Forgotten Time (Ravenhurst Series, #1) A New Adult Time Travel Romance Read online

  “Yes, milady?” she answered pleasantly.

  “Could you help me find something other than this to wear?” she asked, lifting the frilly gown up in the air.

  “No worries, milady, all your belongings are just where you left them. I will have all your clothing laid out for you by the time you are finished with your bath. Would you like me to help you bathe?”

  “Oh, good Lord, no,” she laughed, embarrassed. “I will be fine on my own, thank you.” She almost laughed aloud in her face. Help with my bath? Seriously? What was with these people?

  “If you don’t mind, then, I will carry the tray down and return shortly to help you dress; if you wish?” she inquired sweetly.

  “That will be fine. Thank you, Tabby.”

  “I will return shortly,” she said quickly as she grabbed the tray and carried it from the room.

  Katherine leaned back in the chair for a moment, smiling. She could get used to this kind of service. This must be what it felt like to be a royal. With a full stomach, she stood and walked over to the bath. The tiles were cold on her bare feet, and slightly wet from the hot steam of the bathwater in the claw-footed tub. She quickly ditched the frilly sleeping gown and climbed into the steaming water. She scrubbed her body and hair ‘til she was squeaky-clean. No smelliness left.

  After she was finally finished, she climbed from the tub. There was a robe of rich blue fabric with darker blue-corded edging draped over the small chair in the bath. The material felt divine, like thick brocade. She picked up the robe. No big surprise, the style was Victorian; these people must take historical accuracy to an entirely different level. Not only did the maids dress and sound authentic, but the man in her room was dressed in period clothing as well.

  Not that she had any complaints. When you look like he did, she guessed you could wear anything you want and get away with it. She surely did not mind, not one bit.

  Tabby was true to her word. She laid her clothing out on the bottom of the bed, and not just any clothing, either. There was an incredible, light celadon-colored evening dress with a satin bodice. It had a full, pleated skirt and delicate, crocheted buttons. Ned would freak if he could see these, she thought, as she ran her hand over the delicate material. Beside the gown were matching undergarments, stockings and another pair of toe crushers that matched the gown. Just looking at them made her wiggle her toes in the carpet. She wasn’t looking forward to sticking her feet them.

  Oh well, hopefully, they wouldn’t be as bad as the other pair. Which reminded her, where in the hell were own shoes, dress, and “borrowed” necklace? It wasn’t on her neck, obviously. Briefly scanning the room, her gown wasn’t anywhere in sight, either. Ned would kill her if she lost his gown. She walked over towards the “Narnia” wardrobe.

  A gentle breeze blew across her skin, making her shiver slightly. Her hand was on the handle and she was about to open the door. The hair on the nape of her neck began to stand.

  A knock sounded at the door. She ran over to open it, and it creaked softly as she peered out.

  “Tabby, it’s you, thank goodness,” she gushed, relieved, pulling the door open fully. It creaked louder the wider she opened it. Tabby came in, all smiles, and guided her towards the dressing table to arrange her hair.

  Katherine stood in front of the gilded mirror, admiring her reflection. Tabby pulled her hair loosely back and intertwined a matching ribbon through it. She had to admit she looked even better than she did at the ball the previous evening.

  “His lordship is certainly going to like the looks of you, milady,” Tabby said, eyeing her appreciatively.

  “Do you really think so?” Katherine asked nervously, running her hands down the length of the gown.

  “Oh yes, only a blind man could not see how beautiful you are.”

  Katherine blushed crimson at the maid’s praise and she looked back in the mirror. Even through her own critical eyes, she had to admit she really did look beautiful.

  “Now, milady, you must be off so as to not keep his lordship waiting for you.”

  With one last look in the mirror, Katherine left the room and made her way down the hall towards the main floor. Her skirts made the softest swishing sound against the rug.

  The dimly hit hallway was darkly paneled. It seemed different from the one she was in at the party. How big was this place? She made her way to the top of the staircase and looked down with a bird’s eye view to the entryway below. It was not what she remembered from the previous evening. Perhaps she did not see it as clearly as she thought. It was crowded. Who knew? Maybe she was at another part of the estate entirely.

  She told herself she didn’t care, but something felt off, as if she was in the same place, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t make sense; even though it was only a feeling.

  She gripped the banister. Her hand slid easily on the polished wood as she walked carefully down the stairs. After making it to the bottom without falling, a feat, at least for her, she froze. There were the ugly gargoyles, leering towards her in the doorway. Now, those she remembered from the night before. She stuck her tongue out at one and shivered when it seemed to sneer back in her direction. She hugged the railing, stepping around the corner to put as much distance between ugly, the gargoyle, and herself as possible.

  Her heels clicked softly on the marbled floor, echoing throughout the hall as she briskly walked over to a pair of huge doors, barely cracked open. Light flickered from underneath, causing shadows to move back and forth. This better be the library.

  One would have thought the lord of the estate would have given her an escort, at least. Where were the servants? A distinct chill passed over her body; she wrapped her arms about her midsection, trying to squelch the uneasy feeling gathering in the pit of her stomach. She took a breath and looked up at the massive doors. She leaned forward and peered in. She felt like a spy. The man from earlier leaned against the mantel, in front of a massive fireplace. He was dressed in period clothing again, a smartly tailored black coat and trousers. A thrill of excitement spread through her, and she took a bracing breath, gathering her nerve. She pushed the door open. She thought it would be hard to open, since it was so big, but it moved without any resistance, and clanked loudly against the wall when it slid inside.

  Sebastian turned towards the noise, and his breath caught. She looked absolutely beautiful, breathtaking even. Funny, he could not remember her ever looking so lovely before, or so grown up. He pushed away from the mantel and inclined his head toward one of the chairs in front of the fire. “I see you made your way here unaided. I wondered if you would remember,” he said offhandedly. “Would you care for a drink?”

  “Yes, that would be wonderful,” she squeaked out in a too-shrill voice, before clearing her throat. “Thank you.” Taking the offered chair, she placed her shaking hands in the folds of her gown, trying to hide her nervousness.

  He crossed over to the side table and poured two hefty splashes of scotch into a pair of glasses. He took longer than necessary. His mind kept conjuring images of her body, the way it looked in the sun. Damn, apparently he had gone too long without a woman. He shook his head, silently vowing to remedy that soon and walked back over to her. He handed her the glass, while offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

  “Thank you,” she said, drinking too large a gulp of the fiery liquid. It burned all the way down to her stomach. She tried to stifle the urge to cough it up, which only made her eyes tear up. Exhaling a breath, she discovered it burned all the way out as well. Good grief, this was strong stuff!

  He smiled at her; he couldn’t stop himself. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it out to her.

  Katherine grabbed the neatly folded, white linen handkerchief, nodding her head in his general direction as she wiped the tears from her eyes. She caught him staring at her over the rim of his glass. “I am so sorry, I had no idea it was so strong,” she coughed out as she tried to hand the handkerchief back.

  He refused.
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  Katherine held it tightly in her hand while attempting to act demure and sophisticated, but failed miserably.

  “Are there any leftover guests from the party? Or am I the only one who overstayed their welcome?” She forced out a laugh, hoping he would reassure her that was not the case.

  “Party?” he asked. “What party are you speaking of?”

  “The one that was held here last night,” she countered, “For the Preservation Ball?” Her voice raised an octave.

  “There was no party here last night, or any other night in the recent past… well… at least, not since you left,” he said, in a barely audible voice.

  “What? I never left. I am still here. What are you talking about?” Katherine asked, feeling more shaken by the moment. What in the hell was this man speaking of?

  “I am talking about when you left me standing at the altar,” he said. His annoyance was very clear as he looked at her in disbelief. “Come now, do you really expect me to believe you cannot remember?” he commented snidely, anger flashing in his eyes.

  “I did no such thing,” she argued. She took a breath, unsure why she was suddenly so angry. It must have been his crappy tone. “With your attitude, I can see why, though.” She mumbled rudely under her breath.

  “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Sebastian asked not sure if he heard her right.

  Katherine immediately regretted her words. “Listen, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but, as I said, I came here last night with a friend. I guess he decided to leave me here so he could go off with this other girl,” she explained easily.

  It all became painfully clear to Sebastian. He was right; she was with another, used and tossed aside. And now, what was he supposed to do? Marry her? If he refused, he would lose everything. He took another hefty swig of his drink. His jaw clenched as if something or someone was inflicting great pain.

  Katherine started to feel sorry for him. She stood and reached out to touch his arm. “I am sure he will be back for me soon, so try not to worry overmuch. I’ll be gone before you know it,” she added soothingly.

  “Like hell you will!” he roared. His cold, rage-filled eyes burned into her.

  Katherine took a reflexive step back, grabbing hold of the chair.

  “You made your bed. You came back to me, whether by your own design or someone else’s, and I do not give a damn either way. You are going to marry me and after that, I could care less what you do. Do you understand?”

  She was suddenly very afraid. She shook her head in submission. Had she not known better, she might think he was jealous. How in the hell could he be jealous when he only just met her? Okay, so maybe they had a moment earlier in the room, but really, it was only for a moment. Besides, it was not as if he couldn’t call her at some point. A date would be nice. He seemed familiar too, but she could not place her finger on why yet. What if he was delusional? He was dressed in period attire, for goodness sake. What sane person does that? Great, this was just her luck; he was off his rocker. She looked about the room, which was an exact replica of a Victorian library. Maybe he was just a crazy eccentric.

  Her overactive imagination was in full swing now. She went to a party, got sloshed, and woke up where? What were the odds she happened upon a delectable man, dressed as if he should be in some kind of reenactment troupe, yelling at her because he thought she was another person?

  She watched him run his hand through his thick black hair, making it stand on end. She wanted to fix it. The muscle in his jaw was tight; he looked upset. What if he was convinced she was this other girl? If he thought that, then she must be her twin. And, if she was her twin, what happened to the real girl? She gulped the rest of the drink down; this time welcoming the burn.

  “May I have another?” she asked, shakily extending her glass out to him.

  He inclined his head and took the glass, walking over to get another.

  Katherine sat warily back into the chair, watching him from across the room. She was finding it hard to believe he was insane. Maybe after a couple of nights in Bedlam, he would be right as rain.

  Ned once told her that was where Victorian gentlemen liked to put women when they were suffering from premenstrual syndrome. Luckily, Bedlam was not an option now. If she were actually around during Victorian England, she probably would have been sent off on a one-way carriage ride in the not too distant future. She really needed to get the hell out of here. She looked around the room. There was no phone, television, or even a computer. What was with these people? The chandelier was gas lit, if she were not mistaken. She knew, of course, there were certain people who liked historical accuracy, but this was really too much.

  Sebastian walked slowly back towards her, scrutinizing her movements. Her eyes darted around the room; she looked like she was about to bolt straight out of her seat. He wondered if she would run, and if she did, what could he do to stop her? He would be damned if he let her go before he got what he needed, which was a bride, and not just any bride.

  Only she would do, thanks to his aunt and that damned codicil. He controlled his emotions, trying not to frighten her overmuch. The last thing he wanted to do was tie her up, but if it came down to it, he would. Of this, he was certain. He handed off her drink to her and resumed his silent vigil in front of the fire.

  He really had no idea what came over him just moments before. It was not like him to lose control so quickly. He was better than that. She was acting strange, though. He smiled into the flames; the last time he saw her, he thought the very same thing.

  Mayhap the blow to her head made her invent things that had not really happened. He read that head injuries could cause all sorts of hallucinations, waking nightmares and the like. He also knew people were sent to Bedlam to recover from their maladies, but had yet to hear of one person who actually returned. He certainly hoped that would not be the case with Marguerite… or did he?

  Now that was a thought; he could marry her and send her off to Bedlam! Why not? It would take care of his problem, would it not? Now that was something to ponder.

  Katherine stood slowly, eyeing him warily. His head was turned just enough to watch her every move. She lowered her lashes, trying to keep an eye on him without being obvious. She walked over to the window by the desk, and lifted the curtain to look out. The drape was heavy, much like the fabric on the bed, probably velvet, she guessed. Her hand was sweating. She wiped it on the folds of the curtain, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  The glass felt heavy in her hand. She drained the contents, while peering out into the darkened night. It was black as pitch. There were no lights on the horizon that normally lit up some parts of the night sky. That was odd.

  When she arrived with Ned, there were lights everywhere. She especially enjoyed the view of the village in the distance, like twinkling stars in the night. She looked up at the sky, and saw not a cloud in sight. That was odd. Something was definitely very, very wrong with this entire situation.

  She released the curtain and walked over to the desk, setting her glass down on the polished surface of the wood. A copy of the Scientific Journal dated over one hundred years ago lay open. It looked as if it was printed earlier this month. Turning a few of the pages, she noted in this particular copy, that steam locomotives had recently been invented.

  She cleared her throat, looking cautiously towards his back. He was still turned towards the fire, but she had a feeling he knew exactly where she was the entire time. “So what are your feelings on the new steam locomotive systems?” she asked, expecting him to laugh, saying it happened a hundred years ago.

  Sebastian turned around. It was not every day a woman wanted to discuss such marvels. He turned fully, warming to the subject. “I see you have found the journal. It is all quite fascinating, really. Imagine using steam to traverse all over the countryside. Oh, I and many others have great hopes for the future of this new form of transportation…”

  He continued, but she stopped listening. She didn’t need to, not aft
er having seen firsthand the expression of excitement that lit up his face as he spoke with such unbridled emotion about traversing the countryside in a …train. A train? Good Lord what would he do if she asked about a plane? Katherine gulped air, trying to pull it into her lungs as she walked in a trance-like state over to the bookcase. Rows of leather embossed books with gilded pages lined the shelves. She looked inside one book, hoping it said Easton Press, or something similar. That was not the case though; each book she pulled out had an even earlier copyright than the last, all before the nineteen hundreds. Some even had Roman Numerals which predated copyrights and yet, they looked as new as the hundred year old Scientific Journal she had just read. All of the books were in impeccable condition. No yellowing, no spine damage, not even an earmark.

  The more she looked at the things in the room, the more unsettled she became. The house may have been historically accurate, but shouldn’t there have been something from the modern day around the room? Or in the room where she was staying, somewhere? Nothing even remotely came close to modern day conveniences. The longer she thought about it, the stronger her unease grew.

  Everything was from the past. Looking across the room at him, leaning against the mantel, she knew somehow that he was not from modern day either. His look, mannerisms, choice of words, and everything about him were gentle reminders of a forgotten time.

  She grabbed the desk to brace herself, the burled mahogany a vibrant orange. She ran her hand across the polished wood. It was perfect as well, not even a ding, dent or scratch marring the surface. Which was almost impossible on a piece this old, it had to be a reproduction, even though, somehow, she knew it wasn’t.

  Her face felt flushed and hot. Her legs wobbly, like they wanted to give out. She pulled herself along the desk, holding on as she made her way back to the sideboard. She took a breath while she poured a drink. Mindful of his watchful eyes, she downed it in one gulp. She repeated the process again. She didn’t care, not one wit. It was either that or she was going to lose it, completely.