Shades of the Past by Sandra Heath Read Free Book Online

too prominent in her thoughts.
    “Then stay you shall.”
    So that was that. Within an hour of the phone call, Jenny and her father had set off for Heathrow Airport, and Mrs. Fitzgerald had returned to her duties at the hotel.
    When Laura went to bed that night, she snuggled in the bed, hoping there would be encouraging news waiting for Jenny in Dijon. Surely fate wouldn’t be as cruel as to— No, she wouldn’t even think it! Laura turned over and curled up again, listening to the January wind moaning outside. She could hear rain dashing against the glass. And music and voices.
    Music and voices ? Slowly she sat up. There were definitely a lot of people somewhere close by, and an orchestra playing what sounded like a minuet. It could be a TV, except her room was at the end of the corridor and she knew the one next to it was unoccupied. So where were the sounds coming from?
    Puzzled, she threw the bedclothes back and got up. When she looked out into the passage there was silence, but when she closed the door again, the voices and music returned. Maybe it was something from the ground floor. She crossed to the nearest window and leaned out into the rain, but the sounds faded into oblivion once more.
    More puzzled than ever, she returned to the bedroom, where the sounds were loudest, as if there was a reception or something going on in the next room along. But it was the end wall of the house, so she knew that couldn’t be. Could it? Gradually she realized the sounds came from beyond the tall pedimented double doors in that very same end wall. The tall pedimented what ? She stared, for there hadn’t been doors there earlier, and besides, any doors would lead to a sharp drop into the cold night air!
    A tingle of expectation began to seep into her. Was this to be another close encounter? Could she actually go through those doors into the past, when the house had extended well beyond her room? Even if she couldn’t go through them physically, could she perhaps take a peek? She hesitated, but then thought of Sir Blair Deveril. She wanted to speak to him, know him. Touch him. Maybe he was beyond those doors right now. Open them and see, Laura Reynolds. Go on, take a chance.
    She walked toward the wall, and with each step the voices and music grew louder. Her hands trembled as she reached out, then her fingers closed firmly over one of the handles. The moment she touched it, both doors swung back to reveal a dazzling but crowded ballroom, and she wasn’t merely an observer this time, but a participant. She was among the line of guests who’d just ascended a grand staircase to wait for their names to be announced by the master-of-ceremonies at Marianna Deveril’s twentieth birthday ball. So her Regency self had been invited after all!
    Chandeliers glittered and wall sconces flickered as guests in early nineteenth-century clothes assembled for the occasion. She glimpsed herself in a gilt-framed wall mirror, and gasped, for she was elegant and beautiful in a delightful magnolia silk ball gown. Her arms were sheathed in long white gloves, and a fan and sequined reticule dangled from her wrist. Her hair was pinned up with pearl strings, and several ringlets fell from a plaited knot. There was a wedding ring beneath her left glove, because this alter ego was now the widowed Mrs. Reynolds. Several people in the queue had already been startled by her resemblance to Celina Deveril. Quizzing glasses were raised and fans concealed whispering lips.
    Stephen spoke beside her, his voice only just audible above the noise of the ball. “Oh, God, how I detest myself for being in Miles Lowestoft’s grip…and for every other stupid thing I’ve done in my useless life,” he added, running a nervous finger around his fancy neckcloth.
    “We’re both in his grip,” she observed. She liked Stephen in spite of his wrongdoing where Marianna Deveril was concerned. He’d been little more than a charming rogue, but was now hopelessly devoted and