Carol, Penelope and Lady Augusta went to the theater first and then on to Lady Lynnville’s ball. The ballroom was large and it was badly crowded with elegantly dressed people.
“What a crush,” gasped Penelope. “Lady Lynnville must be delighted to know her affair will be considered a huge success.”
“Must social success be dependent upon how uncomfortable the guests are?” Carol demanded, trying to push her way through the throng. “If that’s the case, then we didn’t make the grade last night, did we? There was plenty of room at Marlowe House.”
“Do you mean you didn’t notice?” As usual, Penelope was laughing, and her pretty blue eyes were twinkling merrily. “I vow, you had eyes only for Nicholas and saw no one else. And then, you spent so much time in the library with him.”
“There is a charming library in this house,” a voice at Carol’s shoulder said, interrupting Penelope. “I will be happy to show it to you, my dear.”
“Nicholas,” Penelope exclaimed, “you ought not to make such suggestions.” Looking at the man with him, she added with a slight blush, “Good evening, Lord Simmons.”
Within a few moments Penelope and Lord Simmons were dancing and Carol was swept into Nicholas’s arms. This second evening in early nineteenth-century London passed in a blur of overcrowded, overheated rooms, of constant frivolous chatter and dances claimed with her by men whom Carol did not know. Through it all Nicholas frequently returned to her side, and Carol began to regard him as the one stable element in an unfamiliar, shifting, and confusing scene. Penelope was spending most of her time with Lord Simmons, except for a few dances with other men in order to assuage the demands of propriety. Lady Augusta seemed to have disappeared, possibly into the card room with Lord Falloner. Nicholas was the only constant.
“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked sometime after midnight, when he discovered her standing on the terrace just outside an open French door.
“It’s too hot in the ballroom,” she answered, taking a deep breath of the bitterly cold fresh air, “and everyone is wearing so much perfume. I wanted to clear my lungs.”
“You will end with lung fever,” he cautioned. There followed a moment of silence until he asked, “Shall I take you home, Caroline?”
“Now?” She turned toward his tall, dark figure. He was wearing black again this evening. In the shadows where they were standing, only the pristine white of his linen and the pale shape of his face were visible. “Are you telling me we can leave this—this fearful crush, as Penelope calls it, without causing an uproar among the chaperones, or hurting our hostess’s feelings?”
“It can be arranged,” he said. “If an early departure is what you wish.”
Something in his voice told Carol that more than transportation back to Marlowe House was included in his offer. Suddenly the prospect of several additional hours spent dancing with men whom she would have to pretend to recognize, or conversation with young ladies who were chiefly interested in snagging rich and titled husbands, was unbearable.
“I find that I am most dreadfully tired,” she said in her best imitation of one of those ladies. Spreading her fan, she fluttered it gracefully. “I do believe I feel the beginnings of a headache. Not to mention a cough that may presage development of a serious inflammation of the chest.”
“All excellent reasons for you to return home as soon as possible.” He spoke with complete seriousness, but she could tell he was amused.
“Would you be good enough to arrange a speedy, yet quiet departure?” she asked.
“It will be my pleasure. Allow me to offer you the support of my arm.”
He handled their leave-taking beautifully. He found their hostess, explained Lady Caroline’s indisposition, and begged Lady Lynnville to excuse them. Meanwhile, Carol drew Penelope aside and whispered her own explanation so her sister would not worry. Lady Augusta was nowhere to be seen, but Penelope promised to transmit the message to her.
“I cannot think where she could be,” Penelope said. “I looked into the card room a few minutes ago and she wasn’t there. Lord Falloner is trying to find her, too.”
Carol could not help wondering if Lady Augusta had herself departed the ball in order to make a brief visit elsewhere, there to receive further instructions on how best to torment her victim.
She did not dwell on that thought. Never had she felt less like a victim. After wrapping her in Lady Caroline’s warm, fur-lined cloak, Nicholas hurried her out of Lady Lynnville’s mansion and down the steps to his waiting carriage. This was not the small, open conveyance he had driven earlier in the day, but a closed coach with someone else to drive it and two footmen to help them in and out of it. Inside, the coach was luxuriously appointed with well-padded gray leather upholstery and with a fur rug to cover her knees. Nicholas tucked the rug in around her, then sat back on the seat beside her.
“This is lovely,” she said. “Thank you for taking me out of there. It was all a bit too much.”
“I do recall you saying once that you do not care for large gatherings,” he replied.
“I never have.” It was perfectly true.
“I am glad to hear that in that much at least you have not changed, since as you know I, too, prefer a quiet life in the country over the constant round of tedious social events.”
“You keep telling me how much I have changed.” Carol paused, hoping he would let slip a few more facts about the real Lady Caroline. She got more than she expected. He seized her hands and held them tight, and when he spoke again it was with a barely suppressed passion.
“I do not know why you are so different now from your usual cold and unemotional self, but I beg you, Caroline, never change back to what you were before last evening. I could not bear it if you did.”
“It seemed to me at first that you disapproved of my new warmth,” she said, trying to chose her words carefully so as to avoid making any further mistakes that might prove detrimental to Lady Caroline.
“I was surprised by it,” he said. “The change was so sudden. Caroline, we barely touched on the subject when we agreed to marry, and you evaded an answer this afternoon. Now I must speak of it again. I know my proposal pleased you for practical reasons, because you told me so. And I knew from your own lips that you liked and respected me. But I received the distinct impression that you regarded certain of your future marital duties with some trepidation—not to say distaste.”
“Is that what you thought?” Carol tried to play for time until he could reveal more about the exact direction in which the relationship between the Earl of Montfort and Lady Caroline had been going prior to her own arrival on the scene.
“Dare I hope that you have had time to warm to the prospect of—shall I say it aloud, Caroline?—of sharing a bed with me? Your recent behavior makes me hopeful that this is the case. Otherwise I would not have spoken so boldly this afternoon.”
“My lord, you will make me blush,” Carol murmured, still stalling in hope of learning more. What in heaven’s name was wrong with Lady Caroline that she did not respond to this man? Was she frigid? What kind of upbringing did girls have in this period of history? From what she had been able to observe so far, Carol knew young women were taught to repress any youthful exuberance in public, and she had no doubt, considering the tight supervision they were under from numerous chaperones and from all the rules of propriety, that most well-bred girls were virgins when they married, but how were they instructed to behave when alone with their fiancés—or their husbands? She had no idea.
“You were not blushing last night after I kissed you,” Nicholas said, the sudden note of steel in his voice reminding her that, however sensitive he might appear to be in regard to his fiancee, at heart he remained a tough and rather arrogant nobleman. It was dark in the coach, but she could see by the light coming in through the windows that he was sending a meaningful sidelong glance toward her. His tone did not change when he spoke again. “Answer me honestly, Caroline.”
“You are right,” she said slowly. “I have changed. Knowing our future together is settled, knowing I don’t have to wonder anymore—”
“Yes,’ he interrupted. “You did tell me when you accepted my proposal that for some time you had been worried about your future, and about Penelope’s.”
“Do you actually remember every word I spoke?” she asked, prompting him to reveal that conversation.
“You said you were willing to become Lady Augusta’s companion, or to endure the humiliation of taking a position as governess, if that were the only respectable path open to you, but you did not want such a life for your sister. As I recall, at the time you were planning to turn your own small dowry over to Penelope, to add to the one left to her by your parents, in order to enable your sister to make a good marriage. Fortunately, I was able to convince you that Penelope would surely refuse such a scheme as unfair to you, and so you agreed to my proposal of marriage instead. I believe my offer of a substantial dowry for Penelope was the deciding factor in your decision.”
“Anyone would wish the best in life for Penelope,” Carol said.
“It was your affection for your sister that first endeared you to me, Caroline. Having no brothers or sisters myself, I view the love between you and Penelope as beautiful and sacred.”
“Am I dear to you?” she whispered.
“You are becoming more so every day.”
“Oh.” Carol smothered the quick little spurt of jealousy that was the result of knowing she would not be present to be the recipient of Nicholas’s love. She had no right to be jealous of Lady Caroline. It was not Lady Caroline’s fault that Carol Simmons was presently living in a nineteenth-century body.
In fact, Carol was beginning to like Lady Caroline Hyde. In a time of limited possibilities for females, a woman who was willing to marry in order to secure a comfortable and happy future for her beloved sister was a woman worthy of admiration. Carol just wished she knew what Lady Caroline’s true feelings toward Nicholas were. From her own point of view, marrying Nicholas, going to bed with him every night, and bearing his children was definitely not a fate worse than death. Life with him might well be an interesting variation on life in heaven.
“You cannot claim to be frightened of me,” Nicholas whispered, his breath warm at her ear. “Not after last night.”
“I’m not afraid. Not in the way you mean. It’s just that there are things you don’t know about me—I mean, about the real me. I’m not what I appear to be.”
“Whatever you are, I want you. I want to hold you in my arms, and I pray that when we marry, you will come to me with hope and bright anticipation. I cannot tell you how glad it would make me if you were to admit that you feel a warm affection for me. After the way you responded to me when I kissed you, I think you are not unmoved by my advances. You need not be ashamed of your reaction, my dear. I assure you, it was perfectly normal.”
“You are speaking of physical love.” She could scarcely whisper the words. Her heart was beating hard—she could hear it in her ears—and she was trembling. This was more than the reaction of Carol Simmons. This had something to do with the body of Lady Caroline. Carol could not understand what was happening to her, and she could not stop shaking. “I ought to tell you—to explain—”
“Dare I hope that you might look forward to that part of our marriage, now that we are beginning to know each other better and to explore the possibilities that lie between us?”
“Well, you see—” She wanted to tell him everything, all about Lady Augusta and the way she had moved Carol through time. She wanted to confess her stupid and emotionally destructive teenage indiscretion with Robert Drummond. And when Nicholas knew the truth, she wanted him to tell her it didn’t matter. She wanted him to know all of it and still make love to her because he wanted her, Carol Simmons.
She tried to tell him, only to discover that she could not. Lady Augusta’s warning, combined with her own fear of the historical repercussions if she violated that warning, kept her from speaking the words forming in her mind and on her tongue.
“It’s all so complicated,” she whispered.
“Then let us discover together how best to simplify matters.” Nicholas gathered her into his arms and kissed her hard.
Carol did not protest. Because it was what she wanted, too, she ignored the continued shaking of her body and the peculiar, panic-stricken little voice deep inside her mind that told her she ought to find the touch of any man repulsive. Another, stronger, voice overcame the first to insist that nothing about Nicholas could ever be repulsive. Carol welcomed his kiss, opening her mouth for him, accepting him in a surge of spiraling desire.
While they were still locked in that first, long kiss, Nicholas unfastened the clasp of her cloak. His hands slid beneath the heavy folds, pushing back the thick wool and fur so he could draw down the top of her gown. She was wearing a yellow, gauzy dress this evening, with not much of a bodice between the low neckline and the high waist, so it did not take much effort for him to get it off her breasts. The air was cold on her bare skin and his mouth was hot. And his hands—never had hands touched her so gently, or wreaked such havoc upon her senses.
Carol moaned, pressing herself upward into his hands, feeling her nipples harden against his palms. He pushed down upon the yellow gauze again. Within a moment she was fully revealed to him from waist to chin, his to touch and kiss and fondle. And adore.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, though he surely could see nothing in the darkness of the carriage. Now it was his mouth caressing her breasts, first one and then the other. Carol was filled with a sweet, surging warmth. His hand moved lower, over her hip and between her thighs. “Exquisite. Caroline, Caroline—”
Carol slid down onto the gray leather seat with Nicholas on top of her. His hand stroked her inner thigh with a slow, circling motion. The thin fabric of her gown offered no barrier to erotic sensation. She shifted her legs, hoping, but not daring to ask, that he would press upon and thus ease the aching fullness between her thighs, which was beginning to make her uncomfortable.
Nicholas’s crisp linen shirt was scratchy against her breasts; the diamond head of the stickpin fastened in his cravat was like ice on her lips as she strained upward, searching for his mouth … and found it… and let him devour her….
The carriage jolted to a stop. As if it were happening far away, Carol heard one of the footmen jump to the ground and begin walking across crunchy ice and snow toward the door to open it.
“Dear God, Caroline, what am I doing?” Hastily, Nicholas hauled her to a sitting position and pulled the bodice of her gown upward. Carol heard a ripping sound as the fabric gave way. She fumbled with her cloak, trying to cover herself before the door was opened. Her gloved hands were shaking so hard that she could not get the clasp hooked. She uttered a sob of frustration, which was not caused solely by the recalcitrant clasp.
“I have it.” Pushing her fingers aside, Nicholas fastened the clasp and drew the edges of the cloak together just as the footman flung the carriage door wide and let down the step. There were torches flaming at either side of the entrance to Marlowe House. Carol saw their fiery light reflected in Nicholas’s eyes. Then he was out of the carriage and turning to hand her down.
His self-control was amazing. Not by the faintest crack in his haughty expression did he reveal what he and Carol had been doing. He saw her safely inside her door with all the cool self-possession of the born aristocrat.
“I have no doubt we will meet again tomorrow evening,” he said, bowing while the butler looked on in open appreciation of Nicholas’s good manners. “At yet another ball. Will you save the first waltz for me? And allow me to take you in to supper?”
“Certainly, my lord.” Taking her cue from him, she gave him her trembling hand to kiss. “If I have counted the days correctly, tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”
“It is indeed. When we meet at the ball I shall take the opportunity to wish you an especially merry Christmas.” For an instant a glowing fire in his eyes flared and sparkled for her alone, giving a private meaning to his words before he resumed his cool demeanor. “Until then, good night, my dear.”
The butler closed the door after him and turned to Carol.
“Your cloak, Lady Caroline?” He stood with his hands outstretched to receive the garment.
“I think I will keep it on until I get to my room and can take it off in front of the fire,” Carol told him. “I am badly chilled after the cold ride home.” Actually, though it was true she was trembling, she was far from cold. She was still burning from Nicholas’s kisses and his entirely too intimate caresses. Not knowing what damage he might have done to the fragile fabric of her evening gown, she was afraid to remove the cloak until she was in a more private place than the entrance hall.
She should have known that for aristocrats there was seldom a private place. The maidservant Ella was waiting for her in Lady Caroline’s bedroom, and there was no reason not to let Ella take the cloak from her shoulders.
“I think I stepped on my skirt when I got out of the carriage. I may have torn the dress,” Carol said, making up the excuse on the spur of the moment.
“It’s only a little tear.” Ella did not dispute Carol’s explanation. “It can easily be fixed. Oh, you are shivering so hard! Into bed with you, my lady, and I’ll put a warm brick at your feet so you don’t develop a chill.”
Eventually, following half an hour or so of Ella’s well-meant ministrations, Carol was granted the privacy she sought. Having tucked her mistress between warmed sheets, and after repeated assurances from Carol that she was perfectly well, Ella left the room.
The hot, flannel-wrapped brick at Carol’s feet did not ease the shaking that seemed to come from the very marrow of her bones. She sensed that it had something to do with Nicholas’s lovemaking, because it had started when he began to talk about sharing a bed with his future wife.
“Lady Caroline,” she whispered, having no idea where the words were coming from save that she felt them in her heart, “he will love you. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. Nicholas will never hurt you. You can trust him.”
Slowly, very slowly, the shaking subsided. It was as though a terrified, caged bird had been soothed and gentled into a weary sleep.
What happened just now? Carol kept perfectly still, not wanting by any movement or another whispered word to reawaken the frightened creature that must be Lady Caroline’s consciousness. Lady Augusta said we would be one entity, and that I could not cause her any harm. Why, then, did she wake up in abject fear when Nicholas began to make love to me?
Carol lay for a long time watching the firelight cast flickering shadows around Lady Caroline’s beautiful room. She tried not to think about Lady Caroline, or about Lady Caroline’s fiance. That last attempt was a hopeless cause, for by now Carol knew with painful certainty that she was never going to stop thinking about Nicholas. She was falling deeply in love with him—with a man who was not hers to love and never would be.
Marlowe House was in the process of transformation. While the public rooms—the reception room and ballroom and the great dining room—had been decorated for Lady Caroline’s betrothal ball, those parts of the house daily used by the family were traditionally decorated on the morning of Christmas Eve Day so the decorations used would be fresh for the holiday itself.
Coming down the stairs and into the hall, Carol nearly collided with a footman whose vision was obscured by the huge vase of fir, ivy, and holly he was carrying.
“Beg pardon, my lady. I didn’t see you.” The footman set the vase down on the table in the center of the hall and hastened away to follow the latest instructions from Lady Augusta’s butler.
The cream and white drawing room was fragrant with greenery. Knowing that Christmas trees would not become a part of holiday decorations until later in the century, Carol did not expect to see one. All the same, she was dazzled by the festive appearance of bunches of evergreens, holly, and red and white hothouse flowers, all tied with bright red ribbons.
In addition, the daily bouquets sent from Nicholas to Lady Caroline and from Lord Simmons to Penelope were also crowded into the drawing room, to add their fragrance and color to the Christmas decor.
“Nicholas.” Carol picked up the card that accompanied the bouquet meant for Lady Caroline. She touched one of the deep red roses with trembling fingers. “What am I going to do about you? How can I keep on lying to you?”
“Aunt Augusta has gone out.” Penelope poked her head around the drawing room doorway. “Since you were still asleep, she ordered me to supervise the decorating, but it is almost finished. Come join me in the breakfast room, where it is quieter and we can talk.”
Penelope put an arm around her waist and Carol went with her, sliding her own arm around the girl. Carol had been alone, or at least left to herself, for so much of her life that until recently she’d thought it was normal. She had scarcely known how much she missed and longed for the pleasures of ordinary companionship. In Penelope she had found a true sister. Not even the knowledge that she would at some point have to return to her own time could mar Carol’s enjoyment of the hours they spent together.
In the cheerful, pale yellow breakfast room frosty sunlight streamed through the windows to touch the porcelain bowl of holly sitting in the exact center of the table. The sideboard was laden with kidneys, bacon, eggs, and assorted breads. One of the servants poured coffee for Carol as soon as she sat down at the table.
“Did you talk to Aunt Augusta before she left?” Carol had not seen Lady Augusta since the previous evening and she was beginning to wonder what was going on. She was almost getting used to Lady Augusta watching her, so it seemed strange for her ghostly companion to absent herself. Carol wanted to talk to Lady Augusta about the sensation of Lady Caroline’s presence that she had experienced. Perhaps Lady Augusta would have an explanation for that occurrence.
“She told the butler she had some business to transact,” Penelope said, biting into an iced bun. Carol smiled at her, amused to see Penelope’s small pink tongue appear to lick a particle of sugar glaze off her lower lip. Penelope possessed a ready sweet tooth. Carol had noticed that wherever Penelope was, a sweet bread or pastry, or a dish of candy, was always near at hand. Penelope swallowed her bite of currant-stuffed bun and spoke again. “Now that the decorating is nearly over, we are left to our own devices this morning.”
“Morning?” Carol laughed. “It’s more like early afternoon. What would you like to do, Penelope?”
“Shopping,” was the immediate answer. “I do need several pairs of gloves. They dirty so quickly that I never have enough. And Mary Anne Hampton told me last night that Madame la Salle has the most delightful new bonnet in her millinery shop window. I want to try it on. We can take Ella with us.”
“Then, shopping it is,” Carol agreed readily, glad for the distraction. She hoped the excursion would help to keep her thoughts off Lady Caroline for a while—and off the disturbing subject of Nicholas.
The two young women spent a pleasant hour in the shops along Bond Street. Carol enjoyed the opportunity to compare the elegant shops to the ones she knew on the same street in her own time. She bought gloves when Penelope did, and also a small vial of rose-scented perfume for herself. She was not altogether successful in her efforts to put Nicholas or Lady Caroline out of her mind, but she did try her best to pay attention to what Penelope was saying.
Penelope talked with delighted anticipation about the Christmas Eve ball to be held that night at one of the great London houses, about the plans for Lady Augusta and her two nieces to attend a church service on Christmas morning, and about the holiday meal Lady Augusta had arranged.
“I do so love Christmas dinner,” Penelope went on. “Cook and her assistants are busy preparing the food. I looked in on them this morning before you were out of bed, my dear. We shall have a wonderful, plump goose to eat, and cakes with sugar icing, and the biggest Christmas pudding you ever saw! There is so much food that it’s a good thing Nicholas will join us. We will need a manly appetite to help us eat it all. Aunt Augusta said she is inviting Lord and Lady Falloner, too, and their niece. I wish Alwyn’s father would not insist that he remain at home for the day.”
“Perhaps it’s just as well,” Carol said with great seriousness. When Penelope looked at her in a questioning way, she added, “If Lord Simmons ever realizes just how many sweets you consume, he will certainly break off your engagement in utter despair.”
“Caroline, do not tease me!” Penelope dissolved into laughter.
On their way from shop to shop they paused now and then to greet other ladies they knew, and there were a few gentlemen strolling along Bond Street, too. Carol was not at all surprised to recognize Lord Simmons among them. Upon spying Penelope he came to her at once, and though his greeting to Carol was polite enough, it was plain to her where his real interest lay.
“May I invite both of you to join me for chocolate and a pastry?” asked Lord Simmons.
“Oh, yes,” breathed Penelope, her blue eyes fixed on his face. “I should like it above anything.”
When Lord Simmons looked toward Carol as if expecting her to agree to his invitation, she made a fast decision. She suspected this meeting with Lord Simmons was not entirely by chance. She also believed that Lord Simmons and Penelope were responsible young people who would not trespass beyond the boundaries of propriety. And then there was Ella, who stood behind Carol with her arms full of packages. Penelope would be perfectly safe with Lord Simmons, and with Ella present as chaperone no one could question her discretion.
“I still have several more errands to complete,” Carol said to Lord Simmons. “But there is no reason why Penelope cannot go with you. I will just finish my shopping and then hire a coach to take me back to Marlowe House so Penelope can use our carriage.” She could tell from the startled expressions of her two companions that it was not quite the thing for a lady to hire a carriage for herself, but Carol did not care. She was finding all the restrictions placed upon unmarried ladies increasingly tedious, and she had just decided upon a particular errand for which she did not want any company. First, she had to find out where Nicholas was.
“I might discover Lord Montfort in one of the shops,” she said brightly. “He could escort me home.” She kept her gaze on Lord Simmons as she spoke, and he responded at once.
“I do not think it is likely,” he said. “Montfort told me last night that he has business to transact at Montfort Place today, so he will be at home until he leaves for the ball this evening. You see, Lady Caroline, in the days just before Christmas men with large properties tend to be somewhat busier than usual. Montfort will be deciding on holiday gifts for those in his employ.”
Having learned what she wanted to know, Carol smiled and nodded at this patient masculine explanation of a simple business fact. She did like Lord Simmons, and from the way Penelope was looking at him, there could be no doubt that Lady Caroline’s younger sister was happily in love.
“Well, then, I shall find my way back to Marlowe House on my own. You need not worry about me; I will be perfectly all right.” Carol gave the two young people a radiant smile, wished them the joy of their chocolate and pastries, and took her leave of them. She did not think they were terribly sad to see her go. As soon as they were out of sight she began to look for a coach she might hire, but most of the carriages she saw were private ones, and those that were for hire apparently were not stopping for women who were alone. It was worse than trying to find an empty cab on a rainy afternoon in New York.
After a while Carol gave up and decided to walk. It was not terribly far to Nicholas’s house. She knew this area of London and she had walked much farther on many a day. Unfortunately, the shoes she was presently wearing were not intended for serious walking, and soon her feet were wet and cold. She slipped a couple of times on patches of ice. Once she came near to falling in a most undignified way, until she regained her footing just in time. She was sure it was more than an hour after leaving Bond Street before she finally marched up the steps of Montfort Place and pulled at the bell.
The butler who opened the door stared at her as if he did not know what to say. Or perhaps he wanted to say that ladies, in his experience, did not appear upon a nobleman’s doorstep on foot and without an escort. Carol had a pretty good idea what kind of woman he must think she was, in spite of her elegant clothes.
But Carol had learned a few things about aristocratic behavior during her two days in this earlier time. Sticking her nose into the air, she brushed right past the butler and into the entrance hall.
“I am Lady Caroline Hyde,” she informed the butler. “I wish to see my fiance at once, on a matter of great importance.”
“My lady.” With a perfectly straight face the butler inclined his head. “I was not aware that Lord Montfort was expecting you. If you would care to wait in the reception room just over here, I will inform him that you have arrived.”
The butler conducted her to a small, simply furnished reception room that opened directly off the hall. The location made Carol think the man still wasn’t sure she was who she claimed to be. At least he was going to call Nicholas, and that was all that mattered to her. She was determined to see Nicholas, and what she had told the butler was no more than the truth. It was a matter of great importance.
Throughout the busy morning, while she was outwardly occupied with other matters, Carol had slowly been working her way toward a difficult conclusion. She had decided that she was tired of deception. She loved Nicholas, and because she loved him, she could not continue to lie to him. Despite Lady Augusta’s warning, and despite her own fears over what full disclosure might do to the course of history as well as to her relationship with Nicholas, Carol was now determined to reveal the truth to him. She was going to tell Nicholas that she had come to him from the future.