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“As in, they have titles?” Isla asked.

“As in, they have titles, land, money, and influence,” he said.

“Ah, I see. Very important neighbors indeed.”

He gave her a quizzical look. “Am I to understand that such things are not so significant in your world?”

“Not really,” she said. “The titles still exist, but they’re more honorary than anything. In fact, most people with titles are desperate to come up with ways to pay for the upkeep of their enormous homes.” She paused. “Over the centuries, it’s become easier to move within and across Society’s ranks. There are more opportunities for men and women to follow vocations that really interest them rather than simply following in their fathers’ footsteps.”

“Such as you choosing to work in the government,” he said.

“Yes.” She smiled. “My father’s a school teacher, and my mother’s a nurse. They probably thought I was completely bonkers—I mean, mad—for wanting to work in politics, but they never stopped me.”

“That sounds rather marvelous.”

She tilted her head, studying him curiously. “What would you choose to do if your options were unlimited?”

“Since I will never have that luxury, I’ve not given the matter any consideration.”

“But if you could,” she pressed.

He appeared thoughtful. “If I were not a member of the House of Lords, I believe I would search for another avenue that would allow me to affect a positive change in the country.”

“That was my primary reason for entering politics.”

“I would have guessed as much.” He hesitated. “Affecting a positive change aside, I think perhaps I would have enjoyed breeding race horses.”

“Or—if the century of your birth were no object—driving race cars,” she said.

The flicker of humor that she was coming to recognize in his eyes had returned. “You believe I would like that, do you?”

“Yes,” she said. “You’d probably enjoy riding a bullet train too.”

Shaking his head slightly, he looked away, his focus reverting to the scene before them. She watched a seagull sail by; she was content to wait for him to speak again.

“Are you any closer to grasping why the lady at the costume shop may have sent you here?” he finally asked.

It was not what she’d expected him to say, but the question deserved an honest answer. “I think about it constantly. I’ve considered and rejected more possibilities than I can count, but I don’t think I’m any closer to a reason now than I was when your sister suggested it.” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have any special skills that would help your family members or even the people of Little Twinning. In fact, I’d say I am rather lacking in such things.”

“You made great strides in your equestrian abilities today.”

She frowned. “Do you think I’m here to learn new things?”

“Perhaps. Although, regardless of your assertions to the contrary, I am quite sure you have a great many strengths.” He paused. “What do you consider to be your greatest abilities?”

It was a spectacularly awkward question to answer outside a job interview, but Isla understood Lord Bancroft’s motivation. She clasped her hands together and tried to respond objectively. “I think I’m a good secretary—I have above-average office and people skills. I’m organized, and if it’s a subject I feel passionate about, I can remember more details than most.”

“What do you feel passionate about?” he asked.

“Politics, human rights issues, history.” She stopped, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “I’m sorry. The fact that my history is your actual life makes this feel very odd.”

“Try not to think about that. Instead, consider what you might know that could be of assistance to us.”

“I’ve only ever lived in the cities of York and London. I can’t think of anything I could do or say that would be of worth to people in Jacobean rural England.”

“If you had arrived in London, would there be something?”

Isla’s thoughts immediately leaped to the gunpowder plot. Her grip on her fingers tightened. The date of Guy Fawkes’s attempt to blow up the House of Lords was unnervingly close.