‘This is Adam Smith.’ He peered closely at the back of the twenty, then examined the coins, one by one, holding the plastic five pound note with its transparent window up to the light. ‘Garrick, either this lady has been to an incredible amount of trouble in order to deceive us, employing technology of which I am quite unaware, or she is from the future.’
Strangely it was his acceptance of it that convinced me that this was real, that I wasn’t dreaming, or hallucinating or feverish. It was a huge relief to know I wasn’t sprawled on the kitchen floor dying of a brain haemorrhage, or losing my mind, but… How am I going to get back? I will, I told myself firmly and, somehow, I found I believed it. I had arrived here and whatever mysterious mechanism had achieved that would send me back. Blind faith or my desperate need to convince myself? Either would do, because sheer panic was not going to help.
The valet said, ‘Bloody hell, my lord. Er, I beg pardon, Miss Lawrence.’
‘No problem,’ I said vaguely. Bloody hell was considerably milder than any of the expressions running round my brain at that moment.
‘Thank you, madam. But how are we going to get you back?’
Quite. I do like a man with a grasp of the essentials.
‘And how did you get here?’ The Earl scooped up the rest of my scattered things and put them on the desk, then picked up the lamp and came to hunker down in front of me, studying my face. He was really remarkably cool about this, unless, like me, he was having a screaming fit internally. Then his face changed, his eyes narrowed.
‘It is you.’ Lord Radcliffe shook his head as though half-stunned.
I shared the feeling. For a moment I was back in that moment in the kitchen when I had seemed to see a vision of a man turning, poised, elegant, dangerous. I rubbed my fingers over the still-sore scratch on the back of my hand.
‘I knew I had seen you before, but your face is the wrong way round.’
‘What?’ I scrambled off the sofa and staggered to the over-mantle mirror. ‘No it isn’t. This is what I look like.’ It was definitely me, looking as though I’d been thrown through the air into a filthy alleyway, been involved in a fight and scared half out of my wits. Not a good look.
‘Your hair is shorter than I remember.’
‘I had it cut this afternoon.’ I poked at my dark blonde bob. The critical blue gaze was definitely mine.
‘And that,’ he pointed to the small scar at the corner of my right eye, the result of a fall out of an apple tree, aged nine. ‘That is on the wrong side.’ He stood behind me, topping my reflection by a head. The light wasn’t brilliant, but I could have sworn he went paler. ‘Unless you were looking out of the mirror at me and not reflected in it.’
‘Which mirror, my lord?’ Garrick asked. ‘One here?’
‘No, unfortunately. It is at Almack’s, at the end of the refreshment room.’
‘I did not get here through a mirror.’ It was disconcerting having the Earl looming so close behind me so I turned, which of course, only made it worse. But, being the perfect gentleman, he immediately moved back. ‘Have you had your portrait painted, my lord? A miniature of you, so big –’ I held up my index fingers, five inches apart. ‘Wearing a dark blue coat and with a stickpin in your neck cloth, one with a blue, oval stone?’
‘Last year. A gift for my mother.’ Yes, he had definitely gone paler.
‘I bought it in an antique shop yesterday. I think it triggered whatever it was that happened to me. One moment I was in the kitchen, the next, falling through the air and then I landed in that revolting alleyway in the middle of a fight.’
He raked his fingers through his hair and stood up. ‘We cannot solve this mystery now. And I am keeping you talking when you will want to bathe and change. Garrick, surely the water should be hot by now?’
‘Yes, my lord. I will fill the tub directly. But what is Miss Lawrence to change into? It is past two in the morning and I doubt I will be able to purchase raiment for her until at least nine.’ They were both studiously keeping their gaze above the level of my collarbone.
‘If I could borrow a shirt and a dressing gown?’ I suggested. Now a bath had been mentioned I was beginning to twitch with the recollection of what I had been rolling about in.
‘Of course, Madam.’ Garrick effaced himself – it was fascinating to see him do it, just as all the best butlers did in novels. Only he was a valet, so presumably they had effacing lessons too.
‘Which does not solve the problem of where you are to stay. None of my female relatives are in Town at the moment, and besides, how am I to explain you?’
‘Have you a spare bedroom?’
‘I have, but you can hardly stay here.’
‘Why not? Where I come from – when I come from – men and women who are not related and who are not in a relationship share apartments perfectly respectably.’
His eyebrows arched up in surprise.
‘And, to be frank, I just want to have a bath and go to bed and try and sleep. Perhaps when we wake up in the morning we will both find this was a dream.’
‘I doubt it, Miss Lawrence. I have never had such a delightful dream before.’