Page 22 of A Time Traveler’s Masquerade (A McQuivey’s Costume Shop Romance)

Two Years Later

I sla slid a printed copy of Audrey Marshall’s recent speech on housing reform into the filing cabinet and closed the drawer with a satisfied push. Her boss was not scheduled to make another public appearance for a week. It was a welcome reprieve after a fortnight of back-to-back commitments.

“Hey, Isla.” Chloe popped her head around the office door. “Simon’s on his way up.”

Isla smiled, her heart lifting in anticipation of the evening she had planned with her husband. “Great,” she said, locking the filing cabinet. “I’ll be right there.”

Taking a moment to switch off the light, Isla closed the door on Ms. Marshall’s room and walked out into the main office just as Simon entered through the doors that led to the lifts. Dressed in well-fitting jeans, a navy T-shirt, and a black jacket, his dark, wavy hair cut short and his neatly trimmed beard replaced by a light scruff, he was, simply put, thoroughly modern and distractingly handsome.

“Hi, Simon,” Chloe called from her desk. “How are all the king’s horses and all the king’s men today?”

Simon chuckled. His position as Riding Master at the Royal Mews inevitably invited this question from Chloe. “Well, I cannot speak for all of them, but this one is very well. How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Livin’ the dream.”

A slight crease appeared on Simon’s forehead. It was an all-too-common occurrence when he spoke to Chloe. Modern idioms and seventeenth-century English were a tricky mix.

“And that is a good thing?” he guessed.

“Yeah,” Chloe said with a smile. “I suppose it is.”

Isla stepped up to rescue him. “Hi.”

He swung around, his arms instantly circling her. “Hi to you too.” He kissed her softly. “You know what one of my favorite things is about this era?” he whispered.

She raised her eyebrows expectantly. “What?”

“I can kiss you in public, and no one even gasps.”

Isla laughed softly. “That’s definitely a bonus, but nothing compares to the miracle of having you standing here, whole and healthy.”

He didn’t need to say anything for Isla to know that they were both thinking back to the day he’d staggered out of the McQuivey Costume Shop’s changing room, weak from the loss of blood and pain. Mrs. McQuivey had called for the ambulance and had handed Isla a large bag.

“The clothes you were wearing when you first arrived,” she’d said. “And a few things for your young man.” She’d leaned a little closer and lowered her voice as though not wishing to offend Simon. “An American lumberjack costume is not exactly what the best-dressed men in London are wearing, but I thought jeans, boots, and a plaid shirt might be an improvement over his current ensemble.”

Emotion had all but stolen Isla’s voice, but she’d hugged the older lady tightly and had held on to the bag during the seemingly interminable wait for the ambulance, the ride to the hospital, and the surgery that had followed. The doctors had removed Simon’s punctured spleen and given him high-powered antibiotics to counter the effects of Guy Fawkes’s filthy dagger. But it was only when Isla had removed the clothing from the bag that she’d discovered Mrs. McQuivey’s hidden gift. An official birth certificate for a Simon Hartworth Bancroft, born in Derbyshire in 1997, and a reference letter for the Lord Chamberlain’s Office, recommending Simon for the position of Liveried Helper at the Royal Mews.

Working with horses as a member of the royal staff had been the perfect starting job for Simon, particularly while he had adjusted to living in a world so far removed from the one he’d always known, but his confidence and skill as a rider along with his experience with harnesses and carriages had quickly elevated him to the prestigious position of Riding Master. And not long afterward, they had ended their fake betrothal with a very real, private wedding.

Simon slid his fingers down her arm to claim her hand. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.” She lifted her bag onto her shoulder. “Are you okay locking up tonight, Chloe?”

“No problem.” Chloe eyed them curiously. “D’you two have big plans for Guy Fawkes Night?”

“We’re headed to Surrey for the evening,” Isla said.

“Isn’t that where you met?”

“It is.” Simon gave Isla’s hand a gentle tug. “And if we are to leave ahead of the rush-hour traffic, we’d best depart right away.”

Chloe sighed. She was used to Simon’s occasional use of older English, but it always produced a dreamy look in her eyes. “I think I need to make a visit to Surrey to find a Simon of my own.”

Isla bit back a smile. “Good idea. I’ll let you know if I spot another one while we’re there.”

With a light laugh, Chloe slid a pile of papers onto the corner of her desk. “Have a good time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Two hours later, Simon pulled their red Vauxhall Corsa into the small parking area at Copfield Park.

“It still feels odd to come here and not see the Maidstones’ manor waiting for us,” Isla said. “But I’m glad the county council turned the land into a public park.”

“As am I.” He turned off the ignition, marveling at how instinctive the action was now. Just as Isla had suggested when they’d ridden their horses here so long ago, he’d taken to driving immediately. It didn’t matter if it was on the motorway or on the narrow, winding back roads in the country, the power of a car’s engine both thrilled and fascinated him. “I believe Maidstone would be glad that his land is now available for all to enjoy.” He got out and walked around the vehicle to open Isla’s door. “Do you think we’ve arrived early enough to claim our bench?”

“I hope so.” She took his hand.

His heart instantly responded, filling the spots that always felt a little empty when they returned to this place. He thought of Martha often and still missed being with Sam and Will.

“They continued to love you even after you left, you know,” she said.

Simon gave Isla a startled look. He shouldn’t be surprised. She always seemed to sense what was on his mind without him saying a word. They both hoped that Maidstone had found the Wendy costume Mrs. McQuivey had left behind in the undercroft. If so, he and Martha would have known exactly what had happened and would have understood. It would have been hard for them to explain it to their sons though.

“I hope the boys remembered me into their adulthood,” he said.

“They did.”

They started down the path that led to the lookout.

“How can you be so sure?”

She smiled. “You always remember the people you allow into your heart. And the twins had a special place in theirs for you.”

“And that presumably explains why I shall never forget them,” he said.

“Exactly.” She squeezed his hand gently. “But the best part is, adding someone new does not diminish the fond memories of those already there.”

He nodded, recognizing the truth of her words. Amid all the challenges and changes he’d experienced over the last two years, Isla had been his constant support. His anchor and his light. She always would be, but over the intervening months, he’d also added her parents, siblings, and nephews to those who were important to him.

“There it is.” He pointed to a familiar spot up ahead. The old fallen oak was long gone, but where it had once been, a wooden bench now stood.

“And it’s empty,” Isla said.

They sat down together. In the valley below, the once tiny hamlet of Little Twinning was a mass of twinkling lights. A string of vehicle lights moved swiftly along the roads that now crisscrossed the formally rural area.

“I see the bonfire,” Isla said, pointing to a flickering fire in a field just beyond the outskirts of the town. Like milling ants, the distant people moved around the flames, their shadowy forms barely visible through the smoke rising from the enormous pyre. “I imagine they’ll start the fireworks soon.”

Simon put his arm around Isla and pulled her close. Tonight, all around the country, there would be bonfires like this burning. People would drink hot apple cider or hot chocolate and eat donuts and toffee apples. Fireworks would fly heavenward to celebrate the saving of the English government and the capture of Guy Fawkes. It was a night of celebration, but for him and Isla, it was also a night of poignant reflection. In this special spot, the anniversary of that unparalleled event held deep meaning.

“ Remember, remember, the fifth of November. Gunpowder, treason, and plot ,” Isla chanted softly.

“I think it is safe to say that neither you nor I shall ever forget,” Simon said.

“No.” She paused. “Have you ever wondered what we should tell our children? What you’d want them to know about what happened in 1605?”

“I’ve thought about it a little,” he admitted. “Have you?”

“Yes. Especially in the last few weeks.”

“Because this date was drawing near?”

“Partly.” She turned so that her eyes were on his. “But mostly because this time next year, we’ll be sharing the bench with someone else.”

He stared at her, replaying her words in his mind. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? “Isla? You know how I struggle with modern English. I don’t want to misinterpret or misunderstand what you—”

The look in her eyes softened. “We’re having a baby, Simon.”

His heart was pounding so hard, he could barely think. “You are sure?”

She laughed quietly. “I am sure. He or she will be here early next summer.”

They were having a baby! He drew Isla into his arms, the wonder and joy of this moment threatening to overwhelm him. “Perhaps we shall have twins.”

“Probably not.” She smiled at him. “But I did think that if it’s a boy, we could call him William or Samuel.”

“And if it’s a girl?”

She tilted her head back to see his face more clearly. “How do you feel about the name Martha?”

“Would she order me around like her namesake did?”

“If we have a little girl, I don’t think it will matter what she is called; you will be at her beck and call from the day she is born.”

She was right. There was no question in his mind. “My sister would be pleased.”

“And you? Are you pleased with the news?”

“ Pleased is not precisely the word I would use.”

“It’s not?” There was a hint of concern in her voice.

It was something he had to eliminate immediately. “No, my sweet Isla.” He set a soft kiss atop the lines on her forehead. “ Ecstatic , overjoyed , elated , and overwhelmed by my love for you. Those descriptions are far better.”

“Oh.” She relaxed against him, her arms circling his neck. “I like those words better too.”

He smiled. “Well, okay, then.”

Her soft laughter filled his heart to overflowing, and as the first fireworks exploded in the sky above, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.