It was completely insane, she knew. She might have been adapting in her own way, but that didn’t mean she belonged in this century. And yet . . . Everything old really is new again. Her parents may have lived in the 21st century, but their views were remarkably similar to those of the 19th-century English aristocracy, who believed in protecting the upper class bloodlines from their social inferiors. Like her parents, the Beau Monde had a sense of superiority in its own genetics. Although here, she realized, marriages were as much about securing legacies and increasing family wealth.
Something else moved in Kendra’s peripheral vision. She glanced over, surprised to see a horseback rider coming in fast, snow spitting like bullets from the stallion’s hooves as he charged down the long drive. The Duke, Rebecca, and Alec had also spotted the stranger, wheeling their horses around and galloping to intercept him. The rider yanked on his reins, bringing the powerful-looking stallion to a prancing stop.
Curious, Kendra watched the man retrieve a letter out of the pocket of his greatcoat and pass it to the Duke. Before she’d became an involuntary time traveler, Kendra would have sworn that she didn’t have a superstitious bone in her body. She’d been trained to think logically, both by her parents and the Bureau. But now her nerves tightened in a strange and entirely illogical sense of urgency. Something happened.
She was too far away to hear the words, but they were obviously engaged in some sort of discussion. Then the rider touched his tricorn hat, and kicked his heels against his horse’s flanks, sending the beast bolting down the drive, which curved around the castle’s courtyard to the stables in the back. Kendra knew the messenger would receive hot food and refreshments in the kitchens, and a coin for delivering the letter, while his horse would be tended to by the stable hands for his return journey home.
The Duke, Alec, and Rebecca remained huddled in their semicircle. From her position on the hill, Kendra could see the Duke breaking open the seal, reading the letter.
She picked up her skirts. Instead of retracing her steps along the path, she cut down the hill. The snow wasn’t too deep, the powdery stuff only coming up to her ankles, so she was able easily to churn through it.
She was about a hundred yards away when they noticed her. She raised a gloved hand in acknowledgement. Rebecca was the only one who returned her wave. Then she gathered her reins, bringing her mare around. Kendra was surprised when Rebecca leaned forward in the saddle and, instead of galloping toward her, sent her mare pelting after the messenger.
Something happened.
Kendra shifted her gaze back to the Duke and Alec. They appeared to be arguing. Alec glanced in her direction. She was still too far away to see his expression, but she recognized the angry set of his shoulders, the straight line of his spine. After a moment, Alec broke away, and, like Rebecca, directed his prized stallion, Chance, toward the castle, while the Duke turned his big bay toward her.
“What’s going on?” she demanded as soon as the Duke brought his horse to a full stop next to her. Her gaze roamed over his longish face and bold nose before meeting the pale blue eyes that seemed overly bright in the shadow of his beaver hat.
He said, “We must leave for London immediately, my dear. Mr. Kelly has requested our assistance.”
Kendra stared at the Duke. “What happened?”
“There has been a murder. Mr. Kelly’s letter is scant on details, but he says there is something peculiar in the nature of the crime. He believes our counsel would be helpful.” A perceptive gleam came into his eyes. “I believe Mr. Kelly is actually being considerate of my feelings, and is, in truth, seeking your expertise, my dear.”
Kendra said nothing. Her gaze drifted beyond the Duke to the white-blanketed countryside and cloudless blue sky. Another bird was being buffeted on the air currents high above the crest of trees. This time she didn’t imagine it was an airplane.
Something shifted and settled inside of her. A sense of satisfaction. Or, no. A sense of purpose. This might not be her world, but she could still find a purpose here.
She became aware that the Duke was watching her. She nodded. “Okay.”
The Duke’s saddle creaked as he leaned over and stretched out a gloved hand to her. Kendra’s wary gaze moved to the horse, and her stomach knotted. Learning to ride had been one of the lessons she’d avoided. It was the reason she’d been walking this morning while everyone else had been galloping across the fields. She didn’t exactly have equinophobia, but horses made her nervous. Jumping on the back of a thousand-pound animal seemed foolhardy to Kendra. And jumping on a sidesaddle was just begging for a broken neck. Ladies riding sidesaddle because it was more feminine and modest was about as asinine to Kendra as five-inch stilettos or rib-breaking corsets.
“If we double up, it shall be faster, my dear.” The Duke’s blue eyes twinkled down at her as though he’d read her thoughts and was amused. “There’s nothing to fear.”
“Who says I’m afraid?”
He smiled. “We ought to leave for London immediately.”
Kendra blew out a breath. He was right, damn it. She reached up to clasp the hand he was offering. “Okay. Let’s go.”
4
Ye’ll be dealin’ with another murder, then?” Molly paused in her task of pulling gowns out of the large mahogany wardrobe to glance over her shoulder at Kendra.
The maid’s matter-of-fact expression spoke volumes. It occurred to Kendra that five months ago, Molly would have been wide-eyed and horrified at the thought of a murder having been committed. But being Kendra’s lady’s maid had obviously hardened the fifteen-year-old to the grisly side of life. I’m not the only one who’s adapting, Kendra thought suddenly. We’re changing each other.
“Mr. Kelly has asked for our help. He found a body.” Kendra crossed the room to the mirrored vanity. Opening one of the side drawers, she retrieved a cedar chest, and set it on the vanity.
Molly sniffed. “’Tis London Town. Oi’d wager they’re always finding bodies.”
“Apparently there was something strange about this particular homicide.”
“Like w’ot?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
Kendra lifted the chest’s lid and surveyed the muff pistol resting against the velvet lining. Compared to the firepower available in the 21st century, it was a nonentity. But she knew that the dainty weapon with its polished walnut stock and exquisitely engraved gold plate could be deadly. She’d used the weapon to defend herself not more than four months ago.
“’E didn’t say?” Molly asked.
“No.”
The Duke hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that the Bow Street Runner had been scant on detail. She’d read more descriptive messages in fortune cookies.
Your Grace, I most humbly request the presence of you and your ward, Miss Donovan, in London. A man of consequence has been murdered in a most peculiar fashion. The body is at Dr. Munroe’s anatomy school in Covent Garden. I eagerly await your response.
The Duke’s response had been to have his carriage readied for the journey to London. Because there was no such thing as a quick trip in the early 19th century—it would take four hours to travel by carriage (if the snow didn’t hinder them)—Kendra knew that they wouldn’t be returning to Aldridge Castle tonight. Or anytime soon. They would stay in town, at the Duke’s mansion at No. 29 Grosvenor Square. That meant trunks were now being packed, and Mrs. Danbury, the Duke’s frighteningly efficient housekeeper, was divvying up the servants into those who would stay behind at the castle and those who would travel to London. After all, a duke couldn’t be expected to get his own cup of tea.