Some Enchanted Dream: A Time Travel Adventure (Seasons of Enchantment Book 2) (13 page)

Adrian was also trying to contain a snicker. He knew they were from the distant future.

Gisele took Dan's comment at face value and gestured to the open walkway ahead. "Where shall we go first,
mes amis
?"

"There is a restaurant on the first level if you want refreshments." Adrian pointed toward the stairs with his cane.

A large sidewalk sign advertising lunch and dinner available at the tower stood on the pavement next to the booth selling tickets to ascend the stairs. The cost of going up the tower to the first level was two francs per person, or forty cents. It was three francs to the second level, and five francs, to ascend to the top. That was a lot of steps, Tara noted. It would take forever to go to the top. She would climb it, but hated to leave her husband behind. Adrian surely would not be able to ascend that many stairs with his recent injury. There were two elevators attached to the tower, but they didn't seem to be in operation this afternoon.

"There are lemonade stands and places for coffee and treats with the grounds." Gisele replied, dismissing the possibility of entering the long line to buy tickets just to go up to the restaurant. "M'sieur Wilson, there is a Turkish Tobacco Pavilion, if you are so inclined?"

That had Dan's attention. He smiled at the pretty Gisele. "Yes, I'd love to see that."

"Do you have a watch on you?" Adrian asked, pulling his pocket watch from his pocket. Dan nodded.  "Excellent, if you wish to go there, I will take the ladies about the other exhibits and meet you at that fountain in an hour and a half, say around two thirty?" He gestured to the exquisite fountain down the boulevard several hundred feet away from them and the dome beyond it.

"I would go with M'sieur Wilson, if you do not mind?" Gisele asked in a dulcet tone.

Dan's eyes widened. He coughed slightly and cleared his throat, meeting Tara's amused gaze.

"Of course." She said quickly. She wanted to spend time with Gisele, but she wouldn't mind a little time with Adrian. "Make it two hours. Let's meet at the fountain in two hours."

Dan offered Gisele his arm, and they headed off in search of the tobacco pavilion.

"Are you hungry, darlin'?" Adrian appeared pleased by the desertion of the other two. "What would please you today, Lady Dillon?"

"Being with you." Tara placed her hand on his arm, and they strolled toward the fountain. Adrian flipped his cane around in circles, showing off a little as they were on even ground. Tara's parasol was tucked beneath her arm, jutting out behind her swell of skirts as they paraded through the crowd toward the lovely sprays of water and the white sculptured figures rising above the mists.   

Serenity rose within as they walked arm in arm on the paved boulevard. The outing was a tonic, a balm to the tensions growing between them. The fair grounds were busy, but not too crowded so as to be jarring. Everyone around them seemed to be in a leisurely state of mind, ambling about with expressions of wonder and amazement.

They made it past the low steps leading up to the magnificent sculpted fountain.

Adrian paused and looked at the rising plumes of water. He didn't appear to wish to go up the steps, so she didn't suggest it. Beyond the fountain, several yards ahead a large building with a glittering dome rose up from the pavement. It had three large entrances in the center precisely beneath the shining dome, a perfect alignment of symmetry. Three tall glass windows stretched high above the doors, forming three elegant fanned arches just below the dome.

Tara sighed aloud, remembering days at the Marinette County Fair from childhood, the men hawking wares and trying to entice her to play games, the dirty, dusty grounds littered with garbage, the loud music blaring, people screaming from the rides, and the simple tents and awnings that housed most of the entertainments. She remembered the hot, gritty August air, the stifling heat of summer, the carnival atmosphere. The smells of deep fried food and hotdogs, the pungent and sweet smell of cotton candy blowing out from the trailers on to the runway.

This was nothing like those local county fairs of the future.

This was cultured elegance. This was beauty and grace. People glided by, women in long gowns and wide brimmed hats, and most of the men wore suits. Every building in the exposition was an architectural dream housing displays from around the world. This was the essence of refinement, the pinnacle of human achievements defining a century of progress in all areas of society. Oh, certainly there was noise. People talked. The loud steam train chugged and puffed as it made the circuit of the grounds on the exterior edge, carrying passengers from one end of the exposition to another.

She pulled the map from Adrian's pocket and unfolded the sketch of the grounds. She found the list of the exhibits on the back of the pamphlet. The possibilities were dizzying. They could spend days here and literally not take it all in. There were eighty buildings according to the brochure, and not one of them was made of cheap aluminum paneling.

"Let us find a food stall. I'm hungry." Adrian's head lingered beside hers as she studied the map. "I discern something delicious over there." He pointed with his cane to the left.

Tara allowed him to lead her toward a food stall beneath a long canopy running adjacent to the open fountain grounds. Adrian ordered two sausages, paid for them, and handed Tara the forerunner of the American hot dog. It was a spicy sausage in a little paper cone, a German sausage, by the look of it.

He devoured his in about three bites, all the while murmuring his delight with expressions of 'Mmmm'. Tara watched him and did not eat hers as it was a little bit greasy. Adrian turned around, got in line a second time, and purchased another sausage. He returned to her side and gave her a peculiar look.

"I'm wearing white gloves," she answered his silent question. "And a pale coral dress borrowed from a friend." She held the paper cone with the sausage sticking out of the top out away from her as if it were a foaming mug of beer. "Can you help me, Lord Dillon?"

"Of a certainty. I would eat it for you, if you wish."

"No, just help me not make a mess of myself. Let's sit." She gestured to the bench a few feet away. "You can break off pieces for me."

Adrian popped the last of his second sausage in his mouth and followed her to the bench. They sat under the shade of a tree. He took her paper funnel and broke off a piece of meat for her, and then lifted it to her lips carefully so none of the juice would drip onto her gown. It became a sensuous game between them, reminding her of a night months ago when he had seduced her with food and the promise of other pleasures.

As she met his eyes, she knew he was remembering the same thing. The last of the sausage was brought to her lips. She licked it suggestively before taking it into her mouth from his fingers. Adrian's Adam's apple bobbed and she knew she had aroused him.

He grinned at her, wiped his fingers on his handkerchief, and then leaned close to dab her lips with it. Tara parted them, hoping for a kiss. He glanced around them at the people swelling past, and snatched up her parasol. With a quick pop it was opened. He held it in front of their faces like a shield and bent close to engage her lips in a sensual kiss that started chaste but ended with a taste of tongues.

She opened her eyes as he drew away and noted the hint of a wicked smile curling the edges of his lips. Dove gray eyes held hers in a potent gleam of wolfish delight.

A tow-headed child in a shorts suit came rushing by, wailing for his mother. He started when he saw them, peered at them with dashed hopes and continued running on.

Sighing, Adrian replaced his top hat and stood. He folded her parasol and handed it to her. They moved on to explore the central dome ahead of them. An hour passed as they walked about on the first floor, and then the second, admiring the painted panels, the gilded arches, and the statues lining the walls.  They stood on the second floor balcony and gazed out through the large windows at the neat boulevards lining the long gazing pools that stretched toward the tower. The fountain was in the center of the park, between two oblong pools, made a pretty centerpiece that lined up perfectly beneath the majestic arch of the red tower from this vista.

"I still don't understand why it's red."

"I read in the paper that it was painted thus for the festival."

"I always recall it being black in the photographs."

"What are pho-to-graphs, my love?"   

Tara whirled from the balcony rail to face him. She felt giddy at the prospect of showing him all the new inventions of this glorious era.  "Come, there is a photography exhibit somewhere on the grounds."

Adrian was fascinated by the new invention that captured a person's true image so perfectly, and within minutes. Tara talked about glass lenses, shutter speeds, and chemicals that captured light to create the photograph, but it hardly mattered to him as they walked past rows of miraculous images created by the machine. And it wasn't really a new invention at all, only to him. The practice of capturing images on thick paper, for that was what it looked like behind the glass walls of the exhibit, had been around for a number of decades. He would have still been alive when it was invented, in the eighteen-thirties. He would have been in his sixties.

He lingered before the photographs of England's Queen, the current Pope, the President of the United States, among other important personages. "Can anyone have their portrait taken?" He gestured to the monochromatic sepia photo of a newly married couple in the display.

"Yes," Tara assured him. "You need only to make an appointment at the photographer's studio. You show up dressed well, and sit for him while he takes the picture. It only takes minutes, compared to a painted portrait you sit for that takes several weeks to complete."

"We will find such a man, and have our portrait taken." The very idea of a rapid method of capturing the human image was exciting. And taking photographs of loved ones, horses, his castle, the possibilities seemed endless. If the process wasn't too complex, he might consider learning the craft one day.

"What time is it?" Tara asked, appearing impatient. They had spent over an hour here. He pulled out his watch and saw that it was a quarter past three. They were late in meeting Dan. "We have kept them waiting. I hope your Miss Tisante is not upset to be left in Dan's brash company for the afternoon."

They left the photography exhibit and walked into the bright sunshine. Tara opened her parasol to shield herself from the glaring rays of the sun. He took her arm, and they hurried back to the fountain to keep their appointed meeting.

"Dan can be charming, when he wants to be," she replied. 

They found Dan and Miss Tisante waiting for them at the fountain. The two were chatting with animation. The pair had taken the steps up and were sitting on the edge of the water. As Adrian joined them, he gave Miss Tisante a nod of acknowledgement. Tara wanted him to 'feel sorry for her' and her situation. He would try, but it would not be easy. At the very least, he would not give her the cut direct or ignore her, as one would do in his day when presented with a member of the demi-monde.

She was a pretty woman. And she had been kind to Tara, most kind. For that, he would present a pleasant front, no matter his true feelings about the woman who exposed herself to men more money by lifting her skirts and showing them her thighs and more. He'd heard men in the cafe talking of the grand finale of said performance, where the bawdy-house women lined up with their backsides facing the audience, bent over and lifted their dresses to display their bums. It seemed crude to him, given that women in his era did not wear pantalets.

As sensual and titillating as it might be on a primitive level, his breeding would not allow him to condone the behavior, nor could he respect a female who embraced that line of work, regardless of her poverty. He knew his new wife well enough to understand it was best to keep his feelings on the subject of Miss Tisante to himself and appear amiable to the woman. 

They wandered from one grand exhibit hall to another, each one more fascinating than the last. The sun lowered in the sky as they made their way to the Rue de Caire, where Miss Tisante claimed there was a real, live Egyptian Bazaar in progress.

"It is like stepping into another world," the breathy brunette exclaimed.

Indeed, they turned the corner and were suddenly in the far east, as market stalls lined the avenue and people appeared to have been brought straight from the streets of Cairo to sell their wares at the exposition. Tara and her friend moved from stall to stall, examining silks and baubles. Dan hung back, seeming content to watch the women fuss over the exotic items. There were foods available as well; roasted lamb on a stick, fresh vegetables and fruits and sweetmeats. He purchased a stick of lamb for himself and one for Dan.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" Dan said between bites. "A real, classy dame."

Adrian concentrated on swallowing his bite of meat, ignoring the comment. Dan talked often in odd terms he didn't grasp, but he understood that comment. Adrian swallowed, and cleared his throat. "You do know what she does for a living, don't you, my good man?"

"
What?
" The giant growled. "So she's one of those fancy dancers in the cabaret. Why should I care?  It only adds to the attraction."

He didn't respond. It was clear he and Dan had very different expectations about women.

Then again, if Dan had an interlude with the tart, that would be his own affair. As long as he didn't marry her. It would bring shame to Tara, and to himself through the association.

Soft voices and light giggles surrounded them as the women returned bearing trinkets. Tara held out a long silk scarf of vibrant saffron yellow for his inspection. She draped it about her head and shoulders in the manner of an eastern woman and gave him a coquettish smile. He nodded his approval of her purchase.

Miss Tisante's high, wispy voice intruded on the sweet moment as she directed Tara's attention away from him. She pointed to the little white donkey bearing a little girl on its back. "There, you see, we can ride a cute little Egyptian donkey. Shall we get in line, Tara?"