The entrance hall was three stories high with four pillars holding the massive hand-painted, gold-leafed ceiling in place. Not to be outdone by the opulence of the ceiling, the floor boasted intricately designed and inlaid mosaics depicting God reaching down from the heavens to touch the face of a ginger-haired cherub.
A Hughes ancestor?
Haven continued further into the hall, and gasped at the dual grand staircases that rose from the ground floor to the landing where a railing crafted from wrought iron, gold, and ebony graced the vaulted room like a crown.
Millie glided to her side, and leaned in.
“Best close your mouth lest you gather bees,” she whispered.
Though laced with humor, her comment carried a note of censure.
Act like a lady, not a trailer park queen!
She clamped her mouth shut and turned in time to see a footman emerge from the shadows. Bowing gracefully, he escorted them up the staircase to the drawing room where Lady Bleydon, Miss Hughes, and Divinia Kroger waited.
She entered, her muscles tensed, and her heart rate quickened.
Glancing about, she couldn’t find a viable reason to be wary. Then she caught sight of Divinia on the settee beside the tea tray.
Beautifully dressed and as poised as ever, Divinia Kroger’s expression was one of calm, cool, deliberate threat.
Making the expected small talk was easy; a few words about the weather, a mention of visiting London to sightsee, and a promise to answer more of Miss Hughes’ questions.
A footman announced lunch, and she followed Millie into the dining room and, like a good little nineteenth-century lady, sat where indicated.
Afternoon tea was as she expected—lots of little sandwiches that looked delicious, but tasted like nothing. As a woman from the twenty-first century she had to admit, compared to meals she’d eaten in 1817, foods and beverages from the future were over seasoned, over salted, and dripping in grease, but she liked it that way.
She smiled, and feigned delight, giving the impression that each dish was better than the last. Her smile almost faltered when she battled back the grumbling pain in her belly. Hunger gnawed at her, but the thought of putting more strangely mushy food into her mouth made her stomach clam up in fear.
A maid appeared from nowhere and removed the tiny plates and empty teacups, and Lady Bleydon invited them to take a stroll through the gardens.
Hughgate Hall was known throughout Cambridgeshire for its extensive and well-tended floral terraces—at least that’s what Lady Bleydon said.
They were magnificent. She couldn’t believe so many plants could fit into such tight boxes, and still look natural. The fragrant bushes, the vibrant flowers, and the winding pathways enchanted her.
With the tour of the gardens complete, Miss Hughes made her excuses; she had a charity meeting to attend. Lady Bleydon, Millie, Divinia, and Haven sat down to snack on surprisingly delicious cookies. They tasted like roses and mint, which was a strange combination by twenty-first century standards, but it worked in 1817.
As the two elder women talked, Haven’s mind wandered. Could she spend the rest of her life having pleasant tea in amazing gardens, dining with men and women of history,learning first-hand about the Regency era she’d read about in the romance novels, spending timewithand making lovetoa man who had gotten under her skin?
Could she give up her chance to go back home?
“You seem to be enjoying yourself, Miss Edwards.” Divinia Kroger’s heavily accented voice pierced her bubble, bringing her crashing back to where she sat on the chaise.
Her toes curled inside her slippers, an unease pulling at her body.
“Yes, I am having a great time, thank you.” What else could she say? She didn’t want to talk to the woman, but she couldn’t ignore her. “It’s a lovely house.”
Her face tightened behind her forced smile, and she wondered if she looked as uncomfortable as she felt.
“Yes.” Divinia’s gaze was warm, which unsurprisingly, wasn’t a natural look for her.
What was she up to?
Haven’s body tensed, and she bit back an irritated groan.
“Are you enjoying your family visit?” A simple enough question. It couldn’t possibly lead to barbed words.
“Yes.” The other woman’s short answer carried wary weight.
