A Wife In Time. Cathie Linz

the one Elsbeth was wearing, was some kind of tie.

      She scrambled to put the pieces together. Had her great-grandmother gotten the necklace from Elsbeth somehow? Perhaps the two women had known each other. Whatever the case might have been, Susannah only knew that she was here for a reason. All she had to do was figure out what that reason was. She didn’t realize she’d spoken her words aloud until Kane replied.

      “And how do you plan on doing that?” he demanded.

      “By getting more information about Elsbeth Whitaker.”

      “How? By asking the people downstairs about her suicide?”

      “Of course not. Nothing that crass. That’s more your style than mine.”

      “Oh, right,” he retorted. “Like you’re the soul of discretion. I think not.”

      “Think whatever you please,” she countered.

      He groaned. “God, you’re even starting to sound like this time period.”

      “I happen to have edited a book or two on this era, luckily for you.”

      “Oh, yeah, I’m certainly counting my blessings about now,” Kane returned sarcastically.

      “Just keep quiet and listen. You might learn a thing or two.”

      “From you?”

      “From the people at the party downstairs. The faster we can figure out what’s going on here, the faster we can get back to our own time period,” she reminded him.

      * * *

      Having attended more publishing cocktail parties than she cared to, Susannah had the moves down pat—just stand around the edge of the room, with eyes downcast, and tune in to the conversations going on all around. It was her way of surviving the stifling artificiality of the business functions she was required to attend. By nature she was more a romantic dreamer than a go-getting extrovert.

      To her right, two bearded men—one with a black beard, the other with a red one—were talking about some book they’d recently purchased. It took Susannah a moment to realize they were talking about none other than Mark Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper.

      To her left, two women were speaking about the joys of matrimony. “It has ever been my opinion that a woman must learn to relinquish self and live for another in order for her to have a truly happy marriage.”

      “Verily so. Perhaps that’s why Elsbeth wasn’t happy in her marital situation. But to have things end so tragically....” The words were a mere whisper now, and Susannah had to strain to hear them. “The scandal is unimaginable. Such things simply don’t happen in our circles.”

      The other woman nodded. “I wasn’t sure about attending tonight’s function, but we’d accepted months ago. My husband said that tonight was primarily a business gathering and therefore wouldn’t be inappropriate, considering the circumstances. My etiquette manual said nothing about an instance such as this, so I was left to depend upon my husband’s judgment in this matter.”

      “As you should in all things.”

      Susannah’s feminist blood was boiling, but there was no time for that now. She was getting curious looks from several of those attending the gathering. Looking at the other women present and comparing her dress to theirs, she realized that her outfit was off by a couple decades or more. And no one had a purse the size of hers. They all had dainty little reticules dangling from their wrists, while her shoulder bag felt like it was the size of New Jersey. The bottom line was that she was attracting attention, and she certainly didn’t want to do that.

      Nodding at Kane, who was a short distance away, she shot her gaze toward the door in a hopefully discreet indication that it was time to make a fast exit. To her relief, Kane got her silent message and a minute later they were outside once again.

      “So what did you find out?” Kane demanded.

      “That the women of this era were downtrodden and brainwashed,” Susannah tartly replied.

      “Wonderful. That’s extremely helpful.”

      “Okay, so what did you find out?”

      “That they’re still talking about the first baseball game held under electric lights in June of last year. In Fort Wayne, Indiana, of all places. Oh, and that a horse named Buchanan won the tenth annual Kentucky Derby a few days ago.”

      “That’s it?”

      “No. I also found out these people dislike Republicans and they don’t approve of the way the government is being run. I didn’t recognize any of the names they mentioned. Even though it’s been twenty years since the Civil War ended, apparently they still have a few lingering carpetbaggers from up north to contend with.”

      “We’re lucky we didn’t land in the middle of the war,” Susannah noted.

      They were walking as they talked. The night was still and the air thick with humidity. Susannah could feel her hair going berserk, corkscrew curls forming in rebellion against being unnaturally restricted. Sure enough, a hairpin slid down and dangled over her left ear while several strands of her hair spiraled in uncontrollable wildness. Muttering under her breath, she jabbed the hairpin back in place.

      “Are you listening to me?” Kane demanded impatiently.

      “Not really,” she readily admitted. “And you can stop glaring at me. You’ve done it so often in the past twelve hours that I’ve become immune to it.”

      To her amazement, he actually smiled at her—a slow, riverboat gambler’s smile that made his blue eyes gleam in the gaslit evening. He looked dashing. She remembered thinking so when she’d first seen him at the party earlier.

      Then she’d seen that fateful blue light, a lighter blue than his eyes, she absently noted. His smile really did have a devilish edge to it. She hadn’t expected that. Nor the breathless feeling it caused.

      Of course, after zipping back 111 years in a single step, who wouldn’t be breathless? It had nothing to do with his smile, she silently defended herself. Or his incredibly blue eyes.

      “Wha-at—” She had to pause to clear her voice. “What are you looking at?”

      “At you. You’ve got a hairpin hanging over your eyebrow.”

      “Where?” She automatically reached up.

      “No. It’s over here.” He brushed her left temple with his index finger. The merest of touches and yet it branded her with unexpected intensity.

      “Yes, well...” She cleared her throat again. “We need to decide what to do next.”

      “That answer is obvious. The first thing we have to do is get some nineteenth-century money,” Kane stated.

      “And how do you propose we do that?”

      By this time they’d reached another area of fairly heavy foot traffic. As before, Susannah only saw one other woman in the area. She was standing in front of what appeared to be a tavern of some kind. While Susannah was no expert in nineteenth-century fashion, she sincerely doubted that the amount of bare leg and petticoat the blowsy blonde was showing was appropriate for anything other than a lady of the night.

      Seeing Kane, the other woman’s eyes lit up. With dollar signs, no doubt, Susannah cynically reflected.

      Kane noticed the woman, too, which aggravated Susannah for some reason. “What are you going to do?” Susannah addressed her mocking question to Kane. “Ask her what year it is?”

      The woman apparently overheard them. “What year do you want it to be?” she asked Kane while moving closer to walk her fingers up his shirt buttons. “I can do whatever you want. Cost you only two bits.”

      “Such a bargain,” Susannah noted caustically. “Cheap at half the price.”

      “Watch