Read Belmary House Book Three Online
Authors: Cassidy Cayman
Belmary House Book Three (24 page)
Emma wanted to leave as soon as possible and told her to email it to her. “I’ll fake it until you send it,” she said. “Did he at least seem qualified? It’s a research position, right?”
“If I recall, he seemed overqualified, but was adamant about getting the interview. He already works as a curator somewhere else, so it’s odd he should want to work here.”
“Well, send him in, and get that email to me straight away so I don’t look too daft.”
She hunkered down over her computer, pulling up her email and waving at him to have a seat when he came in. She told him she’d be with him in a moment, struggling to keep from sounding impatient.
“I’m in no hurry,” he said.
The familiar voice made her jerk her head above her computer screen. She blinked a few times, thinking she’d gone well and truly mad after everything she’d been through. He smiled nervously at her, sitting on the edge of the chair, his tie slightly askew. He looked like heaven.
“Dexter,” she choked.
She wanted to rail at him for following her, giving up those years of his life, but she noticed he didn’t look the same as when she last saw him. He had a few lines around his eyes, and one or two distinguished silver hairs at his temples. He was older than her now, and it looked good on him. He’d always been so ridiculously handsome, she didn’t think it was possible he could be more so, but he was. Ten years. He’d waited for her, and found her, and now he stood and took a tentative step toward her.
“It feels like it took forever,” he said. “But I’m finally here for that job you promised me.”
“It’s only been a week,” she said, still frozen behind her desk. “But it felt like forever for me, too.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
She hurried around and threw herself into his arms. “I want to hear about everything, every day,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“I never forgot you for a minute,” he assured her. “It was so hard not to try and find you sooner, but I was afraid you’d think I was a nutter and I’d lose my chance for good.”
Questions swirled in her head, but she could only hold onto him, his shoulders as strong as she remembered. She wondered how different he was after all that time had passed for him, and worried for a second he might find her lacking now. Until he leaned down and kissed her, sweeping away the doubt.
He might have read more books, had more experiences, visited more places, but he was still Dexter, the sweet man who’d been by her side in her darkest moments. She could tell by his kiss how much he’d yearned for her and she held on tighter, desperate to make up for that lost time.
A ruckus at the door made her jump away from him just as it swung open. A young man in full Regency attire burst through it, followed closely by her harried assistant.
“I’m so sorry, he just ran through,” she explained. “I’ll call security.”
The young man leaned over, quickly catching his breath before holding up a charcoal sketch on a piece of fine linen paper. He pointed to Dexter.
“You,” he gasped. “Are you this man, Dexter Jacobs?”
He waved the sketch and they drew closer to inspect it. It was clearly a picture of him, the name of the artist scrawled at the bottom of the portrait. Dexter jabbed at it.
“Tilly drew this,” he said.
“Give us a minute,” Emma told her assistant, pushing her out the door. “There’s no need for security.” As soon as she shut the door behind her, Emma turned to the young man. “What’s this about?”
“How do you have my cousin’s artwork?” Dexter asked. He lowered his voice. “She went back with Ashford. He has to be from the past.”
“That’s right, sir,” he said. “I came through upstairs just now.” He looked like he should start from the beginning and bowed. “My name is Thomas Adkins. I work for Lord Ashford. I was told Dexter Jacobs would be here and was sent to find him. I’m very happy you’re here now, sir.”
Dexter grimaced, looking confused. “You’re very lucky I’m here now,” he said. “I worked here ten years ago, why would they tell you to come now? And why do you need to find me when they can get me whenever they want? I saw them at Christmas time.” He turned to her and explained before she could scream. “Ashford figured out how to use that spell that Liam Wodge used to get you back. I see them at least twice a year. They just celebrated their ninth anniversary.”
“Ah, is that so, sir?” Thomas said, swallowing hard. “That’s somewhat comforting to hear, I suppose, though that’s not the way it is back when I came from.” He looked shocked as he seemed to realize something and took out a small notebook. “What’s the date?” he asked. Emma told him and he visibly paled. “Oh, not again.”
It looked like he was on the verge of tears, and Dexter was getting more agitated by the minute. She pinched herself, but nothing changed. She was back in the middle of a big time travel mess again, it seemed. Dexter reached for her hand and her nerves settled, the same as they always did when he was near.
“I was told the portal was closed,” Emma interrupted, feeling the old fear.
“Yes, ma’am, the portal was closed, but it’s been opened again.” He pulled at his collar, clearly uncertain how to proceed. “Miss Jacobs herself opened it, and now we can’t locate her.”
“You can’t locate—” Dexter started then stopped. “What happened?”
“If you’ll forgive me speaking freely about my employer’s personal business, it seems they had a bit of a row and she tried to get back to when she first came through.”
“Well, she should come to her senses,” Dexter said, though he didn’t look as calm as he sounded. “She’s not going to throw away nine years of marriage and three children over a little row.”
It didn’t seem possible, but Thomas grew even more pale. “I’m terribly sorry, but I came from 1814. The wedding hasn’t taken place yet.” He leaned over, gripping his knees, and Emma led him to a chair. “Oh my goodness, three children? What will we do if we can’t fix this?” he muttered.
“You’ll have to fix it,” she said. “Go back to when she first went through.”
“We’ve been trying for weeks,” he said disconsolately. “That’s when I thought I’d finally ended up.” He held up his tattered notebook. “None of the dates are right anymore. I fear we may have lost her for good.”
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