Henrietta had been about to turn the doorknob to make her escape, but Leah’s “freeze or you’re dead meat”
voice had been fairly well honed over the years. The girl turned slowly, a wary look in her wide brown eyes.
“If supper is delayed, then you can help me settle in.”
Leah plopped down on the bed and patted the faded covers beside her. “Sit down with me.”
Henrietta’s look of repugnance would have been funny if it wasn’t so damn depressing. Leah began wishing she’d stuck closer to Avery. Clearly the female staff wouldn’t be giving her as warm a welcome as he had.
Leah sighed and rubbed at the temple that was beginning a steady throb. What a damn depressing thought.
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Five
It had been easier than Avery had thought to convince Mrs. Dearborn, the cook, to pretend Leah was her relation from the colonies. An older woman with a softer heart than anyone else in the house, Cook had been Avery’s only confidante. Despite their cordial acquaintance, he’d expected much more of a fight from her when he suggested the plan. But once Avery had explained that Leah would be out on the street if she couldn’t provide a reference, Cook had agreed to the charade and bustled Leah away to meet Mrs. Harper and apply for Fannie’s recently vacated position.
As Leah waved a cheerful farewell from the kitchen doorway, an odd twinge took up residence in Avery’s chest. Turning, he’d thumped at his ribs, trying to dislodge the feeling as he’d exited the main house and walked out toward the stables. It hadn’t worked. The buoyant, almost excited sensation cast an unfamiliar lightness to his walk.
Her tale was difficult to believe, but she had appeared sincere. Was it possible that she had come from nearly two hundred years in the future? The gravel crunched beneath his feet as he considered the notion.
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Gina Lamm
Geek Girls Don’t Date Dukes
When he was just a boy in the village of Chelmsford, their neighbor, Mrs. Comstock, had dabbled in the Old Ways. Though his clergyman father forbade him to speak with the old woman, he knew from her that strange things were possible. He’d seen her making potions and curing folk in ways that no normal person could, so it stood to reason that this stranger’s outlandish claim could prove true.
His father was dead, and he was no longer a boy.
Would he heed the warnings he’d been given as a child, or discover more about this beautiful stranger? Whether she’d come from the future or no, she stirred an interest within him that she should not. And he could not afford any distractions.
Once he’d reached the stables and tossed the hounds some scraps he’d gotten from Cook, he rounded to the back of the buildings into the lean-to shed he used for training. As he reached for the leather door strap, he could have sworn that his lips were stretched oddly, in what almost felt like a smile. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his thoughts of yellow hair and summer-sky eyes as he entered the shed. It was damn near impossible. She haunted him like a wraith.
The scents of dust, hay, and sweat hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the sole purpose of this room. Imagining the way she’d felt for that brief moment pressed against him, he methodically stripped to the waist. Streams of late-afternoon light reached through gaps in the slat wall, lying in wicked angles across the straw-dusted floor. Dust motes floated in the air as Avery carefully hung his valet’s waistcoat, shirt, and jacket on iron hooks by the door.
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around his knuckles, knotting them securely. Stretching
his ribcage with a heavy breath, Avery turned and faced his opponent— a canvas bag filled with sand, hung with thick ropes from a ceiling beam. Settling his weight squarely on the balls of his feet, Avery’s fists tingling and ready, he pulled back for his first swing.
The ghost of an impish smile with twinkling eyes winked at him, and he missed the bag completely.
Overbalanced, he staggered forward, nearly plowing directly into his former employer’s tall form.
“Oy, Russell, you’ll never win another tourney with a pitiful showing like that.”
Avery righted himself quickly, bringing his fist upward in defense. “Prachett. What are you doing here?”
Thomas Prachett laughed, moving closer to Avery.