“Only a couple of months before he gave me the castle. I don’t even know how long he’d lived there.” She let out her breath slowly. “I never thought to investigate it.”
“You wouldn’t have had any reason to,” he agreed. “A pity, though, for knowing that would answer a few questions for us.”
“I think there’s only one question,” she said slowly, “and I imagine we can speculate on the answer to it without any help.”
“You’re talking about the note I wrote for Nick?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe. He was speaking in English, which gave her a very good idea of how adverse he was to being eavesdropped on. “You think Roland may have read the missive and understood it where Everard couldn’t?”
“Or they both could have read it and both tried the gate.”
“Everard can’t read.”
“And if he’d had help—in either century? What would he have done then?”
John blew out his breath. “The saints preserve us, I can scarce think on it.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think Roland’s harmless,” she offered. “He’s been very generous to me.”
“Where I can guarantee Everard wouldn’t have been,” John said grimly. He rubbed his hands over his face suddenly, then shook his head. “Let’s sleep on it, then give it more thought tomorrow.” He made a twirling motion with his finger. “Turn around and walk on, gel.”
She turned because he gave her no choice, but she turned back around and put her hand on the door before he pulled it shut. “You have to sleep,” she said seriously.
He smiled very briefly. “Another hour and I’m off to bed as well, I promise.”
“I wish your BlackBerry worked so we could do a little quick search on the history of Sedgwick.”
He laughed a little, then reached out and pulled her into his arms. He smiled down at her as he slipped her hand under her hair. “I’m afraid we’re on our own, but oftimes that can work to our benefit.”
“You unscrupulous kisser of maidens in distress,” she breathed.
“And at such a time as this,” he agreed, just before he rendered her quite incapable of speech.
By the time he finally lifted his head and looked at her, she had been reduced to clutching the doorframe. It seemed a little more stable than John, actually.
“You should stop that,” she managed. “You need a clear head.”
“And that won’t lead to it, I assure you.”
She leaned up and kissed him primly on the cheek. “That might. Go to bed when you’re supposed to.” She started to shut the door, then paused. “Be careful.”
“Always.” He leaned in, kissed her very briefly, then pulled back and motioned for her to shut the door. “Bolt it. Please.”
Well, that wasn’t the first time she’d heard that, though she appreciated the added bit of politeness. She bolted her door, then turned and looked over her accommodations. The bed was full of bedbugs—she’d already looked—and the floor was filthy. She hated to lie down on it in Jennifer’s dress, even one that was, as Jennifer had protested as Tess had insisted on it, fit for the rag bag.
But better dirty than itching, so she lay down in front of the fire and hoped she would see John and the sunrise both in the morning.
Roland? The Earl of Sedgwick?
She closed her eyes in an attempt to block out the thought, but that only led to others. It was conceivable that he’d left her the castle out of altruism, but it was equally possible he’d had a more sinister motive.
She only hoped she could divine what it was before it was too late.
Chapter 28
J
ohn
reined in just outside Segrave’s gates with his company and waited for Robin to sort the gate guards. He was grateful not only for the chance to sit still, but to wonder about a few things that puzzled him still.
Such as why Roland of Chevington would have gone to the Future.
Well, perhaps there was no mystery there. Roland had always been a quiet lad, but a thinker. If he’d even been able to imagine another world, he might well have mustered up the courage to go have a look at it. John understood that, given that he’d done the same himself, but he’d had the benefit of having watched siblings wed souls from that era. Roland would have known nothing of it, would have had no idea what to expect, and surely had no good reason to go farther than a dozen paces from his father’s coffers.
But if he had, the ramifications were truly stunning. The thought of Roland of Chevington actually being the Earl of Sedgwick, bought title though it must have been, made his head spin in ways he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Roland couldn’t have known Tess in the past, and he surely wouldn’t have gone to the Future with the express purpose of meeting her and giving her Sedgwick.
Surely.
John supposed that if he’d been a more romantic sort of lad, he might have entertained the idea that perhaps Roland had used the gift of Sedgwick for Tess to bring them together, but that seemed altogether too fanciful, even for him.
Everard, however, wasn’t above any number of schemes, impossible or not. He had never been in his father’s favor, never had gold in his hand for longer than it took him to find the nearest inn, and would have happily plundered his father’s coffers if he’d had the chance. If he had, eight years ago, understood the missive he’d been given and precisely what it meant, he would have no doubt used the time gate then and there, hoping to find more accessible coffers to delve into. The thing was, though, if Everard had managed to find himself in the Future, he never would have left it. The riches were too tantalizing and the marvels, even for a lad of as little true wit as Everard, too mesmerizing to trade again for the simplicity of medieval England.
Besides, Everard was still in the past, a thing John knew because apparently Montgomery had dealt with the lout not two months earlier.
Unless Everard had forced the gate to bend to his will. If that was true, then he might have used it time and time again, accustomed himself to future mores, then decided to come back to the past to annoy Montgomery.
John drew his gloved hand over his eyes. That made no sense, but he wasn’t sure making sense was anything any of those from Chevington did on a regular basis.
At least he could say with certainty that there was no possible way Roland would have suspected that he and Tess would travel back in time, never mind the irony of their having done so from the forest near Chevington.
Though the only reason he’d found a time gate in the forest at all had been because his sword had been driven into the ground right next to it.
That was another mystery that gave him a sharp pain between the eyes. Whoever had stolen his sword had obviously placed it cunningly next to a time gate, but the question was why. Merely to send him back in time? To what end? If Roland had wanted him dead, there was little point in stealing his sword, then sending him back to the past. If Everard had wanted him dead, he could have slain him at any point in time with a bullet to his head.
Why either of them—if they were his only suspects—would have wanted him back in medieval England where they had to have known he would be surrounded by his very intimidating brothers was something he simply couldn’t understand.
He sighed deeply. Perhaps ’twas nothing more than coincidence. He wondered how many other poor souls had stepped on an unassuming patch of forest ground and wound up where they hadn’t intended to go. At least at Artane, the gate made the hair on the back of one’s neck stand up. That spot at Chevington hadn’t done more than make him slightly ill, though he fully intended to use it again. At least that way he and Tess would be able to collect their gear from the castle and get themselves on a train back home.
The thought of that was enough to leave him feeling slightly disembodied, as if his soul wasn’t quite sure which century it should cling to. He hadn’t had that sensation all that often in the Future, but then again, he’d done his best to forget his past, and he’d avoided like the plague any medieval historical sites.
A consideration of that irony took him inside Segrave’s gates where he found he was having a bit more trouble remaining unaffected than he would have suspected he might. It was difficult to remember he was a man of almost a score and eight, not a lad of ten winters as he rode beneath the barbican and was assaulted by the sights and sounds of a place he had loved to visit in his youth.
He thought he might have been rather glad not to have gone to Artane, truth be told.
He looked at Tess sitting beside him and smiled as best he could. “How are you?”
She returned his smile, albeit weakly. “Segrave is very impressive. I had no idea.”
“I think that means I don’t dare ask what it looks like in the Future.”
“I don’t think you do,” she agreed slowly, “though you’ll be glad to know the National Trust has done a tremendous job with the grounds.”
He winced. “Then I’ll assume the castle hasn’t fared so well. At least at Sedgwick, I can keep you safely tucked behind three portcullises.”
“Can you live in a castle for the rest of your days?” she asked with half a smile.
“If you’re mistress of it, then aye,” he said pleasantly. “Especially if it boasts running water and a lovely Aga in the kitchens. I think we’ll manage to make do.”
“I imagine we will,” she agreed quietly.
She didn’t look completely convinced, so he sent her a look that made her sigh lightly. Obviously, his work was undone.
But that would have to come later, when he had a bit of privacy for it. He concentrated on not looking affected by his surroundings. It was, fortunately, not quite dawn, which at least gave him the cover of darkness for his rampaging emotions. He managed to get off his own horse without incident, help Tess down from hers, then keep her hand in his as he waited for his family to gather themselves together. He was happy to let Robin lead the way into the keep, make polite conversation with the steward, then see them all shepherded upstairs to Joanna’s bedchamber.
It was something of a surprise to see his grandmother looking so frail, given that he’d never seen her doing anything but leading whatever charge she’d decided upon. She was lucid, though, and didn’t seem to be in any pain. If her time had come, he could only wish for her that her passing would be peaceful and easy.
He waited until the rest of his siblings and Jake had greeted her before he took Tess’s hand and a deep breath, then went to kneel down by his grandmother’s bedside.
She sat up and looked at him in surprise. “John,” she croaked. “You dratted rogue, where have you been?”
“Ah—”
“I can see by the looks of your lady—who must be somehow related to my darling Persephone—that your time has been wisely spent.”
John smiled. “Grandmère, should you be using so much breath for speaking?”
She leaned over and put her bony but surprisingly strong arms around him, then hugged him tightly. “I want the entire tale, when I’ve recovered from this shock. I wept over you, you terrible boy.”
“I’m sorry, Grandmère,” he said sincerely, attempting a smile as he helped her lie back down. “I was detained.”
“I won’t ask where.” She gestured toward Tess. “Introduce us, if you have any manners left.”
“My betrothed,” John said, shooting Tess a quick smile. “Tess Alexander. And she is, as you guessed, Persephone’s sister.”
“I would be very interested in the circumstances of your meeting, but I’ll have that from your lady. From you, I’ll have a song or two. Go fetch a lute, John my lad, and let’s see if you’ve forgotten all I paid so dearly to have pounded into your wee head.”
John rose to do just that, but Robin waved him off and left to apparently see to it himself. Joanna patted the side of her bed.
“Come and sit with me, Mistress Tess, and tell me of yourself and how it was you met my Johnny. He’s my second favorite grandson, you know.
All
my great-grandchildren are my favorites because ’tis impossible to choose between them. A fine brood, aren’t they?”
“They are indeed, my lady,” Tess said, sitting down and taking Joanna’s proffered hand. “I don’t think I could choose, either.”
Joanna regarded her shrewdly for a moment or two, then nodded. “My tale, gel, if you please. Spare no details, however shocking.”
John could hardly wait to see what Tess would come up with, but he had the feeling his bad behavior would figure prominently. The best he could hope for was to provide a little musical distraction before Tess had to provide other, more startling details about things his grandmother surely wouldn’t believe.
I
t
was late in the morning when he found himself released from his labors and that only because Joanna had fallen asleep. He laid the lute aside for future use, then rose and stretched.
“A walk, Tess?” he asked.
She nodded and rose to leave quietly with him. John pursed his lips at the warning look from Robin, then took Tess’s hand and left the bedchamber. He looked at her.