffington. She was tempted to ask Baldric about it as he escorted her down the unfamiliar hallways, but when she opened her mouth, she found herself yawning instead. The room he let her into was small but cozy, with a freshly-set fire crackling in the grate and a bed with its covers turned invitingly down in one corner.

“Get some rest,” Sir Baldric told her gently. “This will all make more sense in the morning, I promise.”

Amelia hoped he was right as she unlaced her shoes. They felt decidedly out of place as she set them down by the door — as did the rest of what she was wearing, come to think of it. She paced in her bare feet, her exhaustion warring with her rising anxiety. What the hell was all of this? Was she just going to take these strangers at face value, accept that the most ridiculous imaginable thing had happened to her? She pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and frowned down at the screen. Plenty of battery left, which was a relief at least — she gave the room a hopeful scan, but it would clearly be too much to hope that a powerpoint might make itself known. Just as she’d thought — no signal, not even a single bar.

She keyed Carmen’s number into the phone anyway. It felt stupid, but she didn’t want to give up on the idea of hearing a familiar voice right now. She listened to the error message with a heavy heart, then dialed the number again, just to be certain. Nothing.

No service in the distant past, she thought, feeling a strange laugh rise in her throat. It was a sad little sound that escaped her, half-chuckle and half-sob. That wasn’t proof, some truculent part of her pointed out. There were plenty of places in Scotland where she didn’t get any service, being out of range right now didn’t necessarily prove that she’d traveled through time. This could all still be a joke, couldn’t it? Some elaborate prank… it was a comforting thought.

But when she finally slid into bed and settled her head against the pillow, she couldn’t help but thinking that the evidence that was stacking up was definitely not in her favor.