Down the Rabbit Hole

“She has worked here for so long, are you sure she suspects nothing?”


“My lord, I am certain that she does not suspect you have time-traveled from the Regency and changed places with Simon. You did it yourself and find it hard to believe.”

Weston nodded. It was a good point.

“Was Miss Amy Mr. West’s most recent short relationship?” Alice managed to choke out.

“No, Miss Kemp. They traveled as friends only.”

The earl suspected that Mr. Arbuckle wanted to say more but held the thought. If it was about the prospects of that time-traveling couple’s relationship remaining chaste, then Weston was glad he did not add to Alice’s upset.

Mr. Arbuckle bowed again and made his exit as if he dreaded any more questions. A profound silence surrounded them. Weston moved around the room aimlessly, too restless to sit.

Alice sat down with a less-than-graceful thump and reached for her tea, then looked at him. “What does brandy taste like, Wes?”

Without answering, he added a dollop to her cup and she sipped. “Oh!” She swallowed again without a second sip. “Rather soothing, actually.”

“Without the tea it burns more but is equally comforting.”

“Why, then, are women discouraged from drinking it? Why is tea our only choice?”

“I have no idea, Alice. As far as I am concerned you may have all the brandy you would like.”





CHAPTER ELEVEN




“Do you want the truth, Weston? Do you really want to know how I think of you?”

They were working their way up the flight of stairs to the bedroom wing. At least he hoped it was still the bedroom wing.

Alice was speaking clearly, and that had fooled him into thinking that her tolerance for brandy was more than anticipated. But now she was hanging on to the railing as if it were a lifeline. That was just as well, as she had already missed one step.

He made a mental note that her capacity for drink was about what you would expect for such a delicately boned woman. Virtually nonexistent.

“No, Alice, I do not want to know what you think. Not tonight. What you need right now is a bed.”

They were at the top of the stairs and he saw, with relief, that the double doors of the master’s suite were just ahead, as they had been in 1805.

“Yes, that is exactly what I need. A bed with you in it.”

“Alice!” He could not keep the surprise from his voice. “Do you realize what you are suggesting?”

She wrinkled her face and laughed at his dismay. “I am just being honest. I suspect the brandy is, in fact, a truth serum and men do not want women to drink it for fear of the truths that they will hear.”

He opened the doors to the master suite and walked into the salon that the earl and countess shared, with their bedchambers on either end.

“It’s quite lovely, Wes.” Alice walked around the room, bouncing off a chair and almost knocking a figurine from a useless stand that was not quite in the corner.

“Do you think there is a loo near here? It is one twenty-first-century improvement that I can praise.”

He led her to the door that was slightly ajar and, indeed, it was a bathing chamber. He pushed her in and closed the door, hoping she would not faint dead away.

As he examined the china figurine on the mantel and the ivory combs and brushes on the dresser, he heard some unmistakable gagging sounds.

A few minutes later she opened the door and leaned her head out. “You, sir, are a monster. Why did you not tell me brandy would make me sick?”

“You drank too much, for which I will take full responsibility, my dear. But you do feel better now, don’t you?”

She closed one eye and appeared to give it some thought. “Yes, I do.”

“Then rinse your mouth out and come to bed.”

She smiled at the idea, shut the door and completed her ablutions.