Belmary House 5 Page 18

  “The brat,” he hissed angrily. “She couldn’t have.”

  Could she really have gone through the portal? Left him to deal with the mess she made? But he recalled her bragging about how she was only ever gone ten minutes and clapped his hands.

  “I’ve got you now.”

  He hurried to the opposite wing and tried to remember which door he saw her in front of earlier. It seemed like ages ago. Back when he was still engaged and had been deliriously happy. Now he only felt delirious, as if he bashed his head and couldn’t tell up from down.

  He found the door by the extreme sense of mislocation that buzzed around it. He’d mastered that rudimentary spell to hide things when he was twelve and routinely used it to keep his parents from finding things he didn’t want them to see. He could sense that hex a mile away. Flipping up the latch, he rolled his eyes to see Ariana had left it unlocked. She had become complacent.

  He gave the nearly empty room a quick once over, deciding the portal must be in the corner by the window. As with the door, a slight sheen of leftover hexes clung to the air around it. She must have had to break through at least twenty different spells to open the thing up, then used a dozen more to make it work again.

  Despite his anger he was impressed. And more than a bit envious. How he had dreamed about that thing. From the moment they learned it existed, he imagined them going through it together. He hadn’t given up wanting to travel through time, but he never wanted to risk that dangerous, painful spell they first tried when they were only nine and ten. Wee idiots who could have gotten themselves killed. Ariana hadn’t changed much since then, barrelling through the portal on her own.

  Only a few minutes went by, spent stewing in his anger, and he felt a strange prickling that caused the hairs on his arms to stand up. He thought he heard a buzz, but before he could be sure, it was gone. Ariana staggered from the corner. She giggled at him and lurched forward.

  “Are you drunk?” he asked, knowing the answer by the reek of whisky that wafted off her. And the fact that she could barely stand.

  “How can I be when there’s no alcohol at Almack’s?” She giggled again and sat down hard in a poof of satin. She smacked at her billowing skirts as if they were pesky flies. “Ah, all right. I may have got some whisky from a friend. It was the good Scottish stuff our fathers like.”

  He didn’t know where to begin. His anger shifted aside for the moment. Any ranting he did now would be completely wasted on her. Worry took over since he never saw her like this before. She rarely drank more than a glass of wine or champagne at any ball. She was too afraid her nasty little friends would get her to spill unwanted secrets and hold them over her. God, why he had ever wanted to be a part of this life, he didn’t know.

  “At least it was the good stuff,” he said. She tilted forward alarmingly and he put his hands under her arms and dragged her over so she could lean against the bed frame. She looked at him balefully and hiccupped. “Well, was it worth it?” he asked with a sigh. “Did it help at all? Because if it did, I’m going downstairs to steal a bottle from your father’s library at once.”

  To his dismay, fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “It didn’t help, Owen.” She reached for his hand and missed by a good ten inches. He took pity on her and placed his hand under hers so she would think she succeeded. “It’s so much worse than I ever could have imagined.”

  “Worse than wrecking me and Maria?” he asked. He couldn’t help it.

  She looked over his shoulder, probably thinking she had a good focus on him.

  “You’re better than them,” she said. “You’re going to find someone who wants you for what you really are.”

  The last words came out sounding like bleary lar, but he understood her well enough. He wasn’t consoled by the slurred words though, and shrugged.

  “What am I?” he asked, finding it useless to have a proper conversation with her.

  All he could do was keep her from passing out and vomiting all over herself. When she was a bit sobered up, he would get her to her bed.

  “Owen,” she said, her head lolling back and clunking on the bed frame. She didn’t seem to notice.

  “Yes?” he asked, still just humoring her.

  He honestly considered nipping downstairs for one of his uncle’s bottles but was afraid to leave her to her own devices. She shook her head, sending a stream of drool flying at him. Nice. She looked horrified and tried to wipe it away but her arms wouldn’t cooperate.

  “No,” she said forcefully. “Owen is what you are.”

  “Thank you, Madame Obvious,” he said. “I know who I am. I asked you what I am. What you think I am.”

  He moved so he sat beside her, leaning against the bed frame since it seemed like they were stuck there a while. He’d never even seen the village drunk as plastered as she was now.

  She groaned loudly. “No. Dummy. You are Owen. That’s what you are. And that’s enough. And it’s too much for the bloody Winters. I will say it for the umpteenth time, but they do rot reserve you.” He clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing at her tirade. He understood what she meant and he found it strangely touching. She flailed again and he took her hand before she hit him in the face. “Do you got it now?”

  “I got it now, Ariana,” he said. “But it still hurts.”

  She sniffed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Was it awful?”

  “After you left to get utterly foxed?”

  “Yes, after that.”

  She repeated “that” six more times until he squeezed her hand hard enough to make her squeak.

  “It was awful.”

  She turned to him, her eyes looking slightly less bleary. “Why not hex everyone again?” she asked.

  “That’s a brilliant idea,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I actually tried but it didn’t work. It’s like they were toying with me or something. Making me think I could have this perfect life and then pulling the rug out.”

  She gasped and leaned precariously close to him. He pulled a face at her foul whisky breath and she blushed and leaned back.

  “I know about them now.”

  “Who?” he asked dully. She was rambling again.

  “Them! The ones who do your spells you say you don’t know you’re doing. They’re real and they aren’t our friends. And they need blood.”

  He got a chill but remembered she wasn’t in her right mind at the moment. “Try to take a little nap,” he said, pushing gently on her forehead until the back of her head rested against the bed frame.

  She was silent for a while and he thought she might have fallen asleep. Until she sniffled loud and long. And then sobbed.

  “What is it?” he asked, alarmed. “Don’t tell me I need to get your parents because you may want them now, but believe me when I say you’ll be skinned if they see you like this.”

  “I don’t want them,” she said, wiping her face on a handful of skirts. He looked away from her exposed legs. “You don’t know how much they’ve lied.”

  “Sure I do,” he said.

  “No, not even the half of it. I met someone who knew them before they were married. My father used to go through that damn portal all the time.” She shook her fist at the corner. “And my mother did, too. And my Aunt Camilla did horrible things. Horrible things.”

  Owen frowned suspiciously. “Who is this person you met? And how did they know all this? I’m positive if your parents went to such lengths to keep it all from us they wouldn’t have been broadcasting it all over London to random strangers.”

  She frowned back at him, scrunching up her face in thought. “I don’t know. He just knew because he knew them. You know Jeremy Kerr who we sometimes visit on the way home from your place?”

  “Your place, you mean,” he interjected bitterly. “But yes, of course. He’s been to our house for hunting. Your house, I mean.”

  She looked desolate at the reminder but shook it off. “He knows everything since he’s Father’s greatest friend after you
r father. He’s the one who found out the horrible things Aunt Camilla did. I guess he told Nick.”

  He was alarmed at the mention of a male name he didn’t recognize. Was this Nick the one who poured whisky down her throat until she was in this state? And from what he knew about Jeremy Kerr, it didn’t seem likely that he would be flapping his gums about other people’s private business. Especially not his best friend’s personal secrets.

  “Who’s this Nick?” he demanded, already hating the man.

  She giggled. “He’s lovely. Just lovely. He told me the truth about everything and I told him the truth about everything. We’re going to travel together. At least, I hope so. I would have asked him to go with me to 1889 but I was a bit tipsy and didn’t want to risk a spell I never did before. So I just used the bloody portal.” She tipped her head to the side. “Hmm, it seems being a bit tipsy keeps me from getting sick on the way back. That’s an interesting thing to note.”

  “Glory to God,” Owen said through gritted teeth. He didn’t know where to begin with everything she just spewed out. “You’re not a bit tipsy, you’re blind, filthy drunk. And what do you mean you told him the truth about everything?” He crossed himself and uttered a few quick prayers.

  “The magic,” she said, her eyes drifting shut. He shook her, not about to let her fall asleep now. “The portal, the book, the giant house I bought in the future. All of it. I think he’s my soul—”

  “Don’t you dare,” he snapped, cutting her off. “You don’t get to have a soulmate after you messed up my chance with mine.”

  She sputtered, more drool flying everywhere. “Maria isn’t your soulmate.”

  “Shut up, Ariana. You don’t know how I felt about her. How I feel.”

  “If that girl loves you the way you deserve to be loved, she’ll forgive you.” Ariana stabbed at him with every word, only managing to poke him once. “All you need to do is apologize. Tell her you did it for love and all that rot.”

  “It isn’t rot. If this blackguard Nick was really your soulmate you’d know it wasn’t rot. You’d know how I feel.”

  She scowled. “I know how you feel,” she said. “Bad. I do too. So I is going to make it up to you.” She was back to slurring and her head tipped forward. “Don’t worry, my best friend. I will mix everything. You’ll see.”

  “I hope you mean fix,” he said.

  A moment later a rumbling snore came out of her, making him jump. He had a very small inkling to kick her and leave as he watched her breathe heavily through her mouth. The ball would be over soon. Let her get in trouble for being in there, for being drunk.

  He stared at her for a long time, both disgusted and amused at the river of drool that ran down the side of her chin. With a sigh, he hoisted her dead weight over his shoulder and hauled her to her room.

  Chapter 20

  Ariana hid in her room for three days after the ball, refusing all visitors except her brothers and the maid who brought her meals. She was too ashamed to face anyone else and afraid of what she might find when she eventually left her room.

  Her mother peeked in on her every day, but she always pretended to be asleep. Her father tried everything from stern commands to outright bribery, but she couldn’t face him. She only called from under her covers that she was ill and needed rest.

  When a physician came on the third morning, she chucked her pillow at him and threatened to scream the house down if he took one step into her room. As soon as he fled, Owen appeared in her doorway, shaking his head at her behavior.

  “Don’t you think you’ve reflected enough?” he asked. “Certainly your hangover wasn’t so bad it lasted three days?”

  She grimaced and waved him into the room. She didn’t remember much about what she said and did after the ball, but expected Owen was there to fill her in on every awful detail.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

  “Yes, so you’ve said. You also said you’d fix everything.”

  “I did?”

  She threw off the covers and found her wrapper, slipping her arms into it. Her back and legs ached from lying around so long. She didn’t want to, but it was time to face things.

  He laughed humorlessly. “You actually said you’d mix everything, but I translated from the drunken talk.”

  She put her head down, wishing she could remember more about that night. She remembered the horrible parts at the ball just fine. And meeting Nick. She was almost positive she had a wonderful time with him, laughing at his wild stories and sipping whisky from his shiny silver flask. She’d felt very grown up.

  It was only when … she sighed, remembering how he finally told her about her parents. She was so distressed to have the depths of their deception confirmed that she blurted out everything. Everything.

  “Oh my goodness, Owen, I think I messed up.”

  He nodded in a friendly manner. “I know. And I’ve been waiting patiently for you to get over your embarrassment, but now I want you to keep your promise and make everything right.”

  She didn’t know what he was talking about and shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. I told someone about—”

  “I know,” he interrupted impatiently. “You told your soulmate Nick how you’re his friend’s daughter from the future and you’re going to take him to some big house you bought even further in the future. Hopefully he’ll just think it was the whisky talking. My advice on that is to never go to that time again and pray he forgets you.”

  She pressed her lips together and turned away so he wouldn’t see how red her face had become. She vowed never to drink again. But she couldn’t vow to never go back to Nick’s time again. She knew he had believed her and had accepted her. And he was so darned handsome.

  For a moment she considered running away to 1889 where she hadn’t made a fool of herself and destroyed anyone’s happiness. But if she promised to make things right it seemed cowardly to up and leave. She had been cowardly enough during the last three days.

  “Get out so I can get dressed,” she said. “I’ll send an invitation to Maria and assess the damage. If it’s fixable, I’ll fix it.”

  He scowled. “I liked you better when you were drunk,” he said, then quickly shook his head. “Scratch that. You’re a deplorable drunk and I hope to never see you that way again.”

  It was a mere three hours later that she was clean and fresh, waiting for Maria to arrive. She looked over the sitting room, pleased at the steaming teapot and the mountain of beautiful cakes.

  When Maria was finally announced, she took a deep breath and forced herself to smile as if nothing was wrong. Maria didn’t return the smile and Ariana was shocked to see her skin was sallow and blotchy. Her normally glossy hair hung in limp curls at the nape of her neck, shoddily tied with a bow that clashed with her gown.

  “I appreciate the invitation, Ariana,” she said listlessly, refusing tea or cakes. “But I only came because my mother wants to make sure your parents don’t hold anything against us.”

  It was an alarmingly honest statement. “But why would they?” she asked, still trying to pretend nothing bad had happened. When Maria stared right through her with despondent eyes, she gave up. “Okay, listen. It was wrong what Owen did, letting you believe those things. But he did it out of love. He drove me mad from the second he met you with all his talk about how beautiful and kind and perfect you are.”

  Maria sniffled. “I don’t know what to say about that.”

  “Say you’ll forgive him.What do I need the property up in Albus for anyway? I’ll end up married to someone with their own land and never get up there. I was planning on giving it to Owen as a— as a wedding present all along. Perhaps that’s what had everyone confused.”

  The words flew out of her mouth without any thought behind them but it seemed as good an answer to the problem as anything. And she wouldn’t need the property. Not when she planned to spend so much time at the home she bought herself. She didn’t need to marry for land or money when she ha
d so much of her own, even without her inheritance. The way her investment scheme was working out, she could buy ten estates by the time she was twenty-five.

  Maria sighed and shifted in her seat. “What had everyone confused, Ariana, is that Owen lied about inheriting the place. I’m quite certain he said those very words.” She wrinkled up her brow and Ariana pounced.

  “Are you quite sure? It wasn’t just some hearsay from someone else?”

  She leaned over to grab a plate, making a huge clatter with the cake knife. It was the cue for Owen to come in and work his special brand of magic. Ariana didn’t like being part of this new deception, but if it meant seeing Owen happy before she left to start her new life, then she’d grin and bear it.

  “Isn’t the fact that he loves you so desperately the most important thing? Can you tell me you don’t love him anymore?” She felt like a street vendor, desperately hawking her wares.

  “I do still love him,” Maria said. “You know I’m not so changeable as that. And I don’t care about the money, not really. I only wish he was honest from the start. And my father would never …”

  “Elope, then,” Ariana urged. “Go to Gretna Green and just keep going up to the farm after that. His parents adore you and that house is huge enough that you won’t even notice you’re living with them. Don’t you think your father will forgive you when he sees how happy you are?”

  Maria stood. “I couldn’t do that. You know I couldn’t. I should go. Oh!”

  She collapsed back onto the chair when Owen came into the room, holding the spell book in both arms.

  He pretended to be as shocked as Maria was, but Ariana thought he did a terrible job of it. She felt as sick as if she’d eaten something that had been lying in the gutter. But she was already knee deep and had to keep wading or he would never forgive her.

  “Well this is good timing,” she said, reaching out and touching Maria’s hand. “Let’s study the book and go back to the way things were. Forget everything else.”

  “I don’t think so,” Maria said, gazing at Owen with pain in her eyes.