Gone: A Shadow Slayers Story (Shadow Slayers Stories Book 3) by Nellie Steele (english novels to read txt) 📗

stated, I am the best person in London to coordinate such an invitation.”

“Then you’ll do it?” Damien asked, perching on the edge of his seat.

“Are all Americans as forward as you, Mr. Carlyle?” Celine questioned.

“He means no harm, Duchess,” Alexander explained. “He is merely overzealous.”

“I see. Despite the odd nature of your request, I shall be happy to arrange an invitation.” She rose from the couch, stepping to a desk in front of a nearby window. She glanced through a small book there. “It appears Lord Blackburn is hosting a ball in honor of his now-eligible daughter. Will this suffice?”

“Without doubt, it would be a most generous invitation,” Alexander stated.

“I shall make the request of Lady Blackburn tomorrow. I will send word as soon as I’ve secured the invitation,” she said, snapping the book shut.

“How gracious, Duchess Northcott. I am truly indebted to you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Celine answered. “If there is nothing else, I have much correspondence to finish.”

“There is not. We have taken enough of your time. Thank you for the honor of your gracious hospitality,” Alexander replied, bowing to her.

“Good day, Mr. Buckley,” she responded.

“Good day, Duchess Northcott,” he answered as she departed. Michael and Damien leapt to their feet, bowing as she left. “Come,” Alexander directed them, “we should return home.”

They retrieved their overcoats from the butler before departing the house. As they strolled down the street away from the Northcotts’ residence, Damien began the conversation. “Okay, if no one else is going to say it, that was weird.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Michael concurred.

“She acted like a different person. I hardly recognized her. And what was with the accent?”

“Right?!” Michael asked. “That’s new.”

“Are you saying she is not, in fact, the woman you believed her to be?” Alexander questioned.

“No, no,” Damien corrected. “That’s definitely Celine. But her behavior was unlike her.”

“I found nothing unusual,” Alexander commented. “Although, as I said, we’re not well acquainted.”

“Not just her accent, her posture and everything. So stiff and formal, so unlike our Celine,” Damien continued.

“Yeah, even when we’ve seen her in the 1700s, she hasn’t acted like that,” Michael agreed.

Damien pondered over it for another moment, before changing the subject. “Why did you divert the conversation when I asked for her help?” he inquired of Alexander.

“Because it was wise to do so,” Alexander replied.

“Wise?” Michael questioned. “We’re stuck in 1812 for some unbeknownst reason and you figured it was wise to have the one person who could help us take us to a ball with her instead of just help us?”

“It was imprudent to explain to her the circumstances at this time,” Alexander insisted.

“Imprudent?” Michael queried. “I find it imprudent to continue to play around in a time period we shouldn’t be in.”

Alexander ceased walking. “You cannot tell her what you told me.”

“Why?” Damien cried.

“For many reasons, not the least of which is the first thing she will do is inform her husband. He will then wonder who you are, what you know, and how you’ve come to this knowledge. The scrutiny of Marcus Northcott is not something you want to invite upon yourselves.”

“If we can’t tell Celine anything, how can we expect her to help us?” Damien argued.

“I didn’t say you could never tell her, but it is quite foolish to impart such information the first time you meet the woman. She has no reason to be sympathetic nor to be trusted to keep it secret.”

“I just don’t like the idea of staying back here longer than we need to, especially when we have no idea why we’re here,” Michael countered.

“We shall tell her when the time is appropriate. No sooner. I’m not even sure I believe this incredible story. I can’t imagine how Duchess Northcott may react to the news. There will be no returning for you if Duke Northcott deems it best to question you himself about your story.”

“All right, all right,” Damien conceded. “You make a valid point. We’ll follow your timeline.”

“Our next opportunity to converse with Duchess Northcott will be at the ball we hopefully secured an invitation to. We’ll make our next carefully crafted move then. However, we must be careful. Duke Northcott will be in attendance. Too much attention shown unto his wife will surely not go unnoticed.”

“Yeah, we’ve got to stay off his radar,” Michael agreed.

“His what?” Alexander questioned.

“His radar,” Michael answered.

Damien shook his head. “Radar hasn’t been invented yet.”

“Ohhhhh,” Michael answered.

“He means we don’t want to be noticed by Duke Northcott,” Damien explained.

“Interesting turn of phrase. I quite agree with the sentiment. With that settled, we should return home and discuss the next phase of our plan.”

Celine returned to the desk in her bedroom, intending to continue her correspondence for the day. She found herself unable to focus. Something disturbed her about the encounter with Alexander Buckley and his cousins. While it was a surprising visit to begin with, since she had little to do with the Buckley family, there was something more that unsettled her.

Celine had a gut feeling about these men, and her premonitions tended to be correct. What was her sixth sense trying to tell her? She dismissed the questions, determined to focus on the task at hand. After half an hour, she found herself unable to concentrate.

She left the task in favor of playing the piano. However, she also found this task to be a tedious exercise, and again, was unable to concentrate. Instead, she paced the floor of the sitting room, settling on the window seat in front of the large bay window. She remained there, lost in thought until Marcus returned home.

He interrupted her musings as he entered the sitting room, pouring himself a brandy. “Good evening, my dear,” he greeted her.

“Good evening, Marcus. Back already from the House of Lords?” Celine inquired.

“Already? It is not that early.”

“Oh,” Celine answered, glancing at the clock, “my apologies. I must have lost track of the time and did not realize the lateness of the hour.”

Marcus approached her, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “And