Leo grabs my arm gently.“That is because you are very curious.In the most excellent manner.”
“Hmm.Wait until you suffer through this party with me before you make that determination.”
“Nonsense.You are fantastic at a party,” Leo says loyally, as the front door to the mansion opens in front of us.
“Don’t put any money on that,” I mumble as we walk through the house.Me sideways sometimes, because of my absurdly horizontal dress.
The excess here is enough to take me aback even though I study pictures and descriptions of these houses.But it’s a little more blinding in person; the gold and precious stones glittering even in the candlelight and early electricity.Every available surface is filled up with the same messages: we’re better than you, we’re richer than you, we have more taste than you.
And don’t you forget it.
The message is conveyed with paintings, chandeliers, upholstered furniture made of the most expensive materials by the biggest names.And all with enough gilt to cover an entire herd of elephants, if it were morally acceptable to gilt elephants.I’m sure the owners of this house have tried.
Even the ceiling has elaborate golden molding, in case anyone looks up thinking they’re going to get a break from being beaten over the head with the owner’s wealth.The decorations are at the same level as the palaces I’ve stayed in, but I guess my mind expects that for monarchs.These are mere lords.
We keep walking past rooms that look dressed up for our visit, for us to only spend a few minutes in each, until we get to French doors at the back of the house.A trek that has me sweating in my dress because it weighs about eighty pounds, and because the walk is long, despite the fact that we’re only in one house.
“Are you ready to help me find a wife?”
“Yeah.So ready.”I grit my teeth, because of the uncomfortable dress and not because of the thought of Leo marrying someone else.A thought that has become more and more offensive to me the longer I spend time with the man.“I’m going to wingman the shit out of you tonight,” I whisper under my breath.
Leo hears and gives me a strange look, but at least he already knows why.It’s relaxing to know there’s one person here I don’t have to watch every word I say around.
Leo opens the door for me and I try to go through it, but get stuck.How I could forget I’m as wide as a basketball player is tall, I’ll never know.It’s probably a testament to the human mind and what it can endure when it has no choice.
I turn sideways to enter while I reflect about how I’m getting used to the Victorian era.I’ve been lucky so far, aside from the constant, crushing anxiety of almost being found out, but I’m also a guest of the queen.As much as I’m hoping Cambridge will hold answers on how I get home, I need to acknowledge that it might not work.
If I’m here forever, I need to run away from this.Because they will find out I’m a fraud…and soon.Before that happens, I’ll need to figure out how to survive without royal protection.
If I’m stranded here, I will use all my knowledge of the past to buy stock, bet on outcomes, and otherwise manipulate people into giving me money.Become a professional blackmailer.And if the universe didn’t want me to interfere like that, or turn evil, it should have kept me in the right time.
But if I am stranded here, could I be with Leo?It’s not fair to ask him to wait.By the time I resign myself to being stuck, he’ll have his heir and be working on his spare.And even if we did start something, I could be torn from this world at any point.
“Shall we see the most wondrous garden in all of London?”Leo interrupts my thoughts, which have veered into the stressful again.
“Sure.Who doesn’t like a garden?”Then I turn to see the “most wondrous garden in London” and wish I could crawl back inside and hide behind a naked Greek statue, where reality can’t hurt me.
CHAPTER21
It’s not that the garden disappointed.
It’s as advertised.The space is lush, with winding paths framed with green hedges and plants to create pockets of privacy.Statues and water features are strategically placed every so often so that no one forgets how much taste (and money) the Devonshires have.And cutting-edge electric lights give the night a twinkling glow with dim bulbs emanating from lampposts, wall sconces on the exterior of the house, and bulbs hanging from branches.Like a beautiful beer garden with an eye for antiquity, which I would definitely frequent.
It’s not even the crowd itself.Although I’m still not a fan, I’ve gotten used to giant groups of people all wanting to socialize with me.
It’s one person in particular.
Charles is here.I’ve been doing so well avoiding him that I hoped he was a figment of my imagination.Or that he had to leave the country on business.Yet here he is, dressed like he belongs in the Georgian period, elaborate gray wig perched arrogantly on his head.
I stiffen next to Leo, but he must take it as general nerves and not person-specific terror because he urges me forward like he’s a fan of exposure therapy.The movement, and the subsequent screech of my shoes on the patio as I try to stop the movement, draw too much attention to us.
Like the attention of Charles, who is now looking at me with a glare so full of intense dislike and suspicion that if England could weaponize it, they wouldn’t have lost the American Revolution.
But emotional impact of his glare aside, he hasn’t called out for some burly footmen to roughly remove me, so he hasn’t gotten the letter back from India saying I’m a fraud.Point, me.
For now.
It does make me grateful for nineteenth century lack of instant communication.Even if I haven’t been able to check social media for days, despite constantly reaching for a phone that isn’t there.
