All for You (22 page)

“Ah,” Stephen managed.

“You might be surprised,” Nicholas continued, “just how much you look like my father and brother, Robin.” He shot Peaches a look. “Or he might not, eh, Mistress Peaches?”

Peaches smiled. “I don’t think he would be.”

“The current eldest son, is he?”

“The very same.”

“How is the old pile of stones these days?” Nicholas asked.

Stephen realized Nicholas was asking him. “Glorious,” he wheezed.

Nicholas winked at Peaches. “Aye, he is the eldest, isn’t he? Though I daresay anyone who was born within those walls would love it as well. My brother John is the exception, I suppose.”

“He loves it,” Peaches said simply. “He simply loves my sister more.”

Nicholas smiled. “I daresay that is the case. And as long as he is happy, I can’t begrudge him his choices. I understand them, in a way. What do you think of Artane, Mistress Peaches?”

Stephen hardly dared look at her, but he couldn’t resist at least a glance in her direction.

“It belongs in a dream,” she said with a sigh Stephen couldn’t quite decipher. “And Stephen is right about its condition. It is absolutely glorious.”

“Then we should get you both back to it before you freeze out here in the wilderness.” He looked at Stephen. “What have you tried to return home?”

“That useless gate at Kenneworth,” Stephen said with a sigh, “then another very dodgy place near there. Zachary Smith gave me ideas for another place or two.” He felt the map he’d been given burning a hole in his pocket, but he didn’t suppose he should mention it. He had the feeling that if Nicholas’s sons—if that’s who they had been—had been in possession of such a thing, they had used it themselves.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to think about what that might mean for any of them.

Nicholas pursed his lips. “I don’t think you would ever make the gate at Kenneworth work for you. It is, as they say, a one-way ticket to the past. As for the others, Zachary would know from firsthand experience which ones were the most useful. Tell me what he told you and we’ll discuss the quickest way home for you. I don’t think your lady will manage too much more walking even if I find a cart to transport you as close as you dare come to your destination.”

Stephen looked at Nicholas seriously. “Thank you, my lord.”

Nicholas smiled. “What is family for, if not to aid you when you come to their time?”

Stephen wondered how much experience Nicholas had with just that sort of thing, but he didn’t dare ask. He simply took one of Peaches’s hands in his own, rubbed it gently to try to warm it, then turned to a discussion of things that belonged in a book of fiction.

I
t
was several hours past sunset when Stephen stood on the side of the road with Peaches and listened to a cart rumble away, its very unsettled but well-paid driver apparently quite happy to leave them behind.

“Did you want to stay longer?”

Stephen started in surprise. “Stay longer?” he asked. He looked at her. “Whatever for?”

“For research purposes, I suppose.” She paused, then took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He looked at her bedraggled self and shook his head. “I think even if we were suitably dressed and outfitted, we’ve made a long enough visit for now.” He rubbed his hands together in a futile attempt to warm them. “I’m not sure I would want to stay longer than that. Certainly not in our current straits.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said with a bit of a smile. “I’m sure you would dredge up a few useful somethings from all that research.”

He shook his head. “I look too much like my ancestors to attain any sort of respectable position with a noble house, and I have no means of joining a guild even if they would let me in. And while I was looking for work, what would you do?”

“I’m not sure I want to think about that.”

“Neither do I,” he said seriously, “which is why we will trot home as quickly as we’re able.”

“Will we make it this time, do you think?”

“Nicholas seemed to think so.”

She shivered. “That was weird.”

“Very,” he agreed.

She held out a bag. “He told me to give this to you. I guess you can add it to what the boys gave you.”

Stephen felt it, then smiled to himself. “I imagine it’s just the change from his pocket.”

“He said something to that effect.”

He had a final look around, then took her hand. “We’ll examine it all after we’ve gotten home.” He looked at the gate he could see shimmering ten feet in front of them. “Shall we?”

She nodded and followed him into the future.

P
eaches
looked up at Kenneworth rising up in front of her, still shrouded in mist, but looking not nearly as friendly as it had however many days ago it had been when she’d first seen it. At the moment, she just couldn’t remember how long it had been. It felt like forever.

She wasn’t sure this was how the fairy tale was supposed to end.

“I believe we need a course change.”

She looked up at Stephen de Piaget standing next to her. He was back to looking at her gravely. His terribly handsome face was covered in dirt that sweat had carved trails through, and he was looking a bit scruffy. But he had saved her life with a very blunt Kenneworth ceremonial sword and gotten her home. She couldn’t ask for more than that.

“Course change?” she managed, her voice cracking on the words. “What sort?”

“Well,” he said seriously, “I’m not sure how it would look if we were to waltz into Kenneworth’s library dressed as we are, apologize for ruining his useless sword, and request baths.”

Peaches managed to nod. “He wouldn’t understand.”

“He would call the police and have us committed,” Stephen said with a snort. “And in my case, quite happily.”

She didn’t want to credit David with that kind of vindictiveness, but she was beginning to suspect she had misjudged quite a few things. She nodded, though it hurt her to do so. The next time she went to medieval England, she was going to run into better people at the beginning of her trip and make sure she had better shoes, though the slippers Stephen had brought her and the boots Nicholas had gotten for her had certainly saved her a raging case of frostbite.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I have clothes in my room that I don’t really want to leave behind.” She couldn’t bring herself to say that she wanted them because David had bought them. Not after everything Stephen had done for her.

“I’ll have Humphreys fetch your clothes out for you, if that suits. As for the rest, I think we need a good cover story.”

Peaches was too exhausted to offer an opinion. “Whatever you think best.”

“Are you allowing me to herd you, Miss Alexander?”

She looked up at him quickly, but he was only watching her solemnly. “Yes, my lord Haulton, I am,” she said, “especially if that herding includes being in a modern contraption where I don’t have to use my feet any longer.”

“That I think I can manage.” He paused. “Shall I carry—”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’m fine. It isn’t that far.”

Stephen didn’t pick her up, but he did offer her his arm. She hardly hesitated before she took it, yawned, and walked with him across frozen ground, all the way to Kenneworth’s garage.

A man sprang to his feet from where he’d been sitting in front of a small space heater. Polite words were halfway out of his mouth before his mouth caught up with what he was seeing. His mouth was already half open, but it fell fully open and stayed there.

“Ah,” he wheezed.

“Got lost on the moors,” Stephen said smoothly. “It’s amazing the adventures you can have this time of year.”

The man gurgled.

Stephen smiled pleasantly. “If you’ll fetch me my keys, my good man, we’ll be on our way.”

Keys were fetched, and nothing more was said. Peaches
didn’t dare look at the servant who was still gaping at them as if they’d just walked out of his worst nightmare.

“But, you look … unwell,” the man protested.

“Not to worry,” Stephen said easily. “Let me tell you what happened and ease your mind.”

Peaches was happy to listen to Stephen invent a very interesting story about Miss Alexander having suffered a blow to the head that had rendered her temporarily disoriented. He himself had been out for a walk before he’d proceeded with his plans to leave early the day before and been lucky enough to stumble upon her. He had considered courses of action and decided that it was best to get her as quickly as possible to his father’s personal physician. Given that Artane wasn’t unreachable in good time, they would make for his father’s hall and would the man be so good as to report the same to His Grace?

The man nodded weakly and signaled for a helper to come open the bay doors for Stephen. He made Stephen a shaky bow then departed on his mission to inform any concerned parties of the return of Lord Haulton and his maiden in distress.

Peaches wondered, absently, how easily David had been talked out of worrying about her. She didn’t think she could ask Stephen for the complete set of details. One thing was certain: if Irene had anything to say about it, no search party had been sent out.

She limped with Stephen over to his Mercedes, watched him open the door, then hesitated. She looked inside, then at him.

“I’m not sure I can ruin this side of your car, too.”

“We’ll send it out to be cleaned later,” he said with a weary smile. “And it is just a car, Miss Alexander.”

She realized then that he’d never called her by her given name. She supposed the moment for asking him if he ever intended to was not the present moment. She looked inside his car one last time, considered the condition of his coat, then sighed. Her alternatives were either walking to Sedgwick or going inside to beg a ride. She turned and backed into the seat, then leaned over to look at boots that belonged in a museum.

Stephen squatted down in front of her and studied her feet for a moment or two in silence. He looked up at her. “I think I should take them off.”

“Only if you have a bag to stash them in,” she managed.
“Think of all that medieval dirt caked on them. For all you know, there might be some sort of artifact hiding in it.”

“You, Miss Alexander,” he said seriously, “just might make a formidable scholar of all things medieval.”

“Actually, I’m just afraid of what is left of my feet. I’m not sure I want them touching your car’s carpet.”

He came as close to smiling as he had since they’d returned to their proper time. “Somehow, I doubt that. Let’s see if we can pull, gently.”

She didn’t holler, she didn’t gulp, but she felt tears begin to run down her cheeks. It wasn’t so much that her feet hurt her as it was that she was so happy to know that her future footwear choices weren’t going to be limited to worn, smelly boots. Well, that and she was extraordinarily glad she was back in her proper place in time. She was never,
ever
going to step on another gate through time.

Stephen unearthed a tissue from the glove box and handed it to her. She was busy wiping her face as he tucked a blanket around her legs and feet after she’d shifted to put herself fully into his car. She was fairly sure the thing was cashmere and found it in her to wonder if the man had any other favorites amongst finely knitted fabrics. Tweaking him about it, though, was completely beyond her.

He buckled her in, then shut her door.

Peaches started to shiver, which she supposed was a good thing. A moment later Stephen climbed into his side of the car and closed the door. He dug a cell phone out of the glove box in front of her, though he didn’t use it. He simply turned the car on and drove out into the courtyard. Peaches could see the back door of the house opening, but Stephen didn’t stop to find out who was coming to see them. He wasted no time in speeding away from the house, something she agreed with completely. She had smelled rather strongly of wet sheep the last time she’d made a grand entrance at Kenneworth House, but that was nothing compared to what she smelled like at present.

Stephen’s phone rang, making her jump. He glanced at the number but didn’t take the call. Peaches looked at him with a frown.

“Do I dare ask?”

“Irene,” he said briefly. “She’ll keep. But I’d best ring Humphreys
before he’s assaulted by questions he won’t know how to answer.”

“Have you got answers for him?” she asked in surprise.

He shot her a look. “He has a vague idea of my evening’s activities, but I don’t care to be more specific than I have to, which means I’m going to be inventing a few things as I go. Please don’t let that be a permanent blot on my character.”

She waved him on to his subterfuge, which he engaged in the moment they hit the main road and he found a place to pull over.

He very briefly discussed with his valet the situation and the necessity of collecting both his and Miss Alexander’s things and dismissing Miss Edwina. She closed her eyes and realized that it was becoming far too easy to rely on him to take care of things and worry later about—

Her thoughts ground to a halt.

Dismissing Miss Edwina?

She waited until he’d pulled back on the road and they’d driven for a bit before she dared look at him. Fortunately, she couldn’t see him too clearly, which made it easier for her to think. She contemplated what she could say, if anything, about his very brief conversation with his valet.

If Humphreys had provided her with Edwina the Stern, was it possible that Humphreys had provided her with other things at Stephen’s direction?

Such as a new wardrobe?

She was beginning to think she had been a complete and utter idiot.

Stephen yawned. “I think I should stop for petrol and something to feed us—” He blinked. “What is it?”

She opened her mouth, then shut it. She didn’t want to know. The thought that Stephen de Piaget, the man she had loved to loathe, had been the one to spend his hard-earned sterling on clothes so she wouldn’t look like a country bumpkin …

Well, it was almost more than she could take in.

He fished out another tissue and started to use it on her. He stopped with his hand approximately an inch from her face, looked at her seriously, then held the tissue out.