was already lost. Deliberately she tried to make her language that of the 1970s. Oh, if only she knew more about the real Lady Elsingham! She would perhaps be able to demonstrate that the mind within this beautiful body was not Nadine’s.
“Sir,” she began, low-voiced, “If I do not address you in the proper way, it is because for two hundred years my American countrymen have owed no allegiance to the British crown. “We ‘colonists,’ as you called us, found your taxation without representation unbearable, and we fought you and finally defeated you with the help of France.” Trying not to notice his frown, she hurried on. “I am only a librarian in New York’s Uptown Library, not a history major—but I did go to Radcliffe College and my minor was American History—so I do know something about the details of the American Revolution of 1776-1783—”
“Very convenient.” A rather scornful smile twisted his lips. “Since this is only the year 1775, no one will be able to verify your claims for some time. But at least you are remarkably consistent. Those are the dates you quoted me last night. There is no coherence in your story . . .” if nothing else, his tone implied.
Kathryn’s face whitened. She had lost him! Still she held her voice steady. “I have no defense against your suspicions, sir. And I am aware, believe me, that my statements are impossible to substantiate. I can only swear that what I tell you is the truth as I know it. Perhaps there is philosophical justification for the theory of alternate realities. What I know as reality is that I am Kathryn Hendrix, of the Barton Apartments, New York City; that my Social Security number is 565-48-4743, and that, as the American soldiers who fought in two world wars and two police actions could tell you, is all I am required to tell the enemy on capture: name, rank, and serial number.”
The big man’s eyes were the cold gray of a winter sea. “I feel I must warn you against this game you are playing, Nadine. Dr. Anders was disturbed by your wild talk. He even hinted that he feared madness . . . For your own sake, lest your situation become worse, why not accept with good grace the fact that you have lost whatever game you are playing, and salvage what you can from the wreck of our marriage?”
Kathryn felt a sudden, irrational surge of pity for the tall, proud man standing beside her. It was plain his wife had wounded more than his self-esteem. He must have loved his Nadine very deeply to have been so vulnerable to her actions. As I thought I loved Don, she reminded herself. Kathryn knew all about that pain!
Lord John was speaking in a steady voice. “You’ll be happy in Ireland. I’ll see to it that you do not lack for any luxury, so long as you live quietly and do not disgrace my name. Surely you can be discreet if it is to your advantage—”
Kathryn’s head had begun to ache, and her arm was one solid throb of pain. She said wearily, “I can’t convince you, can I? You aren’t willing to give me a real test. Surely there must be something I can do that your Nadine could not? Mathematics? Languages? I was taught French and Latin, psychology, civics, library sciences. . . . Question me! I’ll do anything to convince you. Anything to get myself off the hook, as we say in 1974.”
Lord John was frowning. Kathryn, searching for a way to hammer home her knowledge of the science of the future, went too far. “I’m not a physicist, but I know that in 1942 Dr. Fermi developed an atom bomb, and in 1969 the United States landed the first two men on the moon,” she concluded proudly.
“You can’t expect me to take this seriously? Atom bombs and men on the moon? I don’t believe in witchcraft. And you would be well advised not to let anyone hear you laying claim to such forbidden skills.”
“Witchcraft? Is that what you think—?” began the girl, but Lord John interrupted, sternly.
“What else? Do you have some rational explanation for your claim of a miraculous flight through space and time from the future? On an ‘atomic’ broomstick, perhaps?”
Kathryn felt the surge of anger this man seemed capable of arousing in her. She said hotly, “That is unworthy of an educated man. I’ve read a great many romantic novels about