A Rip in Time (Out of Time #7) (25 page)

“Either way, I think we should warn Graham. Whatever she’s up to, you can be assured he’ll be a target.”

She nodded, but looked worried. Not that he blamed her. He was damned worried himself.

He ran a hand down her now bare arm until he reached her wrist. It was so slender he could reach around it with his thumb and forefinger. So small and fragile. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.
 

She smiled back at him, but the unease remained in her eyes. No words of assurance would take it away. It would stay with her, with him, until this mission was over. One way or the other.

S
IMON
LEANED
BACK
IN
his seat as their carriage made its way out of the city and into the country, but he did not relax as he watched the city disappear into the distance behind them. It would hardly be the respite George had painted when he’d invited them. With Dr. Blackwood and both Graham and Vale also in attendance for the weekend, there would be little rest and no relaxation.
 

After the revelation of Vale’s letter and the disturbing encounter with Madame Blavatsky, Simon had been waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. Every time they’d seen Vale, he’d been prepared for the worst, prepared for her to strike like the viper she was. But, if anything, she’d been calmer than before, kindness and pleasure in their company oozing out of every pore like a noxious perfume.

The nervous energy she’d exuded when they’d first seen her here in London was nearly gone. Frankly, he’d rather she’d have ranted and raved and foamed at the mouth. Her quiet confidence and unnatural grace were far more unnerving.

Coupled with the new and far from improved Katherine Vale, their investigation had stagnated. After Victor had told them about what he’d overheard from Lizzy Stride, they thought they’d finally caught the break they needed. If she were blackmailing the doctor, that meant he’d done something worthy of it. It also gave him a motive for killing her. With her connections to the other victims, it seemed like they were finally onto something. The doctor was looking more and more guilty. But after that night, Stride clammed up and the doctor kept to himself. Every attempt Victor made to get more details about her “plot” and the reason for it came up dry.
 

And so, instead of things coming to a head, they simmered, slowly, their reserves burning away. Each day moving achingly, painfully, slowly forward toward the next murder, but bringing nothing of use with it. And all the while the words Blavatsky echoed from their past still lingered. The fear of them coming to pass was cancerous.

The days stretched into weeks. The dinners and luncheons and parties all ran together in his mind. Nothing stood out. No more clues, no more revelations. Everything and everyone seemed to settle into a slow, relentless rhythm; each day grinding past, melting into the next, drawing them inexorably toward their fate.

He looked across the carriage at Elizabeth as she leaned toward the window soaking up the green landscape and fresh air. He knew that despite her indomitable spirit, she was feeling the strain as well. Her beautiful blue eyes were rimmed with dark circles from lack of sleep. Her laughter was less frequent. Her smile dulled just enough to break his heart a little.
 

He would have given anything to take it all away from her, to shoulder her burden. But even if he could have, she wouldn’t have let him. And that just made him love her all the more.

Roxbury’s estate, Larkridge Manor, was an imposing Elizabethan country house with gothic pinnacles and a vast array of mullioned windows.

Elizabeth gave a soft, impressed whistle as their carriage turned down the lane toward the main house.

“And I thought Grey Hall was swanky.”

Simon chuckled. His family estate was actually quite modest compared to many, including, it seemed, Roxbury’s. Larkridge was impressive.
 

The butler, a small man with keen eyes and an implacable expression, greeted them.

“Good afternoon, Sir Simon,” he said, bowing slightly. “Lady Cross.”

Elizabeth didn’t quite manage to stop her snort of amusement at her title.

The butler’s right eye twitched slightly, but that was the only chink in his otherwise impenetrable social armor. As the butler of a grand house should be, he was precise in every way, from his flawless livery to his ramrod posture.
 

“Sir George is out at the moment, but should be back shortly. If you’ll allow me,” he said, gesturing to the large entry hall behind the immense front door.

“Thank you,” Simon said, giving him a lingering, questioning look.

“Jeeves, sir.”

Elizabeth tried to cover her sudden burst of laughter with a coughing fit.

“Is the lady all right?” Jeeves asked, oblivious to the reason for her outburst.

Simon fought down a smile of his own with a pressing frown. “She’s fine,” he said with a glare that Elizabeth happily ignored.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you, Jeeves.”

Simon could see her struggling to keep from laughing again. “Perhaps some rest before dinner?”

“Very good, sir. Dinner is at eight, the gong will ring at seven.”

“Have the other guests arrived?” he asked.

“You are the first,” Jeeves said.

Simon nodded and Jeeves waited to make sure there were no other questions before he waved his hand and a tall, slender footman appeared and escorted them to their rooms—a rather expansive and very elegant suite.
 

“My name is Edward,” the footman said as other servants deposited their ridiculously overstuffed trunks in their room. “I am at your service as your valet for the duration of your stay. Simply ring for me here,” he said as he gestured toward a velvet rope that hung near the doorway.
 

“And if Lady Cross should need a lady’s maid or anything at all,” he continued, “Eleanor will be pleased to serve.”

Simon thanked him and the young man bowed. George had thought of everything. He knew they hadn’t traveled with a valet and maid, as would be customary for a couple with his status, and had delicately given them the option.
 

Elizabeth came back into the sitting room from the bedroom holding a bottle of champagne. “Good ol’ George.”

Simon met her halfway and took the bottle. It was a fine vintage, but he set it aside.
 

Elizabeth pouted and he took her in his arms. “Two glasses of that and I’ll have to carry you down to dinner.”

She laughed. “George would like that.”

“I’m sure he would, but we have to pace ourselves and cannot let—”

“Our guard down,” she finished for him. “I know.”

He kissed her forehead. “It won’t be long now.”

She hmm’d against his chest. “When this is all over, we are going to Hawaii or Tahiti or somewhere and sleeping on the beach for a week.”

“Agreed.”
 

He let go of her and pulled out his pocket watch. It was just now four. “We still have a few hours before we need to dress for dinner. Why don’t you lie down? I’ll keep watch.”

Elizabeth nodded and took a step toward the bedroom before turning back to him. “I sleep better with you next to me.”

He wanted to protest, but the words wouldn’t come.

She held out her hand. “They’re not even here yet. You’re watching an empty house.”

He hesitated, but realized she was right, and stepped forward taking her hand.
 

“For a few hours,” he said.

“Just you and me.”

~~~

Elizabeth woke with a start and sat up in bed. Next to her, Simon did the same. They’d fallen asleep in their clothes nearly as soon as they’d lain down, but something had startled them both awake.

Simon checked his pocket watch. “Quarter past seven. Slept right through the gong. We’d better dress.”

Elizabeth nodded and slipped off the bed, and as she did, they both heard the door to the suite next to theirs close with a bit too much force. Elizabeth went toward the door to their rooms to investigate, Simon close behind.

 
In the hallway, they could hear raised voices. Elizabeth cracked their door open and listened.

“Then you should have stayed in London,” Graham said, his voice choked with anger.

“You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you?” Vale bit back.

Graham took a quick step toward her, but Vale held her ground defiantly. Graham paused and her eyes shifted away from him, catching sight of Simon and Elizabeth. Graham’s gaze followed hers.

He cleared his throat and smoothed down his dinner jacket before shooting Vale a final look.
 

Caught watching them, Simon and Elizabeth stepped out into the hallway, apologetic expressions on their faces.

Graham plastered on a smile and for the first time Elizabeth felt uneasy with him. It wasn’t that he’d tried to cover their argument and pretend everything was all right. Everyone did that once in a while. It was how
well
he did that. His smile was effortless. He shifted from anger to pleasant nonchalance in a heartbeat, as if he could just flip a switch.
 

“Sorry about that,” Graham said, striding toward them, hand extended. “I heard you two would be here. I’m so glad.”

Simon shook Graham’s hand.

Vale’s expression remained icy and her eyes darted to Graham, clearly not finished with their argument.
 

Graham eyed Simon and cocked his head to the side. “Is dinner casual?”

“Oh,” Simon said, looking down at his clothes. “No, we’re running a bit behind.”

“We won’t keep you then,” Graham said and turned to Vale. “Shall we?”

She glared at him, and then back to Simon and Elizabeth before nodding and leaving without him.

“We’ll see you downstairs,” Graham said as he caught up to Vale and headed down the hall to the stairs.

Simon and Elizabeth slipped back into their rooms.
 

“Now what do you think that was all about?” Elizabeth asked.

Simon looked back at the door. “I don’t know. But things are starting to look a bit frayed around the edges, aren’t they?”

Elizabeth nodded. “I’d be more than frayed if I were Graham.”

Simon began to unbutton his shirt. “I wish he’d taken our advice and left here when we told him about Vale’s letter.”

“I know I wouldn’t spend a minute more with her than I had to.”

Simon sighed. “He’s obsessed with the Ripper case. Beyond all good sense.”
 

“I’m starting to think he’s as crazy as she is,” Elizabeth said, and then added off of Simon’s curious look. “Well, not that crazy. She’s cornered the market on that brand of nuts.”

Simon looked thoughtfully back toward the door. “Let’s hope so.”

~~~

Marie ate her food as she always did, as if it were the last she’d ever see. She washed down an enormous mouthful of fried haddock with the last third of her beer.

It would have been impressive, Victor thought, if it weren’t so very sad. The meals they shared together were some of the few she got, he was sure. The rest of the time it was stale bread and bits of cheese. Meat was a luxury and vegetables non-existent.
 

He watched her as she scraped the last bits from her meal into a pile, not willing to waste even the smallest crumb.
 

He pointed at her plate. “Another?”

She grinned and spoke with a mouth half-full. “I couldn’t.”
 

She swallowed and put her hands on her stomach. “Stuffed like a Christmas goose.”

She eyed her glass though and he knew the silent request. He took her glass and his, and moved to the bar for two more. She drank too much. They all drank too much, but it was the only pleasure here, leaden though it was in the end.
 

Victor leaned his elbows against the bar as the barman drew two more pints. The pub was busy as usual, but the noise and the stink didn’t bother him anymore. He barely noticed them.
 

That was a bad sign, he thought. But hardly surprising considering he’d been there almost a month. He’d been on long assignments before. The greatest risk was always complacency. Becoming comfortable, accustomed, meant losing his edge, not seeing the things he needed to see. Not being the man he needed to be.

He’d learned that lesson the hard way just outside of Paris during the war. It was easy to become one of them, to forget why he was there. Their cause was just and they were the sort of men and women he could fight alongside and be proud to die with. However, despite sabotaging convoys and tapping phones, he was not there to fight their enemy. He shared their food, he smoked their cigarettes, but he was not one of them.
 

He’d lost sight of that then and it had nearly cost a good man his life. He vowed that that would never happen again. And in the years since, he’d kept that promise. With everything at stake here, now was not the time to break it. He was not here to interfere in their lives or to become part of them.

The barman placed two beers in front him, he took them and turned back to their table. Marie smiled at him.

No matter how much they might need him to.

~~~

She was never eating again. The dinner had been equal parts amazing and disgusting. The sole was delicious. The calf’s head would fuel nightmares and indigestion for days to come. Elizabeth could still see it staring at her.

Her stomach burbled again and she turned her head to see if it had woken Simon. His eyes stayed closed though and his breathing was deep and rhythmic.
 

Poor him. She could only imagine how tired he was. He’d only been half-joking earlier when he’d said he’d stand guard. She knew he did that most nights. Unwilling to leave them as vulnerable as they would be in sleep, he allowed himself only cat naps. Even for a master of the sleepless night like Simon, doing that for several weeks was a few weeks too many.
 

From the looks of it, his body had finally convinced his mind to shut the heck up and let it rest. Afraid she might wake him and needing something to settle her upset stomach, she carefully slipped out of bed. Simon rolled his head to the side, but didn’t wake. Elizabeth grabbed her robe and tiptoed out of the room.