Page 87 of The Girl Out of Time
“Miss Marshall, please. I have no ill intentions.”
She stopped. He hadn’t been there when she’d talked with Lord Grey and the duke. “How do you know my name?”
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “You’re not the only one here under false pretenses.” He bowed his head in greeting. “Perhaps the name Sebastian Winters, Lord Haverston, will mean more to you.”
Her eyes widened. “You—”
“I received a fascinating letter about a month and a half ago. A Miss Emmeline Marshall, staying with the Ascombe family at their country home in Dorset, claimed to be my relative and asked for help.” He leaned on the wall, smiling. “There is no Emmeline Marshall, or any Marshall at all, in my family tree. But the letter was intriguing, and I was bored. Solving a mystery sounded like the perfect thing to pass some time.”
She lowered her arm. “Why didn’t you out me when you arrived?”
“Now, where would be the fun in that?” He pushed off the wall and slightly raised his hands, as if giving up. “When I arrived, there was no Emmeline Marshall. I asked around town; I asked the servants at the estate. The only person who was not part of the family was Miss Maria Grey, on a visit over the summer as she was to marry Lord Farenham later in the year. So I stayed. And I observed.”
“And now you’ll take me to the authorities because I deceived you and wasted your time?”
“Wasted my time? Quite the opposite.” He laughed. “It was the most fun few weeks in my recent memory.” He tilted his head; his eyes still glinted with that slight mischief, but she sensed no malice behind them. “But more than that, I’ve seen how you behave toward others and myself. Add that to your letter and, no, Miss Marshall—I don’t think you’re a horrible criminal who tried to rob the Ascombes of their fortune and disposed of the real Maria Grey. If that had been your intention, why write a letter betraying yourself?”
“So you believe me?”
“Having not been privy to the conversation with the duke, I’m not sure of the exact details of your problem,” he said. “But yes, I do. And I do believe that somehow, somewhere, we are related.”
“Really?”
“Really. If you’d be inclined to come with me, I’ll show you why.”
She made a step back.
“Which, now that I said it out loud, sounds strangely menacing.” He grimaced. “I am sorry, Miss Marshall. With a fast carriage, my estate is but a day away. Forgive me for the assumption, but it looks like you have nowhere to go. You’re welcome in my home if you need shelter. I have servants aplenty and a dozen rooms to put between us if you’re worried. I have a chaperone ready for the travel as well, so you needn’t worry about propriety.” Tentatively, he reached out a hand.
Arms clasped around herself, Emmeline gave him a sidelong glance. He didn’t seem like a villain, but what did she know?
Then again … what else was she going to do?
“All right.” She straightened up. “Where to?”
“This way.” When she didn’t accept his hand, he shrugged with a self-deprecating smile, then put his hat back on and strode to the main street. Emmeline followed cautiously, a tiny wave of relief washing over her at the sight of a carriage with the familiar Haverston crest. A middle-aged woman dressed in servants’ clothes waited beside it.
“Miss Marshall is coming with us,” Lord Haverston said. “Please, keep her company inside. I’ll be with the driver.” He nodded to Emmeline, then leaped up onto the front seat.
The woman issued a small curtsy and gestured Emmeline inside, glancing over the muddy splotches on her gown. “Worry not, Miss. We brought blankets, and we’ll get you something better to wear at the estate. Have you eaten yet today?”
“Ah, there is one small detail I forgot to mention.” Lord Haverston leaned over just enough to look at Emmeline. “Mrs. Hutchinson will feedyou exorbitant amounts of food if you let her. Indulge at your own peril.” He winked and resumed his position.
It wasn’t enough for complete relief, but it did make Emmeline smile.
Perhaps her fate wasn’t sealed yet.
As the carriage rolled around the bend and a view of the ancestral home of Viscounts Haverston opened up, Emmeline beheld it with bittersweet feelings: sadness, a sense of loss, even, from never having visited the house where her mother grew up, and relief and joy, a sense of homecoming from knowing she was closer to her family, even though they were still separated by an entire century.
Charlingham Hall was a sprawling Elizabethan mansion, reddish-brown facade burnished with time, its numerous turrets reaching toward the pale gray sky. On the inside, despite its grandness, it felt like a warm grandmother’s embrace, with paneled walls and floors covered in patterned carpets and little window nooks with upholstered seatings, perfect to curl up with a book.
“I’ll call my housekeeper to get you settled in,” Lord Haverston said as they paused in the foyer. “But before you do so, I owe you an explanation. You wanted to know why I believed you, yes?”
She nodded. He led her down a hallway, past rows of windows overlooking the driveway, and turned the corner into a long gallery. Dozens of portraits hung from the walls, all in ornate gilded frames. He walked down the line, stopping at one.
“Mama.” Emmeline couldn’t stop herself, even though she knew the woman in the painting wasn’t her mother. Her dress was all wrong, and her hair was a chestnut brown, not bright red, but the delicate features of her face—the elegantly arched eyebrows, the round blue eyes, the rosebud mouth—madeher look so much like Mother that Emmeline’s eyes watered.
I want you back, Mama.
