Time for Love (19 page)

“What’s your problem?” She cast him a scathing glare. “Never mind. I don’t care. Just move, I’m leaving. Now.” She tried to walk past him, but he didn’t budge.

His friend stepped out the door and called down the stairs, “Dobson, please come up here right away.” He stepped back inside. “We’ll ask Dobson about her. He knows everything that goes on around here.”

This wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped. She should at least try to use Creswell’s shock to her advantage. “Does this have something to do with my sister? Do you know where she is?” She threw caution to the wind. Maybe she could learn something while she figured out how to get out of here.

“Your sister?” Creswell’s hands shook, and he fell back a step. “Charlotte?”

This time Alex paled. She hadn’t expected that reaction. “You do know something! Where is she? What did you do to her?” She grabbed the man by his jacket and tried to shake him, too freaked out to think clearly. The man topped her by about half a foot and looked to be solid muscle. He didn’t move an inch.

He threw his arms around her and hugged her tightly to his chest. “Alexandra, it is you!” Tears ran silently down his face. “I can’t believe it. After all these years.”

She pushed against him and finally freed herself. Shit. She couldn’t let him think she was his missing sister. Could she? “I’m sorry. I don’t know who you think I am, but there’s obviously been some mistake.”

Just then, Mr. Dobson walked in and bowed slightly to both men. “Sir?”

The second man, Alex hadn’t heard his name, but guessed he must be the young Mr. Thorpe she had heard so much about, said, “Yes, Dobson. Who is this young woman, and how did she come to be here?”

“Ah, yes, sir. She joined us today, along with Evelyn, the daughter of Lady Thorpe’s abigail. She volunteered to help ready the house for your dinner party this evening and has been helping the maids for most of the day.”

“Fine. But who is she?”

The butler began to look nervous. “Is there a problem sir? Has she done something egregious?” He cast Alex an evil glare, then pulled himself up straight and faced his master. “I am to blame, sir. I should not have permitted her to stay. I allowed myself to be deceived in her character. Because of a very kind service she performed for our little Evelyn, I assumed she was of the highest moral character. Please allow me to escort her out and contact the authorities.” He moved to grab her arm, but Mr. Thorpe pulled him back.

“No, nothing like that.” He waved aside this concern. “We simply need to know who she is.”

The butler visibly relaxed and opened his mouth to answer.

“It’s really none of your damn business,” Alex chimed in, annoyed they were standing around discussing her as if she weren’t in the room. Mr. Dobson gasped, and both men looked at her in surprise. “I don’t know who you think I am, and I don’t really care. I just want to leave.”

“Alexandra, it’s me. Gregory. Your brother.”

****

Alex glowered at him. “I don’t have a brother.”

“Don’t you remember me?” He shook his head with a sad smile. “You must have suffered some injury to not remember your family. That would certainly explain why you have not returned to us. Tell me where you have been all this time and what brought you here. What’s this about Charlotte? Is she here too?” His face lit with an inner joy Alex didn’t understand.

“Excuse me, my lord,” Mr. Dobson interrupted. “From what I understand, the young woman has recently arrived from America. She is searching for her twin sister, who, she believes, is in trouble.”

“Charlotte’s in trouble? What kind of trouble? Do you know where she is now?” The happy smile had faded, replaced with a worried frown. “What can I do to help?”

“Look, you must have me confused with someone else.”

“I am not mistaken. The resemblance is uncanny. There can be no other explanation. I was thirteen when you and Charlotte disappeared from our garden. You were ten. It was a horrible time, but I remember you well.” He gave himself a little shake, but then looked at her and smiled. “But here you are. It’s a miracle.”

Alex took a good look at him. Now that he’d calmed down and stopped scaring her out of her wits, she realized he was quite handsome. Maybe a couple of inches over six feet, he had a strong face with large green eyes and brown hair that fell over his forehead in a casual way that belied his formal attire.

He wore light colored pants with a dark green coat that brought out the color of his eyes and fit snugly over his wide shoulders. She couldn’t imagine how he managed to keep his waistcoat and shirt so brilliantly white in a time before washing machines and even her untrained eye could tell his cravat was expertly tied. At least, she could picture it on any of the actors she’d watched play Mr. Darcy on TV.

She studied Gregory’s face, noting their resemblance. Something about the eyes and their hair color was similar. Yup. Definitely one of those ancestors she’d intended to keep an eye on. Though certainly not from this close up.

Who would have thought the resemblance would be so remarkable so many generations later? She should have, that’s who. Why, oh why, hadn’t she gotten out of sight before the guests started to arrive? She’d known he might be here.

She shook her head. How was she going to talk her way out of this one? She needed time to think. “I’m sorry. It’s just not possible. I’m sorry for your loss, but I can’t possibly be who you think I am.”

“Please. Stay. Our parents will be here in a short while. Meet them. We don’t have to figure everything out now. We can take some time, but please, don’t leave.” He stood in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest, an audible tremor in his voice as he pleaded with her to stay.

Our parents—That sounded really good. If only it were possible, but it wasn’t. Her parents had died when she was a child.

Still, they were family, of a sort, weren’t they? Alex sank onto the sofa and looked into the depths of the fire burning low on the hearth, the smell of coal strong in her nose.

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and tried to focus. What should she do?

****

That question was answered when they heard a knock on the front door. Mr. Dobson left to answer it and a noisy group entered.

“That’s them; I hear mother’s voice,” Gregory exclaimed. “Wait here; I’ll only be a moment.”

Alex fought back a wave of panic and leapt to her feet, wringing her hands. Gregory rushed out the door, but his friend stayed behind and watched her warily. She thought of pushing past him, but after a quick glance at his stance next to the door, she thought he seemed prepared to stop her.

While she tried to think of the best course of action, Gregory returned. With him came an older man she realized must be his father. They had similar builds and the same strong face, though the elder had more wrinkles and was heavier in the midsection. His gray hair was cut close to his head, and he dressed as impeccably as his son. Alex would have felt quite intimidated by him, if not for the kindness that shone in his blue eyes.

It appeared Gregory hadn’t explained his theory regarding her, because after greeting Mr. Thorpe, he looked around inquiringly and following a kind smile in her direction, turned to his son. “What was it you wished to speak with me about in such an urgent manner? You were quite rude to your mother and our hosts.” He frowned at his son.

“I’m sorry, Father, but I felt I should bring this to your attention first, on the off chance I am mistaken. I would not wish to upset Mother.”

“And just what is it that would be so upsetting to your mother?”

He gestured toward Alex. “Her.”

The man smiled kindly. “You will have to excuse my son. It seems his mother and I have failed to impress on him the importance of good manners.” He stepped toward her with a slight nod of his head. “I am Lord Downing.” He stopped within a foot of her, and his eyes widened. He stared at her face and found the explanation for his son’s odd behavior. He looked to his son for confirmation.

“Father, this is Alexandra. Our Alexandra, I believe. She arrived in London this morning.”

“Alexandra,” Lord Downing whispered, as he reached out to her.

Alex anticipated his intention and dashed out of reach. “I’m truly sorry that my appearance here is causing so much confusion. I wish I could be the person you think I am, but it’s just not possible.” She chewed her bottom lip in indecision, a vague sense of—something—in the back of her head. She shook herself to clear it. She couldn’t quite name the feeling and didn’t have time to figure it out, with this man staring at her thinking her his dead daughter brought back to life.

For a brief moment, she flirted with the idea of going with it—she could use the help. But much as she hated to dash their hope, letting these people think they had regained their long lost daughter only to leave would be cruel, and she immediately dismissed the idea.

Lord Downing followed her with his eyes. “I don’t know what is going on, but we will figure it out together. You, young woman, are going to sit down and tell me all about yourself. And I will tell you all about us and the tragedy that befell our family fifteen years ago.”

****

Alex’s thoughts rioted about in her head. The easiest emotion to deal with at this point was anger at being treated as if she had no say in the matter, so she latched on to that anger in an attempt to keep her sanity. “I’m tired of everyone acting like they can order me around,” she lashed out. “I can’t deal with this. I have other things to do, and I’m leaving. You can get out of my way on your own, or I can make you move. Your choice.” She glared at Mr. Thorpe, still standing quietly in front of the exit.

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and he smiled, which enraged her further. She started toward him, but Lord Downing intervened.

“I am Marcus Creswell, The Earl of Downing, and as such, I may indeed
order you around
, Miss…?” He left the sentence hanging, clearly waiting for her to insert her name.

“Turner,” she replied tersely, unsure of her standing. How could she have forgotten for even a moment that women didn’t have the same rights in this day and age as they did in her own? Did an earl, or his son, have the right to detain her if they wished?

She had a sneaking suspicion they did.

“Thank you. Now, if you please, have a seat.” He looked at Alex and then over at Mr. Thorpe and sighed. “I am sorry, Mr. Thorpe. We are quite ruining your engagement dinner.”

Mr. Thorpe interjected before he could continue. “Not to worry at all my lord. This is an amazing discovery. I am quite thrilled to be a party to such a wondrous occasion. Miss Hawkins will quite understand when I explain the circumstances.”

“Thank you. I—”

“This appears to be a bad time for everyone,” Alex interrupted, thinking to buy some time to sort out her thoughts before the interrogation she knew was coming. “And I, for one, could really use some rest. I’ve been up and working since before dawn. Maybe it would be best if we talked tomorrow.” She tried to look tired, let her shoulders droop and avoided Lord Downing’s eyes.

“Working?” He frowned and looked at her again, taking in everything from her ill-fitting and dirt- streaked dress to her work-reddened hands. “I beg your pardon, you must be exhausted. Perhaps it would be better if we continued this in the morning.” He looked at his son. “See that she gets home safely. I will make your excuses.” He started to leave but turned back. “I think it best if we not mention this to anyone else until we have a chance to settle affairs tomorrow.”

After his father left, Gregory turned to Mr. Thorpe. “Can you ensure this remains between us?”

“Certainly. I will simply inform Dobson that if any information on Miss Turner escapes this house, the person responsible will be turned out—without references.”

“You can’t do that!” Alex objected. “I don’t want anyone to lose their job over me. Besides, I’ve been here all day, and the way I arrived was pretty juicy gossip. It’s probably spread all over town by now.”

“What do you mean?” Gregory asked.

“Well, from the reaction I got when I arrived, I take it women don’t usually show up at the door wearing men’s clothing. Not even at the service entrance.”

“Men’s clothing! Why?” He shook his head. “No. You can explain yourself tomorrow. It’s time I got you home.”

Chapter Sixteen

May 1 (28 Days Remaining)

Alex awoke from a delicious dream involving Nicholas and a bottle of whipped cream. She sighed and stretched luxuriously, wondering what woke her, and whether it would be possible to get back to her dream. She’d tossed and turned half the night, trying to make sense of everything, and was still tired.

The bed curtains parted and sunlight streamed in from the window, momentarily blinding her. “What’s going on?” She rubbed her eyes and tried so see past the colorful spots left from the dazzling light.

“It’s time to get up, my lady.”

“Evelyn?” Alex blinked, and Evelyn’s smiling face came slowly into focus. Alex sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “What are you doing here?”

“I just arrived this morning.” Evelyn beamed. “It took me awhile to find out what happened; the staff is under strict orders not to discuss it, but I finally spoke to Mr. Dobson himself and he told me.” She cast Alex a self-satisfied smirk. “I knew you were quality. Didn’t I tell you so? I knew you were more than merely a distant, unwelcome, poor relation. Daughter of an earl. Isn’t it just wonderful, my lady?”

“I’m not an earl’s daughter,” Alex mumbled. “And stop calling me,
my lady
.”

Evelyn ignored her. “Well, first thing this morning I made my way here and presented myself to the housekeeper as your abigail.” For the first time since entering the room, her smile faded, and she turned away. “That’s if you want me. I—I understand if you feel you need someone with references.” She peeked at Alex through lowered lashes.

Alex stood and put her hands on Evelyn’s shoulders. Looking straight into Evelyn’s eyes, she smiled. “I couldn’t ask for anyone better than you. You’ve been a great friend. I really appreciate it.” She paused. “So what’s an abigail?”