Anne Barbour Read Free Page A

eyes nearly starting from her head. It was broad daylight, and the sun shone on a scene she knew could not possibly exist. Horse-drawn vehicles of every shape and size trundled along the street, and pedestrians, all dressed in costume, jostled about them. Up and down the avenue, vendors pushing carts hawked wares at the top of their lungs. And the buildings! Gone was the Mayfair Public Library. In its place stood a row of small houses. Behind the church, where before she had glimpsed a lovely park, lay a graveyard.
    She turned to stare in anguish at the man, who still held her hand in his. His returning gaze was unpromising.
    “Come along, Miss Bridge. You must face the wrath of your father sometime, you know. And I am due at Carlton House in less than an hour to meet with the Prince Regent.”
    Amanda simply gaped. “The—the Prince Regent?” she croaked, just before she fell into another swirling chasm of darkness.
     

Chapter Two
     
    Amanda woke to find herself nestled in the softness of a comfortable tester bed, hung with a silky fabric of pale pink, matched by the draperies at the tall window that faced the bed. Further inspection of the room revealed a charming dressing table and a graceful wardrobe against one wall. A small desk occupied a nook near the window.
    She had no sooner absorbed all this, when the door to the bedroom flew open to admit a dark-haired young woman wearing a plain apron-covered dress.
    “Oh, miss!” cried this apparition. “You’re awake, then. Oh, I’m that sorry, miss. I couldn’t help it—I had t’tell them. Please forgive me, miss. Please!” She hastened across the room to stand before Amanda, her hands clasped before her and her blue eyes wide with apprehension.
    For a moment, Amanda could not speak, but as the girl showed signs of bursting into tears at any moment, she said quickly, “Okay, I forgive you. Now, tell me, where am I?”
    The young woman stared at her perplexedly. “Why, you’re in your own home, miss. In your own bed. Can I fetch you something? A nice cup of tea, mayhap?”
    A nice cup of tea! Amanda could have laughed aloud if her situation were not so bizarre. What had happened to her in that little church? She must have passed out from the pain of the headache—and, perhaps her fatigue. Had she hit her head on something? She was obviously hallucinating, but it was sure a damned odd illusion. How could she not know where she was—or who the people were she kept encountering? Particularly since they seemed to know her. This was her hallucination, for God’s sake. She should know these things.
    “His lordship” had spoken of the Prince Regent. An odd shiver passed through her at the memory of those flinty eyes poised so close to hers, staring straight through to her center. No. Never mind that. The Prince Regent. Could she have imagined herself back to Regency London? The clothing seemed right—but—why? She sank back into her pillows. Lord, what a mess. She glanced at the young woman standing before her. This person was not real—she was merely a fantasy created by a disordered mind. Amanda opened her mouth, but was brought up short by the odd certainty that she must not divulge the truth. Smiling tentatively, she turned to the aproned woman.
    “Who are you?”
    The woman’s eyes widened in fear. “Why, I’m Hutchings, miss, your maid. Don’t you know me?”
    Amanda widened the smile. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. I don’t remember anything. I think I must have hit my head when I fell. Hutchings, I don’t even know my own name.”
    At this, the maid gasped. “Oh, dear heaven, miss! What a terrible thing.” She turned as though to run from the room. “I’d best fetch your mama.”
    “No!” cried Amanda. “No,” she repeated in a softer tone as Hutchings paused in her flight. “Just tell me a few things first. How did I happen to be in that church, and—and who was the man who scooped me up off the floor?”
    “Why, you slipped out of