“Where do you want to be?” the old man called out.
Michael almost smiled. Poor guy would never believe him. Butnowwhat was he supposed to say?
“No, I mean, I’m really lost. I was…beaten up last night by two guys. They must have knocked me out good, because I woke up some ways away from here, barely remembering anything.”
He’d been around liars long enough to learn a little from them.
It seemed he didn’t have to convince the old man because another older man, this one decidedly larger, called to the one at the door and then came forward.
“What’s this?” he asked in a loud voice, peeping his head out the door.
He had a head of pure white hair, tied back at the nape by a black ribbon. Was it…George Washington?
“This gentleman is lost, my lord,” the first man told him. “He was beaten by thugs and remembers little.”
The lord nearly pushed him out of the way and moved in front of the doorway. “Come in, young man! Come in! Let me have a look at you, then I will send for a physician and have a meal prepared for you. What did you say you were called?”
Michael wasn’t about to refuse. He felt like hell. “Michael Pendridge. Thank you. I could use something to eat.” He rubbed his flat belly and went to the door.
The white-haired man’s eyes opened wider, giving Michael a closer look.
He appeared to be in his early fifties. He was dressed well in flowing gold and scarlet robes. He was roughly five feet ten inches tall, two hundred pounds. Husband or father? Michael wondered.
“So, where am I?” He asked the most pressing question on his mind as he followed the men inside. The place looked like a palace inside, with antique furniture, paintings, and ornate lampstands scattered throughout. Props, Michael told himself.
George Washington’s double went as white as his hair. “Ah, forgive John for not introducing me.” The lord of the house threw an angry look John’s way, to which John bustled in his black coat.
“I’m the Duke of Croydon, Judge Richard Whimsey of the High Court. You are in my home, Croydon House.”
Judge? Duke of Croydon? Did the judge have any clue that the beautiful lady living under his roof was a common thief?
“Where’s Croydon?” Michael asked, believing more and more that he was on an elaborate movie set.
The duke set his curious sable eyes on him—the same color of the woman’s eyes. “England. Ehm, where did you say you were from?”
Michael didn’t know whether to laugh or hold on to something to keep from falling over. England? Not just a movie set with people speaking in British accents? Impossible.
“Look, I get it. It’s funny. I’m sure whosever idea this was is having a good laugh, but it’s played out and is over now. Okay?”
Both men gaped at him as if he just sprouted horns. “What?” asked the duke. “Mr. Pendridge, come to my sitting room and have a seat. You need to rest. John, send for the doctor.”
“I’m not sick or delusional,” Michael argued, following him. But for the first time in his twenty-nine years, he felt like he needed to sit down. The duke was lying, of course. He knew what was going on. “I’m going to have you all thrown in jail if this doesn’t stop now.”
The duke produced a cloth from his robes and patted his forehead with it. “What has my daughter done now? John!” he barked an instant later. “Forget the doctor!”
Okay. She was his daughter. “I don’t care about your daughter, Duke,” Michael said, entering the sitting room with him. “Call this off now and I’ll forget I ever met her.” He probably wouldn’t forget her. He could easily find out her real name and find her.
“Call what off? What are you saying? Where are you from? I have never heard your inflections.”
Michael ignored his questions and gave him a warning glare. He threw one to John when he reappeared. “There is a gentleman at the door for you, my lord.”
“Another one?” the duke remarked, excused himself, and left the room with the butler.
Michael looked around. Everything looked old, and yet, new. It was a comfortable room but there were things missing. Things like photos in frames, and electrical outlets. He searched for any camera or mics but found nothing. Not even dust.
The duke returned several minutes later and waited quietly while Michael rose up from his knees and palms in his search for any outlets.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” the duke asked him.
