Puck and Prejudice

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Tucker Taylor.” A high, thin voice spoke behind his back. “Southpaw. Spent a year in Montreal before getting traded to Texas.

Played forward in high school but was a goalie at University of Michigan. Decent scorer but far better between the pipes.

Last time I saw you play was in 2019.”

Tuck turned slowly. He wasn’t losing his mind and hearing voices, right? The slight man who Tuck had seen earlier, the one

Lizzy had pegged as a scholar, beamed at him. The guy wasn’t tall, around five-five, with bushy brows and graying temples.

“Do I know you?”

“Of course not.” The man chuckled. “But I know you . When I learned that the Wooddash girl had wed a gentleman bearing the distinctive name of Tucker Taylor, I couldn’t help

but find it a remarkable twist of fate. As I’m sure you’ve observed, your name is rather uncommon for this time. However,

I dared not entertain high expectations. Upon discovering you were American, I resolved to obtain a ticket to the Crawford

ball by any means necessary, and here you are now.”

Tuck opened his mouth. A dozen questions lined up but none could make their way out.

“Who? How? When? Where?”

The man glanced around. “This isn’t the place for a lengthy conversation.” He slipped a folded piece of paper into Tuck’s hand. “Come to this address tomorrow. Bring your wife, if she knows. Are you planning to stay?”

“Stay,” Tuck dumbly repeated.

“Here, at this time? Nineteenth-century England does have some things going for it. The days are longer, aren’t they? There’s

more time to think—less hustle and bustle. Of course, there are no pizza delivery services, podcasts, or plane rides, but

we can’t have it all.”

“Where do you come from?” Tuck blinked.

“Same place as you. Well, England through birth, EU on my passport. But I taught Celtic studies in California. Berkeley.”

“England left the...” Tuck slammed his mouth shut. “I didn’t expect to meet anyone else this ever happened to!”

“Indeed, you are my first fellow crosser, but rest assured, others have come before us, and others will come after. Some must

make it back to their time and others must choose to stay. And, of course, some get sick and die. There are some very nasty

things here—cholera, for instance. Stay well away from that. Oh, and don’t get the clap without modern medicine. I’ve seen

it once. Not pretty. We are all much better off having a nose.”

“What’s your name?”

“Ezekiel Fairweather.” With a flourish, he swept an arm across his waist and inclined his head. “Friends call me Zeke, and

I do think we will be friends, Tuck Taylor; indeed, I do. I never played hockey myself, but I wish I’d gotten a crack at it.

I was quite mad about the sport while I worked stateside. I went to as many games as I could—the Mighty Ducks were my team.”

“I...”

“It’s a shock, of course. But tomorrow will be informative. Where did you enter?”

“A pond. In a farmer’s field. It was a car accident.”

“A pond?” Zeke hit the p hard. “How marvelous. Mine was a spring in Oxfordshire. I had been doing research into the Rollright Stones nestled on the

outskirts of the Cotswolds hills. There is quite a collection of megalithic monuments spanning nearly two thousand years through

Neolithic and Bronze Age development. I had an idea that I had been toying with and wanted to put to the test. So, I entered

the water during Beltane, a Celtic and also Druidic holiday that people now refer to as May Day. I dove in, laughing to myself,

half thinking I was mad, and then the world churned and all direction disappeared. I crawled out of that pond laughing no

more. It was 1809.”

“Three years ago?”

“Three years ago. And it was a different season too. There are details I don’t begin to understand, but I have many theories.

Also, how many of us are there, who have crossed and slipped into the fabric of their new world? It’s just simple, dumb good

fortune that I recognized your name.” Zeke’s gaze was far away before he shook his head. “I look forward to meeting with you

tomorrow, Mr.Taylor. Much to discuss. And tell me—do the Regals still have Gale Knight as their center?”

“Sure do.” Tuck glanced around the ballroom, so incongruous to any discussions about his teammates.

“He’s young, but I believe he’s a once-in-a-generation player.”

“That’s what he likes to say.”

“Ah, yes. He is cocky, isn’t he? But it’s true. And is he still a ladies’ man?”

“That’s the rumor.”

“You never were, though.”

“What can I say? I’m an enigma.”

That was his go-to with the press. They loved it. Ate it up with a spoon. And from the way Zeke was grinning, he liked it

too.

Zeke bid him good night, and Tuck slipped out onto the balcony, head too full to think, when Henry slunk out. Lizzy’s brother’s

smile was polite, but his eyes were not. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, man. Lizzy’s in her cups. You better take

her home before Father notices and we all catch it.”

“Where is she?”

“I managed to get her to the carriage. She danced the whole way. It was unseemly. If my fiancée’s family noticed, it would

be the end of that, I can assure you.”

“Fiancée. Congratulations are in order after tonight?”

“No, no.” Henry pressed his lips together. “Not quite. At our last rendezvous, I may have pressed a bit too forcefully on

the topic of her dowry. Father provides for me adequately, but I find myself eager to plan investments. Of course, they will

benefit Olivia too, for my rise will only mean hers, but she did seem to want to play the coquette a bit. You know women,

they don’t want to seem overeager in front of a prized buck.”

Tuck responded with a noncommittal murmur before striding back indoors, his gaze sweeping through the bustling ballroom. The

grand space was alive with a kaleidoscope of colors as women floated past in an array of elegant dresses adorned with jewels

and feathers and holding delicate fans. Every corner seemed to sparkle with opulence and grace. Though numerous eyes followed

his movements, inviting him with subtle gestures, none belonged to the woman he cared about.

“Husband,” Lizzy breathed a few minutes later as he entered the carriage. “My dear wicked husband. Are you here to have your evil way with me? I tried to find you everywhere, but only ran into grouchy old Henry.”

“Lizzy. Baby. I think it would be best if we cracked a window to let in some air.”

“You can crack my window,” she purred, reaching over to brace her hands on his knee. “Because tonight I will ride on St.George

all the way to where dragons live.” She burst into peals of laughter.

She was drunk with a capital D .

“Damn it.” He had so much to tell her and she wasn’t in the mood for anything other than...

“Jesus. No.” He flew back as her hand came near to whacking his crown jewels. “Please sit still. We’ll get to your house and

you can drink some water. I have a lot to tell you.

“Me too. I’ve decided something.” She slowly blinked. “Me.” She pointed at him. “You.” She pointed at herself.

“Think you got that backward, Pocket Rocket.”

“We are going to have intimate marriage relations. If we do not, I will die not only a widow but also unknowledgeable. And

that...”

Tuck reached forward to grab her as she half slid off the bench.

“That is a tragedy for my muff, and my muff is not a tragedy, do you understand?”

“I think I get it,” Tuck muttered.

Why shouldn’t she live a little? She had to deal with so much every day. If hooking up with him could give her some fun, well, he’d done it for way less noble reasons in the past. But he would never have sex with a woman who was drunk. If she sobered up, and still felt the same? Could he risk it? He’d never worried about physical acts messing with his head before. He compartmentalized. That was what he excelled at. If she wanted to have some sex, he could have some sex. What was with the vague fear churning through him? It wasn’t as if when his dick slid into her, his feelings would lock into place like some magic spell. That was ridiculous.

As ridiculous as falling into a pond and traveling back in time.

Lizzy was snoring now, loudly.

He scrubbed a hand across his face. He didn’t need to sleep with her to know his feelings were something he hadn’t experienced

before. If this scene were a cartoon, there would be a red alarm on the wall over his head that read, Danger! Danger!

He took a deep breath through his nose and released it. Once. Twice more.

A lot was coming at him tonight and he didn’t have a clear head to think, let alone make decisions.

The carriage stopped. They were back at the townhouse. Her parents were in the foyer when he entered, holding her in his arms.

“Dear heavens,” her mother exclaimed. “What have you done to my daughter? She’s as drunk as a Dionysian nymph.”

“Madam,” her stepfather said, “I believe Elizabeth managed this feat entirely on her own. I saw her in the ladies’ room with

Cornelia, Dorothea, and Theodosia.”

“Goodness.” Her mother slumped. “At least she is married and can’t ruin herself. Small miracle.”

“Exactly.” Mr.Alby turned and struck Tuck on the back, right on the kidneys. “Now escort that troublemaker to bed before

the servants gossip. I see public intoxication is a trait she can claim from your previous husband.” He directed the last

snide comment to his wife as they withdrew down the hall.

Not for the first time Tuck wondered how Lizzy had turned out as well as she did in this family. It wasn’t merely a lack of attention to her needs; it was the outright disregard that she might even possess a few. He couldn’t help but imagine how much further she might have progressed in ambitions like her writing if she’d been surrounded by people who supported her dreams instead of stifling them with ordinary ones that only benefited themselves.

Tuck carried her up the three flights of stairs. He was breathing hard by the last few steps. Lizzy stirred, lifting her head.

“You are my husband?” Her fox-eyed gaze was unfocused, drooping sleepily in the corners.

“I am.”

“My handsome husband!” She petted his cheek.

“Thanks.”

“Who will leave me.”

“Shhhhh.” He glanced around. Even though he didn’t see any eavesdroppers, it wasn’t safe to talk in public like this.

“I don’t want you to go away.” She burrowed into his side. “Don’t want you to disappear.” She kept whispering it like a nursery

rhyme.

They reached her room and he managed to get the door open, then kicked it shut behind him and staggered to the bed, where

he aimed to deposit her to sleep it off. She had much to learn in the morning. His head was still reeling from the conversation

with Zeke.

He rested her head on a pillow and started to pull back, stopped by her hand on his cheek.

“Don’t go.” Her voice was soft.

“You are drunk.”

“Very.”

“Babe. I’m not going to take advantage. Nothing is going to happen tonight. You need to go to sleep and hopefully not feel

too bad in the morning.”

“Stay. Won’t ravage you. Hold me.”

He could do that.

First, he removed her shoes and the pearls pinned into her hair. Then he pulled the covers up over her until they reached

her chin. She looked young then, all big blue eyes and dreamy innocence.

He removed his shoes and the cravat that threatened to strangle him. He stripped down until he was shirtless and crawled in

next to her.

“Yes, yes. Hold me.” She burrowed against him, the soft warm roundness of her ass against his dick. He gritted his teeth.

It wasn’t hard to know there were lines you just didn’t cross in life, and messing around with a drunk woman was one of them.

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t acknowledge this was nice. That he liked it. That he liked it too damn much. He took

a deep breath, only to be flooded by her perfume—lavender and other herbal plants, as if she were a secret garden.

“Why can’t we do this forever?” she whispered, with less slurring and more clarity.

“You know why.”

“What if you stay here?”

He closed his eyes. Tried to imagine that. No more Regals. No more goalie. No more cars. Lights. Toilets. Grocery stores.

Airplanes. Modern medicine. No sister. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Not for me?”

Fuck. Because the truth was... maybe. Maybe he could. Maybe he could spend the rest of his life here in 1812 with the balls

and the cravats and the rules and Lizzy. He’d make her believe she was good enough, brew pots of tea, watch her become the

writer she dreamed to be.

“Or you could come with me?” He planted a soft kiss on the back of her head. To hell with them all—they could escape.

“To the future.”

“Yeah.” Dangerous. He was stepping onto thin ice.

“The future you won’t even tell me about.”

“What do you want to know?” Even riskier. He needed to exercise caution, yet he wanted a deeper connection.

“Let me see... What are the top three most useful items you possess that are not present here?”

He mulled it over quickly. “Electricity. It’s a game-changer, ensuring there’s always light at the flick of a switch. It’s

not just about brightening up a room; in the cities, it practically banishes the darkness altogether, making nighttime feel

like daytime.”

“If it’s too bright, you can’t see the stars.” She frowned at him. “I wouldn’t like that.”

“Okay, okay. There is this thing called a car. Not a cart. A c-a-r . Picture a big metal carriage that doesn’t need horses to move. It has four wheels and runs on a special liquid called gasoline.

Instead of a horse, there’s a powerful engine inside that makes it go. People sit inside them and use a steering wheel to

control where it goes. It’s like a magical machine that can take you anywhere you want to go, much faster than a horse and

carriage.”

“You’ve mentioned this before.”

“Travel is more comfortable and way quicker. You don’t have to walk everywhere.”

“But I like walking.”

“People still walk, but for exercise.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s setting aside specific time to move your body in ways to make it stronger and healthier. You do things like running, jumping, lifting weights, or stretching to keep your body in good shape.”

“Exercise—that doesn’t sound enjoyable at all.” Her voice was quieter; she was drifting away. “You have one more chance to

impress me.” She wrapped her hand around his pointer finger, rubbing her thumb back and forth on his palm.

“Let’s see. Cars. Electricity. None of these grab you. What about tampons?”

“Mmmph...” she murmured sleepily. “What’s that?”

“They’re these small cotton cylinder-shaped things used during a monthly cycle. You insert it into your vagina, where it absorbs

the flow. I guess it can make things easier.”

“You have my attention.” She flipped herself on top of him, eyes wide. “Tell me more.”

“I mean, there isn’t a lot more to say. At least that I know about.”

“You put these magic tampons inside you and then you don’t bleed everywhere?”

“I mean, I don’t have first-hand experience. But I shared a bathroom with my sister all through our teen years so, you know,

I know enough.”

“How marvelous. Although my stomach would still hurt.”

“Yeah, but we have medicine for that. Ibuprofen. Acetaminophen. Pills you take to relieve pain.”

“I have no inclination to engage in exercise like running in the future, but the idea of using these tampons and these pain

pills doesn’t seem too objectionable.” She tumbled off him and flopped back onto her pillow. “Goodness. I’m pickled, aren’t

I?”

“If that means drunk, then yes.”

“I believe I might have behaved in a way I won’t be proud of tomorrow.”

“Hey.” He rolled on his side, wrapping an arm around her. “You can’t be held responsible for wanting to get with such a good-looking guy.”

She craned her head back. “We’re talking about you, I presume?”

He gave a deadpan smirk. “Don’t see anyone else here who owns a dragon you’d like to ride on.”

“Never ever repeat those words.” She pushed a finger to his lips. “As far as you’re concerned, they were never uttered.”

He nipped the tip of her finger, grinning at her squeal. “We’ll see. You were cute.”

“It was kind of you to not take advantage.”

“Kind has nothing to do with it.” He cupped her cheek, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You are safe with me. Whatever happens,

know that.”

“Safe.” Her voice was thick again. “Until you leave me.”

As she drifted to sleep, Tuck stared into the night, wondering how he’d ever be able to do that.