Lord Sebastian Alexander, Baron of Surrey, asked, entering the hall. Great. Michael stood up straighter. Did he like Alexander? He couldn’t tell yet. He didn’t dislike him.
Michael did notice Simeon’s reaction to the baron though. The time traveler didn’t have time to disappear without being seen, and it looked as if he couldn’t have done anything even if he wanted to. He was struck mute at the sight of the young baron. He stared at him, unblinking, jaw tight.
“Simeon, what is it?” Michael whispered while the baron went to Charlotte.
“I was wrong,” Simeon told him softly before Lord Surrey reached them. “You’re not Mordred. He is.”
Michael needed a minute. He felt as if he was losing his mind. King Arthur? Mordred? It was all so crazy. Then again, he’d traveled back in time to seventeen twenty-four. Wasn’t that crazy enough?
“The gardener informed me outside,” Surrey said, his smile fading on Charlotte, “that you and Pendridge were married yesterday.”
“That’s right,” Michael answered him. “We would have invited you, but it happened quickly.”
Surrey blinked. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking as he remained impassive. Then he asked, “Why did it happen quickly? Is Charlotte—”
“In love?” Charlotte finished what he had not been insinuating “Aye, I am.”
“So soon?” he put to her with skepticism marring his brow.
Michael noted though, that the baron’s gaze softened just a bit toward her.
She nodded then laughed, the dulcet sound of her filling Michael’s ears, and the baron’s. “I know it sounds mad, but our love is the sanest thing I’ve talked about all morning.”
Surrey slipped his gaze to Michael. “Oh, you share her feelings?”
“Yes, very much.”
“That is good news,” the baron said, sounding sincere enough. “It changes things now, though, doesn’t it? I must ask,” he said turning to Charlotte again with a widening smirk, “were you intending to tell Preston?”
“I will tell him when I see him,” she replied. “And don’t look so gleeful. You are supposed to be his friend.”
“So are you, and yet, here we both are.” He grimaced and scratched his chest, the place above his heart. He looked at Simeon and, for an instant, Michael would have sworn his eyes changed to pale topaz-green, like a spark of fire.
“Who are you?” he asked with a tilt of his head and a thread of menace in his voice.
“The question is,” Simeon countered, “why do I know who you are?”
“Many know me. I’m the Baron of Surrey.” But that wasn’t what Simeon meant. Surrey didn’t know that he was Mordred. If he was truly Mordred. Michael wanted to rub his hands down his face and sigh.
“Aye, pardon me,” Simeon amended diplomatically. “I’m not feeling myself. I’m Roldan Simeon, a trader. I’m told I have a familiar face. Many think they know me—”
“Mmhmm,” Surrey mumbled, quickly losing interest. He turned back to Charlotte with a wide smile. “Well, I’m quite happy for you, Char. As a gift, let me be the first to tell you that John deVille, the man responsible for your friend’s death, has met with his own unfortunate demise.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael pushed forward. “If you killed him—”
“Oh, I didn’t kill him, Investigator. But I made certain the order he had been given to kill Charlotte was not carried out.”
Michael felt his blood boil. He forgot about King Arthur and being his son, and everything else. “Who gave the order?”
“She knows,” Surrey said, setting his gaze on Charlotte.
“No. You are lying,” she insisted. “Preston would never—”
The baron smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Believe what you wish.” He turned to leave but stopped in front of Michael. “There is a law unto itself here. ’Tis called Preston Bristol III, if you did not already know. You would do best to go back to where you came from. When he hears of this marriage, he will stop at nothing to kill you. As a matter of fact, he already sent me to do just that because she is spending time with you. The only reason I don’t do it is because, for some reason, I like you, Pendridge, and I like her.” He pointed to Charlotte. “She’s my friend.”
Instead of thanking him for the information and for not killing him, Michael pulled him in by the wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. “And that’s why I won’t break your arm,” Michael said close to his ear. Then, louder, he added, “Ah, my first guest at the keep.”
“He will send someone else,” Surrey warned.
