Byron's Child (16 page)

“I am perfectly willing to follow American etiquette,” said Lord Thorncrest stiffly. “I believe two of your politicians—Burns and Hamilton, was it?—met honourably some years since.”

“Hamilton was killed and Burr discredited,” Jodie pointed out. “Think, Giles. What the hell am I supposed to do if you end up dead or in Newgate?”

“I hardly think it’ll come to that, but if so, Cassandra and Harry will see you get home safely.”

“And then I suppose I go in to tea with your mother and tell her: ‘I’m frightfully sorry, Lady Faringdale, but your son got himself pinked in a duel a couple of centuries ago and I had to leave him behind’?”

To her indignation, Giles laughed. “I have to admit even my imperturbable mother might be a bit put out. Don’t worry, I left the keys in the car; you can skip tea and drive yourself back to Oxford.”

“And have the cops after me for car theft and kidnapping?” Jodie was beginning to see the funny side. “Can’t you just imagine the headlines? ‘Physicist peer vanishes! U.S. coed questioned by Scotland Yard.’ The gutter press would just love it.”

“Coed’s an American word. ‘Lovely graduate,’ they’d say, ‘claims researcher jailed in 1816.’ They like lovely, it’s shorter than beautiful.”

“‘Historian runs amok, slays sexy scientist, hides body in past.’ I can just see it on the front page of the tabloids at the supermarket checkout.”

They had both forgotten the earl. Lord Thorncrest had lost his glower and was looking distinctly uneasy. Jodie’s final remark was too much for him.

“I’m damned if I know what you’re talking about, but I trust you mean to explain,” he said, starting out belligerent but ending on a plaintive note.

Jodie and Giles stared at him in dismay.

“Oh lord!” Giles flopped into the nearest chair. “What did we say?” he asked Jodie.

She ran back over their nonsense in her mind. “Too much. We’re going to have to give him some sort of explanation. For heaven’s sake sit down, Thorncrest, don’t stand there scowling at us.”

He opened his mouth to protest, then meekly sat. She joined him on the leather sofa.

“This is all your fault,” she accused him. “You shouldn’t have assaulted me. I’m no feeble little debutante, you know.”

“That much I had gathered, but what the devil are you?”

Jodie looked at Giles. He obliged.

“Jodie’s a student of history at Oxford University. A graduate student—she already has her degree—and a superior student, since she won an important scholarship.”

“Women up at Oxford? Gammon,” said Lord Thorncrest bluntly.

“Perhaps I should have said ‘Jodie will be a student.’ We both come from the far end of the twentieth century.” Giles paused, but the earl was too stunned to speak. “I am, or will be, Viscount Faringdale, a descendant of our present host. We were thrown back in time by an accident I can’t even begin to explain to someone who has never spared the time for ‘playing with numbers’, as you once put it.”

“Giles is not merely a useless aristocrat,” Jodie put in, making Thorncrest flush with annoyance. “He’s a distinguished natural philosopher with a team of researchers working under him.”

“And Jodie is not only a historian,” Giles added, “but a student of the Japanese martial arts. Hence your recent tumble.”

“I don’t believe it. I don’t believe a word of it.”

Jodie jumped up and assumed a ready pose. “Want to try it again?”

“No, thank you.” He slid away from her to the other end of the sofa. Unexpectedly he grinned. “I’ll meet your brother any time, any place, but it is far too undignified to be stretched out on the carpet by a mere… by a female. All right, I accept that Miss Judith has learned some esoteric wrestling tricks in your godforsaken country, but as for the rest I never heard such a farrago of nonsense.”

Giles shrugged. Jodie wondered whether to try to convince the earl of their veracity or just to persuade him to keep his mouth shut. In the silence, they heard the butler’s voice in the hall.

“She’s in the book room, Miss Emily, with Mr. Giles and Lord Thorncrest.”

“Oh dear!” said Emily, and they heard her quick, light footsteps approaching. “Thank you, Potter. Bring refreshments, if you please.”

The gentlemen rose and bowed as she entered. She took no notice of them but ran to hug Jodie.

“Is everything all right?” she whispered.

“Sort of.” Jodie spoke aloud. “I’m afraid we aroused his lordship’s suspicions and had to tell him our story. He didn’t believe it though.”

“Did not believe it?” Emily turned to her betrothed. “Surely, sir, you cannot suppose that they invented such an extraordinary tale?”

Looking harassed, Lord Thorncrest ran his fingers through his dishevelled hair. His elegant cravat had also suffered. “To tell the truth, I don’t know what to think, Emily. So you know of their claims?”

“I was there when they arrived from the future.” Emily calmly sat down on the sofa and motioned to the gentlemen to be seated. The earl took his place at her side. “Jodie, pray send for your book. That is the best evidence, I believe.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll fetch it.”

Emily continued, “I was in the stables at Waterstock during a thunderstorm, Charles—never mind why.”

Glancing back as she left the room, Jodie saw that Emily’s cheeks were pinker than usual. She was perfectly composed though, and looked Thorncrest in the face as she went on with her description. He listened with eager attention.

He was listening to her, and he had called her Emily. What was more, she had boldly addressed him as Charles. Was it possible, Jodie wondered, hurrying up the stairs, that this idiotic situation might bring the pair together at last?

The book about Ada Lovelace was concealed at the bottom of a drawer. She carried it down half hidden in the folds of her skirt, though it was not too conspicuous as it had lost its dust jacket long since. Emily was right, it was the best possible proof of their story.

It was not needed. The earl stood as she entered and said awkwardly, “I beg your pardon for doubting your word, Miss Judith. Emily has persuaded me of the truth of your travels in time.”

“Pray do not mention it, my lord,” she said graciously. A glance at Giles’s amused face told her that he had already received an apology. She held out the book. “Perhaps you would like to see this nonetheless?”

Thorncrest took it and examined it with interest. “A life of Byron’s daughter,” he exclaimed. “I don’t suppose you would lend it to me?”

“No!” said Emily sharply. He looked at her in surprise, frowning. “Believe me, Charles, it is best that you do not read it. It is unwise to seek to know the future. I have given a great deal of thought to the subject, these past weeks, and I am quite sure.”

As the earl gazed down into her pleading face, his frown cleared and he nodded. He turned back to Jodie and gave her the book, then sat down again beside Emily. He took her hand and smiled at her.  “For now, I’ll trust you, though sometime I shall want to hear your reasons. I cannot deny that I am disappointed to lose such an opportunity.”

Her answering smile was shy. “If you want to learn about Jodie and Giles’s time, there can be no harm in that. It is so far in the future, we shall all be long gone.”

“Does that thought not disturb you?” he asked seriously.

Jodie decided it was time to stop eavesdropping. She leaned on the arm of the chair next to Giles and said, “Boy, am I glad you came home when you did. I wondered how many times I’d have to toss him before he got the picture.”

“It’s been a most amusing morning, after starting off badly. Harry’s been delayed by floods. Cassandra’s naturally a bit cagey on the subject, but I gather he hasn’t the funds to put in proper drainage and some of his tenants’ farms are under water. It’s your wretched year without a summer, I suppose.”

“Don’t blame me. It would be raining even if I hadn’t told you. I wish we could do something for them, they are doing so much for us.”

“I might as well be penniless for all the use my money is to me here, or to anyone else. I can hardly borrow from Roland to give to Harry, even if he would accept it.”

“How frustrating! I’ll keep trying to think of some way to help them.”

“I have the utmost faith in your ultimate success. There’s no such word as failure in your lexicon.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, grinning. “Flattery will get you everywhere, kind sir.”

At that moment Potter ushered in two footmen and a maid, all bearing refreshments. “I took the liberty of having Cook make up some sandwiches, Miss Emily,” he said, “thinking as the gentlemen might be sharp-set.”

“Thank you, Potter. I do not know about the gentlemen but I am positively ravenous.”

Jodie was delighted. If Emily was willing to admit to an unladylike appetite in Thorncrest’s presence, she must be feeling very much more at home with him. He served her and himself from the trays set out on the desk, asking her preference in a way that suggested a desire to please rather than mere politeness.

Since Jodie had just eaten breakfast, her lack of appetite was genuine, not ladylike pretense. She accepted a cup of tea from a teasingly solicitous Giles, and sipped it while she answered the earl’s questions about her own time.

He was fascinated, but at last he turned to Emily and said soberly, “I can see that you are right. It is best that we do not know too clearly what is to come.”

“Not beyond tomorrow evening, at least,” she responded. “Do you go to the Duke of Devonshire’s ball?”

“Only if I may hope to see you there. As we are betrothed, I believe it will be permissible for me to claim three dances, will it not?”

Blushing, Emily granted his three dances. He looked warily at Jodie.

“Dare I ask you to stand up with me, Miss Jodie?”

She laughed. “I shall not throw you across the floor, if that is what you mean. Nor am I offended that you did not believe…. Oh drat, that sounds like Roland out there. Where did I put that book?”

They all put down their plates hurriedly and started searching. In the hall, Roland’s voice rose to a squeak of annoyance.

“Eating in my bookroom! Lord Thorncrest is here? Oh, very well. But really, we have a perfectly good dining room.” The door began to open.

“Here.” Emily pounced on the book, lying on the lower level of a tiered table.

Giles grabbed it and sat on it. Retrieving his plate, he took a quick mouthful and started to choke. Jodie wasn’t sure if he was pretending, to distract attention from their flustered state, or whether, if he really was choking, she should apply the Heimlich maneuver.

Lord Thorncrest dashed over and pounded him on the back, with unnecessary enthusiasm in Jodie’s opinion. She hastened to the rescue, bearing a glass of ale. Roland entered to a scene of total confusion, in which only his sister appeared to be sane.

The earl leaned towards Jodie over Giles’s head and whispered, “I take it Faringdale knows nothing?”

“No. You will not tell?”

“If I did, I’d end up in Bedlam,” he said sardonically, “which may be where all of us belong.”

Chapter Fourteen

Charlotte pushed away her dish of bottled plums. “I wish strawberries were in season,” she said.

“It will be at least two or three months before even the Cornish strawberries are ripe,” Roland pointed out from the far end of the dinner table. “It is not like you to wish for the impossible, my dear.”

Catching Charlotte’s eye, Jodie told him, “Preg… ladies who are in the family way often have odd fancies. My mother says the only time she ever ate yogurt was when she was expecting.”

“Yogurt? Ah, a Red Indian dish, I daresay.” Pleased with his own acumen, Roland turned back to his wife. “My love, if there is anything I can obtain for you, you know I will spare no expense, but how to come by strawberries in March I cannot guess.”

“No, I know it is impossible,” Charlotte sighed. “They would have to be grown in hothouses, no doubt. Giles, did you not mention that your friend Lord Font means to experiment with growing luxury crops out of season in greenhouses?”

“He has spoken of it.” Giles looked suspiciously at Jodie, who put on an air of saintly innocence. “He hopes to do for market gardening what some fellow in Norfolk has done for farming.”

“Coke of Holkham?” Roland was nibbling at the bait. “I have put many of his admirable ideas into practice at Waterstock.”

“I knew you were interested in modern ideas,” Jodie flattered him, “ever since Giles was so fascinated by your experimental lightning rod.”

Emily added her mite. “Roland takes after Papa.”

“Yes, of course, your bathroom fixtures. It must be pleasant to be in a position to support useful innovations.”

“Just think,” said Charlotte, sounding wistful, “if Lord Font had started his enterprise some time since, perhaps I could have had strawberries today.”

Giles picked up his cue like a professional. “Unfortunately Harry’s short of capital. I’m afraid it’ll be a while before he can provide fruit out of season.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Roland said jovially. “I want a large family and if it takes fresh strawberries in March to make you happy, my dear, then that’s what you shall have. I’ll have to see about investing in this scheme of Font’s so that I may have a say in which crops he tries first.”

Jodie tried hard not to look too triumphant.

After dinner, in the few minutes before the gentlemen joined them in the drawing room, the ladies congratulated each other on the success of their plot.

“I shall invite Lord Font to dine,” Charlotte decided. “And Mrs. Brown too, of course. I have been thinking for some time that I ought to call on her. Will you go tomorrow to introduce us, Jodie?”

Jodie agreed, as Giles and Roland came in. Giles had not adopted the habit of drinking port or brandy after dinner but he always sat with his ancestor. He had told Jodie that Roland only took a very small glass of port, often leaving half of it. He suspected Roland did not care for the taste and was just keeping up appearances.

Giles went to the piano and began to play an idle tune. Jodie followed him. Leaning against the instrument, she grinned at him smugly.

“I never told Charlotte about Harry’s plans,” he said, shaking his head in mock reproof.