He nodded. "Yes. It is."
She sighed. "Maybe it would explain some of what's going on. Like your convincing accent, the furniture being a different color, and the fact no one else from my tour group seems to be here." Izzy glanced around the room as if they would somehow appear. "Wow. It feels like I'm having a dream. I've read about time travel in books before but…" She shook her head. "And to think it all happened through your closet, of all places." Her eyes were opened wide, her face pale. Was there a slight tremble to her hands?
Izzy voiced his exact thought! Never before had a woman even hinted to reading such books for pleasure. It was as if he'd encountered a new creature. She wasn't a servant, as in his home, nor was she nobility. He'd not encountered anyone in between those two tiers before. However, there was some quality about her that sparked his curiosity. Wanting to calm the pounding of his heart, he needed to focus on something else. "Can I ask you something, Izzy?"
She took two deep breaths and shrugged. Was she having trouble breathing? "I guess. I can't imagine anything sounding stranger than the situation we're finding ourselves in."
He nodded. "I… well that's to say… why are you called Izzy?"
She raised her eyebrows. "With all that's going on, that's the question you want to ask?"
Charles crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. "I just want to know."
"Okay, your grace, Izzy is a nickname for Isabella."
He tilted his head. "Isabella. What a lovely name. Much better than—"
She held up a hand. "Don't go there, duke."
The left corner of his mouth pulled up. "I ascertain 'don't go there' means 'please don't say that.' In which case, I'll refrain from making comparisons. Still, I think I'll call you by your given name, if it suits you."
Izzy nodded. "I suppose. It's not my favorite, but it's my real name, after all." She squinted her eyes half-closed and lifted her chin. "But do I have to refer to you as 'your grace'?"
"You may call me Charles, if you wish."
"Charles." She pursed her lips. "Much less formal."
Charles chuckled. "Yes. Quite."
Scratch. Scratch.
Isabella whipped her head around as she stared at the closed door. "Hey, I heard that sound when I was in the closet. What is it?"
Charles stood up and straightened his jacket. He headed toward the door. Reaching for the handle, he said, "Isabella, I would like you to meet…" he swung the door open with a flourish and announced "…Kitty."
Isabella opened her eyes wide. "Oh, she's darling. I love cats." Kitty, an orange tiger-striped shorthair, trotted toward her. She rubbed her face and body against Isabella's leg and wound around the lady's feet, snuggling close.
Lucky cat. Why couldn't it be me? Charles' face heated. Why had that thought crossed his mind? Isabella stroked the cat, murmuring something intelligible. Her fingers made rivulets through Kitty's fur. She stroked the cat's face. Charles wouldn't mind her doing that to him. And he wouldn't even care what she murmured. Comparing him to a jackal would even be acceptable.
She glanced up. "Charles?"
"Yes?" He hoped his face had lost the color that often accompanied the heat.
"Why is your cat named Kitty? Isn't that kind of boring?"
Charles raised his eyebrows. "With the situation in which we find ourselves, that's the question you wish to ask?" He bit his lip, hoping to stop the smirk that threatened to emerge.
Isabella laughed. It was a musical sound, sweet to Charles' ears. "All right, you got me there."
Charles shrugged. "I don't know. She followed our butler in from the woods one day and never left. No one bothered to give her a name, so it's just Kitty."
"Maybe while I'm here, I can think of a better name for her. Do you think she'd want to be named after royalty? Or maybe something more common." Isabella glanced down at the animal in question. "She seems royal to me."
He laughed. "Somehow I don't suppose my animal cares this way or that about a name. Only that we feed her stomach."
"Oh, I have to disagree. Animals have need for love and friendship just like people. They have feelings that can be hurt. And they know when we're upset or angry or content. Sometimes they understand us better than other people do."
Charles shook his head. "You have quite the imagination, Isabella."
"I'll think of the right name for Kitty before I leave." She frowned. "How long do you suppose I'll be… here?"
He crossed the room and sat in the chair next to hers. "This is all new to me, as well."
Her face reddened. "Of course, you're right. It's just that I…"
Charles reached for her hand when Kitty jumped down and crossed the room to play with a ball of string. "It's all right. I don't know what's going to happen, but we'll figure it out together."
Isabella swallowed and nodded. "All right."