“Let him take her,” Harry Gable muttered.
Aria’s mouth fell open. Right, she had to keep in mindwhenshe was. This was the way things were.
“I do not want him coming here again over her.”
“Mr. Gable—” Aria began, but Will covered her elbow from where he sat beside her.
“What is it?” The scarred head of the Gable family didn’t meet her gaze. “Say what you were going to say.”
“I don’t care for the marquess.” Aria saw Harry’s interest peek right away.
“Prove it,” he said simply.
“Why should I prove anything to you?”
“If you do not,” he said from across the table, “I will see you thrown out and unable to find a room for yourself.”
She was certain by now that she’d die if she was thrown out of the Gable home. She couldn’t die. She had to help her mother. Without Aria’s pay her family would be thrown out or go hungry.
“What do you want me to do?”
He pulled out a small poster-like paper and held it up. “The Duchess of Devonshire requests our attendance at her next ball in three days.”
“That woman does love spending her husband’s money,” said the pretty young woman with pale blonde hair piled high on her head and half-covered with a veil. Harry’s wife, Elspeth.
“What happens at a ball?” Aria asked, “I’ve never been to one.”
Harry and Elspeth gave her a smirk that said she was the dumbest human on the planet.
“Everyone dances,” Sarah informed her, “including Lord Dartmouth. He’s known for being the best dancer in all of Devonshire and beyond.”
Was Aria hearing things? Things she’d love to hear about anyone. He was known to be the best? What was considered best here in the eighteenth century? Should she attend? Should she let this unpleasant man sitting in front of her boss her around?
“Sure, I’ll go. But you still haven’t told me how to prove to you that I don’t like him.
Harry stared at her as if considering her for something, and then looked away, dismissing her. “People will clear the floor for Dartmouth. He will dance and you may even be a bit beguiled by him, but remain strong and when he is finished, laugh at him. No matter how well he did. You will mock and deride him in front of everyone.”
“That seems a bit immature,” she commented.
“You will have two hours to pluck this proud peacock’s feathers so I can stick them in my hat.”
“Harry,” Sarah said, frustrated with her brother. “You know how the marquess feels about dancing. Why provoke him?”
How did the marquess feel about dancing? Aria wished she knew. How could she ask Sarah without them growing suspicious of her?
“William,” his older brother’s voice pierced the peace. “If she brings any trouble upon this family, I will hold you responsible since you carelessly brought her into Mother’s home.”
Aria gave him a slight glare. “I won’t bring any trouble.”
She ate the same thing she’d eaten every morning at the Gable household, porridge with cream or eggs, and fresh bread with butter and honey, but it tasted better today—maybe because she had been invited to eat at their table and be a part of their conversation.
She didn’t mention that she could dance.
She enjoyed her breakfast and didn’t bother anymore with Harry or his snooty wife, or if she would really mock the marquess’ dancing skill. When they were done eating, she stayed behind and helped Mrs. Gable clean up. Will stayed behind as well, sweeping the floor. She was surprised and saddened that it took her traveling back in time over two hundred years to find a nice guy. And the more time that passed, the more she believed she might actually have travelled into the past. Things like not a single plane in the air, no lights outside at night, no cars or tire tracks anywhere, convinced her. Or having to walk or ride a horse wherever she wanted to go, or the way Harry had spoken to his wife. Most women in 2024 wouldn’t have put up with it.
She still didn’t know how it could possibly be real but she was beginning to believe it.
And yet, she couldn’t get the arrogant rich guy out of her head. She’d agreed to attend his family’s ball, but would she be here three days from now? What about finding a way home in the meantime?