Forever Mine (24 page)

“Hear me out.” His sister’s expression was fierce as she silently demanded he listen to her. “We both know the legend.”

“There’s a reason
why
it’s called a legend,” he growled. “It’s just a tale Uncle Charles liked telling us as kids.”

“And yet, here we are in a hospital room with a woman who’s a dead ringer for Lady Guildford.”

“Coincidence.” The moment he opened his mouth, he regretted it.

“Right,” Nora snorted with sisterly derision. “And your behavior since the moment you saw her has been perfectly normal?”

Her sarcasm made Nick wince. He wanted to dismiss what she was saying, but couldn’t. His behavior wasn’t any less bizarre than the direction he knew Nora was heading. Unable to come up with a logical retort, he grunted.

“Hasn’t it ever struck you as odd how the countess promised her husband she’d visit Brentwood Park again in the future?”

“If she were going to come back and haunt the place, someone would have seen her ghost by now.”

“No, the legend is very specific. It doesn’t say she’ll haunt the estate. It says she’ll visit Brentwood Park in the
future
.”

“For God’s sake, Nora. You’re talking semantics.” he snapped.

“Okay, I’ll let that simmer a bit,” she said quietly as she eyed him carefully. “But there’s a part of the legend Uncle Charles never told anyone else. We both know about the sapphire necklace—”

“The Barrows’ and Lord Guildford’s descendants have been looking for those sapphires for years. Even if someone found them now, I’m so far removed from the family tree their discovery wouldn’t benefit me at all.”

“I agree you won’t inherit anything at all, but there are two other things hidden with the necklace.” Nora inhaled a deep breath. “Uncle Charles said there was a locket and a couple of journals hidden with the necklace.”

“Journals?” Nick frowned in surprise. A locket didn’t surprise him, but a diary was altogether different. “What sort of journals?”

“Supposedly, the earl wrote daily notes to his dead wife. If the legend is true, then Lord Guildford’s journals will confirm his belief that his wife was from the future.” Nora met his gaze steadily, and Nick stared at his sister for a long moment. Then with a snort of disbelief, he shook his head.

“Well, if the necklace, locket, and journals haven’t been found by now, they’re not likely to be found at all.”

“Maybe, but the legend is pretty specific. It says
the countess
,” his sister nodded at the woman in the nearby bed. “is the one who finds the items in her future.”

“Nora,” he said her name with a note of warning in his voice. “If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

“Look, it all fits.” Nora pursed her lips and stared up at the ceiling before she began to tick items off on her fingers. “One. There’s the painting of the countess you’ve been unable to part with since you were what, thirteen years old? Two. The painting Victoria intended to buy just before the explosion. Ironic that it happened to be a present from the earl to his countess. Three. You’re a descendent of Nicholas Thornhill. Four. You both have the same names as the earl and the countess. Five. Victoria’s physical likeness to the woman in a portrait you can’t bear to part with is extraordinary, and then there’s you.”

“Me?” Nick wanted to discount everything his sister was saying as extraordinary coincidence, but knew he couldn’t.

“Yes,
you’re
the fifth item on the list.”

In silence, he watched her retrieve four books from the bag on the floor. Something told him that whatever his sister was about to tell him wasn’t going to sit well with him. There was an expression of awe on Nora’s face that scared the hell out of him, because he instinctively knew the books she held would send his logical world tumbling into a black void.

“Have you ever seen a portrait of the earl?”

Nick hesitated, trying to recall if he had. There had to be a portrait of the man somewhere at Brentwood Park, but he couldn’t remember ever having seen it. He shook his head.

“There are a lot of family paintings at the mansion,” he said. “I could have seen it, but I don’t recall.”

“Actually, there isn’t,” Nora said with a frown. “It went missing about fifty years ago, and no one’s ever been able to figure out where it went.”

“And this has to do with me, how?”

“About two years ago, Uncle Charles and I were talking about your fascination with the countess’ portrait, and he showed these to me.” Nora tapped the books in her lap as her eyes began to water. She dragged in a breath, held it for a moment then released it. “Uncle Charles made me promise not to show you the books until the time was right. I’d say the past couple of days meet that criteria. I waited because I wanted to be sure you were in love with her.”

“What does my being in love with Victoria have to do with these books?” Nick crossed his arms over his chest.

“This book here wouldn’t be much to shout about, except for the fact that it’s a history of several families in Guildford, where Brentwood Park happens to be.” She raised her eyebrows at him before continuing. “What’s peculiar is the picture Uncle Charles found of the Earl of Guildford in the book.”

Nora opened the largest of the books and flipped to a page that was marked with a paper bookmark. She remained silent as she handed the book to him. Even though he was sitting, the earth shifted beneath him. In the back of his mind, Nick wondered if the chair he sat in might collapse into the yawning hole he felt opening up before him.

Unable to speak, he stared at the caption beneath the picture. It read Nicholas Thornhill, Earl of Guildford. It was like looking in a mirror. He knew family members could bear striking resemblances to ancestors. But this picture made him look like he was a carbon copy of the Earl.

“Coincidence. That’s all it is. I’m the man’s descendant for crying out loud,” he rasped.

“It gets better. Take a look at this. I nearly choked the first time I saw it.” Nora offered him a smaller book. Nick accepted the book and glanced down at the title.
The Red Badge of Courage
.

“Where did you find this? I went looking for it a year ago on my bookshelf and couldn’t find it,” he said. He opened up the book and saw his signature then flipped through the pages. The book was still in good condition, but it looked like it had aged fifty years in the past twelve months.

“Take a close look at the copyright page.” Nora’s voice was strained as she met his gaze, and he frowned. Exasperated at her mysterious manner, he turned the page and stared down at the copyright.

“Published eighteen ninety-five, Heinemann Publishing.” He stared at it for a moment before looking up at his sister in annoyance. “You’re not making any sense, Nora.”

“Look again, Nick. It’s a first edition.”

The quiet words made him jerk his gaze back to the copyright page, which reflected only the initial publication date. He knew damn well his copy of the book wasn’t a first edition.

“Now look at the signature again.” At Nora’s instruction, Nick flipped to the inside front cover of the book and studied the name staring back at him. Nicholas Thornhill.

“So the earl of Guildford and I have the same taste in books.”

“Compare that signature to this,” Nora said softly.

She pulled out an invoice from the book bag that had been folded several times until the signature was the only handwriting visible on the paper. Without any fanfare, she laid the document with his signature directly beneath the signature in the book.

“Tell me that’s not your handwriting.”

His sister’s voice was emphatic as she tapped the inside of the book cover. He glanced down at the two signatures and shook his head. There had to be a logical explanation.

“Don’t you dare tell me that isn’t your handwriting, Nicholas Barrows,” his sister snapped in a harsh whisper as she darted a look at Victoria lying in her bed.

“I’ll concede they’re similar, but identical…” Nick shook his head as he desperately back-pedaled from the idea.

“Don’t be an ass. It’s your handwriting, and you know it,” Nora said with disgust. “Your problem is that you don’t believe it’s possible that you could have written it more than a hundred years ago.”

“I’m certain there’s some reason that can explain the similarities.” Denial surged through him as he sprang to his feet and handed the book back to her.

“Do you really believe that?” Nora scowled at him in exasperation. “If you do, then maybe you can tell me why you had the reaction you did to Victoria when she entered the shop, the portrait you can’t let go of, the fact you’re a dead ringer for the earl, or signatures that are identical?”

“What you’re suggesting is that I’m Nicholas Thornhill,” he snarled softly.

“Nicholas Thornhill,
reincarnated
,” she emphasized.

“
Fuck
. I can’t believe you just said that.”

“And I can’t believe you’re not willing to even consider the possibility since you’ve confessed to being in love with Victoria. It’s not like it’s that much more of a leap.”

Nick glared at her. The fact that her argument was beginning to make sense made his gut clench. All around him he could see the walls of his structured, logical, cataloged world starting to collapse in on him. Reincarnation had never been something he believed in, but everything Nora was throwing at him was forcing him to reconsider his belief structures. He released a harsh breath of angry denial. He
wasn’t
Nicholas Thornhill. He was Nick Barrows.

All of the coincidences Nora had spouted off could easily be explained away. He was certain of it. As if reading his mind, his sister pinned him with that unique piercing gaze of hers. Again he experienced a sense of having argued with her before about Victoria. Somewhere from the dark recesses of his mind, a voice murmured the name Anna. Yes, she was just like Anna. His thoughts swerved and came to a dead halt. The other night he’d called his sister, Anna. Who the fuck was Anna? He shook his head. He was definitely losing it.

“I know you think I’m crazy, Nick, but I want you to look at one more thing.” Nora eyed him sternly and nodded at the seat beside her. Reluctantly, Nick returned to his chair. “The staff found Victoria’s purse in the rubble, and gave it to me for safe keeping. I wanted to make sure it was hers—”

“God damn it, Nora,” he growled. “You went through her purse?”

“I don’t recall her producing an insurance card for her medical expenses, did you?” Nora rolled her eyes at him as he twisted his mouth in an acknowledgement that she’d done the right thing. “While I was looking through her purse, I came across this journal she was writing about her trip.”

“
Christ
—”

“I didn’t read the damn thing,” she said as she stared at him. “But there was something about her handwriting that struck me as odd.”

“Odd how.”

“This spiral notebook belongs to Victoria,” Nora said as she handed it to him in an open position. She opened another weathered hand bound journal and laid it over half of the spiral notebook so was possible to see samples of handwriting from both books. “This is one of two journals the Countess of Guildford wrote in for the ten months prior to her death.”

“And?”

“Look at the writing, Nick.”

He stared down at the writing, seeing but refusing to believe. Nora drew in a sharp hiss of air.

“For crying out loud, Nick, the countess’ handwriting is identical to the writing in your Victoria’s vacation journal.”

“
Damn it, Anna, that’s fucking insane
,” he said softly through clenched teeth. “They aren’t the same.”

“If it’s so insane, why did you just call me Anna?” Nora smiled with satisfaction. “Ironic too that the countess’ journal mentions her friend, Anna. Ready to believe now?”

Nick sprang to his feet to pace the floor. Fuck, she really believed he and Victoria were the Earl and Countess of Guildford reincarnated. Unbelievable. No, it was insane, and yet a part of him was urging him to believe. He came to an abrupt halt and rubbed his hand through his hair.

“I’m beginning to feel like I need to be in a psych ward,” he said with a sense of bewilderment.

“Nick, it’s going to be okay.” His sister quickly got to her feet and crossed the floor to touch his arm. “Sometimes we just need to take a leap of faith.”

Nora placed the weathered journal in his hand.

“You should read her journals, Nick. It’s… I don’t know how to describe it,” Nora said softly. “Once you’ve read the countess’ journals and you tell me you still think all of this is just a coincidence, I’ll never bring any of this up again.”

Nick didn’t say a word. He simply wrapped his fingers around the books’ binding. His gaze met Nora’s, and he shook his head. She offered him a smile of encouragement and squeezed his arm.

“If you need anything, call.” Nora kissed his cheek then walked out of the room.

November 1897

“S
he’ll be fine, Edmund. She simply fainted.”

Victoria blinked her eyes as her gaze focused on Nicholas’ concerned features, while Edmund hung back a small distance with a frown of worry on his sweet face. A bit further away the artist watched her with obvious concern. Cradled in Nicholas’ strong embrace, she raised her hand to her brow and probed gently at her head. The pain had diminished to nothing more than a minor headache.