A Murder in Time(39)

His expression was thoughtful as he drew on the pipe. “I see. Because of the war?”

That, Kendra decided, was as good a reason as any. “Yes.”

“I certainly understand you not being able to travel back to America during the hostilities. But, what of now? The war’s been over for months.”

“I don’t have any money,” she improvised.

“I see. And once you acquire the funds to obtain passage to America, you’ll be leaving us, then?”

“I need to go back home,” she said with complete honesty.

His gaze moved beyond hers to settle on the two paintings above the fireplace. “Do you have family, Miss Donovan?”

Kendra thought of the parents she didn’t speak to, the half-siblings that she’d never bothered to meet. “Not really. But I . . . don’t belong here.”

It wasn’t the words, but the underlying desperation in her voice that caught his attention. “When did you arrive in England?”

“When?”

“Yes.”

Her chest tightened, but she answered calmly enough. “I already told you—before the war.”

“So you’ve been in England for four years?”

“Y-yes.”

“’Tis a long time.” He puffed on his pipe. “What month did you arrive?”

Apprehension prickled along the back of her neck. Sweat dampened her palms. Despite the gentle tone, she knew when she was being interrogated. “Um . . . May.”

“May of 1812, then?” He nodded, taking her silence as agreement. “A time of great upheaval,” he murmured. “Upon which ship did you travel?”

“Why?” She heard the hostility in her own voice and struggled to rein it in. She’d never studied this era specifically, but she was pretty sure servants weren’t supposed to fight with the aristocracy. “It was so long ago—four years, like you say—that I can’t think why it matters.”

He smiled slightly. “I’ve always been a curious man—as you can see by my interest in natural philosophy. I also have financial interests in a few shipping companies; maybe you traveled on one of those.”

“I don’t remember.” Lame, Donovan.

“You don’t remember the ship you booked passage, the ship you spent weeks crossing the ocean?”

Kendra swallowed. If she’d had someone in interview giving her such evasive answers, they’d have shot to the top of the shortlist for whatever crime she was investigating. But she had no choice. Telling him that she was a time traveler wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t believe it. Hell, she didn’t believe it.

“I’m sorry. I really don’t remember,” she said, and felt a wave of relief when the door opened, and a maid came in carrying a serving tray. Her eyes widened when she saw Kendra standing next to the Duke, but she quickly averted her gaze, depositing her burden on a side table.

Aldridge approached, rubbing his hands together. “We’ll need another cup, as I’m expecting—” He broke off as the door swung open again, and the man Kendra recognized from the night before strolled into the room. “Ah, Alec. You are right on time.”

Alec lifted a brow. “On time for what?” He stopped abruptly, his brow darkening as he spotted Kendra. Unlike the maid, he apparently had no intention of pretending she wasn’t in the room. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“Alec, your manners are abominable,” the Duke admonished gently. “Miss Donovan and I were discussing natural philosophy and astronomy. And about to have tea.”

“You’re bloody joking.”

“I never joke about tea. And don’t swear. If you’ll be so good as to bring another cup for my ill-mannered nephew,” he said to the maid, who immediately dropped into a curtsy.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Kendra didn’t have to see the other girl’s face to know that the Duke’s statement had shocked her. And infuriated Alec. She was, after all, a lady’s maid. While she still had a lot to learn about the customs of the early nineteenth century, she suspected a lady’s maid taking tea with a Duke wasn’t normal. “No, thank you,” she said hurriedly, following the maid to the door. “In fact, I need to get back to my duties.”

“Oh. Are you quite certain, Miss Donovan?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Aldridge knew he could insist that she stay and take tea with them. But for all his well-known eccentricities, he wasn’t given to coercion of that sort. He smiled at her and said, “Another time perhaps?”

“Yes, perhaps.” Aware of Alec’s eyes on her, Kendra hurried out the door.



Alec waited for the door to close before turning slowly to face his uncle, who was already pouring two cups of tea into the delicate Wedgwood cups. “I obviously interrupted your cozy tête-à-tête with Miss Donovan.”

Calmly, Aldridge added a lump of sugar to one of the cups, stirred, and handed it to his nephew. “Here, Alec. This may sweeten your disposition.”

“I don’t need any sweetening.” Still, Alec took the teacup. “What’s going on between you and that woman?”

“Nothing more than an interesting discussion.”

“How charming,” Alec said sarcastically. “The master and his servant, having tea and scones.”