As You Wish Read online

  Only a few weeks ago, his tirade would have leveled her. Now, she puffed up her chest, furious that he put no trust in her judgment. “I’ll tell you what, Dad: If I have a reason to mope, I’ll make sure I don’t bother you with it. And if I end up happier than ever before, maybe I’ll still leave you alone. Is two thousand miles far enough away for you?”

  “You’re threatening to stay in England?” His voice shook. “Well, that plan’ll last about five minutes! Hold on. Someone else here wants to talk to you. He should have better luck getting through to you.”

  “He? Not Mom?”

  But her father had gone.

  “Leah?” a familiar baritone asked.

  Her stomach churned as soon as she recognized the voice. “I’m sorry, Kevin, but I’m not in the mood for this. Can we talk some other time?”

  “Wait, babe, I need to know what’s going on with you.”

  “I’m having a wonderful time, as the postcards always say--but, sorry, I don’t wish you were here.”

  “Look, babe, I’ve really missed you since you left.” He had taken on his sensitive tone, the one that never quite sounded sincere to her. “Having an ocean between us has put a new perspective on things.”

  “It sure has. But the fact remains that you broke off our relationship. Since I have no desire to rekindle those doused embers, we have nothing to talk about. Tell Dad not to bother wasting another one of his quarters.”

  “Wait, Leah! When will I hear from you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be in Philly in a few weeks. Maybe I’ll just send you a wedding invitation. Cheers!” She hung up the phone and took a deep breath, startled by the words that had tumbled out of her mouth. She’d implied she and David might be getting married. Might they?

  The door to their room swung open, and he stood in the frame, nude from the waist up. Wisps of hair sprinkled his well muscled chest, dwindling as they arrowed down his torso. The faint trail lured her gaze downward, ending at the low-slung waist of his borrowed pants. If they’d been a size larger, they wouldn’t even have stayed up . . .

  She grinned. For her part, she was ready to apply for the license.

  “Why in creation are you smiling?” he asked, his own features forming a frown. “From your raised tones, I gather you and your father had a row. Is there a problem at home?”

  “What does it matter? There isn’t one here.” She got up and slipped her arms around him, running her hands over the smooth, hard muscles of his back. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Better than I should have done.” He glanced up and down the hall and steered her into the bedroom. “We had best come back inside. Between the two of us, we have scarcely enough clothing on for one.”

  “Yet still too much,” she said, kicking the door shut behind them. She reached to unbutton his pants.

  “Oh, Leah.” He grabbed her hand and pressed her palm flat against his belly. “Tell me why your father called.”

  “Jeanine got him riled up.” She spread her fingers across his warm skin, rubbing her thumb over his firm abdominal muscles. They rippled at her touch, and she smiled. “I guess she told him I’d lost my head over a perfect stranger--perfect being the operative word.”

  “Not for your father, I daresay. Naturally, he cannot approve of me.”

  “I’m the one he doesn’t approve of. He doesn’t even know you.” She leaned forward to kiss his chest, but he caught her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.

  “He knows your other suitor, though--the one who gave you the ring?”

  She tilted her head to one side, surprised by the tightness in his tone. “Did you hear me talking to Kevin?”

  “Is Kevin his name? And your father and he were together?”

  She shrugged, letting her focus drop back to the scattered curls on his chest. “They probably called from work. They sell cars for the same dealer, both having a talent for . . . persuasion, to put it nicely.”

  “Your father clearly favors this Kevin fellow.” He ran a hand through his hair. “How far has this gone, Leah? Have they spoken about a marriage settlement? Is that why you left the States?”

  “Oh, David.” She grinned, gently pushing him backwards toward the bed. “We don’t have marriage settlements nowadays--not where I come from.”

  He studied her eyes, evidently not convinced. “Leah, we must discuss this. Your father’s wishes have to be considered--”

  “Right now, my wishes have to be considered. I insist on it.” She gave him a forceful hug that amounted to a tackle. They fell onto the mattress, and she kissed him hard until the furrows in his forehead softened.

  His response turned hungry quickly, but she pulled back to look into his eyes. Brushing his hair away from his face, she said, “Unless you want to present a case for considering yours?”

  He pulled her back to his mouth, apparently no longer interested in discussion.

  * * * *

  “So you managed to rise and shine in time for dinner,” Lady Isabella remarked as they entered the dining room hours later. She and the marquess had taken their places at one end of the table, but so far only the bread had been served. Her ladyship picked up a roll, poising it between thumb and forefinger. “Have you been tapping at the walls for hidden passages all day, or is the honeymoon too sweet to leave off?”

  There was a new edge of hostility in the woman’s voice, and Leah glanced at David to see how he reacted. He looked down at the hardwood floor, his cheeks singed with red. She guessed Isabella’s implications embarrassed him too much to surprise him. He didn’t know enough about contemporary moral standards to realize he should be offended. She supposed she’d have to be the one to respond.

  She took him by the arm and lifted her chin to look down at their hostess. “Judging by your tone, I take it we’ve outstayed our welcome. Well, we won’t impose on you any longer, my lady, your lordship. Thank you for your hospitality. Come on, David. Let’s get our things and go.”

  “Nonsense!” the marquess exploded, very loudly for a man who looked so frail. “How could my boy outwear his welcome in his own house? And, my dear Miss Cantrell, your company is a pleasure. Isabella, what bee have you got in your bonnet? Why would you try to embarrass Davy and his young lady like this?”

  Her ladyship pursed her lips, setting her roll back down on a chipped Wedgwood plate. “Jonathan, I’ve tried to explain to you that this young man is not your son--”

  “I’ll hear no more of that talk!” Blotches of pink marred his normally pale complexion. “Now, you put an end to these unworthy insinuations.”

  “Jon, please. I don’t want to upset you, but I--”

  “Apologize now, Isabella!” The redness in his cheeks deepened, and Leah began to worry that he might have a stroke or a heart attack.

  Lady Isabella must have had the same thought, because she swallowed and turned to her guests. “Pray pardon me. Won’t you have a seat? Please.”

  All Leah wanted was to get out of there, but at the moment, calming the marquess seemed the most important thing. She and David looked at each other, and he stepped forward to pull out a vacant chair at Lord Solebury’s left. When he motioned for her to sit, she did, blinking away her reluctance. He took the seat next to her.

  An expressionless manservant entered the room and splashed a dollop of red wine into his lordship’s glass. He waited for the old man to sample the vintage and nod his approval before pouring for the rest of the table. When finished, he lifted one eyebrow to his employer.

  “Have you taken care of that little task I assigned you, Warner?” the marquess asked.

  “Yes, m’lord.”

  “Very good.” Lord Solebury watched him leave the room, then looked at David. “I’ve had Warner gather up your personal papers. You should find your birth certificate, passport and such in your room when you retire.”

  David shot a wide-eyed look at Lady Isabella, who frowned, then gave him a slight nod.

  “Thank you, sir,” he said to t
he marquess. He lifted his glass and took a sip, eyes focused on the wine.

  His lordship glanced at his sister, as if waiting for her to challenge him. She turned her attention to buttering her roll, and he looked back to David. “Mrs. Pickford is searching through the attic for the trunks containing your clothes. Of course, she’ll need to launder them before you can wear them again. No doubt they smell of camphor.”

  Leah downed a gulp of wine. How far could this game go? The longer she and David stayed at Solebury House, the more complicated the situation got. She slid a peek at him, but he kept staring into his glass, giving no clue whether or not he also wanted to escape. He probably didn’t. The modern-day Traymores served him as a sort of anchor in unexplored waters--but how stable an anchor?

  The marquess took a sip from his glass and set the drink down to wobble on the table. “I also spoke with my solicitor today. He’s drawing up a new will for me.”

  Lady Isabella gasped. “What?”

  He glared at her. “Obviously, Davy has to be reinstated as my heir. And I warn you I won’t tolerate any arguments about this, Isabella.”

  She bit her lip. “Arguing with you is the last thing I want to do, Jon, but I cannot simply stand by while you hand over your estate and title to an imposter.”

  “Davy is not an imposter!”

  “He is, Jon.” She leaned forward to put a hand on his arm, but he pulled away. “I realize these two young people seem nice enough, but I reviewed more of the family records last night, and I know they’ve assumed false names from our history. I can’t imagine how they heard family stories that I myself can barely remember--perhaps Mr. Traymore is indeed a distant relation of ours. But he’s definitely not your son, and this young woman is certainly not Leah Cantrell.”

  As Leah and David sat speechless, the marquess’s respiration quickened and his pale eyes bulged. “Isabella, why are you doing this? Have you lost your wits?”

  Her ladyship drew in a shaking breath. “Jon, dear, forgive me, but I must ask you to think back to the story of the sixth marquess. Do you remember the name of the girl who disappeared with his son? It was Leah Cantrell. I knew the name sounded familiar as soon as we met this young woman, but I couldn’t place it until I reread the marchioness’s journal. I’m certain these two mean to swindle you.”

  His lordship’s small body now rocked with each breath. Leah debated whether she should run and get a servant to call an ambulance. As for Lady Isabella’s accusations, she couldn’t imagine how to answer them. David’s silence showed he had no idea, either.

  Lord Solebury held up a trembling finger. “You yourself have pointed out what a shocking amount of debt this estate has amassed, Isabella. I am, quite frankly, ashamed to leave the boy a legacy that may well never prove anything but a burden. Under such circumstances, what could anyone hope to gain by posing as my heir?”

  His sister hesitated, again swallowing. “I have a few suspicions.”

  David got up. “Pardon me, but while I can assure your ladyship that Miss Cantrell and I mean no ill to you or your brother, I fear that only our departure will conclusively demonstrate our goodwill. Leah, love, come with me.”

  “No!” The marquess slammed his fist on the table, rattling the crystal stemware. “You will not leave me again, son. Isabella, see what you’ve--oh!”

  Lord Solebury clutched at his chest. His sister sprang up, her chair skidding backward to crash on the floor. She rushed to her brother’s side, shouting, “Warner! Mrs. Pickford! Anyone, come quickly!”

  The servants appeared at the door immediately--probably having had their ears pressed to the other side.

  “Call an ambulance,” Leah said, rising and moving aside so David could stoop between her and the marquess.

  “No, ring up Dr. Allen,” her ladyship directed. “He’ll be here sooner. And fetch his lordship’s medication.”

  The housekeeper and the man who’d poured the wine ran off, leaving behind only the freckled girl who had woken Leah. Once again, the maid was fidgeting and wringing her hands.

  “Find his lordship’s chair, Mavis,” Lady Isabella commanded, and the girl rushed out the door.

  “Forgive me, my lord.” David took the marquess’s hand between both of his. “Please believe I had no thought of upsetting you. You must try to calm yourself now, or your illness will only worsen.”

  Lord Solebury’s head drooped, and he didn’t respond.

  The door burst open again, and the older female servant bustled in. “Here are his lordship’s pills, ma’am.” She had already opened the bottle and held out a handful of glistening capsules.

  Lady Isabella snatched one and placed it under her brother’s tongue. She took a goblet of water from the table and held it near his bluish lips.

  “Try to drink some of this, dear.”

  After a few seconds, his breathing calmed and he took a sip from the glass.

  His sister picked up a napkin and dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead. “I’m sorry, Jon. I’m so sorry. I overstepped my bounds. Of course, David will stay here. I’ll make no more objections. Your affairs are your own concern.”

  The marquess closed his eyes and sat back, breathing deeply but more easily. His medication had helped quickly. After a few more breaths, he opened his eyes and looked at David. “I apologize . . . I shall be myself again shortly. I hope your aunt hasn’t upset you too much, my boy. She’s an old woman and has strange ideas. You must try to forgive her.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” he said. He met Lady Isabella’s gaze before looking back to Lord Solebury. “She has your best interests at heart, as well she should.”

  “Yes, yes, I know she does.” He reached out and patted his sister’s hand. “No harm done, Isabella. I’ll be fine. And Davy will be staying--won’t you, my boy?”

  “Of course.”

  Leah’s jaw dropped, but she clamped her mouth shut again. Naturally, they would have to stay. Lord Solebury’s health wouldn’t withstand any further stress right now. They would have to figure out a way to disillusion him as gently as possible. It wouldn’t be an easy job.

  “Mavis is bringing your chair around, Jonathan.” Lady Isabella’s lower lip still quivered. “Would you like to wait for Dr. Allen in your bedroom?”

  “Might as well. I’ve not much of an appetite now. Have a tray sent to me later, Mrs. Pickford, won’t you?”

  The housekeeper nodded. The door opened, held by Mavis while the man called Warner rolled a wheelchair into the room. He and David helped his lordship into the seat.

  Lady Isabella arranged a blanket on his lap and took her place behind the chair. She addressed David and Leah without expression. “I shall see my brother to his room and take my dinner with him. There’s no need for you two to interrupt your meal. Jonathan will be fine now. He has these little attacks once in awhile. He always recovers swiftly.”

  She steered the chair toward the door, again held open by the maid.

  “You will let us know what the doctor says?” David called after them as they moved into the hall.

  Isabella looked back, eyes narrowed, then nodded. Leaning down to her brother, she said, “Excuse me a moment, Jon. I want to fetch my wine.”

  She retraced her steps, letting the door to swing closed behind her. Retrieving her glass, she gave David and Leah a hard stare. “You’re not going to find anything, you know.”

  They exchanged puzzled glances.

  Lady Isabella sniffed. “Don’t you think each generation before you has already examined every inch of this place? Jon and I did so ourselves--when we were children. When we grew a little older, we came to see our gullibility. If only you two would use your heads, you would see yours, as well. Enjoy your meal.”

  She swept through the door, letting it bang shut.

  David looked at Leah. “Do you suppose she suffers from a milder version of her brother’s senility?”

  “She must. What else could explain that last warning?” Unsteady on her fe
et, Leah sat down and sipped her wine. “She seemed sensible up till now, but our showing up must have added a lot of stress to her life. And reading about us in Phoebe’s diary must have been strange for her. Maybe, subconsciously, she suspects who we really are. That would be enough to drive anyone to the brink of a breakdown.”

  He swirled his wine, watching the miniature whirlpool in his glass. “I hope we haven’t done too much harm here. Perhaps I shouldn’t have accepted their invitation to dinner yesterday. I let my curiosity overtake my common sense.”

  “No, David, don’t question your decision.” She scooted her chair closer to his and put her arm around his shoulders. “I think it was more than curiosity that kept you at Solebury House. The Traymores are your closest family--and, from what we’ve seen, you’re theirs. Maybe they need you. Maybe they’re part of the reason you’ve been brought to this century.”

  He looked up at her, and his frown began to melt. “Do you truly believe so?”

  “I think it’s very possible.”

  He smiled slightly, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “What a pity that Lady Isabella and the marquess must spend their golden years watching their home and their heritage crumble. If there is anything at all I can do to help them, I certainly will.”

  “Of course you will. If there’s any way to help, I know you’ll find it.”

  But what can he do? she thought. Saving an estate like Solebury would take a fortune. A wave of sadness washed over her, and she tried to hold it off by leaning forward and kissing him. His lips were warm and tasted faintly of Bordeaux.

  The bang of the door opening made them jump apart as the manservant returned with two steaming covered trays. “Your dinner, madam, sir. Pardon the delay.”

  Reluctantly, Leah sat up in her chair and picked up her napkin. Warner set down her food and uncovered the plate, but she stared ahead without seeing. David would have enough trouble learning how to support himself in these times, let alone rescuing his relatives.

  She sighed. Life in the nineteenth century had seemed difficult. Who would have thought that returning to her own time could possibly complicate things more?