A Stolen Season: London: A Stolen Season Book 3 Read online

  CONTENTS

  TimeArch

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Series by Tamara Gill

  About the Author

  COPYRIGHT

  A Stolen Season: London

  A Stolen Season series, Book 3

  Copyright © 2021 by Tamara Gill

  Cover Art by Wicked Smart Designs

  Editor Grace Bradley Editing, LLC

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a database and retrieval system or transmitted in any form or any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the owner of copyright and the above publishers.

  TIMEARCH

  For every year in the past, a week passes in the future.

  CHAPTER 1

  Reading, England, Present Day

  Lady Ruby Earnston laid down her DNA test result on the table at a nondescript building in Reading and stared at the man across from her, who looked at it with disinterest.

  "What is this?" he asked her. The man was tall, burly, and well into his middle years, but his eyes were oddly familiar to her for reasons she would like explained, and today, if that were at all possible.

  They had to be related. But how?

  "Those documents before you are my DNA results. I wanted to know, as many do, where my ancestors come from. But surprising to me, they have matched with yours. We are related in some way, and I would like to know how."

  Harrison Baxter, the owner of this company, stared at her with annoyance, and was that a little fear in his eyes? She couldn't be certain. The offices and the people in them bustled about, giving the impression of them all being very busy. She looked at a few who walked past the meeting room they were sitting in, casting curious glances through the glass doors, but the clothing they were wearing was odd. Were they some costume business? What a strange place she had come to.

  "Related?" He frowned, scooping up the result and giving it a cursory glance. "What did you say your name was again?" he asked her as he rummaged in his top shirt pocket for his glasses, which she could see poking out through the top.

  "I'm Lady Ruby Earnston. The Earl of Earnston's eldest daughter. Does that name mean anything to you at all?"

  Mr. Baxter's head snapped up. His eyes widened, telling her that her name did indeed mean something to him, but whether he would tell her what that was exactly was another thing entirely.

  "There are hundreds of people related in England and the world. The test naturally means that we have a past shared relative, nothing more."

  Ruby sat back in her chair, steepling her fingers before her, studying the man across the desk and wondering how she would push her point. Something odd was afoot. She could feel it, not to mention other things that did not add up. "Do you know that my grandfather is the very image of you, but how can that be so when we're distant relatives? I want to know if you know how it is that we're related. What member of my family's ancestors did we share? Surely that is not too much to ask."

  Mr. Baxter shifted in his seat. His gaze moved to an image on his desk, and he sighed. "Before I tell you anything, Lady Ruby, let me explain to you that you will need to sign an NDA, and if you speak of anything that you are told or shown here today, I will sue you for everything that you own, family ancestor or not."

  Ruby swallowed, unsure she wanted to know now at all. Why the need for an NDA? She prayed coming here today did not mean she had uncovered some dark family secret that meant her father wasn't the true heir of the Earnston line or her brother or any of them for that matter.

  "I agree. Please have the paperwork brought in, and I will sign it."

  She sat for minutes only as Mr. Baxter brought in a document and a black leather folder. Once the paperwork was completed, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the information she was about to receive. She hoped she did not have to tell her parents that none of them should be heirs to the earldom.

  "The story is a long one. Are you sure you have time or really wish to know, my lady?" Mr. Baxter asked her, slipping the paperwork aside and opening the black folder before him.

  She nodded. "I'm ready to know how we're related, yes."

  Mr. Baxter threw her a knowing smile and lifted out a picture, sliding it across the desk. "This is my daughter. You may know her as the Countess of Earnston and an ancestor of yours dating back to 1819."

  Ruby frowned down at the modern snap taken of a woman she had only ever seen in painted pictures, many of which adorn the walls of her ancestral home. She picked the image up, studying it. This must be a trick. "What are you up to, Mr. Baxter?" she said. He could not trick her or tease her with absurd antics that no one in their right mind would believe.

  "You lie, which I do not understand at all. This couldn't possibly be your daughter and my ancestor. It isn't possible. If you did not wish to tell me the truth of how we're connected, you could have just said so. I would not have been offended. Not that I would have stopped trying to find out how we're related, but I would have respected your decision not to say. But this," she said again, placing the image on the desk. "This is absurd. That image is a take-off of my ancestor and nothing more. I shall leave now," she said, going to stand. "You may have your laugh once I'm gone."

  Mr. Baxter stood, towering over her. He was similar to all the men in her family, tall and broad-shouldered, and the facial resemblance was uncanny, but her mind still screamed that such a connection was impossible. How could it be otherwise?

  "Please, sit, Lady Ruby. That is not all you need to know. Once I explain it to you, you will understand how it has come about that my daughter is an ancestor of the Earl of Earnston of today."

  She sat, curiosity getting the better of her. She would allow the man to have his say, explain his outlandish ideas, and she would leave and never come back.

  "Very well, continue," she stated, folding her hands in her lap, determined not to interrupt him again.

  "TimeArch is not just a corporation that deals with archaeological digs the world over. Many factors go into explaining the past and preserving what we can of historical artifacts. One of those is time travel. TimeArch not only digs up the past, but travels back to it and learns and explores what will help us to understand the lives of those before us. It enables our digs in the twenty-first century to be accurate, with less chance of things being destroyed or missed completely. It is why we're so successful in many of the digs taking place today."

  Ruby stared at the older man,
who had obviously lost his mind. Time travel? She clamped her mouth closed, biting down the bark of laughter wanting to break free.

  "Time travel? You want me to believe that the reason why your daughter is an ancestor of mine is that she time traveled back into the past and what? Stayed there and married an earl? Is that what you're asking me to believe?" The words sounded absurd coming out of her mouth, but still, the image of the woman, the uncanny resemblance to the man across from her to her grandfather, a man she did not know existed until she took a DNA test simply because it was what everyone else was doing, and came back with a match, was too much to ignore.

  But time travel? That excuse made no logical sense at all. No one could time travel. It did not exist.

  "Exactly that. Time travel, and that's what we do here. We are time-traveling archaeologists. Sarah Baxter was one, and she did go back to the early nineteenth century after a mishap at one of our trips where she fell in love. She married the earl, and you are the ancestor of that love match. You are as much my family as you are an Earnston. Whether you choose to believe that or not is your choice, but it is the truth."

  Ruby raised her brow, picking up the image once again. "Very well, say your daughter, my ancestor, did go back in time… Tell me everything. How it was she went back in the first place, and why. Tell me what happened between her and the earl. Make me believe."

  Mr. Baxter chuckled, reaching back into his folder. "Are you ready for this ride, my dear? You will not be able to unknow it once I tell you."

  Ruby did not truly want to hear this story—as absurd as it was—but still, something within her stilled her feet from rushing from the room and leaving TimeArch behind in her rearview mirror. "I'm ready to know your truth. Please explain it to me."

  "It would be my pleasure," he said, slipping her more images that left her mouth agape and all her disbelief evaporating in an instant.

  Holy smokes.

  CHAPTER 2

  Ruby sat in her car in the driveway of the Earnston Estate after leaving TimeArch in Reading and heading home to Kent. Her mind reeled at the thought of all that she now knew. The story of Sarah Baxter, who became the Countess of Earnston, was a story out of a romantic novel.

  She looked at her home—the very estate where Sarah once lived and walked the halls—and could only imagine such a grand love that Mr. Baxter, Harrison as he wanted her to know him as, had told her.

  How hard it must have been for him to lose his daughter. Even though she wasn't a mother herself, she could only imagine how heartbreaking it would be for a parent to have to say goodbye to a child, no matter the circumstances.

  Ruby opened the door to her car, handing the keys to Charlie, her parents’ chauffeur. "Thank you, Charlie. I'll not need the vehicle again today."

  "Right you are, Lady Ruby," he said.

  Ruby entered the house and heard music coming from the back drawing room. She headed in that direction, thankful to find her brother alone, which was even better.

  "Mitch, just the person I wanted to see. I need to ask you a massive favor."

  He sighed dramatically, slumping down on a settee. "Seriously, Ruby? Again? What do I need to do now? Or a better question would be, what have you done that I need to help you cover up, so Mama and Papa do not cut your allowance off again."

  She grinned, sitting beside him. "I have not done anything at all." Even though her family was yet to hear about her antics in Chelsea last weekend when she went up to town. Hopefully it would stay that way, too, if her London friends knew how to keep their promises. "But I need to get away—a day or three. Cut myself off from social media and my hectic social life. Do you think Mama and Papa will let me go off the radar?"

  Her brother studied her, a confused frown on his brow, and Ruby could understand why. She was known as a bit of a party girl. A woman always after a laugh and not immune if that revelry happened to involve a handsome, well-built guy. But what Mr. Baxter had offered her was too much of an opportunity to pass up. She had pushed him, of course, pulled the family card on him even though he had known her all of five minutes, all told, but she could not help herself. A month and a half in Regency England, to meet her ancestor, her great—so many greats she would have to look up to see—grandmother was an opportunity not to be missed. And she would not. She had to go.

  "Without our parents being able to contact you? I doubt they will allow that," her brother stated.

  Ruby sighed.

  "Doubt what, my dears? What is this you want to do, Ruby?" her mother asked from the door, coming into the room. Ruby took in her mother and noted her jodhpurs and riding jacket were covered in horsehair.

  "Before I start my fourth year in college, I thought that I would visit a health retreat for three days. But it would mean I would have to be unavailable for that time. I think this is best to get the most of my time away, regrouping, evaluating my life. Would you allow me to go? I wouldn't be able to be messaged or called, nor will there be social media, but I do not want to make you concerned. I'd be perfectly safe and well there."

  Her mother studied her, her eyes narrowing, and Ruby fought to school her features into the most innocent, eager appearance she could. Whatever she did seemed to work when her mama came up to her, patting her cheek. "Of course, darling. I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, especially since I found out what you were up to last weekend in London."

  Her brother snorted and belted out a barking laugh. Ruby glared at him. "I was going to tell you about the car, Mama, but it was all sorted and nothing for you to worry about, but I do think this time away at the health spa would be best for me."

  "I think so too," her mother said, checking her watch. "Now, it is almost time for tea. I shall go upstairs and change and will meet you both in here shortly. We shall have a little tête-à-tête before your brother heads off to Cambridge tomorrow."

  Ruby nodded, throwing a cushion at her brother's annoying head when their mama left. "I shall remember your amusement the next time you're the one in trouble."

  "Ah, but my dear, dear sister, I'm never the one in trouble," he said, grinning.

  Mitch left the room, and Ruby sat there a moment, enjoying the view out the drawing room windows of the gardens beyond. Now that she knew of Sarah and Eric, the love match that was too great for even time itself to put asunder, the house, the lands, even some of the furnishings took on a whole new light.

  She stood, walking about the space, wondering how it had changed over the years, wondering if what she saw was what Eric and Sarah did too. She strolled through the lower portion of the house, seeing things with new eyes, and yet the painting, one of the grandest in the house that sat in the entrance hall, was the one she wanted to look at most.

  A small brass plate stated the Earl and Countess of Earnston 1822 and depicted them seated together on a chair, an amused smile on their lips as they gazed into each other's eyes.

  What were they thinking? What did Sarah think of living in that time, so many years ago? Did she like it? She supposed if what Mr. Baxter—a grandfather, she guessed in an odd historical kind of way—had said was true, she was soon to find out. If he allowed her to go through with the plan she asked of him.

  Not that she had to coerce him too much, but a sizable donation to TimeArch certainly had not done her plight any harm, and if she could put things into place, she would be back in 1822 London by next week.

  How was that even possible!

  She could hardly wait to meet Sarah and Eric. Her ancestors. Her family.

  Would they like her? Ruby continued on into the library and went over to the desk, rumored to be one of the remaining pieces in the room from the Regency. She sat behind it, running her hands atop the polished mahogany. So many things she had never bothered to look at with any great detail or interest. But now… Now that she knew that this house once was home to a woman from her own time, how could she not look at all that she was fortunate enough to call her home and not marvel at it?

  There will be
fewer amenities and probably no toilet paper. Are you sure you wish to do this, Ruby? Her mind warned her, but she had to go. It was time travel, after all. How could she not jump back into the past and experience what life was once like? She supposed she was lucky in one sense, and that was because her family in the past was more fortunate than others. Her time back in the early nineteenth century could not be too taxing.

  At least that was what she hoped.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Season, 1822 London

  Carter Folley, Duke of Onslow, ground his teeth as he walked along St. James Street, his steps as determined as his mind. The meddling former Duchess of Onslow, his brother's widow, would not goad him into inappropriate conduct. She had wanted a title at the expense of their affection, or at least his feelings toward her, and now she had to live with that choice. As the second son of a duke, the duchess, formally Lady Marigold Rivers, had thrown him over for his older brother. That she had done so after they had agreed to care for each other forever seemed to no longer factor in her conscience. Nor did the fact that they had kissed.

  He frowned, oblivious to the fact that anyone walking toward him on the footpath would think him displeased with every one of them. He was not, of course. He was merely annoyed that he had allowed himself used in such a fashion, and now that his brother had passed, the widowed duchess seemed to think he would do very well as a lover after all.