Gina Lamm - Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes

“Cook! Mrs. Harper!” Leah’s hand stung with the blows she landed on the door. “Please, somebody open up!”

Nobody came. Leah kept pounding, but eventually Ella grabbed her arm. “Nobody’s answering.”

Leah shoved the door open and led Ella through the empty kitchen. There were pots on the stove, bubbling away. The whole place looked like it had been deserted suddenly. What the hell was going on?

Leah shook her head and kept moving. They had to get upstairs to the duke’s bedchamber and get to the mirror. Either they had to get through it and back home so she could say her good-byes to Pawpaw, or the thing was broken and they were totally fucked.

The house was unusually quiet for midday, and the silence worried Leah. There should have been servants everywhere, going about their normal daily duties. But they’d wound their way through the back stairs, the length of the hallway, and made it to the duke’s chambers before they saw anyone.

“Leah, look.” Ella pointed.

Leah squinted down the main stairs. Smythe’s back was to her, and he and two of the footmen were carrying something large down the stairs. A rolled-up rug? She shrugged.

“Quiet,” she told Ella. “Follow me.”

Leah pushed open the duke’s bedchamber door. She clapped a hand over her mouth to cover her desperate cry.

The mirror had been shattered, and most of the pieces were missing.

She and Ella were stuck in 1817.

The mirror’s broken pieces clinked softly in the sack across Avery’s back. Wincing, he pulled the stallion up, forcing the beast to slow from a headlong gallop to a walk. Even though he must hurry or risk capture, he could not afford to damage the mirror further.

He’d never expected for the last hour to proceed as it had.

When he’d landed on the Aubusson carpet of His Grace’s bedchamber floor, he’d believed himself to be dead. It had taken several heartbeats for him to realize that he’d not been struck by the bullet.

“Russell.” The duke’s voice, tremulous but triumphant, wrenched Avery upright. His Grace stood by the doorway, a smoking derringer in his hand. Prachett had slumped to the floor, blood pooling out from the wound in his skull.

Avery’s legs trembled as he pulled himself upright. “Your Grace. Why?”

The duke dropped the gun and wiped his hands on his waistcoat as if to remove the invisible blood from their surface. His eyes, though aged, were clear and untroubled. “Did you think that I’d allow him to harm you any further? Lad, you have borne too much for too long.”

Avery took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “My apologies, Your Grace.”

“None are necessary. I only wish that I could have stopped his evil before it progressed as far as it did.”

Gesturing to the corpse on the floor, Avery said, “What are we to do now?”

“You must go.” His Grace pulled the bell rope. “After the altercation at Jackford, they will suspect you first, being a fighter yourself. I shall rid us of the body and inform the other servants of the need for silence.”

Moved beyond words, Avery bowed. “Thank you, Your Grace.” He tilted his head toward the shards of glass behind him. “May I have the broken mirror? It is very important.”

The duke laughed. “Have whatever you like, lad, but be quick about it.”

Avery had gathered as many pieces of the mirror as he could before stealing away on one of the duke’s horses.

He entered the outskirts of St. Giles with both relief and trepidation. Such a fine horse would surely draw attention in this part of the world, but he had no other choice. If he were to have any chance of restoring Leah to her true home, he must see Mrs. Comstock as soon as possible.

The horse snorted as Avery pulled back on the reins. He tossed them and a coin to a nearby lad with the promise of more if the beast was still there upon his return. Carrying the sack as gently as he would a newborn babe, he ascended the stairs to his aunt’s chambers.

“Mrs. Comstock?” His soft-voiced question floated through the close room. “Are you about?”

The woman rose from his aunt’s bedside, a basin in her hands and a cross expression on her face.

“What’ll you be wantin’? She’s no better, if that’s the word you’re after.”

“Mrs. Comstock, may I be plain?”

She nodded, setting the basin aside and drying her hands on her apron. “I prefer it.”

Avery set the sack gently on the rough wooden table. “I have need of your talents, Mrs. Comstock. Your magical talents.”

The woman’s scowl deepened. “I’ve no more dealings in the Old Ways.”

“It is of vital importance.” He’d beg if necessary. Leah must be allowed to return home if it was her desire.

Mrs. Comstock sighed and gestured to the bag. “Show me.”

When the pieces of the broken mirror were revealed, her countenance darkened. “This is strong magic, this is. Not only time magic, but love-findin’ magic as well. A true sorceress did this.”

“But can it be repaired?” The question was more of a prayer.

She pursed her lips and shoved her straggly hair from her forehead. “I will do me best.”

A wave of relief crested over him. “Thank you, dear lady.”

“Do not thank me yet. I’ve no guarantee it can be repaired, but I’ll do me best.”

Leah and Ella took their time on the way back to Lady Chesterfield’s. After all, they had no reason to rush anymore.

They’d be living the rest of their lives in this century.

Leah kept her mind blank. She could not afford to think of Pawpaw or Avery or of the way she’d cost her friend her future. One slipper in front of the other. Don’t look right or left. Don’t think of the fact that Avery is probably in Scotland by now, and Pawpaw is probably…

She tripped and sprawled in a sobbing heap on the walk in front of Lady Chesterfield’s house. Ella knelt beside her, pulling her up into a sitting position. It was several minutes before Leah could breathe enough to speak.

“Come on. Let’s get inside.”

Ella nodded numbly, and together they made their way into the house.

“Leah dear!” Lady Chesterfield’s voice floated down the stairs. “Whatever has gone on? Muriel has been frantic since you departed so hastily.” She drew up short when she saw Ella.

“Lady Chesterfield.” Leah fought to keep her voice steady despite the tears that wouldn’t quit. “This is Ella Fowler. She came to take me home because my grandfather is very sick. But…the mirror…” Leah stared at the polished floor beneath her feet, struggling to regain control of herself.

“Oh. Oh, my dears.” Lady Chesterfield gathered them both to her feathered bosom. Leah clung to her gratefully, despite the gray feathers that tickled her nose.

The baroness took them into the sitting room and ordered a big pot of tea. Muriel brought it in and she and Ella stepped into the hallway to talk in hushed voices. Leah stared down into the cup of tea she clasped in both hands, wondering how to make sense of this.

“I must apologize to you, dearest.” The settee sank as Lady Chesterfield settled herself beside Leah.

“For what?” She didn’t look up from her teacup. Little rings of tea spread out from the tear that fell into her cup.

Lady Chesterfield laid a warm hand on Leah’s back. “I did not consider many things in the way I assisted you. I assumed that you were as other young ladies of my acquaintance are—in search of a husband of rank and means. But I was quite wrong.”

Leah’s glance wandered upward. “No, you were doing what you thought was right. And I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, so I just went along with it. I should have told you that I had feelings for Avery before I even got here.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I’m sorry.”