Perhaps not.
Ellen shivered involuntarily in the closeness of the carriage. Then she shook her head and smiled at her schoolgirl silliness. Still, she was glad she had gone to the fair. Glad she had seen the dark, dangerous-looking man and that he had made her pulse quicken. No harm had been done and it had been rather exciting. Lord knows there was precious little excitement in her life.
Ellen’s foolish smile began to fade and she sighed wistfully as a rush of memories washed over her. Painful memories of an unhappy girl so anxious to get away from her domineering aunt that she had married the first young man to come calling. Vivid memories of the hurt and disappointment she’d felt when she’d realized that life with her neglectful husband, Booth Cornelius, was no better than it had been with her cold, uncaring aunt.
Terrible memories of Booth Cornelius walking out on her some twenty years ago. Abandoning her with an infant son to raise alone. Hurtful memories of having to return, shamefaced and repentant, to Aunt Alexandra.
There were bitter memories of that one time—years ago—when she had made a brave attempt to break away from her aunt. But, she’d had Christopher to care for and no skills with which to earn a decent living. Within a few short months she’d been forced to return to Alexandra’s where she had been ever since.
Where she would stay forever if that’s what it took to ensure her adored son’s inheritance. Ellen had been cheated out of her own fortune. She wouldn’t let it happen to Christopher.
The last traces of Ellen’s smile had disappeared. Now melancholy from recalling her empty past, the young woman silently cursed the cruel fates that had allowed her widowed father, Timothy Landseer, to be killed in the War Between the States. And as if her beloved father’s death had not been devastating on its own, his wealthy widowed mother had died less than six months later.
Her grandmother’s will had never been changed. A dead man could not inherit. The entire Landseer fortune had gone to Alexandra, Timothy Landseer’s older sister and only sibling. Young Ellen was left beholden to Alexandra for the very roof over her head.
Ellen felt fatigued by the time she reached the Connaught. Climbing out of the carriage, she hoped against hope that Aunt Alexandra would have retired for the night.
She hadn’t.
“Well?” Alexandra rose from her chair and placed her hands on her broad hips, when Ellen entered their suite. “Did you do as you were told?”
“I did,” said Ellen flatly. “But it was a wild-goose chase. No one was home at the given address.”
“No one home? Then you will return there tomorrow!” declared her disappointed aunt.
“Not unless you tell me the purpose of the visit,” said an exasperated Ellen.
The frowning Alexandra suddenly began to smile like the cat who got the cream. She picked up the late edition of the London Daily Express from a table beside her armchair. The paper contained an advertisement that had captured Alexandra’s attention and prompted her to send Ellen across the city.
Excited, Alexandra attempted to read. Squinting, she held the paper farther away, then finally said, “I don’t have my eyeglasses. Here, you read it.”
Ellen took the newspaper and read aloud, “‘Do you long to turn back the clock? To rejuvenate your aging flesh? To replenish brain cells? If so, come drink of the Magic Waters and recapture your youth! Contact Mister Corey.”’
Ellen looked up from the newspaper.
“The address is listed, the one I sent you to,” Alexandra pointed out. “You will go there again in the morning.”
Calmly, Ellen said, “Aunt Alexandra, you know very well that these so-called Magic Waters will not make you young again and—”
“Did I ask for your opinion? I did not. You will go there tomorrow, do I make myself clear?”
Too weary to argue, Ellen simply nodded, dropped the newspaper back on the table and retired to the blessed privacy of her room.
But sleep eluded her. As she lay in bed in the still darkness, she thought only of the man with the unforgettable cold black eyes.
And for some odd, unexplained reason, the vivid vision caused her eyes to smart with unshed tears and her lonely heart to ache with a reawakened regret for what never was.
And would never be.
Two
As soon as the sun rose the next morning, an impatient, robe-clad Alexandra Landseer knocked on Ellen’s bedroom door.
“Wake up, Ellen,” Alexandra called loudly. “Get out of bed now! I want you at that West End address in time to catch Mister Corey before he leaves. Get up, Ellen. Get up.”
Ellen grimaced, gritted her teeth, but dutifully rose and began to dress. When, moments later, she entered the suite’s spacious drawing room, Alexandra looked up from the sumptuous breakfast she was hungrily devouring.
Chewing and swallowing quickly, Alexandra explained, “I didn’t order anything for you. There’s not enough time. You can have breakfast when you return.” She patted her mouth with a large linen napkin and added, “The carriage is waiting downstairs. Go now and find out all you can from this Mister Corey.”
“Good morning, Aunt Alexandra,” Ellen said flatly.
“Yes, yes, good morning,” Alexandra muttered distractedly. “You tell Mister Corey he is to come to the hotel and meet privately with me at eight sharp this evening. Don’t take no for an answer. I must speak with him.”
Ellen gave no reply. Alexandra was still firing off commands when Ellen left the suite.
The journey across London wasn’t as nerve-racking in the daytime, but when she reached her destination, Ellen found the building and its unkempt surroundings even more depressing than she’d remembered. It was glaringly obvious that anyone who lived in this run-down tenement was impoverished.
One would assume that the person who held the secret to eternal youth would be incredibly wealthy. Ellen rolled her eyes heavenward, silently damning Alexandra and her latest exercise in idiocy.
When Ellen stood before the door to #203, she took a deep breath and knocked. This time her knock was promptly answered. Answered by a tall, spare man with lustrous coal-black hair and eyes to match.
The carnival barker from last night’s street fair!
Ellen’s eyes widened in surprise and alarm. Again she felt the racing of her heart, a weakness in her knees. Struck speechless, she started to turn away without stating the purpose of her call.
But the man who’d opened the door took her arm and drew her inside.
“I’m Mister Corey,” he said in a low, flat voice with a hint of a drawling Southern accent. “And you are?”
“I…ah…Ellen Cornelius,” she managed, her voice slightly shrill.
“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” asked the unsmiling Mister Corey, releasing Ellen’s arm.
Nervous, rushing her words, she explained, “My aunt, Miss Alexandra Landseer, saw your advertisement in the newspaper and she…ah…she asked that I come here to learn more about this…this…water you claim is magic.”
Mister Corey nodded. “Come with me,” he said and directed her into a sparsely furnished sitting room where a small, bald, coppery-skinned man awaited.
Mister Corey made the introductions and offered Ellen a chair. He remained standing. Ellen sat down and listened politely as Padjan told her that he was an Anasazi Indian whose home was far away in America’s great