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Laurent looked more like his mother than I did. I felt weird thinking that phrase, my mother. My mother Helene was alive. I had a big brother too, it was almost too much to take in.
    “Where do they live?” I asked with an interested look at Gage. I had an insane urge to hug him and thank him for finding me that was at odds with my horrified feelings about being kidnapped and not having any of this explained to me earlier.
    Why not just tell me about my family in Portland? I would have come with him willingly then. Plus the weird dreams about him still had me on edge. What the hell were they about?
    But with an effort I pushed those thoughts aside and tried to think about something else.
    Naturally, I focused on Celia, but thinking about her made me want to curl up in bed and howl in misery. I knew I would have to face it later, but for now, I just needed to make it through the night.
    Unwillingly, my mind strayed to the first part of his story, the marriage contract. But it was too ridiculous to linger on, who arranged marriages for babies anymore? Stuff like that went out with whalebone corsets and trepanning in the eighteenth century. I wasn't even sure that people did that then, maybe royal families, but not normal people. Not accountant’s daughters. Although, since Celia lied about my parents being dead, maybe she lied about that too. They could be circus performers or dentists for all I knew.
    “They live in Paris. They're driving over early tomorrow morning.”
    “Paris, France? But how could they get from Paris to … wait a minute … where am I?”
    I asked with a suspicious glance around the room. As if there was some obvious clue in here to my whereabouts that I had somehow overlooked.
    “My country house, about an hour outside of London.” Gage said with an encouraging WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 25

    smile. He was all easy smiles and friendliness now that I believed him about my parents and for some strange reason I felt myself getting angry about it. This was serious, damnit!
    “London! London, England? Oh, but I don't even have a passport! How did I get here?
    I could be in a lot of trouble coming into the country without one. You could be in trouble for bringing me here!” I was really mad now. On top of all this I was a criminal now. An illegal alien or something like that.
    “You don't have to worry about that, your mother likely has your passport. Your family did a lot of traveling when you were a child.” He said in an arrogant way that had me gritting my teeth. As if there was nothing to worry about and no reason to be upset. How presumptuous and rude of him! I was starting to not like him again.
    Like a child with too many toys to choose from, my thoughts swung back to my newly found family. I wondered how I was going to get used to being called by a different name and if I would be able to call my mother, mother. Would they like me? What if I disappointed them?
    What if they didn't speak English! What if they didn't remember me? What if I didn't remember them? My head ached at the number of thoughts racing through my mind.
    “This is a lot for you to adjust to,” he flicked a look at the silver watch on his wrist, “It's getting late. You should try to get some rest. Helene and Laurent will be here at about ten in the morning.”
    I turned to walk out of the room, my thoughts in turmoil. He followed me up the stairs and pointed me in the right direction when I got a little turned around at the third floor.
    An awkward silence filled the space when we stopped outside of my room. I stuck my hand out to shake his, “Thank you for reuniting me with my family” I said in a formal way wondering if I was handling this wrong.
    What do you say to the man that found you and made sure you met your people? Was there a reward still? Would he claim it tomorrow from my family? Oh, this was so confusing, I just wanted a little box where I could stow my questions to be dealt with later.
    His