Under An English Moon Read Online Free Page A

why you’re asking me about coffee pots, Reginald.”
    He took the mug gingerly and followed her back to the living room, waiting to sit until she lowered herself to a chair across from the sofa. He set his mug on the coffee table and seated himself on the edge of the sofa.
    “Reggie,” he said.
    “What?”
    “If you intend to call me by my given name, please call me Reggie. I cannot abide the name Reginald.”
    “Okay, Reggie. What can I do to help?” Phoebe asked. She slipped out of her shoes and pulled her feet up under her. “Let’s start at the beginning. How did you get into the apartment? I’m guessing you had a key somehow?”
    Reggie watched her movements, his eyes straying to her legs and bare feet. Although she was covered, she realized she’d been rather informal with a total stranger. She straightened and thrust her feet back into her shoes.
    “Yes?” she urged.
    He dropped his eyes and cleared his throat.
    “No, I did not have a key. I do not know how I came to be in your apartment. Frankly, I think I must be dreaming.”
    Phoebe could have taken that as a compliment, but the confused note in his voice didn’t sound like he meant “dreaming” in the romantic sense. She sighed inwardly. No, she definitely hadn’t conjured this guy up just by dreaming about him in the moonlight. Otherwise, she would at least have found a man who kneeled at her feet and swore that he’d fallen in love with her at first sight—perhaps placing warm kisses on the inside of her wrist as he whispered endearments.
    She voiced her thoughts...some of them.
    “Well, you couldn’t just have dropped in by moonlight,” she said. “Have you been drinking? You seem sober.”
    “Certainly not, Miss Warner. I am not inebriated,” he said as he rose hastily. Phoebe watched him pace in front of the window.
    “What was that you said about the moon?” he asked.
    “I said you couldn’t have dropped in here by moonlight.”
    She watched him stop and stare out the window before pacing again, seemingly trying to work something out.
    He shook his head. “No, of course not. That is not possible.” He stopped and stared at her. “Are you certain this is New York?”
    Phoebe choked on her coffee and laughed. “Well, yes, I’m sure, Reggie.” She jerked a thumb toward her chest. “ I’m not the one who appears to be out of place. Where did you get that costume anyway? It’s very attractive, looks quite authentic.”
    Reggie looked down at his clothing. “Thomas and Sons Tailors on Bond Street in London. Thank you. They do fine work.”
    Phoebe had expected to hear the name of a costume or theater shop, but somehow she wasn’t surprised to hear him name a tailor in London. It would have been more ludicrous to hear him say “The Costume Shop on East 42nd.”
    Reggie stopped his pacing to peer down into the shade of a lamp. At the light bulb?
    “What is the date, Miss Warner?”
    “The date? April 23rd.”
    “The year?” He turned to survey the room, allowing his eyes to pause on her. Phoebe squirmed under his intent look. It was as if all her dreams had come true. A handsome historical gentleman gazed at her ardently. Well, more like shocked really, she thought.
    “2013,” she replied.
    Reggie drew in a sharp breath and looked around the room wildly as if he would bolt. “2013?”
    Phoebe swallowed hard and jumped up, feeling suddenly as out of control as Reggie looked. She turned one way then turned another, unsure of where to go or what to do. The shock in his voice was unmistakable. There was no doubt that the date surprised him. Which could only mean one thing.
    She stopped and stared at him.
    “Reggie, what year is it where you come from?”
    “1827,” he said a hoarse voice. “It is the 23rd day of April in the year 1827.”
     

     

    Chapter Two
     
    Reggie stared at the slender young woman standing before him, a stricken look upon her pale face. Had he been rendered unconscious when he fell and somehow