Chapter One
After two weeks of clouds, Edinburgh finally has sun, and I’m drinking it in . . . to the confusion and amusement of the two women who’ve just walked into the courtyard and found me stretched out precariously across two garden chairs.
Forty-year-old Lady Annis Leslie’s not-so-dearly departed husband died just over a year ago, which means she’s still in deep mourning . . . fashion-wise, at least. Even in this weather, she’s dressed in a gown of unrelieved black bombazine. Her younger sister—Isla Ballantyne—is also a widow, but she’s mostly reverted to normal Victorian wear, in a gorgeously rich beige day dress that glitters golden in the sunlight.
“What the devil are you doing?” Annis asks as they walk over.
“Browning her skin, apparently,” Isla says.
Annis stares at me. “On purpose?”
“I’m sunbathing,” I say.
“I know you suffered a serious head injury last year, Mallory, but you are supposed to bathe in water.” Annis pauses. “Please tell me you have been doing that.”
Isla and I exchange a look. While I did hit my head last year, the problem is a wee bit bigger than that. I’m currently in 1870 Edinburgh . . . and I was born in 1989 Vancouver.
A year ago, while visiting my dying grandmother, I was attacked on the same spot where nineteen-year-old housemaid Catriona Mitchell was attacked exactly a hundred and fifty years earlier. For reasons I may never figure out, Fate saw fit to send me careening through time into her body.
I’m now the assistant to Catriona’s former boss, Annis and Isla’s younger brother, Dr. Duncan Gray, who’s doing work in early forensic science. It’s an incredible opportunity for a modern police detective . . . even if I’m pretty sure I’m going to die of something easily curable in my time.
Isla knows my story, as does Gray. Annis does not, thankfully. To her, I’m just the former housemaid whose head trauma makes her act—and talk—oddly.
I shade my eyes against the sun and peer up at Isla. “You’re a chemist. You need to invent a cream that protects our faces against the dangerous rays of the sun.”
“We have that,” Isla says dryly. “It’s called a hat.”
“Also, we do not intentionally expose ourselves to the sun’s rays,” Annis says.
I check my pocket watch. “Five more minutes.”
“And then what?” Annis says. “We turn you over and bake your backside?”
I ignore her. I’m not trying to get a tan. Obviously, the Victorians were right to be wary of the sun. But it finally feels like summer, and I want to enjoy a few minutes of sunshine while my boss is out.
“We are having tea in a few minutes, Mallory,” Isla says. “Annis would like you to join us.”
I consider shooting them a thumbs-up, but that goes too far in front of Annis. Their boots clack across the stones. Then the gate squeaks, and a shadow falls over me. I open my eyes to see a tall man with a severe face, curling dark hair, and brown skin.
“It’s my half day,” I say to my boss. “I have another hour off.”
“You also have a visitor,” Gray says.
I sit up, which takes some work. Even summer attire means a petticoat and a corset under my dress. Rising from a semi-prone position requires careful and deliberate movements.
“A visitor?” I say.
“Yes,” Annis calls from the back door. “I meant to mention that. There is a creature lurking about. We presumed it is for you.”
“A creature? Oooh. Cat? Puppy? Unicorn?”
“Unicorn?” Gray says.
“Scotland’s national creature. I’ve never seen one, though. You must be hiding them.”
His lips twitch.
Annis heads inside, calling back, “Take care, Duncan. The sun seems to have addled Mallory’s brains more than usual.”
