Behind me, Albie spoke to the human guide. “Could you arrange for some dresses to be delivered? Our sister spilled wine on her gown. My brother and I would like some new clothes, too. Something suitable for a day in the city.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. MacLean.”
I turned as the human left the chamber, closing the door behind him.
Portia went to the bed and sat on the edge. The mischief she’d displayed by the elevator vanished, and her worry from the alley returned.
Albie crossed the chamber and sat beside her. “We’ll fix this, lass.”
She looked at him, fresh tears glittering in her eyes. “I don’t see how we can.”
She repeated what she’d told me about Prince Ludovic and Halina, explaining her connection and her rising worry that we’d tampered too much with the past.
Albie listened with a furrowed brow. When she finished, he was quiet for a moment, and I could almost see his mind working as he sorted through the information the same way he turned the pages of his books.
“It’s strange,” he said finally.
“What is?” Portia asked.
“Twice now, we’ve landed in a place where we interacted with people connected to you. First Mistress Drexel, who’s an ancestor of your friend Chloe. Now Prince Ludovic’s wife, who’s connected to your uncle’s mate.” He pushed his spectacles higher. “The world is a big place. What are the chances we’d encounter someone tied to you, however distantly, twice in a row?”
Portia stared at him, her expression stunned. “That…almost makes sense.”
“What if you’resupposedto interfere?” Albie asked.
I leaned against the window frame and folded my arms. “Or maybe that’s just how time works.”
Albie turned inquisitive eyes to me. “What do you mean?”
“The chronomancer’s spell is supposed to get Portia back to her own time, yes? Maybe it’s pulling her toward people she has a connection with.”
Albie beamed at me. “That’s a good theory.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
He stood and came to me. “I’m not surprised,” he murmured, tugging a lock of hair that had fallen over my shoulder.
“Flatterer,” I said.
His eyes warmed behind his spectacles, more than a little heat in the chocolate depths. “Is it working?”
“Maybe.”
Portia stayed on the bed behind him, her gaze on the carpet and her toes tucked under her skirts.
A fist squeezed my heart. I looked at the door. “Can that human fetch us food?”
“Yes,” Albie said. “They’ll bring it to the room.”
Excellent.“I like this inn.”
Albie laughed softly, then went to the door to summon the human. I crossed to the bed and crouched in front of Portia.
“The food won’t be that good,” I told her.
She roused from her thoughts with a frown. “Why not?”
“I’m not making it.”
