“I know this place,” Georgie breathed. “That’s Ye Olde King’s Head. You can tell from the fireplace.”
“I’ve never seen such a painting.” Jane covered her mouth with her hands. “How is it like looking in a mirror?”
Tuck couldn’t explain how phones worked even if he wanted to; he’d always used them without thinking about the technology involved. “We take a lot of these kind of pictures in my time.”
“You use such a strange little thing to record the world?” Georgie spoke in a tone of reverence, as if they discussed the lost Ark of the Covenant and not a device that people used to record themselves doing funny dances to trending music.
“You can use it for all sorts of things. Imagine Lizzy is out, and you want to reach her, ask her a question or whatever. You can enter some numbers in a special order, and a connection is formed to her phone. Then she can go ahead and talk to you, even if she’s miles away. Hundreds or thousands of miles. There’s way more to it, but that’s probably saying enough. Plus, it’s better to save the battery. I don’t know how long it’ll last.” He turned it off and shoved it back in his pocket.
“So, we need your creative mind, Jane,” Lizzy said, “to figure out how we can get Mr.Taylor home and craft a believable story for him while he’s here. We can’t very well just have him go back to the pond and try to dive under.”
“I already tried that anyway,” Tuck interjected. “When you went to find the clothing, I swam down to the bottom, but nothing happened.”
Lizzy’s expression registered shock, but it vanished so quickly that he must have imagined it.
“First things first,” Jane said. “We must incorporate clever details and hints grounded in half-truths and plausible explanations. However, it should be mundane enough to deter anyone from delving into further inquiries.”
“Then please don’t ask him how he makes a living,” Lizzy muttered, letting out a snort.
“Hey now.” He turned toward her. “Play nice.”
“Let me guess,” Jane said. “Given your size and bearing, I’m going to guess you’re a soldier.”
“In a roundabout way.” Lizzy shrugged. “He guards a net with a stick and people try to hit discs at him.”
“It’s a game,” Tucker broke in, exasperation tinging his words. “I play a sport for a living. It’s all skill and speed.”
“Like gladiators,” Lizzy blurted. “Engaging in a battle, except no one is dying.”
“No, no,” Tuck protested.
“You are employed to play to crowds who are invested in your wins or losses.”
Jane mulled it over. “I must say, it does sound fascinating.”
“But it’s not a story we can tell others,” Lizzy said.
“To be sure, to be sure,” Jane agreed. “Why not say that he is a merchant from Baltimore. I encountered such a man once, dreadfully dull. I daresay, if you mention trade and Baltimore, very few people will press for additional details. Why don’t you claim to specialize in dry goods? As soon as you utter those words, people will be eager to discuss anything else.”
“I don’t have a Baltimore accent.” Tuck frowned.
“You are an American. That’s enough for around here.”
Tuck went to the whiskey decanter. A drink sounded better and better. He wasn’t much of a hard-alcohol guy as a rule. A beer or two usually sufficed. But nothing made sense now. He was no longer a goalie for the Austin Regals; he wasn’t even a player on medical leave. He was going to masquerade as a dry goods merchant from Baltimore visiting England, but for what purpose? “What should I be doing here again, professionally speaking?”
“Expanding trade contacts in teas and ceramics,” Jane stated matter-of-factly. “Your duty is to be believably boring while we figure out what is to be done about you.”
“And there is that nasty business with the growing tensions,” Georgie broke in. “I haven’t heard it so bad since the war. According to the papers, the Americans are seething over the press gangs.”
“What gangs are pressing who?” Tuck poured a double and drained the contents in a searing swallow.
He caught Lizzy staring at his throat. Her cheeks flushed as their eyes locked.
He arched a brow, just a fraction, and the pink crept even higher on her cheeks. But she didn’t look away shyly this time. Rather, she held his gaze, her lashes not so much as fluttering in a blink. It was as if she silently challenged him.Yeah, I was looking. What are you going to do about it?
She was seriously attractive, in a way that made him want to crack the code. Her nose was a bit on the larger side and her mouth was pretty wide, but somehow her face just came together perfectly. It had been a while since he’d been with anyone, even before he got sick. That must be why she hit him like a one-timer, catching him completely off guard. His drive was coming back, stirring up reactions he’d nearly forgotten he could feel.
But not here.
