Love's Labyrinth by Anne Kelleher Page B

the past few years. He knows of my, my experiments and he’s offered advice—given me suggestions—he may have some ideas. I’ll send a letter to him posthaste, and ask for his help.”
    Olivia exchanged a glance with Alison. “So, in other words, Geoffrey,” Olivia began slowly, “what you’re really saying is that it isn’t going to be quite as easy as you thought to send us back. You don’t think you can do it today—”
    “Or tomorrow, or the day after.” Alison finished. She got up and stalked out of the room, shutting the door behind her with a slam.
    Geoffrey looked helplessly at Olivia. “Mistress Olivia, I’m sorry.”
    Olivia shrugged. “I know you’re sorry, Geoffrey. But Alison’s frightened. She needs to return to our time, and our lives before. She has so much waiting for her there.”
    Geoffrey cocked his head and met her eyes with his soft brown ones. “And you don’t?”
    Olivia hesitated. “It’s different for me,” she answered slowly. His brown eyes were alight with unasked questions, and Olivia suddenly felt uncomfortable. There were too many things she’d rather not discuss—such as why she felt so much at home in this time and place. Was it all the history she’d learned? Her unrealized ambition to act? Her father’s belief that history was something to be experienced, not learned? Whatever it was, it was definitely making her feel odd. “I’d better see to Alison.”
    He gave her an awkward bow, and she left the room, still wondering why she felt so much more at home than she had ever felt before.

    “What do you mean, I won’t suit?” Nicholas leaned forward with a puzzled frown. “But surely—just yesterday—”
    Warren spread his hands helplessly. A soft breeze blew in from the open window, and he glanced pointedly at it, as though he feared someone lurked, listening, beneath. “Yesterday I was not aware of all the details, shall we say.”
    “Details?” Nicholas gestured with an impatient hand. “What details? You said I bore a resemblance—”
    “And that’s true enough, my lord. But what you must understand is that we’ve learned that the man who’s to meet the Spanish agent is expected to travel with his wife. The Spanish agent will be looking for a married couple. And you, my lord, have no wife. At least, none you’ve acknowledged publicly.” He bent his lips in a semblance of a smile, and Nicholas felt a sliver of unease. Geoffrey had seemed uncomfortable about Warren for some reason. Had he said why?
    ‘“A wife?”
    “Aye. A wife.” Master Warren leaned back in his chair and sipped the goblet of wine.
    Nicholas got to his feet and paced to the window. “And what if I could produce a wife? Or yet the semblance of one?”
    Warren raised one eyebrow. “A semblance of a wife, my lord? What do you mean?”
    Nicholas paused, thinking furiously. There might be a way to turn Geoffrey’s mistake into an advantage. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. The two women upstairs—at least one of them could come with him. The whole journey—to Calais and back to Talcott Forest—would take less than a week, if the winds and weather were favorable.
    No more than two at most if they were not. He stroked his chin. “My, uh, my cousins. I believe you saw them yesterday—when they sang for the Queen? What if it were possible that one of them could—”
    “Masquerade as your wife, my lord?” Warren leaned back and shrugged. “Think you one of the ladies would be willing?”
    Nicholas smiled grimly. The lady would have no choice, he thought. The taller one had such strange mannerisms she would never pass, but the other—the one who sang—she had a prayer. Momentarily Olivia’s face rose before him, and he wondered what it would be like to kiss those full, rosy lips. With more effort than he wanted to admit, he dismissed the thought. After all, the two of them owed him something, if only for appearing at the most inopportune time imaginable. Geoffrey had