Page 14 of Stolen by My Knave
That was all she’d tell him. If he wanted more details, he’d have to share more with her. She would stick to her plan and make him unearth it all. There was so much she didn’t know, and he had the answers. Elizabeth could be stubborn, and it was something Lord Whitewood was about to learn.
“That doesn’t exactly answer my question.” His face hardened and the muscles in his cheek twitched as he gritted his teeth.Oh my, His Grace isn’t very happy, is he?Too bad for him—their exchange was supposed to be a bit of quid pro quo.
“No,” she agreed. “But it does tell you what you really wanted to learn. Admit it. You hoped to see her for some unfathomable reason.”
His lips formed a thin white line. She took that reaction as an affirmation she’d guessed correctly. What was Lady Evelyn to him? Why did he hope to visit with her?
“It was too much to hope for.”
“Perhaps, but my mother might be able to answer any questions you may have.”
He stared at her with horror etched across his handsome feature. She didn’t quite understand what her suggestion unlocked inside of his head, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t like it.
“Your mother...” His mouth fell open. “I hadn’t even considered what that meant.”
That statement confused her even more. What was he babbling on about now? What did her mother have to do with anything? Her jealousy reared its ugly head. Why was he so determined to have something to do with every other female in her family except her? It took everything inside of her not to turn into a small child and stomp her feet until she had her way. Elizabeth wanted to scream to the rafters that Jack was hers, but she realized that was foolish. He didn’tactuallybelong to her. No person was truly the property of another, and while she felt as if she’d known him her whole life, he in fact, didn’t have a clue about her.
“How did you end up here?” she asked. She was determined to have her answers before he left and sought an audience with her mother.
“Your mother,” he said again. “She’s who exactly?”
Elizabeth sighed with frustration. He was being churlish, and if he didn’t start giving his equal share of answers she’d stomp her foot like a small child. Wouldn’t that be entertaining? How would he react to that? It didn’t matter; she wasn’t going to give into her impulses. “I’ll tell you if you answer my question first.”
“I’m not sure I can. One minute I was on an island, my ship marooned in a sand bed, and the next I woke up on an English road with no idea how I’d gotten there. It took a while for me to realize I was no longer in the eighteenth century.”
That must have been quite difficult for him. It hadn’t been easy for her mother at first either. She was lucky and had her father to guide her through the ordeal. What must it have been like for him? He had to stumble his way through it all on his own. Elizabeth didn’t have any personal experiences to draw on and had a hard time imagining herself in a similar situation. Would she be brave enough to start a new life without any of her family around to support her? It seemed possible in theory, but in reality, it would be entirely different.
“What enlightened you?”
“That’s not how it works, love,” he chastised waving his finger at her. “I answered your question, now answer mine.”
He was right.Drat. She still had more questions though. Elizabeth also ignored his false endearment. He was well aware of her thoughts on the addition oflovewhen he referred back to her. “Fine, we’ll exchange questions and answers until we’re both satisfied. My mother is the Duchess of Weston, Alys Dewitt Kendall.”
He perked up at her mother’s name. “Dewitt? So Evelyn married Paul?” He said eagerly.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. He was too keen to find out what happened to her grandmother. Something about that was annoying. She dismissed it as nothing. She didn’t know Jack well enough to have any real feelings concerning him. Maybe if she kept telling herself that she’d believe it too. “Do I need to remind you of how this works as you did for me?”
He shook his head resignedly. “What else do you want to know?”
“What did you do once you arrived? How did you come by the title of Duke of Whitewood?”
Jack sat back in the chair and tapped on the arm. He lifted his arm and cupped his chin in the palm of his hand. “It’s a long tale—the short answer is I saved the king several months before he died. He decided to reward me with an obscure title no one was using. It wasn’t much of a gift since it came with no money or property, but it opened doors and gave me the opportunity to make a living. I was a rather good pirate, not that I disclosed that information to the masses. It gave me insight into the shipping trade. I won a ship in a card game and started my first enterprise. A duke couldn’t run a ship, so I hired a captain and made sure to give him ample reason not to cheat me.”
“You threatened his life.”
“Of course,” he agreed with a brush of his hand. “It’s the only way to ensure compliance with that sort.”
His life as a pirate hadn’t been a secret. At least not to her—he probably didn’t want the world to find out about it. She’d have to tell her mother though. Jack would want to speak with her and she might not if she didn’t understand his reasons. Her mother didn’t have time for what she deemed nonsense. The older she got, the less patience she maintained.
“Now tell me, did Evelyn marry Paul.”
Elizabeth nodded. “To the best of my knowledge she did. If it is the same Paul you’re referring to. They married immediately upon their arrival in his time.”
Jack sat up and stared at her, his mouth once again falling open. “Explain yourself. What do you mean byhis time?”
She was afraid he’d latch on to that part. Did he believe he was the only person with the ability to travel through time? It appeared as it was a family affair. She was aware of one other person who’d managed it. Her aunt’s friend, Genevieve, was a time traveler of a sort, but Elizabeth wasn’t fully aware of her story. The woman had found her way home when Elizabeth was a small child, and she’d not heard much of her since.
“My grandfather was from the late twentieth century.” How many debutantes could make that claim? None that she was aware of—well, with the exception of her friend, Scarlett Lynwood—her mother was from another time as well. Her parents’ story was a fairy tale similar to that of Elizabeth’s.
