THE MAN IN THE YELLOW coat put his sword away. "Follow me."

He said gruffly. I looked at Gwendolyn from the corner of my eye. She was staring out of the window we passed, eyes full of wonder and an almost childish giddy expression. She didn't lose the expression as we went up the rest of the stairs. I let her go first, so I could keep an eye on her. "You were here only yesterday?" she asked, intrigued. Whispering so that the man a couple of steps ahead couldn't hear. At least she had some sense.

"It was yesterday to them," I said in the same whisper, "To me it's almost two years ago."

"Why were you here?"

She pushed even though this probably was the last place we should be talking about this I answered.

"To introduce myself to the count, and I had to tell him that the first chronograph had been stolen."

I explained, thinking Charlotte would have known that.

"I don't suppose he thought much of that."

Gwendolyn said and the man ahead of them was obviously trying to listening. Not that it mattered that much, he'd been dead for centuries in our time anyway.

"He took it better than I'd expected," I continued, thinking back to the scary encounter. No amount of training or preparation could have prepared me to face the count. I still remembered the utter fear that had gripped me.

"And after the first shock, he was delighted to hear that our second chronograph really was in working order, giving us another chance to end the whole thing successfully"

'delighted' was an exaggeration. I'd blurted out the news of the new chronograph when it looked like he was at about to hit me. The count had nodded understandingly and I had continued blubbering my explanation.

"Where's the chronograph now?" she asked, "I mean at this moment in this time."

Good question. But it had never been my place to ask.

"Somewhere in this building, I assume. The count won't be parted from it for long. He himself has to elapse to avoid random time traveling."

I pushed for her to go a little faster up the steps, hoping that was the end of our conversation but she was far from done. "Can't we simply take the chronograph back with us into the future, then?"

Did this girl really not understand you couldn't mess with time like that?

"For a number of reasons," I explained, as if to a child so I wouldn't have to repeat myself and she'd get it the first time around."The most important are obvious. One of the Guardians' golden rules for the use of the chronograph is that the continuum must never be broken. If we took the chronograph back to the future with us, the count and the time travelers born after him would have to manage without it."

God I didn't know how they'd done it. My teachers had spend years teaching me this stuff. Now I had to teach it to my companion, someone who was supposed to be my equal.

"Yes, but then no one could steal it either." She had after a moment. Did she ever think before she spoke? I shook my head.

"I can see you've never thought much about the nature of time. It would be very dangerous to interrupt certain sequences of events. In the worst case scenario, you might never be born."

Her confused expression didn't disappearing and I sighed, not wanting to have to explain it again.

"I see," she said, saving me from explaining it again all though she clearly didn't get it.

We reached the first floor, passing two more men armed with swords. The man who escorted us here had a brief exchange with them in whispers. The two were looking at Gwendolyn and I strangely, with unconcealed curiosity, and as soon as we'd passed them, they went on whispering. All I heard was,

"Twins…."

"Weird clothing. Completely out of fashion…."

Before we passed on into the next corridor. It was all slightly familiar, looking very similar as in present time and I could still remember it from two years ago. But at the time the last thing I was thinking was about the walls. The thing that had worried me the most was the meeting with the count. The man knocked on an upcoming door and walked in, opening the door for Gwendolyn and I.

Another man was seated at a desk inside the familiar room, also wearing the hideous fashion of the time. The turquoise coat and flowered waistcoat that showed above the desk were dazzling, and below the desktop, there was a cheerful view of bright red trousers and striped stockings. I'd stopped even being surprised by this kind of thing. "Mr. Secretary," said the man to the one seated at the desk, "here's yesterday's visitor again. And he knows today's password, too."

The secretary man looked incredulously at me and I held back my grin. This was just another Tuesday for me.

"How can you know the password? We announced it only two hours ago, and no one's left this house since then. And who is she? Women are not allowed here."

It looked Gwendolyn was about to say something, which would probably end us into more trouble so I took her arm and spoke before she could.

"We have to speak to the count," I said. "On urgent business. We're in a hurry."

I pushed, the walk here took a while and we'd be back in our own time too early if we didn't hurry.

"They came from down below," said the man to the secretary who still held his baffled expression.

"But the count isn't here," said the secretary. Getting to his feet, a task that must have been difficult by the side of his stomach. He wrung his hands together thoughtfully.

"We can send a messenger—"

I interrupted him before he offered us something that would cause us to wait for hours.

"No, we have to speak to the count ourselves. We don't have time to send messengers back and forth. Where is the count at the moment?"

I said, Gwendolyn's eyes wandering around the room beside me.

"Visiting Lord Brompton in his new town house in Wigmore Street. A meeting to discuss something of the greatest importance. He arranged the meeting directly after your visit yesterday."

The secretary said agitated, I swore under my breath. Just great. We'd already have to go back before we even got there.

"We need a coach to take us to Wigmore Street, then. At once."

I declared with authority.

"I can arrange that," said the secretary without hesitation, nodding to the younger man. "See to it yourself, please, Wilbour." "But—won't we be rather short of time?"

Gwendolyn asked before I could stop her. "I mean, time to get to Wigmore Street in a coach."

She covered up the running of her tongue. But she was right. We both knew london and by horse…We had to try it.

"Maybe it would be better if we came back another time?" She suggested, a little alarmed.

"No," I said, smiling at the race that was to come. This was going to be good.

"We still have over two and a half hours," I said cheerfully, ready for the challenge. The challenge against time. Once again. "We'll drive to Wigmore Street." I said, my decision final but Gwendolyn still looked worried.

THE COACH ARRIVED soon and we clambered in, me getting in behind Gwendolyn. I requested for the driver to bring us there as fast as he could and with a sharp flick of his whip we were coach was drawn by four horses, all black and very beautiful. The type you could rarely find in modern day anymore and driven by the same man from earlier and two years ago.

Gwendolyn was staring out of the window the whole ride. I glanced out once to see it was raining, the droplets pattering against the window. I glanced over at Gwendolyn to find her looking at all the kinds of coaches, carriages, and carts that were going along, all crowded close together, spraying mud and water from the puddles all over the place.

We went at the rapid speed I requested, the coach rocked wildly, and every time the horses went around a bend, he could see Gwendolyn's knuckles go white as she gripped on tight. He remembered feeling that too, that feeling as though we were just about to tip over everytime we went around a corner. He hardly noticed it anymore with every bend we took Gwendolyn came closer to falling on top of me, already having bumped into me twice with a sudden jolt of the coach. I'd ignored it as she'd gripped on tighter and mumbled an apology.

As Gwendolyn resumed to look out of the window he saw a familiar expression on her face. One kind of lost, like she could see the familiarity of this London and her London but then again couldn't.

He knew that expression only too well, had seen it a million times before in the reflection of a coaches class. He'd always wished he'd had someone to comfort him ag the time.

"This is Kingsway," I said, trying to help as she tore her gaze away from the window. "You wouldn't recognize it, would you?"

I tried to laugh it off just as our coachman launched into a daring overtaking maneuver to get past an oxcart and a coach like our own. This time she lost her grip and was fung right into me, causing us both to bounce around even more. This time I grabbed onto the seat too.

"This guy must think he's Ben Hur," she said as she slid back into my own corner. "Driving a coach is tremendous fun," I said, attempting to break the awkward silence and wishing I could be up there in the box. Driving full speed through London's old streets.

"It's even better in an open carriage, of course. I'd like to drive a phaeton." I explained just as the rain had stopped but she didn't seem extremely interested.

We finally reached out destination but as soon as we stopped the footman who opened the door for us claimed at first that Lord Brompton was not at home.

"Nonsense. And if you don't take us to his lordship and his lordship's visitors at once you'll find yourself without a job. We're in a hurry too so do it quickly."

I pulled my signet ring off quickly, not needing to waste more time are pressed it into the footman's awaiting hand and reminded him to hurry up.

After a short nod from the footman we were led into the house without another problem

"Do you have your own signet ring?" Gwendolyn asked once we were waiting alone in the entrance hall.

"Yes, of course," I said, wondering why she would even have to ask and why she couldn't bare having a moment's silence. "Are you scared?"

She asked, surprising me with the sudden question.

"No, why? Should I be?"

I asked, almost jokingly and she didn't respond. But I could tell she was terrified. She fiddled with her fingers until she raised her hand to her hair to fiddle with that, patting the pinned up hair cautiously, as if making sure it was still in place. But even with the bumping about of the coach it had stayed in place. Madame Rossini really did work miracles.

"It looks perfect," I said, with a slight smile. Hoping to comfort her. The first time meeting the count I'd been the same.

She seemed taken aback by the compliment.

"Our cook at home is called Brompton, too" she suddenly burst out, looking embarrassed, her cheeks turning red. "Mrs. Brompton."

Not knowing how to respond to the random fact I answered with whatever came to mind.

"It's a small world," I said. The footman who'd just come running down the stairs,his coattails flying saving us from the awkward moment. Now I looked at him I thought his face resembled that quite a lot of a weasel.

"The gentlemen are expecting you, sir."

He said and we followed the man as he led the way up to the first floor.

"Can he really read thoughts?" Gwendolyn whispered. What was going on in that head of her?

"Who, the footman?" I whispered back. "I hope not. I was just thinking he looks like a weasel."

I said truthfully. She smiled at the joke before correcting me.

"Not the footman. The count," she said. So she'd heard the rumour. I wondered who from, I nodded.

"That's what people say, anyway."

That didn't seem to reassure her.

"Did he read your thoughts?"

She asked in a peep. I shrugged.

"If he did, I didn't notice."

With a deep bow, the footman opened a door for us. But just as he did Gwendolyn completely froze.

"Ladies first," I said, giving her a small bugde through the doorway. She took a couple of steps forward and then stopped again. Obviously unsure of what to do. I followed her in, and after another deep bow, the footman closed the door behind us. Three men were looking at us. The first was a stout man who could only just haul himself out of his chair, Lord Brompton he guessed; the second, a younger man with a very muscular build, the only one of the three not to be wearing a wig; and the third was the count, Count Saint-Germain. I bowed in respect, but not as deeply as the footman had. As expected thee three men bowed back. I cursed myself for not having interacted Gwendolyn earlier to do the same as she stood there, straight as a ruler. "I didn't expect to see you back so soon, my young friend," said the count, smiling broadly.

"Lord Brompton, may I introduce my great-great-great grandson's great-great-great-grandson to you? Gideon de Villiers."

Count said proudly to his company.

"Lord Brompton!"

I greeted the overweight man with a bow. "Visually at least, I consider that my line has turned out extremely well," said the count, I smiled in thanks "I obviously had luck in choosing the lady of my heart. The tendency to a large hooked nose has entirely died out."

Again I smiled politely.

"Now, now, my dear Count, there you go trying to impress me with your tall tales again," said Lord Brompton, dropping back into his chair. I almost flinched at the quick movement. No one that big should sit down so abruptly. I'd read about his death and I could safely say that that would be his downfall. Quite literally.

"But I have no objection," he went on, with his little piggy eyes twinkling cheerfully like a child's would.

"Your company is always so very entertaining. A new surprise every few seconds!"

Lord Brompton said with a booming laugh, the count joined in only not as exciting. And turned to the younger, bare-headed man I'd felt like I'd seen before somewhere.

"Lord Brompton is and always will be skeptical, my dear Miro! We must think a little harder to find some way of convincing him of our cause."

The man replied in a harsh, clipped foreign language, I couldn't quite understand but it came close to Latin. Something along the lines of,

"You're stories are most interesting"

The count smiles again before turning to me, introducing his companion.

"This, my dear grandson, is my good friend and companion Miro Rakoczy, better known in The Annals of the Guardians as the Black Leopard."

"Delighted to meet you," I said and bows were once again shared. I'd gotten used to all the bowing a while ago but it was still annoying. I hardly ever seemed to travel to times where the shaking of hands was practiced.

Rakoczy— I turned the name over in my head and was positive I knew of him. He was maybe around thirty, now at least, and had dark hair and a thin, long face which was extremely pale. The black Leopard had many stories but not very memorable ones. He was good with poisons and mixtures I remembered, one of the many seeking the elixer. I must have studied it at some point but much is forgotten over seven years and useless facts like these were one of them.

I watched in distastes as a smile curled the count's lips as his eyes slowly moved down over Gwendolyn's figure, almost hungerly or like an animal would its prey. She inspected him too, searching his face with curious eyes and always coming back to those dark eyes. She suddenly blinked as if realising something and her bottom lip quivered as she seemed to be mouthing something. The count didn't seem to be addressing anyone in particular when he said in French.

"And this girl, who must she be? Where's the red head?"

I was about to respond when his face changed of that from curiosity to understanding and he addressed Gwendolyn, still in French. I only prayed she knew french well enough to answer and not stupidly.

"Ah. And so you, pretty girl, are a descendent of the good female traveler Jeanne d'Urfé. I was told you had red hair." Her forehead scrunched up in concentration as she listened to the count speak. Once he's finished a silence fell as she seemed to be still mulling over his words as I feared the worst. She had no idea what the count was saying and in fact, didn't know any french.

"She doesn't know French," I answered for her in French. "And she isn't the girl you were expecting."

"But how can that be?" The count shook his head disappointedly. "All this is extremely unacceptable and unexpected."

I sighed before having to bring him once again, bad news.

"Unfortunately, the wrong girl was prepared for the position as my time traveling companion and the Ruby."

"A mistake?"

The count exclaimed baffled. I could see Gwendolyn trying to make out our conversation as I continued.

"This is Gwyneth Shepherd, a cousin of the Charlotte Montrose I mentioned to you yesterday."

Or what was at least to him yesterday.

"Ah, another granddaughter of Lord Montrose, master of the lodge. And thus a cousin of the traitor, the sapphire?" Count Saint-Germain's dark eyes turned back to Gwendolyn, almost accusingly. But she wouldn't meet his gaze.

"It's the course of the gene that I simply do not understand."

"Our scientists say that it is perfectly possible for a genetic —"

The count raised his hand to interrupt me as I hurried to explain it as quickly as possible.

'I know, I know! That may be so, according to the laws of science, but nonetheless, I do not feel happy about it."

He said with a wave of his hand, Gwendolyn send him an agreeable expression he didn't catch. So she could understand some French? That, or she guessed well.

"No French, then?" he asked, switching to German as he addressed Gwendolyn once again. She seemed relieved at the switch in language and opened her mouth to answer when the count interrupted again.

"Why has she been so poorly prepared?"

He asked me, I didn't miss a beat as I followed up in German,

"She hasn't been prepared at all, sir. She speaks no foreign languages." I said politely, softening the blow as much as possible. "And in every other respect, she is also entirely unprepared and ignorant to all she should now. Charlotte and Gwyneth were born on the same day. But everyone mistakenly assumed that Gwyneth was born a day later."

I said and I knew he wouldn't take it well. By the angry look on his face and his sudden sharp movement as he turned his head to look me in the eye I knew I was right.

"How could such a thing be overlooked?"

The count thundered in English, forgetting his little game to prove Gwendolyn stupid. "Why, I wonder, do I begin to feel that the Guardians of your time no longer take their work entirely seriously?"

I decided it best to leave that to the Guardians to answer.

"I think you'll find the answer in this letter." I said as I took out the sealed envelope out of the inside pocket of my coat and handed it to the count. Who shifted his piercing glance to Gwendolyn. Who in turn once again didn't meet his eyes, looking to the other two men instead. I glanced over quickly as the count broke the seal and unfolded the letter, and with a sigh began to read it. I watched as the Black Leopard's almost black eyes met Gwendolyn and she visible shivered. He indeed was a freaky character.

The count glanced at Gwendolyn as he read, folding it once he's finished reading. Everyone seemed to be leaning forward a little as if trying to read it to. Lord Brompton and Rakoczy seemed to be the most interested in it too, Brompton was craning his fat neck to get a glimpse of the writing, while Rakoczy was concentrating more on the count's face. Along with Gwendolyn who tried to peek over the fold of the letter. I had a vague idea of what it said. Probably explaining the whole Ruby issue and Grace's story. I awaited the count's response as he pocketed the letter. Everyone else seemed to be waiting for it too, leaning back into their previous position, Gwendolyn hadn't moved an inch since her arrival. I watched as the Leopard's eyes bore into Gwendolyn, those black, lifeless eyes I'd read about. She too appeared horrified and entranced by them.

"Your mother, my child, appears to be an unusually obstinate woman." The count finally said. Everyone's gaze rested on the count. "One can only speculate on her motives." He continued, addressing Gwendolyn as he came a couple of paces closer to her, staring her down. But then suddenly she relaxed. Her shoulder's weren't as tense and suddenly it was as if she wasn't afraid of him anymore, that she wasn't intimidated by him. I admired that, it had taken me a while too to realise I could trust this man completely and that he'd been dead for centuries and really was just an old man who couldn't read minds. Although sometimes it felt like he could, like he could see straight into me head or, from his expression, was trying to. "Gwyneth knows nothing about her mother's motives or the events that have left us in this situation," I defended her, just as well she hadn't said anything het. "She has no idea at all."

"Strange, very strange," said the count as he walked all around her, inspecting her like on would an exhibit.

"We really have never met before."

The count said throwing both Gwendolyn and I off. Why would he possibly have already met her? She wasn't going anywhere to meet him earlier in time was she? She seemed confused too as he continued.

"But you would not be here unless you were the Ruby. Ruby red, with G major, the magic of the raven, brings the Circle of Twelve home into safe haven."

When he had finished circling her like there was no one else in the room he stood before her and looked straight into her eyes but hers remained steady, unafraid. I smiled a little at the fact. This girl had a lot more fight in her then he'd first thought. "What is your magic, girl?"

I rolled my eyes discreetly. I'd never believed in the 'magic of the Raven' or other such nonsense. Time Travelers were supposed to travel through time, they didn't have or need any superpowers on top. I'd hoped the count knew that.

"I don't know, sir."

She said hesitantly, some of her fear resurfacing.

What is special about you? Tell me!"

The count came close to bellowing. I suddenly remembered a decision I'd over heard months ago. It had been a Wednesday evening and as usual Charlotte, her mother and grandmother were at the temple. I'd come to greet them, to suprise Charlotte when something interesting had caught my ear.

"You're a very special child Charlotte and now a very special time traveller. With some sources suggesting you have some sort of gift."

He's heard Charlotte's mother say so I'd stood just around the corner, just out of sight.

"Do you have any idea what that may be?"

She'd asked Charlotte cautiously.

"How many times mother. No. It's all nonsense anyway."

Charlotte had snapped back annoyed and Glenda hadn't pushed.

"I'm not like Gwendolyn with her whole seeing ghosts and everything nonsense."

Charlotte had said almost bitterly.

"And thank God for that. The child must be crazy."

Charlotte's grandmother, whom she called Lady Arista said. I'd have to remember to ask her why they called her that someday.

"Poor child." Glenda said without any sympathy. "She'd do anything for some attention."

They were approaching and I'd made the snap second decision to head back inside quickly. I'd walked my way back through the tunnels, my feet guiding the way as my thoughts swam.

Gwendolyn, Charlotte's cousin I think, claimed she could see ghosts. Weird.

I had thought at the time but afterwards hadn't thought about it again. The thought had popped up only a second ago.

"I don't think there's anything special about me, sir."

Gwendolyn said weakly a rhe count clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"You may be right. After all, it's only a verse. A verse of doubtful origin."

My thoughts exactly. He suddenly seemed to lose interest in her and turned back to me.

"My dear boy, I read here, with admiration, what you have already done. You have tracked Lancelot de Villiers down in Flanders! William de Villiers, Cecilia Woodville—the enchanting Aquamarine—and the twins I never met: you've ticked them all off the list. And just think, Lord Brompton, this young man even visited Madame Jeanne d'Urfé, née Pontcarré, in Paris and persuaded her to donate a little of her blood."

I hadn't known that information would be in the letter but wasn't complaining. Displeasing the count, even though in my time he was long dead could be dangerous. I trusted the man but wasn't blind to how dangerous he was either. Glancing at Gwendolyn she was visibly disgusted at the mention of all that blood.

"You mean the Madame d'Urfé to whom my father owed his friendship with Madame de Pompadour and ultimately with you as well?" asked Lord Brompton sitting straighter in his chair.

"The very same," said the count. "I don't know any other."

"But Madame d'Urfé has been dead these last ten years."

The fat man sputtered confused.

"Seven, to be precise," said the count. "I was at the court of Margrave Charles of Ansbach at the time. I feel greatly drawn to the German states. The interest shown there in Freemasonry and alchemy is very gratifying. And as I was told many years ago, I shall die in Germany."

Funny, I thought. How in our day time travelling was all strictly secret while here the count used it for his own amusement. "You're just changing the subject," said Lord Brompton. "How can this young man have visited Madame d'Urfé in Paris? Why, seven years ago he must still have been a child himself."

The count laughed and continued feeding his cat yarn. This was all this was, a man playing with others.

"You persist in thinking along the wrong lines, my dear sir! Ask Gideon when he had the pleasure of asking for a drop of Madame d'Urfé's blood."

Lord Brompton looked inquiringly at me and I decided to humour him.

"May 1759," I said but his lordship uttered a shrill burst of laughter, not believing it. Being friends with the count must be difficult.

"But that's impossible. You can hardly be twenty years old now."

The count laughed too, but with satisfaction.

"So you met her in 1759. She never told me, old mystery-monger that she was." "You were in Paris yourself at the time, sir, but I had strict instructions not to cross your path."

I explained with a smile of my own, my hands kept by my side.

"On account of the continuum, yes, I know" The count sighed. "Sometimes I am inclined to quarrel with my own rules.… But back to dear Jeanne. Did you have to use force? She wasn't very cooperative with me"

"So she told me," I said. "As well as the way you talked her into handing over the chronograph."

I said with respect, remembering the struggle getting a tiny bit of that damned blood had been.

"Talked her into it! She didn't even know what a marvel she'd inherited from her grandmother. The poor device was lying around unused, unrecognized, in a dusty chest in an attic. Sooner or later, it would have been entirely forgotten. I rescued it and restored it to its former glory. And thanks to the figures of genius who will enter my Lodge in the future, it is still in working order today. That is little short of a miracle."

The count had his fun, now I'd have mine. "Madame d'Urfé also thought you were prepared to strangle her, just because she couldn't remember her great-grandmother's maiden name and date of birth."

Gwendolyn gawked at the new information. I remembered very clearly how she'd shouted and accused when I'd asked for her blood, telling what the count had told her. I'd calmed her down but didn't know any of this was true. Well not until now."Quite so. Such gaps in our knowledge have cost me far too much time poring over old church records, when I could have put my mind to more important matters. Jeanne is a distinctly vindictive woman. Which makes it all the more remarkable that you persuaded her to cooperate." I smiled. "It wasn't easy. But I obviously struck her as trustworthy. I also danced the gavotte with her, and I listened patiently to her complaints of you."

It had taken me of guard when she'd asked for a dance but I'd taken it without hesitation.

"How unjust. When it was I who nudged her in the direction of an exciting love affair with Casanova—and even if he was only after her money, a lot of other women envied her. What's more, I shared my chronograph with her in a truly fraternal spirit. If it hadn't been for me…"

The count boosted before turned to Gwendolyn again, obviously brightening up. "An ungrateful female. I think she never really understood what was happening to her, poor old soul. Moreover, she felt insulted because her gemstone in the Circle of Twelve was only the citrine. Why can you be Emerald and I'm only dull Citrine? No one who takes any pride in herself wears citrines these days!"

He chuckled but Gwendolyn showed no emotion, just listened blankly.

"She really was a very foolish creature. I wonder how often she traveled back in time in her old age. Maybe she stopped doing it entirely. She was never a greatly skilled time traveler anyway. Sometimes a whole month would pass before she disappeared. I'd say the female blood is considerably more sluggish than ours. Just as the female mind is inferior to the masculine intellect. Would you not agree with me, girl?"

To Gwendolyn's credit she simply bit her lip, glaring for a split second before lowering her head to the sexist comment.

"Not particularly talkative, is she?" he remarked.

"She's only shy," I said reassuringly with a small smile. "Timid."

If only I thought, I'd have many less stupid questions to answer were it the case.

"There are no shy women," announced the count. "The modest way they cast their eyes down merely hides their naivety."

He really was from the 17th century wasn't he?

"You clearly do not hold a high opinion of the fair sex," said Lord Brompton with no amusement nor any hint of disapproval. "Oh, I protest!" replied the count. "I adore women! Really. I just do not believe their intellect is capable of furthering the interests of mankind. That is why there is no place for women in my Lodge."

He favored his lordship with a beaming smile even though he was more than aware that in present date that wasn't true.

"And for many men, I assure you, Lord Brompton, that is the crucial argument that causes them to seek membership themselves."

"Yet the ladies love you! My father never tired of praising your success with the fair sex to the skies. We are told that women have always thrown themselves at your feet, here in London and also in Paris."

The count fell silent at once, no doubt thinking of his days as a ladies' man. Then he said, "Oh, it is not particularly difficult to beguile women and subdue them to your will, my dear sir. They're all the same. If my mind were not on higher things, I would long ago have written a manual for gentlemen, advising them on the right way to handle women."

The count had told me much about his book and now, somewhere in the guardian's posetion were some of the notes for it. They were old fashioned and patronizing towards the sex but I hadn't disagreed with him on it. Simply nodding and smiling, but never entertaining the idea any further. He was sexist for certain but sometimes I couldn't help but agree on some of what he said. Charlotte was great but definitly too dramatic and always played the little innoccent card.

I glanced over at Gwendolyn and to my suprise saw her lips pulled into a line to keep herself from smiling. But the smile quickly faded once she realised Rakovsy was eyeing her oddly and she cast her eyes down at the mosaic floor.

"This is all most entertaining," said Lord Brompton. His double chins were quivering with delight. "You and your companions would have made good play actors, I'll be bound. As my father said, my dear Saint-Germain, you could always come up with surprising stories. But I fear you can't prove any of them. You haven't yet performed a single trick for me." "Performed a trick!" cried the count. "Oh, my dear sir, what a doubting Thomas you are. I would long ago have lost patience with you had I not been aware of my obligations to your father, God rest his soul. Or had my interest in your money and your influence not been so great."

Lord Brompton laughed a little uncomfortably glancing between me and the count.

"Well, you are honest, to be sure." He said a little upset.

"Alchemy can't manage without its patrons." The count swung around to Rakoczy.

"We must show his lordship a few of our tricks. He's one of those who believe only the evidence of their own eyes. But first I must have a private word with my great-grandson here and write a letter to the future Grand Master of our Lodge."

"You're welcome to make use of the study next door," said his lordship, pointing to a door behind him. "And I look forward with great excitement to a performance."

"Come along, my boy." The count took my arm. I wasn't sure what to do, were it Charlotte I would have left without a second thought but this was Gwendolyn I was leaving behind. Clumsy, talkative, questioning Gwendolyn.

"There are some questions that I must ask you. And some things that you should know." "We have only half an hour left," I said, looking for any excuse so I could keep an eye on her, it was her first time here after all. And facing it alone, like I'd done would not be fun especially with the Leopard staring at her like that. I checked the pocket watch fastened to my waistcoat with a gold chain.

"By then, at the latest, we must set off back to the Temple."

"Half an hour will be quite sufficient," said the count. "I write fast, and I can talk at the same time."

I laughed briefly and a little nerveusly, she'd be fine. She wasn't a child, she could take care of herself I thought before following the count to the study when I heard the cleared of a throat. Halfway to the door, I turned around to find it was Gwendolyn. She gave me a pointed look and I looked back at her and raised an eyebrow inquiringly. She gave me a pleading look to not leave her alone, looking so young when she did it that I hesitated. "She would only be in the way," said the count coming back into the room.

"Wait for me here," I said in what I hoped was a gentle, reassuring tone of voice. "His lordship and Miro will keep her company," said the count. "Gentlemen, you could ask her a few questions about the future. This is a unique opportunity. She comes from the twenty-first century—ask her about the automatic trains that race along underground in London. Or the silver flying machines that rise miles up in the air with a sound like the roar of a thousand lions and can cross the sea." Lord Brompton laughed so much that I felt seriously worried about his chair. All his rolls of fat were quivering. "Anything else?"

She gave me a pleading glance and I just smiled. "I'll be right back," I said, and with that entered the study the count had just gone in and closed the wooden door behind me gently, feeling Gwendolyn's eyes on me.

Sup people.

Hey, sorry long time no chap but I have a favour to ask. I write this story by copy and pasting directly from the book and changing perspectives but keeping dialogue but my kindle, iPad and phone won't allow me to copy any more so if any of you have an ebook or kindle, phone, iPad, etc, that you could send me parts of the book from please DM or PM me. Without your help I will have to discontinue my story. AND don't send me any chunks of the book until after contacting me please. Thank you very much.

And of course you can always send me any suggestions or requests you'd like for this story or others and I will read them and keep them in mind.

Charlotte