Read Online Must Love Breeches by Angela Quarles - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Angela Quarles
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“What?”
Chapter Seven
And, after all, what is a lie? ‘Tis but
The truth in masquerade.Lord Byron, Don Juan , Canto XI
Isabelle’s pulse hit a slick patch and skidded. No way could she trust someone else with the truth. Was Ada nuts?
“At least, that is what my mother will think,” Ada continued. “We shall profess to be taking her into our confidence and make her agree on the distant cousin story as a screen.”
Isabelle’s pulse returned to normal. Pretty clever. She resumed walking, Ada keeping pace. “What will we tell your mother is the real story, then?” Isabelle glanced behind to make sure the maid remained out of earshot.
“We shall tell her you are an American escaping the clutches of a cruel pirate you met on the high seas while traveling here, who means to kidnap and ravish you, and you need to keep your identity hidden.”
“Ah, no.”
They passed a mother and daughter with maid in tow. Ada nodded to them.
Ada stopped and tugged on her arm, eyes alight. “I have it. You were locked in a castle tower by a Scottish laird, who―”
“—No, Ada.” Isabelle chuckled.
“Stranded on the moors with an ancestral ghost tormenting you?”
Isabelle shook her head. Someone read a lot of the popular novels.
They finally settled on a story containing elements of the truth. Isabelle was an American who’d traveled here (true) to live with her uncle’s family in Surrey (false), her own family having died (true). She had since learned her uncle was trying to trap her into marrying his son to get her fortune. (Hadn’t Isabelle read that in several Regency romances?) So, she’d escaped to London with nothing but the clothes on her back.
Luckily, Ada’s mother didn’t know they’d met at the ball, or any of the circumstances surrounding her late night arrival at Mrs. Somerville’s.
Decision made, they turned back for the carriage. As soon as the maid was behind them again, they resumed talking.
“When I first met you, you knew of my father. People remember him? He was rather famous here, but people still know him in the future?” Ada’s voice had a mixture of curiosity and vulnerability.
“Yes, Lord Byron is still well known.”
“And Ada Byron Something? Were you referring to me? You said she was the first something or other, but it made no sense.”
“Yes, I was referring to you.”
Ada gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “I am famous as well?”
“Well, no. You’re in our history books, but not everyone’s heard of you.”
Ada stopped, her brow furrowed. “What do... did... do I do?”
How much should she reveal? She definitely didn’t want to alter history. Had she already? Besides the possibility of spawning an alternate timeline, another time travel theory posited time ran on a loop, meaning in Isabelle’s own history, she’d already been here and done whatever she was about to do now, so no problem with timelines getting messed up—she’d already messed them up. Well, time may be a closed system, but it didn’t mean she should blurt future events willy-nilly. Especially not Ada’s. What if she were wrong? What if she was spinning an alternate reality right now, and anything she said or did shaped the future?
“I’m sorry, Ada, I don’t feel comfortable talking about it.” At Ada’s crestfallen look, she continued, her tone soft, “I think it’s something you need to discover on your own. I will say, pursuing your passion in mathematics is the path meant for you.”
Luckily, Ada seemed contented with her answer. “Can you tell me about my father?”
“What do you mean?”
“What was his character? No one tells me anything.” Ada’s lips thinned, her steps a little more abrupt. “All I know is he was famous but did something terribly wicked.”
“You mean your mother never told you about him?”
Ada gave an unladylike snort. “She would be the last person to tell me. Moreover, she has instructed all others I know to keep me in
Chapter Seven
And, after all, what is a lie? ‘Tis but
The truth in masquerade.Lord Byron, Don Juan , Canto XI
Isabelle’s pulse hit a slick patch and skidded. No way could she trust someone else with the truth. Was Ada nuts?
“At least, that is what my mother will think,” Ada continued. “We shall profess to be taking her into our confidence and make her agree on the distant cousin story as a screen.”
Isabelle’s pulse returned to normal. Pretty clever. She resumed walking, Ada keeping pace. “What will we tell your mother is the real story, then?” Isabelle glanced behind to make sure the maid remained out of earshot.
“We shall tell her you are an American escaping the clutches of a cruel pirate you met on the high seas while traveling here, who means to kidnap and ravish you, and you need to keep your identity hidden.”
“Ah, no.”
They passed a mother and daughter with maid in tow. Ada nodded to them.
Ada stopped and tugged on her arm, eyes alight. “I have it. You were locked in a castle tower by a Scottish laird, who―”
“—No, Ada.” Isabelle chuckled.
“Stranded on the moors with an ancestral ghost tormenting you?”
Isabelle shook her head. Someone read a lot of the popular novels.
They finally settled on a story containing elements of the truth. Isabelle was an American who’d traveled here (true) to live with her uncle’s family in Surrey (false), her own family having died (true). She had since learned her uncle was trying to trap her into marrying his son to get her fortune. (Hadn’t Isabelle read that in several Regency romances?) So, she’d escaped to London with nothing but the clothes on her back.
Luckily, Ada’s mother didn’t know they’d met at the ball, or any of the circumstances surrounding her late night arrival at Mrs. Somerville’s.
Decision made, they turned back for the carriage. As soon as the maid was behind them again, they resumed talking.
“When I first met you, you knew of my father. People remember him? He was rather famous here, but people still know him in the future?” Ada’s voice had a mixture of curiosity and vulnerability.
“Yes, Lord Byron is still well known.”
“And Ada Byron Something? Were you referring to me? You said she was the first something or other, but it made no sense.”
“Yes, I was referring to you.”
Ada gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “I am famous as well?”
“Well, no. You’re in our history books, but not everyone’s heard of you.”
Ada stopped, her brow furrowed. “What do... did... do I do?”
How much should she reveal? She definitely didn’t want to alter history. Had she already? Besides the possibility of spawning an alternate timeline, another time travel theory posited time ran on a loop, meaning in Isabelle’s own history, she’d already been here and done whatever she was about to do now, so no problem with timelines getting messed up—she’d already messed them up. Well, time may be a closed system, but it didn’t mean she should blurt future events willy-nilly. Especially not Ada’s. What if she were wrong? What if she was spinning an alternate reality right now, and anything she said or did shaped the future?
“I’m sorry, Ada, I don’t feel comfortable talking about it.” At Ada’s crestfallen look, she continued, her tone soft, “I think it’s something you need to discover on your own. I will say, pursuing your passion in mathematics is the path meant for you.”
Luckily, Ada seemed contented with her answer. “Can you tell me about my father?”
“What do you mean?”
“What was his character? No one tells me anything.” Ada’s lips thinned, her steps a little more abrupt. “All I know is he was famous but did something terribly wicked.”
“You mean your mother never told you about him?”
Ada gave an unladylike snort. “She would be the last person to tell me. Moreover, she has instructed all others I know to keep me in
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