Chapter1
Trenton Quinn stareddown at the open journal on the desk. None of it made any sense. It was almost as if the person who had written it decided to describe their findings in the most convoluted way possible. At the rate he was going, he’d never find Genevieve. The task had been daunting from the start, and now it actually started to feel hopeless. He stared down at the journal again and frowned. Was he asking theimpossible?
He scrubbed his hands over his face. Something had to give soon or he’d have to accept he’d never find Genevieve. All he wanted was for her to be safe and happy. If she still loved him… He wouldn’t think about that. He’d messed up, and it was because of his actions that she’d disappeared. Nobody had believed him when he said she’d faded before his eyes. His father had insisted he seek therapy and come to terms with his loss. He’d gone through the motions, but in his heart he’d never truly let go. Regina was one of his failed attempts to move on… His ex-wife surprisingly had a forgiving nature and even at times aided in his search. They had a decent relationship as far as ex-spouses went. He’d never have pegged Regina as the sort to overlook his misdeeds, but she’d done it without much thought. Of course, she was also happily married to another man, hisstepbrother.
Regina should be happy, and he was glad she found it with someone who loved her as she should be. Trenton had never loved her enough. He cared about her though. If he could reach out and grab his own happiness... His life wasn’t at all how he’d planned for it to be. Nothing had gone as it wassupposedto.
Genevievewaslost…
It was up to him to find her, and he’d failed her at every turn. He glanced down at the journal once again and the gibberishgreetedhim.
“This is useless,” he shouted as he picked it up and tossed it against anearbywall.
“Easy tiger,” Aubriella said and ducked in the doorway as she dodged the flying journal. “I come inpeace.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Great. Just what he needed—Genevieve’s judgmental cousin to make him feel even worse than he already did.Who let her in anyway? She shouldn’t have had the opportunity to sneak inonhim.
“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.” She was a reminder of everything he’d lost. Looking at her was a stab deep in his heart. Her lilting Irish tone was so similar to Eve’s. He swallowed down a lump in his throat. “I’ve been clear on thatpoint.”
“And I believe I vetoed that already.” She walked over and picked up the journal he’d thrown against the wall. “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’sjournals.”
“That one doesn’t belong to him.” Why was he explaining any of this to her? He wanted her gone. “Give ittome.”
She ignored him and opened the journal. Damn it. He didn’t want her reading it. What if she found something he didn’t want her to know? Then he’d never be able to get rid of her. She’d be dogging his heels until he had no choice but to let her in. Aubriella had to go. He had enough reminders of his failure at finding Genevieve. Her cousin’s presence was enough to make him not just tumble over the edge, but to freefall into oblivion. It might be the only choice left to him at the rate he wasgoing.
“You just found this?” Excitement filled hervoice.
Fuck. “Why doyouask?”
She was flipping 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?”
He wished he did, but he was clueless. Some of it had made perfect sense, but the rest… “Why are you still here?” He reached for the book and almost had it from her. She jerked back before he could manage to fullygraspit.
“I’m not donereadingthis.”
She lifted her hand and brushed one of her rose-gold locks behind her ear. Her focus was completely on the journal. If he allowed it, she would become so engrossed in the contents she’d forget he was anywhere near her. Aubriella was right in one regard. This was her specialty. She’d studied history as an undergrad and finished her doctorate after Genevieve disappeared. However, she was also wrong. How could she help when she didn’t understand the nuances of time travel? What could her history degree possibly do for his search? Locate where she was in time? Maybe… But it did no good if he couldn’t actually gothere.
“Aubriella” She continued to ignore him. “Damn it, Brie, give me thejournal.”
Her head jerked up and she met his gaze. “You want to travel though themirrors.”
So she’d read that far had she? Too bad he couldn’t figure out how to actually use them to get where he needed to be. He’d read everything he could get his hands on, and this one journal had the key. If he could find out how to unlock it... Trenton looked away from her and at a full-length mirror on the other side of the room. Would anymirrorwork?
“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 said drolly. It appeared as if he’d never get Aubriella to leave. If she was going to stay, he might as well give in and acceptherhelp.
“Come again?” She raised an eyebrow. “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. The urge to mess with her was growing. It wouldn’t do him any good to give into it though. The best way to clarify it would to point at another journal or two and she’d get lost in history. She was a sucker for it, and it was her biggest weakness. He lifted his hand over his heart and said, “I’m wounded. You think I’mthatdumb?”
She narrowed her eyes and studied him. “Are youdrunk?”
Sometimes he wished he was. It might make it easier to fumble through each day without Genevieve. Unfortunately, he was stone-cold sober. He sighed. “Lady Elizabeth Kendall married the Duke of Whitewood, otherwise known as Captain Jack Morgan, a time traveling pirate from the eighteenth century.” He moved toward her and snatched the journal—finally. “And no, I’m notdrunk.”
