“I believe Harding is referring to you, my dear,” the Duke of Aldridge whispered, amusement glinting in his blue eyes as he leaned toward her.
Kendra realized that the Duke’s stoic butler was standing at her elbow, holding a champagne bottle.
“Oh.”I am no longer Kendra Donovan; I’m now the Marchioness of Sutcliffe.Holy God.
“Would you care for more champagne, my lady?” Harding repeated.
Kendra looked at the delicate flute in her hand. It was empty. “Uh . . . yes, thank you.”
The butler kept a poker face as he poured the champagne, but Kendra recognized her blunder. Thanking a servant for doing their duty was simply not done when you were a marchioness.
Kendra watched the champagne bubbles froth to the lip of the flute. She’d made the decision to stay here, in this time—assuming the vortex that had opened a month ago hadn’t just been her imagination. Still, she knew that she’d never really fit in here, with the rigid rules and class system.
“We shall leave soon, my sweet.”
Kendra glanced at the green-eyed man on her other side. Alec, the Marquis of Sutcliffe. Her husband. And the reason she’d chosen to stay in an era where she didn’t belong—because living without this man had become too painful to contemplate. Love had been unexpected, not always welcome, but too big to deny. And it still amazed her, not only that she’d fallen in love with him, but that the love had been reciprocated.
The gold flecks in his forest-green eyes were more pronounced this morning, gleaming like molten embers, shadowed by spikey black lashes. The sensual mouth in the lean, handsome face curved in a slow smile. Kendra could feel her face grow warm under her husband’s regard, her blood quickening.
In her former life, she’d been a child prodigy, a product of her parents’ experiment in eugenics, and an FBI agent. She didnotblush. Or, rather, she’d never met anyone who’d made her blush before. Alec was more potent than the alcohol she was drinking.
She raised an eyebrow, although her breath wasn’t quite steady. “Are you trying to reassure me?”
His smile widened. “Perhaps.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, brushing a butterfly-soft kiss over her knuckles. “Or mayhap I’m reminding myself that I need to be patient. Soon, I shall have you all to myself. You’ve made me the luckiest of men.”
“I chose you,” she whispered, leaning toward him to stare into his eyes. She saw them darken at the memory of the night she’d said those words. The moment she’d finally made the decision to let the past—thefuture—go. To trust in their love and build a life together in the here and now.
“We chose each other,” he returned softly.
“Sutcliffe, what are your future plans?” Lady Mary asked loudly, breaking the spell that bound Kendra to Alec. She suspected that had been Lady Mary’s intention. Public affection, even between a bride and groom on their wedding day, was frowned upon. “Will you and your lady be taking up residence in Alcott Park?”
Alcott Park was Alec’s country estate in northern England. Kendra imagined that it was Lady Atwood’s greatest wish to see Kendra hidden away in the countryside, so there’d be no faux pas committed by the newest member of their family.
Alec released Kendra’s hand, shifting to look down the table at his cousin. “We’ll travel to London tonight, then on to Alcott Park for a fortnight. Afterward, I shall be bringing Kendra to Venice to meet my relatives.”
Kendra’s stomach fluttered. As interested as she was in visiting Venice, to see the art and architecture and the wonder of its canals, she was uneasy about being introduced to the maternal side of Alec’s family. His late mother, Alexandria, had been an Italian countess who’d fallen in love with Alec’s father, Edward, on his Grand Tour. Kendra got enough disapproval from the English; she didn’t need it from Venetian aristocrats too.
A footman leaned down, offering her a silver platter filled with meats. Grateful to focus on something else, she picked up the knife and fork. Bypassing the artfully arranged tongue, she selected two thick slices of ham.
“But will you settle at Alcott Park, Cousin?” Lady Mary persisted, her eyes on Alec as she took a sip of her champagne.
“No.” Alec shook his head. “London is more agreeable for us to make our home.”
“London society shall be greatly improved with your presence, Miss—ah, your ladyship,” Muldoon spoke up, shooting Kendra an impudent grin. “Mayhap I shall see you around town.”
Kendra noticed that his gaze slipped further down the table to where Lady Rebecca was seated. She suspected he was hoping that if they met, Kendra would be accompanied by Rebecca. In the last year, it had become clear to Kendra that the two harbored a mutual attraction, but neither one was prepared to act on it. Poor Irish reporters didnotmarry daughters of nobility.
Then again, Americans from the future didn’t marry British aristocracy. Only the Duke and Alec knew that she was from the twenty-first century, but being a penniless American hadn’t exactly made her a desirable match. The pained expression on Lady Atwood’s face wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.
“Not much chance of that,” Sam growled at the reporter, as he sliced into the tongue on his plate. “She’ll be traveling in circles high above you.”
Muldoon wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ve learned to always expect the unexpected with M—with her ladyship. No offense, ma’am.”
Kendra was more offended at being called ma’am, but decided that was probably a twenty-first-century pet peeve.
“You’re my friends,” she said simply, before turning her attention to eating her eggs, ham, and rolls. Except for the tongue—which was considered a delicacy—the champagne, and the iced fruitcake set in the middle of the table, the breakfast was like any other.
She was buttering a roll when she noticed a younger footman sidle into the dining room. He approached Harding and whispered in his ear. The shock that rippled across the butler’s normally unflappable features sent a frisson of awareness through Kendra.
