Prologue
Dr. Aubriella Byrnepulled up in front of Weston Manor and blew out a breath. She was on a mission and Trenton Quinn would let her help whether he liked it or not. Her cousin, Genevieve had been missing for too many years now. Eve, as everyone called her, was more than family to her. She was her best friend, and Aubriella had sorely missed her. It was time to bring her home where shebelonged.
She slid open the front door and peeked around. No butler and no residents to be found. Sneaking wasn’t something she usually did, but desperate times meant she’d do a lot she normally wouldn’t. Where would Trenton be in this mausoleum? The library would be the best choice for someone studying—at least, that was where she’d be in hisplace.
After she’d heard from a mutual acquaintance, a certain professor at Oxford, that Trenton was studying the Marquess of Seabrook’s family journals, she high-tailed it to Weston to confront him. Why wouldn’t he have told her what he suspected happened to Genevieve? He was well aware how close she and Genevieve were. If her cousin was still alive, Aubriella had a right to knowaboutit.
Aubriella took quiet steps down the hall, heading toward the room she believed Trenton to be in. She didn’t want to alert anyone to her presence before she had the opportunity to talk to him. He’d probably throw her out immediately, but it was a risk she was willing to take. This was too important for her to give upeasily.
“This is useless,” Trenton shouted as he picked up a leather-bound journal and tossed it against anearbywall.
“Easy, tiger,” Aubriella said and ducked in the doorway as she dodged the flying journal. She held up her hands and walked into the room slowly. “I come inpeace.”
Trenton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She had no idea what was going through that thick skull of his, but his emotions were broadcasting loud and clear. He was frustrated and about to give up. Whatever was in that journal he’d thrown against the wall hadn’t been the enlightenment he’d hoped to gain. Lucky for him, she was here now. Maybe she would be able to decipher something he had been unable to. At least shehopedto.
Trenton opened his eyes and faced her. “What are youdoinghere?”
“I’m not welcome at Weston Manor any longer?” She lifted a brow and then snapped her fingers. “That’s right, I never really was, but too bad. I’m here to help you even though you keep turning me down. This is what I did my dissertation on, remember? History is mything.”
“I don’t want you here.”Duh.Aubriella refrained from saying that aloud and stared at him as he reiterated his lack of intelligence. He glared at her. The muscles in his jaw twitched and then Trenton hammered home the final blow, “I’ve been clear on thatpoint.”
Yeah, he had—many times. As a rule, she didn’t believe in listening to idiots. She’d respected his wishes at first, but the time had come to toss that aside. He hadn’t brought her cousin home, and she was tired of waiting forhimto.
“And I believe I vetoed that already.” She walked over and picked up the journal he’d thrown. “Is this any way to treat a priceless artifact? I have half a mind to tell the Marquess of Seabrook how you’re treating his family’s journals.” The book was old, and his mistreatment could very well destroy it. His carelessness could be the reason Genevieve was neverfound.
“That one doesn’t belong to him,” Trenton said. If it didn’t belong to the Marquess of Seabrook, who owned it? She was about to ask him when he held out his hand and demanded, “Give ittome.”
She ignored him and opened the journal. If he didn’t want her to look at it, of course she had to. She might discover something, and that was all the incentive she needed. He wasn’t going to get rid of her as easily as he had before. She’d dog his heels until he had no choice but to let her in. Aubriella wanted to find her cousin, or at least, aid inhelping.
She scanned the pages, reading each word. This was absolutely amazing. The historian in her was thrilled to read a firsthand account from that timeperiod.
“You just found this?” Excitement thrummed through her like electricity buzzing on alivewire.
“Why do you ask?” he asked in acautioustone.
She flipped through the pages more rapidly now. “Oh, this is so interesting—if I’d had this when I wrote my thesis…” Aubriella chewed on her bottom lip and stared down at the pages. “Do you know what thismeans?”
Amazing… How long had he had thisjournal?
“Why are you still here?” He reached for the book and almost managed to snatch it out of her hands. She jerked back before he fullygraspedit.
“I’m not donereadingthis.”
She lifted her hand and brushed one of her rose-gold locks behind her ear. Her focus was on the journal. She was completely engrossed in the contents. Trenton’s presence started to disappear as she studied the words on the page. This was her specialty and she had an accounting of something she’d theorized on. She’d studied history as an undergrad and finished her doctorate after Genevieve disappeared. She’d believed time travel to be possible, but hadn’t been able to figure it out. It was hard to prove something that was more a concept than a reality. She liked the idea of time travel, and that was why she’d studied the possibility of it. The problem was that even though she’d researched it she hadn’t fully believed it possible. This journal though—no better key existed than it. If she had an idea of what time period her cousin had traveled to, she might be able tofindher.
“Aubriella” The sound of her name being said echoed in her ear, but she ignored it. Continuing to read the journal and discovering its secrets were far more important. Trenton shouted, “Damn it, Brie, give me thejournal.”
Her head jerked up and she met his gaze. The cobwebs of her engrossment still threaded through her mind. She blinked several times clearing her thoughts. Trenton hoped to go back to find her cousin. “You want to travel though themirrors.”
She wasn’t sure if he understood what he’d read. Time travel was not only possible, but her cousin seemed to be lost somewhere in the past. At least, that is the gist of it. Why hadn’t Trenton explained any of thistoher?
“According to this journal, Elizabeth Kendall had the ability to push her hand through the mirror here at Weston Manor, but she never did more than that. It freaked her husband out.” She frowned. “I can’t say I blame the guy. Anything of a supernatural nature must have been disconcerting to someone in the nineteenthcentury.”
“Actually, he was from the eighteenth century,” Trenton saiddrolly.
“Come again?” She raised an eyebrow. He must have read something incorrectly. “The date on this journal clearly says 1840. That’s the nineteenth century. Are you sure you read thisright?”
The corner of his lip quirked upward. He lifted his hand over his heart and said, “I’m wounded. You thinkI’mdumb?”
