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your apartment. I don’t even know for sure who you are and I certainly don’t know where you… Wait a minute.” Frowning, he leaned closer to her face. “You look very much like that woman from the past who keeps appearing unexpectedly in my…”
    He dropped back onto the bench. When he looked at her again, he appeared dazed, his eyes wide with disbelief. “But that woman has dark hair, not blonde, and her hair is longer than yours,” he said, his tone vague. “Plus, her dress is like something out of a Jane Austen movie. On the other hand, you have her eyes, her mouth…” His gaze dropped to her chest. “The same size…never mind.”
    Trembling, Amelia slid onto the bench opposite him. She swallowed hard in a suddenly dry throat. Where is Betty with my tea? She took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s be reasonable. Are you saying that you’ve had a visitor resembling me who appeared to be from a previous century?”
    He snorted. “You consider that reasonable? Personally, I think we’re both crazy.”
    “Speak for yourself. I’ve had a few strange encounters in my dreams lately, but the reasons are perfectly logical.”
    “Oh, yeah?” His dark eyebrows rose in a question. “As it happens, I’ve had a few strange encounters myself. Want to share those perfectly logical reasons with me?”
    “No,” she said emphatically. “So, why are you here in Ben’s place?”
    He sighed. “My uncle asked me to meet with you. He said you’d be here early and we could compare notes. Not to change the subject abruptly, but why does Uncle Ben have a key to your apartment?”
    “Because…” She paused as his implication sank in. “Good God, are you thinking…? Yuck! No! He has a key to my apartment because he stops by to feed Wellington whenever I’m away from home.”
    His lips twisted into a sickly smile and he leant back as though to distance himself from her. “You…eh… Are you saying the Duke of Wellington lives with you?”
    Amelia clenched her teeth. The blasted man was serious! “You’re determined to think I’m a mental case, aren’t you?” She answered his sickly smile with a snarl. “Okay, I’ll admit it. The Duke of Wellington moved in with me but only after Napoleon Bonaparte moved out. They said they simply couldn’t coexist under the same roof.”
    He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “No need to get snarky. You’ll have to admit that it sounded strange. I suppose Wellington is your dog.”
    “Cat, actually. Welly wouldn’t appreciate being called a dog.”
    “My apologies to your cat. Look, Ms Comstock, why don’t we stop sniping at each other and attempt to conduct a normal conversation?”
    “I’m not sure either of us is capable of normal, but I’m willing to give it a try just as soon as I get my tea and something to eat.” She looked around for Betty, who had disappeared, hopefully into the kitchen for a glass of tea.
    “You’re a tea drinker, are you?”
    Amelia cut her gaze back to him and lowered her brows. His tone sounded somewhat accusatory. “What are you suggesting?”
    “It was just a comment. Don’t be so prickly.”
    “I’m sorry, but I tend to feel prickly when someone insinuates that I’ve misplaced my mental faculties in another century.”
    He sighed. “You certainly can read a lot into a simple question.”
    “Sorry. When I’m this hungry, my sense of humour goes on strike. Oh good, here comes Betty.”
    As soon as the waitress paused beside the table, Amelia flashed her brightest smile and reached for the huge plastic glass filled with ice and tea. “You’re an angel, Betty. What’s on that plate?”
    Betty eased her tray onto the corner of the table. “I figured you’d be hungry and the daily special is one of your favourites. Country fried steak, creamed potatoes with gravy, and green beans. But if you don’t want it, I’ll find someone else to give it to.” She cast a sideways glance at Amelia’s companion.
    Amelia grabbed the plate.