All for You (36 page)

It was obvious he was going to have to think of something else, though he honestly had no idea what that something might be.

“I
do
believe there is something amiss, miss.”

“Are they open for tourists today, do you think?”

Humphreys considered. “Not on a Sunday, Miss Alexander. And this has the feeling of something perhaps less than ideal.”

Peaches agreed with Humphreys’s assessment of the situation. Artane was, in her experience, a fairly busy place even with just those who came to staff it, but there was something odd about the way the cars in the car park were situated. She jumped out of the car the moment she could and left Humphreys to deal with the parking of Stephen’s Mercedes. She ran up to the castle gates, which were wide open. For some reason that struck her as very unsettling somehow. Mrs. Gladstone was not manning her booth, of course, because it was Sunday, but for some reason the emptiness there only added to Peaches’s unease.

She ran up the way toward the keep, then slowed to a stop as she came into the courtyard. She stared in horror at the emergency vehicles still there. The door of the ambulance was being shut there in front of her.

Her first thought was that something had happened to Stephen. She rushed over to stop one of the attendants and find out
for sure. That wasn’t difficult considering he was walking without haste to get back inside his truck.

“What happened?”

“His Lordship,” the man said, then shook his head slowly.

Peaches felt her mouth fall open. “Lord
Edward
?”

The man ducked his head, as if he feared he’d said too much. He only looked at her briefly before he sidled by and escaped inside the cab of the ambulance.

Peaches ran past him and up the steps to the front door. She didn’t knock, she simply opened it and walked inside. The first person she saw was Megan de Piaget chasing after her little girl. Megan caught sight of her, scooped up her daughter, and crossed the hall to her.

“Peaches,” she said with feeling. “Where’s Stephen?”

“I thought he was here,” Peaches said. “What happened?”

Megan took a deep breath. “Lord Edward had a heart attack—”

“Did they already take him to the hospital?” Peaches asked in surprise. “Was that a second ambulance outside?”

Megan looked very pale. “But he’s dead, Peaches. It was too much for him—oh, I thought you knew.” She put her arm around Peaches and pulled her with her across the floor. “David Preston sent a lawyer this morning with a letter full of exactly what he told us last night. Apparently Lord Edward was so shocked, it—well, it was too much for him.”

“I can’t believe it,” Peaches said hollowly. “How is Gideon—no, how is Lady Helen holding up?”

“Devastated, the both of them,” Megan said. “Stephen was here sometime last night and left a note that he was going hiking and would be out of range for a bit. He doesn’t know, and we can’t figure out how to get hold of him.”

Peaches sank down weakly into a chair in front of the hearth. She had had her suspicions before, of course, but held on to the hope that perhaps Stephen wouldn’t actually do something crazy. Now, though, she was sure she knew where he’d gone. She looked at Megan and saw realization dawn in her eyes.

“You don’t think,” she began slowly. “Would he?”

“He would, and he did,” Peaches said. “I’m sure of it.”

“But why?” Megan asked in surprise. She let her little girl go and sat down in the chair next to Peaches. “What was he thinking?”

“He was looking for a way to save his father’s hall.” She paused. “His hall now, isn’t it?” She looked at Megan. “That’s difficult to think about, isn’t it?”

Megan reached out and put her hand on Peaches’s arm briefly. “I wouldn’t think about it, if I were you. I think you’re going to have your hands full just waiting for him to get back.”

“Waiting?” Peaches said with a snort. “I’m not waiting.”

“Peaches,” Megan said in a low voice, “you can’t mean to try to follow him.”

“I’m not going to follow him. I’m going to go off and do my own thing.”

“I don’t think you should.”

Peaches had to admit that same thought had occurred to her, but then again, she was in love with the heir to Artane. If she could help him, she would.

“I’m actually not quite sure where he went,” she admitted. “Or when, rather. I looked through Stephen’s library this morning to try to figure out what went on at the time Artane was gambled away. That was made much easier by the books Stephen had obviously looked through the night before.”

“What did you find out?”

“That I need to look harder.”

“And then what do you think you’re going to do?” Megan asked in surprise. “Go back and change history? James MacLeod says it’s catastrophic.”

“I’m not changing,” Peaches said. “I’m nudging. And I’m not doing anything until I figure out just where to nudge.” She looked at Megan seriously. “Will they mind, do you think, if I go nose around in their library?”

“Of course not,” Megan said, then she smiled gravely. “You should come say hello to Lady Helen first. She likes you a lot, and it would mean quite a bit to her.”

Peaches considered. “She won’t ask me any prying questions about Stephen’s whereabouts, will she?”

“Peaches, my friend, if you’re going to be married to a man who thinks nothing of hopping through time, you’re going to have to learn to lie now and then. You might as well start now.”

Peaches pursed her lips. “I don’t suppose you’re speaking from experience.”

“Oh, no, not me,” Megan said with a half laugh. “I just deal
with ghosts. Gideon and I leave the time traveling to everyone else. Let’s go find the current lady of the house.”

P
eaches
sat for a couple of hours with Helen de Piaget, trying to offer what service and compassion she could. When Stephen’s mother finally went to lie down, she slipped off and headed for Artane’s library.

She had already spent her share of time looking through Stephen’s offerings that morning, but he’d had no pre-Victorian or Victorian-era books out.

And for some reason, she just had a feeling that was the era she should be looking in.

After all, if a man was going to be a gambler and gamble away an entire estate, he would have to have buddies who were willing to put up the same sort of collateral. She thought perhaps it would have been possible at the turn of the twentieth century to find enough landed gents to play cards with, but to her mind it seemed more like something that might have been done during either the Victorian or Regency period.

She had wondered, now and again, if she might have had an unhealthy fascination with Jane Austen’s world.

She hadn’t been looking for very long, actually, before she stumbled upon a situation that was so perfectly matched to what she was looking for, she could hardly believe what she was reading. Lord Reginald de Piaget, Earl of Artane during the beginning of the nineteenth century, had been, from very brief and sketchy reports, a man interested in wagers.

That was one way to put it, she supposed. She reached for a book on the Kenneworths she had found after a good hunt and opened it to the same time period. The Duke of Kenneworth during the same time period, Lionel, had been as famous for a spectacular string of wins as he had been for the number of very exclusive mistresses he had kept.

Typical.

She supposed Lionel wasn’t her man given that he was in the direct line, though he certainly would have been the easiest suspect. She sighed, then started to shut that book when she caught sight of his death date. Lionel had died fairly young, though Peaches found no indication of cause. Perhaps it was nothing
more than the usual problem of bad water, bad hygiene, and a duel at dawn.

She shut the book slowly, then stared off unseeing into the fire. If Lionel had been the one to win the title to Artane in a card game, why hadn’t he claimed it immediately? Or had he intended to just torment Reginald de Piaget for a bit before demanding Artane and the other properties entailed on the estate?

She frowned, because something didn’t fit. If Lionel had died before he could claim his winnings, why hadn’t his brother Piers trotted out the IOU? She supposed it was possible after the heir’s death that Piers had been too busy running things to rifle through his brother’s papers. Perhaps he had simply tossed everything that wasn’t cash into a box and forgotten about it. But that didn’t explain why Andrea Preston’s father had had the deed and not David’s father.

She opened the book back up, retraced her steps, then followed the line down from Lionel’s grandfather—

And found that Lionel had had an infant son living when he’d died, which mean that Piers hadn’t inherited the title, he’d simply held things together until the little lad had come of age and claimed his father’s title.

Apparently, that son hadn’t claimed all his father’s papers. It was the only way Andrea Preston could have found the IOU in her father’s things.

She memorized dates, names, and places, then shut the books. “Bingo,” she murmured.

“Bingo?”

She almost fell off her chair. She recovered with difficulty, then turned around to see who was standing at the door.

It was, unfortunately, Zachary Smith, inveterate time-traveler, leaning casually against the doorjamb with his arms folded over his chest.

“Well, hello, my lord,” she said with a bright smile. “How is Wyckham?”

“Almost finished,” he said, “a fact for which I am profoundly grateful. How is the library?”

“Interesting, but I’m always interested in a good book.” She rose and stood in front of her books on the off chance Zachary got any ideas about borrowing them. “It’s nice to see you, Zach, but I gotta go.”

“Do you gotta?” he asked, not moving. “Where?”

“Oh, just back to my room.”

“Megan says you don’t have a room yet.”

Megan talks too much,
Peaches thought, but she didn’t say as much. She only restacked her books behind her back, then rubbed her hands together as she walked over to the door.

“I’m off to get one,” she said.
In another century
. “How’s Mary?”

“Feeling better, and you’re changing the subject.”

Peaches had been herded enough by de Piaget men and de Piaget men-by-marriage to know if she didn’t push right on through Zachary Smith, she wouldn’t get out the front door.

“It’s not a very interesting subject and considering all the Regency delights I’ve been researching for Stephen, I know interesting. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go see if I can be useful.”
Somewhere
.

Zachary didn’t move. “I know where he went.”

Peaches stuck her finger in her ear. “I’m not at all sure I know what you’re talking about, but I do know I’m in a bit of a hurry. So, if you’ll excuse me—”

“I would have done the same thing in his place,” Zachary continued relentlessly, “and told the woman I loved, the woman I was leaving behind, to
stay
behind. I can’t believe Stephen didn’t do the same thing.”

“Oh, he left me a little love note,” Peaches said, wondering if it would be rude to just give Stephen’s uncle a good shove. “Why don’t you let me by and I’ll go get it? You and Mary can reread it with me, and we’ll all enjoy it again.”

Zachary wasn’t smiling. “I don’t suppose it would do me any good to list for you all the perils associated with what you’re contemplating.”

“What?” she asked with the best laugh she could muster. “A trip downstairs to the kitchen?”

He wasn’t laughing with her. “Peaches, this is nothing like a trip downstairs to the kitchen. The dangers are real and quite often fatal.”

She put her shoulders back. “I know.”

Zachary pursed his lips, then he reached down behind him and pulled up a very rustic-looking pack. “You should take this,” he said. “You know, on that adventure you know all about.”

She would have smiled, but she was too terrified to. “Are there snacks inside?” she managed.

“Beef jerky and pork rinds.”

“You know, you aren’t very funny.”

“That’s what your would-be lover says to me as well,” Zachary said mildly, “but he blames it on too many adventures having warped me.”

“Have they?”

He looked at her seriously. “The gate here is … turbulent, which is why I would hazard a guess Stephen told you very explicitly to stay behind and knit—”

“Read.”

“Whatever.” He blew out his breath. “You know, it’s very difficult to know where he went,
and
the odds of you landing in the same place are very slim.”

Peaches slung the pack over her shoulder and held the strap because she thought it might hide her trembling hands a bit better. “But it isn’t impossible.”

“Not entirely.”

“That’s enough,” she said.

He shook his head slowly, smiling faintly. “Peaches Alexander, you are a formidable woman.”

“No,” she said, her mouth suddenly very dry. “I’m terrified.”

“Good,” he said without hesitation. “You should be. Do you have a knife?”

“Knife?”

He nodded at her shoulder. “In the pack. Stow it somewhere on your person where it can’t be seen but can be reached. And be prepared to use it.” He rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying any of this. You’re absolutely crazy to go without at least some sort of training.” He looked at her, hard. “Could you kill someone if you had to?”

She couldn’t even nod.

“That’s what I thought.”

“He needs to know his father is gone,” she managed, “and he needs to know what I just found out.”

“You can tell him both when he gets back.”

“It will be too late then,” she said, starting to feel a little panicked. “David gave us seventy-two hours. We’re already through almost twenty-four and look what that jerk has done.
Stephen needs to be looking in a different direction instead of—”

“Talking Robin de Piaget into hiding things in the wall?”

She blinked in surprise. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s a long story,” Zachary said with a smile, “having to do with some enterprising souls in James MacLeod’s family. Keep going with what you were telling me. Stephen will think he’s taking care of things, but then what?”