Title: Trice
Summary: Since she was a child, Bella's life has been governed by Time's three rules. As a time traveler, she gets to see and do extraordinary things, but it all comes with a price. Shortly after arriving in Victorian London, a fateful accident brings Bella into the glittering world of nobility, and she must quickly decide if this fishbowl of a life is something she wants to fight to keep.
Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable characters herein. No copyright infringement is intended.
Time had three rules:
There must always be a traveler.
You never know where or when you will go, nor how long you have there.
Once you leave, you can never go back.
BELLA
I knew I'd traveled the moment I woke up.
The air smelled different—thick and pungent with the mixing odor of coal smoke and horse droppings. The electric hum of technology that had always clung to the air had vanished, replaced by the sounds of wooden wheels rolling on cobbled streets, and the shouts of unfamiliar voices.
I was no longer in the twenty-second century.
I blinked, trying to gain an assessment of my surroundings. I'd woken in an actual room this time, which was a rather nice change. Once, I'd woken in a crypt.
The room was small, decorated with soft pastel florals that looked to be hand painted on cream wallpaper. There was white molding at the top of the walls, and despite the thin strip, it had been carved to continue the flower motif.
The bed was uneven, and I could tell from the slight creaking of it as I shifted that it was likely a wooden frame, the mattress possibly stuffed with horsehair. It was a single bed, covered in a simple hand-stitched quilt, with a night stand, a bowl, and pitcher beside it. Across the room, near the windows that were draped with soft yellow and white curtains was a dressing stand and wardrobe.
My mind raced to catalog the information, filing it in my mind until I was certain I knew approximately when I had woken up.
Carefully, I pulled back the blanket, shifting my body so that my feet landed on gleaming wood floors. They were cold, and I shivered slightly.
Planting my feet firmly, I rose from the bed, making my way across the room to look out the window.
Outside, my eyes took in a cobbled street, gas lamps up and down the lane, and tightly packed stone and brick buildings that looked—I presumed—like the one I was in now. Though it was morning, the sunlight filtered through a thick haze that left the sky a muddy brown.
Victorian, then, possibly the mid to late eighteen hundreds.
I let out a sigh and moved back toward the bed, surveying the room. I didn't know where I was, and like a fool I'd forgotten to wear my shoes to bed when I'd fallen asleep. I looked down at my denim jeans and cotton t-shirt and shook my head. I'd cause a riot if I stepped out like this.
My attention shifted to the wardrobe. Curious, I moved toward it, gently pulling the ornately carved doors open.
To my relief, there were three sets of clothes inside.
I pulled out a dress, examining it. It was long, probably made for a woman much taller than me and would likely be too big for me, but it would do until I could get my hands on anything else.
I hunted through the wardrobe, racking my brain to try and remember the process of dressing Victorian.
Remember, Bella. No matter where or when you are, if you move with confidence, it's rare people will stop you. You could be dressed in a zoot suit in the Middle Ages, and they won't care so long as you act like you belong.
My mother's lesson, drilled into me since my childhood, comes racing back to me as I begin shedding my out-of-time clothes.
Mom had taught me as much as she could about the entire history of the world in the short time she had with me. She'd covered the fall of Rome one day, and World War IV the next, explaining that just because I had been born at a certain point in time, didn't mean history was only what had happened up until then. History was everything, every human event that had ever or would ever happen.
To time travelers, no event was in the future, it was all in our past.
Mom had tried to teach me, tried to prepare me for a life of travel, but all her training hadn't been worth anything the first time I woke up in a different time.
I'd been born in the year 2,343, but my mom had been born in 1397, and before her, my grandmother had been born in 2012. No one knew when our family line started, and it was impossible to trace back without the oral stories passed down through each generation. I knew that one day I would pick up the mantle of traveler that had been passed down through the women of my family, but I had no idea what it truly meant until it happened.
The morning of my twelfth birthday, I woke up in a field outside of a small Japanese village in the year 1982.
I'd been scared, confused, and nauseated with the leftover energy that it took to time travel. I'd cried myself to sleep the first week of traveling, knowing I could never go back, never see my parents again.
Because that was one of time's rules. We couldn't go back. No traveler visited the same place twice, not even to tell our loved ones goodbye.
My life had been all trial and error since. I'd tried to lean on the lessons my mother taught me, the history she'd tried to explain to me, but in the end, nothing taught you like experience.
After dressing myself in a stranger's clothes, I gave myself a once-over. My hair was roughly piled on top of my head, though I knew it was a shoddy imitation of the style here, and the dress was far bigger than I'd expected. I'd had to carefully tuck the waist to bring it in, but I hadn't been able to do anything about the length.
The boots in the wardrobe were too large as well, but having no other option, I slipped them on.
When I was done, I pulled the small purse I kept on me at all times out of my jeans' pocket. The brown leather pouch was the only thing I had left anymore of my mother. She'd given it to me the night before my twelfth birthday, telling me to keep it with me always.
There wasn't much inside. The gold she'd stashed had only lasted me so long, and I'd had to get crafty over the years. The future I'd come from was too reliant on a digital currency to have much of value lying around, but I'd been able to get my hands on a number of small gemstones.
They tinkled lightly as I slipped the purse into my pocket.
When I was dressed the part, I took a deep breath and left the room to face whatever else might be waiting for me.
The bedroom was on the second floor, and after surveying my surroundings, I headed down the stairs.
I could smell bread coming from somewhere in the house, and I followed my nose toward a kitchen, where a petite woman was bent over a bowl, whipping milk into butter.
She looked up as I entered, her eyes widening. "Oh, ye gave me a fright," she said, a hand flying to her chest. "I dinnae hear you come in. Cannae help ye?"
I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry to burst in on you," I said slowly. "I've only just arrived last night, and…"
"Oh gracious," she said, clapping her hands together. "Are ye Alice's cousin, then?"
I swallowed hard. "Yes," I said slowly, hoping that I wasn't walking myself into a corner.
"Oh, well, ye are a wee bit smaller 'an she described," the woman said, giving me a critical eye. "Still, yer welcome. I'm Mrs. Cope, lovey, an' yer safe here so's long as ye like." She reached out, taking my hand and patting the back of it with a soft touch. "Remind me 'o yer name."
I gave her a small smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Cope," I said. "My name is Bella."
"Yer practically all bones," Mrs. Cope said, tsking at me. "Come eat sommen' an' I'll fix us some tea."
She ushered me toward the end of the table away from her bowl. I sank into a wooden chair as she produced a plate, turning to the stove to pile it with food.
I wondered about the luck of arriving this way. I'd never been able to find accommodation so quickly. Was I taking it away from some girl who might be running away and needing a safe place?
I hoped not.
"Did my cousin say when to expect me?" I asked, wondering how much time I might actually have in this house.
Mrs. Cope glanced at me. "Aye, she said not until the full moon." She nodded her head toward the window. "But ye ken dear Alice. Head in the clouds, tha' one." She wove a hand above her head as she placed a plate in front of me.
The dish was piled with hot sausages and eggs that made my mouth water. Mrs. Cope brought toast on a stand and set it before me, patting my shoulder gently. "There noo, tuck in," she encouraged.
I did as she directed, first buttering the bread and shoving nearly half a slice into my mouth before the butter had even fully melted. As always after time traveling, I was famished.
Mrs. Cope hummed, satisfied to see me eating. She returned to her task of making butter.
"Mrs. Cope," I said, after getting down a sausage and another slice of toast. "Might I ask where exactly we are?"
Mrs. Cope glanced at me. "Travel's gone an' wor' out yer head?" she asked with a chuckle.
I nodded. She had no idea.
"Right, well, we're jus' round' tha corner fra' tha hospital fer women. An' doon tha' rood is the Royalty Theater," she explained. I wracked my brain, trying to recall my knowledge of London. It sounded like we might be in Soho. "Now, I ken this side of London is no decent place fer a young lady, buh I promise, you'll be safe, so long as ye donnae go looking for trouble."
I licked a splash of yolk from my lips. I never went looking for trouble, but it seemed to find me just the same.
"I ha' three tenants beside yerself," Mrs. Cope continued. "Sam and Emily are jus' married, and young Mister Whitlock is a teacher lookin' for a post." She glanced at me. "They're a kin' bunch, an' will treat you proper," she promised.
I gave her a small smile."Thank you," I said, gently wiping my mouth. My plate was empty, and my body was finally starting to settle again. "Mrs. Cope, will you remind me of the date?" I asked, pointing to my head and flinching like I was still exhausted.
She shook her head in a pitying way. "'Course, lovey. It's July first," she provided.
I'd have to source the year another way.
"Thank you for breakfast," I said, standing to clear my plate.
She motioned me to stop and whisked the plate away herself. "It's my pleasure, lovey." She set the plate in the sink and turned to look at me. "Mind, we might wan' to find yer a new dress. This one won' do."
I gazed down at my body, flinching when I realized how rumpled I looked.
"Can you direct me toward a shop?" I asked, looking up at her.
"Aye," she said, wiping her hands on a tea towel. "But let me send someone wit' ye. At least until ye ken the area."
I opened my mouth to protest, but Mrs. Cope swept out of the kitchen before I could stop her. I scrambled around the table, following her past the swinging door.
"Ah, Mister Whitlock," I heard her say. "I'd like ye ta meet, Miss…" Mrs. Cope stopped and turned to me. "Lovey, wha' is yer family name? Brandon, like young Alice?"
I hesitated. It didn't matter so much if I gave my true name or not, because I rarely stayed anywhere to make any sort of waves, let alone be remembered. It didn't matter what people called me, because one day I'd be a shadow in their memories.
"No," I said, surprising myself. "My last name is Swan." It was more honest than I'd intended to be, but my mind flashed back to my parents, where I'd left them in 2355.
Mrs. Cope didn't miss a beat. "Righ', Miss Swan, this is Mister Jasper Whitlock." She wove a hand between me and the man climbing down the rest of the stairs. He was a little older than me, maybe twenty-four, though he could have been as young as twenty with his wild blond locks and boyish smile. He was quite tall and thin.
He wasn't dressed in any sort of extraordinary fashion; his three-piece suit looked like it was made of a rough cotton, dyed grey, and accompanied by a crisp white starched button down beneath it. He held a bowler hat under one arm, and around his neck was a simple black tie.
"Miss Swan," he said, dipping his head in my direction. I hastened a clumsy curtsy back to him.
"Miss Swan has jus' arrived," Mrs. Cope explained to him. "An' I'm afrai' our Alice got all the measurements wrong." She shook her head, as if this Alice was constantly testing her patience. "I mus' ask if Miss Emily is available to escort Miss Swan today an' assist her in purchasing sommen' decent."
I opened my mouth to protest, but Mr. Whitlock looked at me and smiled. "I'm afraid Sam and Emily are out," he said, turning his attention to Mrs. Cope. "They both left early this morning."
Mrs. Cope scowled. "Well then." She brushed her hands on her apron and turned to the kitchen. "I'll be takin' ye, lovey." She turned her head to look at Mr. Whitlock. "Would you accompany us, Jasper? I'm sure Miss Swan would love ta hear yer tales." It was hard to gauge whether she was being sarcastic or not, but Mr. Whitlock nodded anyway.
"Certainly. I'd be delighted."
I looked at him. His accent was different than Mrs. Cope's—Oxbridge perhaps, instead of Scottish. He didn't sound like he was from London, but my ear for accents wasn't finessed so I couldn't be entirely sure.
He gave me a warm smile as Mrs. Cope reappeared without her apron. She went to a coat rack by the door, pulling a hat onto her head before she turned to me and scowled. She selected a straw hat, pinning it onto me once I'd bent enough for her to reach my hair. "Tha'll ha' ta do." She sighed as I straightened up. She looked me over once before nodding her head. "Righ," she sighed again. "Le's go."
…
I'd been to London many times, though it never looked the same whenever I visited. Sometimes, it was a gleaming city of chrome and glass, polished and refined, sometimes it was little more than a market town, built of wood and stone.
As Mr. Whitlock and Mrs. Cope escorted me through town, I tried to take in as much of it as I could, cataloging bits and pieces away. I couldn't risk writing anything down, lest it be left behind when I inevitably traveled again, so I had to make do with sharpening my memory to take in as many details as I could.
"What's brought you to London, Miss Swan?" Mr. Whitlock asked as we strolled down a rank-smelling street. I glanced up at him, nervously.
"Oy, now," Mrs. Cope admonished. "Dinnae ye remember? Alice tol' us not ta ask," she snapped at him. Her eyes shifted to me. "Sorry, lovey. We won' pry. It's no business o' ours." She shot a withering glance at Mr. Whitlock who looked repentant for bringing it up.
"It's all right," I told Mrs. Cope, clearing my throat. "I…" I turned to Mr. Whitlock. "It was time for me to start a new life," I said slowly, not exactly lying but wanting to remain as vague as possible.
He offered me a sheepish smile and nodded.
Down the road, Mrs. Cope stopped by a storefront. "Here no'." She hummed. "We'll ge' ye sommen' goo' an' proper," she said, taking me by the elbow and guiding me into the shop.
We were in fact in Soho, and though I'd been to the area before, I'd never known it like this. The streets were crammed with tight buildings, the scent of feces never far from my nose. It occurred to me as we walked that there had been a cholera outbreak sometime in London in the eighteen hundreds, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember when or where.
Still, I committed myself to making sure everything I came into contact with was well cleaned.
The dress shop was a narrow brick building with grimy windows and an old, dust covered wood sign over the door.
Despite the dirt outside, inside was surprisingly clean and bright, decorated in pastels to evoke a sunny atmosphere.
A woman of about thirty-five approached us, her eyes landing on me critically as she took in my much too large clothing.
"G'day, Mrs. Fitzpatrick," Mrs. Cope said in greeting.
"Aye," she said, pointing in my direction. "What are this then? She look like bawlk the robber," the woman complained, scowling at me.
I glanced nervously at Mrs. Cope, not understanding at all what the woman was accusing me of.
"Young Bella's ha' a mishap wif her clothin'," Mrs. Cope said, wrapping an arm tight around my shoulders. "Cannae ye help her?"
Mrs. Fitzpatrick's eyes narrowed. "Ta, come wit me, girl," she said, grabbing my arm. I was yanked out of Mrs. Cope's embrace and dragged across the shop where a screen was carefully placed, presumably to allow me to change. Mrs. Fitzpatrick shoved me behind it, ordering me to strip down.
I glanced up to make sure Mr. Whitlock could not see me before I started to disrobe.
The girls in the shop sounded Irish, like Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and their quick speech made me wonder exactly where in Ireland they were from.
I made my way out of the dress, grateful I took the time to at least attempt the appropriate undergarments.
I could only imagine the shock I'd get standing in front of these girls in a thong.
When I was stripped down, someone produced a tape measure, handing it to Mrs. Fitzpatrick. I watched the woman as she began taking my measurements. She looked young enough, though she had a hardness on her face that made me suspect she'd already lived a difficult life. Her brown hair was pulled into a tight, neat bun that I could see was used more for practicality than style, but her clothes were well tailored, suited to her long body.
I stayed silent while she and the shop girls worked, not wanting to interrupt them. Instead, I took the time to look around, trying to find any clues as to when I might be.
There was a paper tucked into a sewing basket near me, and I tried to lean over to catch a date.
After getting jabbed by pins and scolded by Mrs. Fitzpatrick twice, I finally spotted the year. 1895.
I straightened, letting the girls finish their work.
When they'd taken my measurements, one of the shop girls brought out a dark brown skirt in a rough fabric. It wasn't fancy, but it looked sturdy and about my size.
I dressed in the stiff clothes, trying to listen carefully as the women corrected how I layered each garment. I'd worn a number of corsets over the years, but somehow I still needed reminding of exactly how to fit it each time.
Once I was dressed, Mrs. Fitzpatrick brought me back to Mrs. Cope and Mr. Whitlock.
"Aye, tha's better." Mrs. Cope sighed with a smile.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick nodded. "Yer lucky we had her size," she said with a firm glance at me.
"It's perfec'," Mrs. Cope agreed. "How da ya feel, lass?"
I smiled at her. My shoes were still too large and the blouse and skirt were stiff, but I had to admit I did feel better now that I was blending in more.
"Wonderful," I told her honestly.
"Tha's goo'." She grinned. She moved to settle the bill with Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and I turned to take in Mr. Whtilock. He gave me an easy smile, his bowler hat tucked under his arm again.
"You look lovely, Miss Swan," he said.
"Thank you," I said, my hands smoothing down the unfamiliar skirt. I was glad it wasn't hot out, or I'd be dying under these layers. "I'm glad that we were able to find something appropriate," I said, wincing when I thought of the borrowed dress. I glanced at Mr. Whitlock to see him quickly hide his smile.
"Indeed," he agreed.
"So," I said, glancing across the shop to where Mrs. Cope was still working with Mrs. Fitzpatrick. "What do you tutor?"
I turned to Mr. Whitlock who looked surprised by my question. "My specialty is mathematics," he said slowly. "However, I also taught art in my previous post."
My eyebrows rose in surprise. "A Renaissance man," I murmured.
I watched, amused as a flush rose up his neck slightly. He cleared his throat, bashful.
"Do you have many pupils now?" I asked, wanting to ease his awkwardness.
He cleared his throat again and shook his head. "Only three," he admitted. "Twins that live near St. James, and then of course, your cousin."
I swallowed. Right, Young Alice. I wondered how long I'd be able to pretend to be related to her. If she came around the boarding house, I was certain I would be found out sooner rather than later.
Of course, my mind whispered, you could be gone before then.
It was true. I never knew how long I'd stay in one place.
Mrs. Cope joined us, smiling at me as she looked me over. My old dress was carefully folded in her arms, and I held my hands out, offering to carry it back. She shook her head. "You loo' goo' n' proper," she said with a self satisfied smile.
"Thank you, Mrs. Cope. Please let me know how I can work back the debt I owe you." I could have paid in the stones on my purse, but if I could avoid spending them, I would. I didn't mind hard labor in exchange for room and board.
She beamed at me, gently looping her arm through mine. "I'll be gla' a some help," she agreed. "Shall we?"
We exited the shop, thanking Mrs. Fitzpatrick once more before stepping out onto the street. Despite the smog in the air, I could tell it was a lovely day.
"Mrs. Cope, would you mind terribly if I took a walk?" I asked, turning to look at her.
Her face pinched into a small scowl. "I mus' be gettin' back," she said, concern on her face as she thought about the chores to be done.
Mr. Whitlock cleared his throat. "If it's not too inappropriate, I would be happy to escort Miss Swan around," he offered.
Mrs. Cope looked him up and down, considering. I knew from some general knowledge of the Victorian period that unmarried women weren't allowed a lot of places without a chaperone, but I wasn't a teenager, and these people weren't my family. Surely, it shouldn't matter?
Before I could interject, Mrs. Cope nodded. "All righ'" she agreed. "Bu' mind yer back before dark," she said, letting go of my arm and giving Mr. Whiltock a stern look.
He dipped his head in acknowledgment, and with a sunny smile my direction, Mrs. Cope was off, her walk brisk as she headed back home.
I turned to Mr. Whitlock and let out a breath. "Thank you," I said quietly.
He nodded. "Shall we?"
We didn't link arms like I had done with Mrs. Cope. Instead, Jasper—as he insisted I call him—remained a careful and polite distance between us.
It was partially exhausting to be so aware of the space around me, but it was also nice that he was going out of his way to respect my personal space.
We walked away from Soho, west toward the richer neighborhoods. Even now, I could see the wealth around Piccadilly and St. James'. This was old money, the kind only found in aristocracy.
We were rounding the corner of Regent Street when it happened. The scene unfolded before me, as if in slow motion. I could see the man standing in the street, arguing with another man. Both were tall, dressed impeccably and groomed to tell everyone beyond a doubt that they were of very high status.
Their argument was heated, though not offensively loud, but it was clear that whatever it was, it had both of their complete attention.
They didn't see the yawning omnibus driver speeding down the street, his attention on his passengers as someone tried to shout a question at him.
I didn't have time to hesitate. I burst into a sprint, hearing Jasper shout in surprise as I ran with all my might at the men. One was on the curb, out of the path, but the other would be run down if he didn't move.
I lifted my arms, braced myself for impact as my fingers brushed the fine wool of his coat.
I ran into him hard, tackling him out of the street. I heard him shout, felt him twist against my body as we tumbled to the ground, but less than a second later, the omnibus barreled past, right where the man had just been standing.
I could hear yelling, but my head had hit the ground, and there was a ringing in my ears as my body struggled to find my bearings.
"Bella!"
I could hear Jasper's voice raised in concern, but he sounded so far away.
"What the bloody hell was that?" The man under me was asking, his eyes wide, terrified, and angry.
I lifted my head to meet his gaze. He was young, near my age, I think, with bright, bottle green eyes and a sharp, clean-shaven jaw. I'd knocked his hat off, and I could see that his hair was a dark copper, almost brown with some strands shimmering red and blond in the daylight.
His chest was broad and strong under me, and I didn't realize how absolutely inappropriate our position was until his hands shifted on my waist, almost holding me closer.
"I'm sorry." I gasped, scrambling to climb off him.
I could feel a hand being offered, and I took it, letting his companion pull me to my feet. On the ground, the man still looked dazed.
"I do believe you've been knocked off your feet, old boy." His companion chuckled, offering his friend a hand up as well. The man I'd just flattened got up, blinking hard. He was taller than I thought now that I was close to him, well over six feet. He was looking at me with a stunned expression on his face, and I wondered if he was still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.
"Sorry," I said again, wincing when I felt a pull on my forehead. I reached up, not surprised that my fingers came away bloody.
"Christ," the man breathed, dipping into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief. "You're bleeding." He had a strong voice, despite being rattled, and before I could stop him, he was pressing the white cloth to my temple.
"I think you are too," I said, noticing a trickle of red on the collar of his shirt. He lifted his fingers, frowning and his companion checked the back of his head.
"You'll have a nice goose egg, I should think." His companion chuckled. "A small price to pay for being saved by an angel." He sent me a charming smile and I winced.
"You saved my life," the man in front of me said, still dazed.
"Bella!"
Jasper was finally able to cross the street, his long stride bringing him closer to me. "Are you all right? What madness drove you to do such a thing?" he demanded. He looked pale, and beside me, I felt the man I'd saved shift, almost defensive.
Fantastic. The last thing I wanted to do was start any sort of pissing contest.
"I'm fine, Jasper," I said, pulling away from the handkerchief. I turned back to the man I'd saved. "I'm sorry I knocked you down so hard."
He smiled, and I felt my stomach and heart both give a little flutter. He was almost unnaturally handsome.
"I'm not," he said, shaking his head. "Liam is correct. You saved my life."
I shifted on my feet, not sure what to do now. I'd never managed to make such a scene before. I usually slipped silently into the background of history. I wasn't quite sure what to do now that I was in even this small spotlight.
"It was…" I paused. It wasn't nothing, but I also desperately wanted to move away from the topic. I wanted to go back to Mrs. Cope's house, away from the eyes of every pedestrian on Regent Street.
"Please," he said, interrupting me. "My home is not far from here and you continue to bleed. Allow me to take you there to get bandaged up properly."
I glanced at Jasper, who looked like he wanted to protest. "I'm really…"
"I insist," he continued, his bright gaze drawing my eyes back to his face. "Please, it's the least I can do after you've saved my life."
I swallowed. "Okay," I agreed.
Jasper made a sound in his throat, and the man glanced at him. "Your brother is welcome to accompany us," he said, a cheeky smile slipping over his lips.
"I'm not her brother," Jasper started.
"May I accompany you, Miss…" The man held his hand out, all charm and smiles now that he was coming out of his shock.
I eyed him suspiciously. "You're rather presumptuous," I said, frowning. "How do you know I'm not married?"
I was, after all, traveling with a man. For all he knew, I was happily wed with children at home.
He chuckled, softly reaching for my arm and winding it through his. I was shocked by his boldness, but his touch was so warm and nice, I didn't quite have the heart to tug free like I probably should.
"No man would allow such a beauty as you far enough from him to wander off," he said with a small chuckle. "He'd keep her close, even if it meant he spent his days panting after her, trailing behind her wherever she might wander." He sent me a wink, and I felt my cheeks flush very lightly, even if I thought his words were ridiculous.
"You're too bold," I said, shaking my head. I could hear Jasper and the companion walking behind us, and I licked my lips. "I don't even know your name."
I felt the man shift, and I looked up to see him stop walking, his eyes widening slightly. "My deepest apologies, madam," he said, stopping completely. "Please forgive my abhorrent manners. I believe I am concussed and struck senseless by infatuation." He gave me another cheeky smile. "I am Lord Edward Cullen the III, ever so pleased to make your acquaintance," he said, dropping into a bow. If he'd still been wearing his top hat, I could imagine him removing it with a sweeping gesture and I almost giggled.
When he straightened again, I had to bite my lip to stop my laugh.
"Bella Swan," I said, dropping into a quick, clumsy curtsy. I saw his mouth twist, trying to hold in his own laugh at my clear lack of training. "My companion who you've been rather beastly to is Mister Jasper Whitlock," I said, pointing behind us. He was watching me with a nervous look, his eyes cutting between me and Mr. Cullen.
"Is he now," Edward murmured. He took my arm again, leading me on.
"And your companion?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder. The man he'd called Liam was still walking beside Jasper, hands in his pockets, looking deeply amused by something.
"Liam is more beast than man," Edward said dismissively. "I won't offend your delicate sensibilities by introducing you to him."
"I've heard that!" Liam called from behind us. I turned to grin at him and he flashed me a bright smile. "Liam Brennan," he said, dipping his hat in a shallow bow. "No title, but I'm twice as fun anyway."
Beside me, Edward huffed, and I grinned, turning back around.
Edward was leading us down Piccadilly, past sprawling buildings that screamed wealth.
"It's not much farther," he promised me, glancing down at my head. Despite the energy of these men, I was starting to feel a little faint. I reached up to touch the cut on my head and winced when my fingers came back bloody again. "Damn," Edward whispered, seeing the fresh blood. "Can you walk still?"
I glanced at him. "Yes, I'm fine," I said, blinking hard. I was getting dizzy.
I could see the corner of Green Park ahead, and Edward led us across the street to a large stone house that faced the green expanse. My eyes widened in surprise. "Devonshire House?" I asked, surprised.
Edward glanced at me in surprise. "You know it, then?" he asked, sounding pleased. I let out a breath. Yes, I knew his house. It wouldn't last beyond World War I, but history would remember it anyway.
"Are you the Duke of Devonshire?" I asked, mildly impressed.
Edward gave me a cheeky smile. "Not yet. As of now, that title belongs to my father." He wove a hand in front of him, motioning me through the grand gate.
I knew these ducal houses weren't called palaces in England, but that's exactly what it was: a palace. The grounds were massive, excessively so in cramped London.
Edward led us through the interior courtyard, past a host of people going about their work, and into the house.
I let out a breath the moment we were inside, my eyes sweeping over the interior, trying to capture every detail.
The house had been updated since its construction more than one hundred years ago, and it had been built out in what I could tell was the fashion.
Rich, lavish wallpapers, carpets that looked like they'd been imported from the Far East, and grand portraits that were nearly twice my height hung in the entry, greeting the house's guests with a splendor that hinted at more than wealth. This house held nobility, the leaders of fashion and style.
There were teams of people bustling around, and I could see that the interior was in the midst of a redecoration. I was certain that whatever was going on these walls now would be en vogue for the next year, if not more.
"This way," Edward said, leading me past staff working on installing a new crystal chandelier. I swallowed hard but let him lead me down a long hallway stuffed with stunning portraits. Every inch of this estate was steeped in history, and as a time traveler, I was fascinated by it all.
We entered a parlor that had considerably less work being done, and Edward led me to a beautiful embroidered chaise, encouraging me to sit. I sank down, grateful not to be standing. Immediately, he dropped to his knees in front of me, his vibrant eyes on my forehead.
"It doesn't seem to be getting worse," he said softly. "Still, I'll ask Maggie to bring a bowl and cloth to clean it up." He gave me a warm smile before climbing to his feet again. In a moment, he was striding out of the room, leaving me to gaze around, dazed. I wondered where Jasper had managed to get to. I wondered if Liam had led him somewhere to somehow give Edward a moment alone with me. Despite the fact that they were arguing when I first saw them, Liam seemed the type to play loyal wingman.
Before I could get up and start snooping, Edward was back, a ceramic bowl between his palms as a woman came in carrying white cloth behind him. She looked me over in alarm but didn't say anything as she helped Edward set the supplies on a small table. When things were situated, she quietly exited the room, leaving me with Edward once more.
"How are you feeling?" Edward asked, removing his suit jacket and carefully rolling his sleeves up his forearms. I watched as he secured the fabric above his elbows before he turned to the bowl and carefully dipped a cloth inside.
"Fine," I said, my voice a little thin. It wasn't exactly a lie, though it was admittedly not wholly the truth either. I was fine, even though my head was pounding.
Edward knelt in front of me, his hands ever so carefully sweeping over my face.
I hadn't expected him to be capable of assessing my wounds, but his hands were sure and gentle as he worked.
My eyes flickered over his face, watching his brows furrow as he carefully dabbed the blood away.
"The cut isn't nearly as bad as it seemed," he said after a moment. His eyes dropped down to mine, and he gave me a half smile that somehow made my stomach curl in on itself. "I rather think you shall live to tell your harrowing tale."
My teeth caught the edge of my lip, trying to keep my smile at bay.
"I didn't expect the son of a duke to have such medical expertise," I told him as he carefully swiped a salve across my forehead.
"I see that, though we've only just met, you already think so little of me," he muttered, and I was so embarrassed, worried that I'd offended him, I didn't right away see his smile.
"No, I mean—"
"My uncle is a physician," he said, interrupting me. "I spent most of my summers growing up with him and my aunt."
He finished up on my head, and his eyes landed on mine again. He was sitting so close, it wouldn't take much to lean forward and kiss him.
I let out a tiny, tense breath and leaned back instead. I wasn't supposed to get involved with anyone. Not when I could vanish on them and never be heard from again.
"Thank you," I said instead, my voice a whisper.
Edward gathered his soiled cloths and tossed them into a bronze bowl. He dipped his hands into a second bowl, gently cleaning them before he dried them on a small towel the housekeeper had brought in.
"Where did you come from, Miss Swan who has saved my life this very day?"
I didn't think he was asking about my morning plans and the walk I'd been on with Jasper, but since last night I'd been sleeping in a soundproof pod in Brazil at least 300 years in his future, I shrugged lightly.
"Far away," I said, my eyes scanning his face to see how he took my vague answer.
I saw the corner of his mouth quirk up, and when my stomach fluttered again, I felt my resolve steel.
"Thank you, for your aid, Lord Cullen," I said, dipping my head in a clumsy bow. "I must be returning to my companion and be on my way."
When I straightened, I saw a scowl cross his face, a brief flash of confusion that he quickly smoothed over.
"Miss Swan," he said, offering me his hand. I licked my lips and slid my palm against his, allowing him to help me to my feet. "My mother is hosting a ball tomorrow night. Might I be able to persuade you to come?"
My stomach flipped. I'd never traveled after one night, but I knew it was always a possibility. Did I dare let him have hope of seeing me again?
I looked at his face. There was a sense of arrogance that he wore like a second skin, a confidence in both himself and his place in the world. Rather than being abrasive, I found it surprisingly appealing.
I wanted to see the world the way he did, wanted to know what it would be like to live his life.
But I couldn't. There was only one way to stop traveling, and it was a path I'd never even let myself consider.
I opened my mouth to reject his invitation, to thank him for his aid once more, then slip out of his life, never to be thought of again, when the door to the room opened with a sudden thud.
I jumped, and around my hand, his fingers gently squeezed mine. We both turned to see a tall woman with caramel brown hair and piercing green eyes stride into the room. She was the most elegant woman I'd ever laid eyes on, and looking at her made me immediately self conscious.
"Maggie told me we had company," she said, her eyes flickering over Edward before landing on me. Her gaze was cold, cutting, and assessing.
"Rosalie." Edward sighed, not letting my hand go despite the woman's withering glare. "This is Miss Bella Swan. She saved my life today."
The woman's eyes widened, and her gaze doubled over me.
"Miss Swan, this is Rosalie, my sister," Edward said, waving a hand in her direction. "Please forgive her intrusion. She lacks my social graces." He delivered the words with one of his charming smiles, and beyond him, Rosalie's eyes tightened.
"Edward," she said, her voice rigidly civil. "Your guest is unchaperoned," she said, her eyes searing over me again. She did not approve of me.
"No, Rosalie. Her companion is in the library with Liam."
At the mention of Edward's friend, Rosalie's cheeks colored, ever so slightly.
"I should find him," I said quietly. "Thank you again for your help."
Edward's eyes landed on my face, and I felt my chest constrict as I stopped breathing.
"Please, Miss Swan. After you've saved my life, the least I can do is make sure you make it home safely. Allow my driver to take you back."
He wasn't asking, but I nodded anyway. He grinned and turned to his sister as he moved us toward the door. "Don't wait up for me, sister."
"You're expected for—"
He lifted his free hand, waving her off. "Yes, yes." He secured my arm through his as he tugged me out of the room and down the grand hallway. "I do apologize for Rosalie. She was born scowling."
I bit back my laugh.
"Is she older than you?"
"She is," he confirmed. "And she won't let me forget it for even a moment."
I wondered if Rosalie was bitter that Edward would inherit their father's title, while she would likely be married off to the first rich suitor that her father approved of.
I know it would infuriate me.
Edward led me through the great house, gently tugging me along so I couldn't stop and get too distracted by the incredible decor being brought in.
We stopped outside a set of open double doors, and past them I spied stacks and stacks of books. My eyes widened as Edward called into the room.
"Liam? Miss Swan is returning home. Is her companion ready to depart?"
I could just make out Jasper, gaping at the stacks, his eyes wide as saucers. Liam was lounging in an overstuffed velvet chair, a smirk on his handsome face.
"I very much doubt he ever will be," Liam mused, glancing toward Jasper. "It appears we've picked up a scholar."
Jasper spun around, his eyes landing on us near the door. "This… library…" He was nearly speechless.
Edward shrugged, glancing around. "Feel free to borrow whatever you like. No one will know it's missing."
Jasper's eyes bugged, and I glanced up at Edward, impressed by his generosity. He looked down at me and grinned.
"Maybe I could escort you alone and Mister—"
"Not likely, old boy," Liam said, sliding into a standing position. His movements were languid and almost lazy, but it was clear he was athletic and strong. "I can't allow your virtue to be brought into question. What would your dear mumma think?" He shot Edward a smirk, and Edward rolled his eyes hard. Liam instead flashed me a smile. "I shall escort you two. Young beautiful creatures shouldn't be caged together alone, lest they give into temptation." He shot me a wink, and I took a breath.
"Could it not create gossip that the three of us are up to no good if we all spill out of a carriage together?" I asked before I thought better.
Beside me, Edward's eyes widened, and Liam's mouth popped open before he let out a roaring laugh. "You are a spirited creature." Liam snickered. "I quite like that." His eyes cut to Edward, and I glanced up at him too, curious. He looked a little confused, and I wondered if it was the thought of a threesome that had him stumped, or something else. "However, I rather think that the young Master Cullen is not a man to share," Liam mused, pulling my attention back toward him.
I looked back at Edward, who snorted lightly. "It's almost like you know me, Liam," he said dryly.
I pondered that. Monogamy and polygamy both were concepts that I had seen throughout human history. Each generation seemed to think it a brand new revolutionary concept whenever one or the other came up in society as taboo.
My eyes traveled back to Liam, who I sensed might be a bit more sexually curious than his friend.
"Miss Swan?" Edward asked, clearing his throat.
I licked my lips, my eyes traveling toward Jasper. "Are you joining us, Jasper?" I called. He had a slim volume between his palms, his eyes wandering over the page almost lovingly.
"Hm?" he asked, looking up at us. "Oh, yes, of course." He cleared his throat, gently closing the book. He looked to Edward, gently holding the volume up again. "Are you certain it is okay that I borrow this?" he asked, his voice hopeful.
"Certainly," Edward answered.
Jasper let out a shaking breath and nodded, picking up his hat from where it sat on a table near him. He strode across the room toward us, and Edward gently led me out of the room and back outside.
There was a great black carriage with two massive brown horses already hooked up. A coachman scrambled to open the door, offering me his hand to help me. I slipped my arm out from Edward's, accepting the help up.
To my surprise, Edward and Liam followed me in. Jasper stopped to tell the driver where he was going before he too climbed in as well.
It was crammed with the four of us, even though it was a far bigger carriage than I'd ever been in.
Edward sat beside me, giving me a cheeky smile as the horses lurched forward and I was lightly tossed in his direction.
"Has his lordship invited you to tomorrow night's grand soirée?" Liam asked, his long legs lounging in front of him, despite the fact that there wasn't much room for him to stretch out.
"I have," Edward answered for me. I turned to meet his bright gaze. "Though I am still desperately waiting for an answer."
I licked my lips. "I don't have anything to wear to a ball," I said slowly, trying to put him off.
Liam let out a chuckle. "An obstacle indeed," he mused. "The duchess would be mortified into an early grave to see la bourgeoisie at one of her grand balls."
"Do not worry about what to wear," Edward pressed, his breath fanning across my cheek. "Just say you'll come."
I stared up at him, biting at my lip. I wasn't quite sure how I'd gotten myself into this situation. Most people I interacted with immediately forgot me. That was how I liked it, how it had to be.
Now I'd caught the eye of a young lord, and what was more, I wasn't sure I didn't want to disappear from his life just yet.
I cleared my throat, my eyes flickering to Jasper who was watching me with wide, confused eyes. Finally, I took a breath, looking back at Edward.
"All right," I agreed. "I shall come."
Edward's smile was megawatt, and I felt my fingers curling in my lap to resist reaching out and sinking them into his hair to drag him closer for a kiss.
The carriage jolted, shifting me toward him again. I felt Edward's hand land on my knee through my skirt, his large palm hot despite the layers between us, and I glanced up at him in time to see his cheeks flush slightly. He gently removed his hand, pretending as if nothing had occurred.
My eyes landed briefly on Liam, who looked deeply amused as he watched his friend. When he caught my gaze, he gave me a quick wink that made me smile.
Not much was said back to Mrs. Cope's house, and when we pulled up, Jasper got out first, followed by Liam then Edward, who turned, offering me his palm.
I took it, letting him help me out of the carriage.
Compared to his estate, Mrs. Cope's street was horrifyingly filthy and small, cramped, dingy, and clearly lower class.
To his credit, Edward didn't seem to bat an eye as he took in the street.
"Thank you, Lord Cullen," Jasper said, glancing at me as he reached for the front door. I nodded and turned to Edward, who was watching me with an intensely burning green gaze.
"Yes, thank you for everything," I told him, feeling my cheeks warm slightly as his eyes traveled over my face.
"It is I who must thank you, once again," he said softly. He reached out, boldly taking my hand into his as he brought it up to press a kiss to my knuckles.
My belly clenched as I felt him smile against my hand.
"Until tomorrow, Miss Swan."
I took a shaking breath and nodded. "Tomorrow," I agreed, praying that I would be able to stay here long enough to see the light of a new day.
EDWARD
I was still shaken from my rather sudden encounter with Miss Swan.
She had dove into my life—quite literally—when I had least expected her. I would admit, my knees grew weak when I thought about the near accident that almost took my life. If it hadn't been for Miss Swan…
I'd never met anyone quite like her. Certainly, there were beautiful women throughout London, many of whom had preened and pranced before me, vying for my attention. I'd been surrounded by beauty my entire life.
But I'd never met a woman who boldly met my gaze, who cut quick remarks putting Liam in his place. Miss Swan, though small in stature, was clearly formidable in spirit.
I was not certain if it was this strength of character, or a mere infatuation with my rescuer, that kept my thoughts centered on her, but I could not seem to turn my mind to anything else.
"You've got that look," Liam said, his voice cutting through my thoughts.
I blinked and looked at him. "What look?"
Liam's smirk was obnoxious as he leaned back in the carriage, his legs kicking out so far he was nearly knocking me in the shins.
"The look of a man head over heels in infatuation."
I bristled, though quietly, I suspected he spoke the truth. Liam pressed on as if he didn't need me for the conversation at all.
"She is quite incredible, I must admit," he said, shrugging one shoulder. "If an infatuation must happen, you've selected quite the formidable woman to moon over." His eyes cut to my face. "I know you like to play around, Edward, but don't give this girl false hope. You'd never be allowed to marry her, not while your mother and father are still breathing. Take her to the ball tomorrow, dance her into the night, then let her go, or you'll end up hurting both of you," he advised.
I swallowed thickly. I knew Liam spoke the truth, as much as it pained me to admit. "Can't you just picture her at tea with my mother?" I asked, letting out a low chuckle.
Liam snorted. "A spectacle I would be quite happy to observe," he mused. "Still, you know your mother would win out in the end."
"My mother allows you to keep lingering around," I pointed out ungraciously. Liam wasn't of noble birth. He would never hold a title or any sort of prominence that would be acceptable to my family.
"Yes, darling," he said, leaning into the endearment. "However, you are not looking to make me the future Duchess of Devonshire." He paused, his head tilting. "Unless I've greatly misinterpreted our friendship, in which case, I accept."
I barked out a laugh, and Liam grinned, relaxing back into the carriage.
"You're an arse," I said, only daring to use such language with him.
"It's what makes me so charming," Liam agreed.
We were quiet the rest of the carriage ride back to Devonshire House, my thoughts occupying my time so thoroughly I was an ill sport at further conversation.
When we arrived back at the house, Rosalie was waiting for us. I let out a deep sigh as I saw my sister, and Liam let out a quiet chuckle.
"Lady Cullen," Liam said, climbing out of the carriage. "What an honor it is to be graced by your charming presence."
Rosalie hesitated, looking at Liam in surprise before her eyes landed back on me, refueled by her annoyance.
"Father wants to see you in his study," she said, her voice tart.
I let out a breath, clapped Liam on the shoulder, and headed inside to find my father.
…
His Grace, Edward Cullen the II, the Duke of Devonshire, was indeed in his study. I knocked once on the doors before his gruff voice ushered me in. The moment I crossed the threshold, the scent of cigars and Pimm's gin burned my nose.
Father looked up at me as I entered, his face stoic and impossible to read. "Sit," he commanded, motioning to a velvet chair near the fireplace. I crossed the room, mentally preparing myself for whatever weighted conversation I was about to face.
Father got up, moving to a tray one of the servants must have brought him. I could tell from the ingredients he was making his favorite drink—Pimm's Cup. He glanced at me once but did not offer me a glass.
I didn't dare ask for one.
Father was silent as he prepared his drink, and I felt the weight of his silence settling over my chest, suffocating me. I knew what he had called me in for, but I would be damned if I was the one who broke first and spoke of it.
Finally, Father turned to me, his dark brown eyes glaring cooly over his glass as he settled in the chair facing mine.
"You missed a very important meeting today," he said, his voice cold and furious.
I swallowed thickly. "I did," I agreed.
Father swirled his glass before bringing it up to his mouth and sipping the cocktail. It was out of fashion now, but Father always said taste never went out of style. It was one of his many excuses for never changing throughout the years.
"What excuse do you have this time?" he pressed, sipping his drink.
I took a breath, my hands curling softly at my sides. "No excuse, sir."
Father's gaze snapped over me. "No excuse," he mused, his tone cold. "So you simply forgot?"
I shook my head, knowing I was burying myself deeper with him but unable to stop myself now. "No, sir. I remembered." Father's eyes darkened. "I was nearly killed today in town." I wouldn't have brought it up to him normally. His Grace was not prone toward the sentimental coddling of his children. "A young woman saved my life. I felt I owed it to her to drive her home after her heroics."
Father was silent, and I couldn't quite read his face. I didn't know if that was surprise in his eyes, or fury.
"If you miss one more appointment," Father said, tilting his glass between his fingers, "I will strip you of everything. You'll be out on the street, without a penny to your honorless name. I don't care if a witch doctor has brought you back from the dead, and you are slow to reawakening. I expect you in your place. Am I clear?"
I swallowed. It wasn't the first time he'd threatened to disown me, but it was, however, the first time I believed him. There was something different about this threat, a conviction I'd never heard before in his voice.
"Yes, sir," I said quietly.
Father nodded. "The queen will be in attendance tomorrow," he continued, his scowl growing deeper. I knew what my father thought of women, especially women in power. It was no secret in our family that he did not fully support the queen. "As will your betrothed."
I frowned. "My betrothed?" I asked, more than a little confused.
Father nodded, reaching for a cigar. "It's all been arranged. You are to wed Grand Duchess Tatiana Alexandrovna, second daughter of Czar Alexander of Russia."
I wondered if my father remembered that a new czar had been crowned just over a year ago in the wake of Alexander's death. I would not be surprised to discover Czar Nikolai was unworthy of my father's mention, simply on the fact that he was young, and by reputation, hopeful.
My chest tightened, my stomach curling as I tried to process his words. "Since when?"I asked, once I'd found my voice.
"Since I've said so," Father responded, his voice frigid. "You will do as I say and marry the grand duchess. The czar's eldest has just married the queen's favorite granddaughter. Aligning our family with her kin will levy our position," Father explained. "Your betrothed will be here tomorrow night, and I expect you to entertain her."
I stared at my father, trying to unravel the complex political web of his thoughts. It was useless. My father only cared about power and how our family could gain more of it.
"I don't speak Russian," I pointed out, my voice tight with my barely suppressed emotions.
"Fortunately for you, the grand duchess is properly cultured and is fluent in English," Father hissed.
I snapped my mouth shut, my teeth grinding together. I wanted to leave, wanted to run out of his office and out of this forsaken house and keep running, never to look back.
Instead, I stayed put, my fingernails biting into my palms as I curled my fists tighter and tighter.
"Is there anything else?" I asked, immediately regretting my tone when Father glanced at me.
"No," he said, sipping his drink. "Leave me."
I stood, dipping a shallow bow in his direction before I raced out of his office.
The moment I was free, I let out a long breath, swearing to myself.
A betrothed I knew nothing about, a political alliance I didn't care to have, and a possible future in a country I wished to have no part of.
Briefly, my mind flashed to Miss Swan, who had so effortlessly charmed and delighted me with just one tilt of her head.
My chest tightened at the memory.
Could I still ask Miss Swan to come when I had a betrothed arriving on my doorstep? Was it selfish of me to wish to see her, if only for one last time?
I ran a hand through my hair as I paced back to my rooms, confused and frustrated.
Unsurprisingly, I found Liam lounging by my desk, his feet propped up as he read an old Latin text.
He glanced up at me as I stormed in. "Ah, things went well, I see," he mused.
I let out a grunt, throwing myself onto a thickly padded lounge. "I've been betrothed," I told him, my eyes fixed on the ceiling.
I could feel Liam's surprise, even without glancing his way.
"I should think congratulations are in order," he said, gently shutting the book. I glanced at him as he leaned back and shook his head. "But then again, I know you too well for that."
I swung my legs around, restlessly sitting up. "What do I do?"
He shrugged. "How badly do you want your father's title?"
It was a fair question, one that I had thought about frequently enough myself. I let out a long breath and shook my head, torn.
"Who is your blushing bride-to-be?" he asked, tilting his chin my way.
"A Russian princess," I answered, unable to help my scowl. I saw his eyebrows rise in surprise. "Father wants me to marry into the family so that we can levy our position with the queen."
He nodded, considering this. "He has a point," he said slowly. I shot him a look and Liam held his hands up as if in surrender. "I'm not saying it's a good point," he said placatingly. "But I'll give it to His Grace—he understands the political game well."
I let out a breath and stood, pacing.
"What is it that is holding you back?" Liam asked. "Is this simply about wanting to defy your father?"
I shook my head. "No," I said immediately. "No, I understand that he and I have a complicated relationship," I admitted. "But I no longer try to defy him like I used to." I saw Liam smirk, and I knew he was remembering as well as I the years of gambling and reckless drinking I'd indulged in as youthful defiance. My father had always been there to pull me out of one scrape or another when I inevitably stumbled. We may not get along, but he'd been sure to protect me, so long as I remained his legacy in both name and title.
"Is this about a certain young heroine?" Liam asked, leaning back in the chair again.
My eyes cut toward him before I could stop myself, and I saw him grin.
"It's not," I protested weakly. "I don't even know Miss Swan."
Liam snorted. "Because knowing someone has so much of an impact when you are thinking with your cock."
I shot him a look for his vulgar language but didn't correct him. "What do I do?" I asked instead, turning to him. Liam and I had been best friends since our very first day at school together. Though Liam came from a merchant family, he'd gotten into our school with the sponsorship of a distant cousin. It was clear on his first day that he hadn't been born into high society—he was too bold, too crass, and didn't have the manners or training. But Liam possessed a sly wit, an unerring charm, and a silver tongue that had talked us out of more than a few tight scrapes.
We'd been like brothers, thick as thieves, and not even the constant demand and pull of my family's position had been able to separate us.
I never figured out how he'd talked himself into room and board in our house. My mother was notoriously cold to anyone she deemed beneath her, and it had been nothing short of a miracle when Liam had managed to charm her in less than twenty minutes.
He'd been living with us since we left Eton almost five years ago.
Liam knew me better than anyone else, and as I gazed at him across my room, weighing my future in his hands, I knew that I would trust his judgment, no matter what.
Liam considered me a long moment before nodding. He climbed to his feet, putting the Latin book on my desk. "I think," he said slowly, striding toward me and clapping a hand on my shoulder, "that you have a ball gown to order."
BELLA
It was to my immense relief that I woke up in Mrs. Cope's guest room once again. I'd never cared much before if I stayed in one place—though certainly, some places I enjoyed more than others and had hoped to stay longer. Still, it had felt somewhat like tempting fate that I had gone to bed that night, praying I'd wake up there again.
After I'd cleaned myself up and dressed for the day, I made my way downstairs where Mrs. Cope was waiting for me with a wide smile on her face.
"I dinnae ken who tis from," she said with a shake of her head, "but ye ha' a delivery."
I frowned at her. There was no possible way that Edward could have produced a ball gown this quickly … was there?
Mrs. Cope motioned me into the parlor where a smartly dressed man stood beside an enormous box.
"Miss Swan?" he asked, glancing over my clothes.
"Yes?" I asked, taking a look at Mrs. Cope before glancing back at him.
"Lord Cullen sends his regards and hopes that you find this item suitable for tonight's festivities," he said, gently moving to lift the lid of the box. I stepped forward, letting out a tight breath.
There were yards and yards of red silk, expertly crafted and gloriously glossy even in Mrs. Cope's dimly lit parlor. It was hard to get the full design in the box, but I could see strings of pearls that delicately looped around the bodice.
"The gown is styled after the late Queen Mary Stuart's early fashion," he explained. "It is, of course, since recreated with only the finest materials, but his Lordship wanted you to be appropriately dressed for the costume ball," he explained, reaching a gloved hand into the box and gently lifting the bodice.
"Someone made this overnight?" I asked, beyond skeptical.
The man gave me a patient smile. "No, Miss. It was an order that never got fulfilled. His Lordship was lucky indeed to have come across it as he did."
I blinked, taking in the gown once again. I didn't even know how to begin dressing myself in a gown like this.
"Well noo, a dress like this calls fer some pamperin'," she said, shaking her head. "Than' ye, fer deliverin' it."
He nodded, inclining his head toward us. "Attendants will be sent to help you dress," he informed us. "They shall arrive no later than three o'clock."
I blinked, looking over at Mrs. Cope. How long did he expect for me to get ready?
Mrs. Cope saw him to the door as I stayed put, fingering the perfect silk.
Even if there was a way to go back on my promise to Edward, there was no way I was going to miss the opportunity to wear this stunning gown.
…
Mrs. Cope spent the morning trying her best to help pamper me. It felt ludicrous to be lounging around though, and after some persuasion, she allowed me to help her with the morning chores. The hard labor of her work helped to clear the nervousness from my mind, and allowed me to focus on the task directly in front of me—which was exactly what I was hoping for.
Shortly before the attendants arrived, Mrs. Cope shooed me upstairs, drawing me a milk and honey bath. It felt strange and excessive, but there was something luxurious in it as well.
Unfortunately, when I landed in the tub I no longer had anything to distract my mind from my present situation, and I found my thoughts stewing over Edward.
Time demanded that there always be a traveler—just one, no more, no less. When my mom got pregnant with me, she stopped traveling, and I'm told that the gift was temporarily passed on to a distant female cousin. When I came of age to travel on my own, the gift was given back to me.
Mom told me that our line was the dominant line, that women in our direct family were selected to travel first. It was only when we became mothers did we stop traveling for good.
It was why I'd never considered stopping, why I'd never even sought that option. My mom had taken a risk, given up the entire universe for a man she'd known less than two weeks, in the hopes that his life, and his time and place in the world, would be enough for the rest of her life.
In order for me to stop traveling, I would have to make a similar leap of faith.
But I just couldn't fathom it. Traveling was hard, and it was unbearably lonely sometimes, but what I got in exchange couldn't be measured. I was given access to the entire history of the world, unfettered and without much consequence. I was free to learn and grow and explore, so long as I didn't get pregnant.
I'd never once considered giving up all I had for a man I didn't know.
Not until now.
I didn't know a thing about Edward beyond his title and his family's apparent wealth. I didn't know if he was a good man, a schemer, or a politician obsessed with status. He could be anyone, and yet, I felt myself consider for the first time in my life what it might be like to stay.
It was a terrifying and deeply unnerving thought.
The truth of it was, I was attracted to him, but was there more to it? Could there be after only one short day?
It felt utterly impossible.
I wanted to push the thoughts to the back of my mind, to ignore them until another day, but I didn't have that luxury. Time was not on my side, and at any moment, the decision could be made for me. I needed to weigh if I truly wanted this life or not.
I let out a tight breath, sinking deeper into my bath.
Outside, I heard female voices speaking, and I knew my time was up.
Sighing, I pulled myself out of the tub, deciding to let my heart guide me through the night ahead.
EDWARD
Guests had been pouring into Devonshire House all evening, each one dressed impeccably as the glittering crowd of aristocracy gathered in my mother's recently redecorated ballroom. My parents were dressed stylishly, my mother pinned and tucked into a dress too young for a woman her age. No one would point it out, of course, because the Duchess of Devonshire was exactly like the extravagant jewels that dripped from her costume: brilliant, gleaming, and viciously cold and hard. No one ever dared to cross her.
Across the room, my sister stood beside a group of her school friends, fans craftily held to invite flirtations from men who knew how to read such cues.
I rolled my eyes at them and turned before any of them could catch sight of me. I did not want to be pestered by them. I certainly had enough to worry about.
At the thought, my eyes shifted toward the doors. So far, there was no word of either my betrothed or Miss Swan. I didn't know what moved me to invite her, when she very clearly was not an option for me. Perhaps I had one last need for rebellion in me after all.
"What is the word?" Liam's voice met my ears, and I tore my gaze from the doors to glance at him.
"Nothing yet," I told him, feeling my chest tighten with the admission.
He nodded, sipping a glass of champagne. "She'll show."
I glanced at the doors before turning back to him. "My betrothed or Miss Swan?"
Liam grinned. "If I'm a lucky man, both."
I wanted to reach out and hit him, but I knew better than to make a scene here in front of my parents.
"You're an arse," I hissed.
He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Now, now, young lord. You must be kinder to those who would help you with subterfuge," he said, shaking his head.
"What are you going on about?" I demanded.
"I've a plan to help you with your problem," he said, tapping his nose.
I stared at him. Liam had a brilliant mind, but his plans had a way of … backfiring. Once, at Eton, we'd nearly ended up cargo on a ship to South Africa after trying to get out of tea with my father.
It had been a bloody mad week.
"Trust me, old boy," he said before tipping his glass and finishing it off. "Your betrothed will be dealt with, and you'll have your father's blessing by the end of the night."
I gaped at him. Even for Liam, it was a lot to promise.
Before I could argue though, his elbow was connecting with my ribs, his hand pointing toward the entrance. I turned and felt the breath rush out of my body.
Miss Swan stood at the doors, the brilliant red of her gown bright and glowing against the duller fabrics around us. The bodice was a shocking cut, her curves impossible to hide. Her hair was curled into a mass that was carefully tucked up on her head, and the pearls and jewels on the gown glittered under the candlelight. She looked like a vision, and were she dressed in white, I might think myself dead and gone to Eden.
Liam chuckled beside me, carefully nudging me again. My feet propelled me forward, cutting through the crowd as I was drawn to Miss Swan.
She looked up when I approached, her stunning face breaking into an almost heartbreakingly beautiful smile.
"Lord Cullen," she said, dipping into one of her truly atrocious curtsies.
I fought off a smile at her bad form. "Miss Swan, you are a radiant vision this evening," I said, hoping my voice wasn't shaking too much as I gently took her hand.
Miss Swan blushed a little, and I had to fight off a groan when I saw that pink move over her pale skin.
"Yes, well…" she said, waving a hand around herself. "I had help finding the right gown."
My eyes moved over her dress, eyeing the bountiful swells of her breasts before I forced myself to keep sweeping my gaze over her. "It only adds shine to an already flawless canvas," I told her.
Her small hand was still in mine, and I felt her fingers gently squeeze mine.
"May I be so bold as to ask you for a dance before you've even properly entered?" I asked.
She grinned. "You may," she agreed, and I took her into my arms, too eager to hold her. She fit against me precisely, and though she was wearing a massive gown, I could feel the rough shape of her body against mine, and I remembered the feel of her pressed on top of me as she'd saved my life.
It took every shred of training, decency, and willpower I had not to pull her even closer.
"I must say," I said as we danced. I was supposed to be holding her farther from me, but I couldn't quite convince my arms to move her. "I thought blue would be more of your color," I told her honestly. "But the red…"
"Is it okay?" she asked, glancing down at the gown.
I huffed out a laugh. "I feel as Eve might have, being tempted by the ultimate red ripe fruit," I whispered.
She let out a surprised laugh, and I pulled her closer to me until we were practically indecent.
I could hear whispers picking up around us, and I knew that I wasn't acting wisely, but I couldn't pull myself away from her.
"You look rather…" Bella paused, her dark eyes flickering over my face before traveling down over my chest. I felt my heart squeeze beneath my ribs. "Beautiful," she said finally.
I smirked. "Miss Swan, you wound me. Have you not noticed the very manly and ruggedly good looks I was graced with?" I teased.
Bella's smile stole the very air from the room.
Before she could respond, there was a hand landing on the center of my back, halting our movements. I turned, unable to hide the sour expression on my face as I gazed at Rosalie.
"Edward," she hissed, her eyes wide, verging on terrified as her gaze flickered past me toward the direction of our parents. "This really…"
Whatever she was going to say was cut off when Stephan, my father's valet, appeared at my side. "Sir," Stephan said, giving me a shallow bow. I felt Bella try to pull out of my palms, but I flexed my fingers, keeping her in front of me. "Your father wishes to speak with you."
I swallowed hard, and beside me, Rosalie stiffened.
"Thank you, Stephan," I said, clearing my throat before looking at Miss Swan. "But you can tell my father—" I let out a painful yelp as Rosalie's heel smashed down on my foot.
"Don't be a fool," she hissed in my ear.
I turned to glare at her, but in my confusion, she twisted around my back and was yanking Bella out of my arms. I turned back to see Rosalie hauling Bella off the dance floor, and I started after her when Stephan stepped back into my path. "Sir," he said again. "It's rather urgent."
I glared at him. Bella would be fine, probably, with Rosalie for a few minutes. I knew from experience that keeping my father waiting any longer would only dig me deeper.
Letting out a frustrated breath, I turned and stalked across the room toward my waiting parents.
BELLA
"You have no business being here," Rosalie snarled quietly, a forced congenial smile on her lips as she hauled me away from her brother.
"I was invited," I told her, yanking my arm out of her grasp.
She turned to glare at me. "Do you see the man standing to your right?" she asked, surprising me. I glanced over at a smartly dressed man with brown hair. "That," Rosalie hissed, drawing my attention back to her, "is His Royal Highness, Edward, Prince of Wales, his majesties' eldest son. Speaking to him is Nikolai Alexandrovich Romanov, the Czar of Russia." Rosalie's fingers squeezed around my upper arm, despite the bulk of fabric. "Who are you to be here?"
It was a fair question, one I'd be asking myself later when I processed standing next to the last czar of Russia at a ball I was likely about to get kicked out of. I turned to Rosalie, whose eyes were wild with her anger, and underneath that, fear.
It struck me then, what life must be like for the eldest child of the duke. She might have been born into wealth and power, but almost none of it was hers for the taking. She would never be afforded the same opportunities as her brother, never be given the chances he would. She would be used as fodder, part of the estate to broker deals. Rosalie's world was a prison, a glittering, terrible curse that she had no chance of escape from.
I could see from her panic that though she probably resented her younger brother, she was wildly, fiercely loyal to him, determined to protect and care for him.
She might be the only member of her family doing so.
"I'm so sorry," I said at once, my chest heaving with the emotions welling in me. "I truly don't wish any harm or hardship on your family," I said quietly. Rosalie's eyebrows pulled together, a flash of confusion and surprise. "I can appreciate how loyally you look after those you love."
I had siblings, years from now, who would grow up not knowing me. They might be told stories, and the oldest might even remember traces of me, but they would never know me. They would live out normal, human lives in normal, human timelines.
They would never know this life, and likewise, I'd never wish it upon them.
Rosalie looked uneasy, and I wondered if it was because I'd called out her loyalty to her brother, or because I'd agreed with her at all. I gave her a small smile. "Will you do me a favor?" I asked, my voice quiet. Rosalie's eyes narrowed, but finally she eased her head in my direction. "Will you tell Edward, 'thank you' from me?" My fingers ran over the slippery silk gown. "The dress will be available to pick up tomorrow morning."
Rosalie nodded, leaning back from me. "I will pass along your message."
I gave her a small smile. "Thank you, Rosalie."
She looked annoyed, and I didn't know if it was because I was addressing her so casually, or if it was because she just wanted to be rid of me.
Giving her one last smile, I gathered my skirts and slipped past her, trying to creep toward the edge of the ballroom to make my escape.
This world was glittering and grand, and while it had been fun dressing up for the night, I knew this was no place for me.
I started along the south wall, trying to make my way toward the exit, when trumpets blasted through the room. I froze, looking up to see the queen's assembly filing into the ballroom to announce her.
I hesitated, desperately excited to glimpse the great Queen Victoria.
I could hear a man speaking across the room, though his words were muffled from this distance, and then a trumpet sounded again before the attendants shifted.
I caught sight of a graying head of hair, barely visible through the crowd, when long fingers wrapped around my elbow.
I gasped, spinning and gaping at Edward as he tugged me gently back through the ballroom and out a door I hadn't even noticed.
I could hear the commotion behind us announcing the queen, but Edward pulled me forward, out of the house and into the sprawling gardens.
How his estate managed to have gardens like this in the middle of London was beyond me. The plants were beautifully manicured, carefully planted to create symmetrical layouts. The effect was stunning, and I felt myself stumble behind Edward as I tried to take it all in.
"Edward, it's beautiful out here," I said, hurrying to step faster in order to keep up with him.
Edward glanced at me. "It is," he said, sounding distracted.
"Where are we going?" I asked, prying my eyes from trees in stunning bloom to look at him. In the moonlight, his face was hard to make out.
"Somewhere private." He sighed, shaking his head.
I let him tug me along until we were slipping into a greenhouse. The glass panes weren't exactly private, but it was dark in this corner of the estate, and likely, the most privacy we'd be able to get.
"Bella, I—"
"Edward—"
We both froze, looking at one another with small smiles.
"Please," Edward said, extending a long fingered hand in my direction. "After you."
I took a deep breath. "I just…" I looked around the greenhouse, trying to resummon my courage. "I wanted to say thank you," I said softly. "For the gown, and for the invitation." I looked at him. "I've had a lovely evening."
Edward's face was mostly shadowed, but I could see a frown across his face.
"You speak as if you are about to say goodbye."
I swallowed thickly. "It's clear I don't belong in your world," I said quietly, my gaze dropping. "And I don't want to make trouble for you."
I would keep traveling. It might not be tonight, it might not even be in a week, but at some point, time would pull me out of this place and deposit me sometime else. Edward's life would continue, and he would find a wife who could give him children who would all get to live normal lives, without this legacy hanging over them.
"Bella," Edward hesitated, one of his hands lifting as if to reach out to me. I looked up at him. "All my life I have done mostly as I'm told," he said, and I couldn't help smiling. He grinned in response before his face became serious again. "I've been told where to go, what to do, whom to socialize with. Everything in my life has been organized for me." He let out a breath. "Now, I'm being told whom to marry."
I wasn't surprised, and yet his words made me flinch. I sucked in a breath, my gaze dropping.
"I'm sure she is a well suited match," I said quietly.
"I wouldn't know," Edward said. "I don't want to marry her."
I could feel him tiptoeing to a conversation I knew he wasn't ready to have. He had no idea what being involved with me would entail.
"Edward," I said, my voice a warning as I shook my head. "You don't…" I paused, biting my lip. "My life is volatile," I said, wincing over the word. When I saw him frown in confusion, I let out a breath. "At any moment, I could be dragged away from here, never to return," I said, trying to make it as clear as possible without getting into the details. "Nothing about my time is certain."
Edward's eyebrows pulled together. "Is there no way that you can stay?" he asked, sounding confused.
I let out a breath. I should tell him there wasn't. I should break his hope now, rather than risk breaking his heart later.
It could never work.
"There is only one way," I said instead, and immediately regretted my words. I felt his hope flare, like a lantern in the dark.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice breathless.
I turned from him, shutting my eyes hard. Was I really going to do this? Was I really about to give up everything to risk things with him?
What if things didn't work out? What if I got pregnant, and he still had to marry his betrothed? What if I was stuck in Victorian London, raising a child on my own?
There were so many ways this could go badly.
I turned back to him, my throat tight. I could see his features in the moonlight, the width of his jaw, the playful kindness in his eyes that had drawn me in the first time I'd looked at him.
He was beautiful, but there was more to it than that, like I was being drawn to him on a cellular level.
It was an all-encompassing, inescapable feeling.
"I can stay," I whispered, my voice so soft I wondered if he could even hear me. "If I am with child."
I watched his body respond and saw him take a step back in surprise. I watched his shoulders drop, then rise again as he sucked in a deep, surprised breath.
"That is the only way?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
I swallowed thickly, tears threatening to spill over. "Yes."
It was too much. We didn't know each other; we couldn't possibly be at the point of discussing children yet. Edward was going to realize the price to know me was too high, and he'd go back to his predestined life. He would be a respected duke one day, and his children and his children's children would be remembered by history.
And I would be nothing more than a shadow of a memory, as I was meant to be.
Time would continue on, uninterrupted.
My fingers reached down, gathering up the fabric of the gown. If I could shed it here and now and spare him the effort of sending someone to collect it from Mrs. Cope's later, I would.
Maybe I'd travel north toward Scotland, or head east toward the continent. Surely I would enjoy time spent in Austria or Switzerland.
I had a plan in place, my mind made up, when Edward reached out, his hand blocking me by landing on my elbow.
"Bella," he said, and I looked up at him.
"It's okay, Edward," I said softly. "You don't have to say anything." I gave him a watery smile. "I truly wish you all the best in life."
Edward frowned, shaking his head. "No… I…" He let out a deep breath before falling to one knee in front of me.
I stared at him in stunned silence.
"Bella, it is inexplicable and irrational," he said quietly. "But I feel within myself an urgency to know you, the likes of which I have never felt before." He reached up, gently taking my left hand in his. "I know not what the future holds, but I know with unshakable certainty that if I have some sort of destiny in this world, you are central to it." He reached down, slipping a signet ring off his pinky and holding it up toward me. "If we must marry and have children so that I may be given the honor of knowing you, this is a path I very willingly choose. I have not much more to offer, and I may be disowned once my father hears word of our elopement, but I do not care." He took a deep breath. "Bella Swan, will you marry me?"
