SEVERAL DAYS LATER, I’M ABLE TO SET AN APPOINTMENT WITH Josephine’s grandniece Ruby, who lives in a village about an hour north of London. I don’t know why I’m more nervous about this meeting than any of my previous research outings, but I’ve been messing with my hair in the mirror for twenty minutes, and all I’ve managed to do is leave clumps of red on the bathroom floor. Finally I say to hell with it and wrap it up in a bun.
I’m getting my bag together and checking to make sure I’ve got the right address in my phone when Jack strides into my room.
“Where you off to?” he says, shirtless and still sweaty from his run.
“Going to interview that woman about Josephine.”
“You need a ride? I can ask Jamie to borrow his car.”
“The Jag? He would never. Anyway, I’m good.”
Jack wrinkles his forehead. “You said it was out in Tonwell? You’re not taking the train all the way out there?”
“No, I got a ride. But thank you.”
He follows me downstairs, watching as I put on my shoes and grab my coat. I had hoped to slip out of here while he was in the shower, but no such luck.
“What, Ben Tulley send you another limo?”
He’s mostly kidding when he peeks through the curtains to look out the front window. The smile fades when instead he sees Nate leaning on his motorcycle at the curb.
“Ah. Got it.”
“I won’t be late.” I try to keep my voice light, but the tightness of Jack’s jaw is impossible to mistake. “I mentioned my appointment and he offered.”
And I wanted to see him, but I don’t say that part out loud. It’s true, though. I’ve missed Nate.
If this were an easy decision, I’d have made it already.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I don’t have to look to know it’s Nate asking if I’m ready to go. For all our sakes, I don’t answer it.
Jack leans against the door, still watching me.
I bite my lip. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“All right.”
He takes a step toward me.
“Jack— ”
He has me up against the wall before I can blink. His lips find my neck, planting hot, hungry kisses along the tendons there. My knees wobble as Jack’s hand drifts down my stomach toward the juncture of my thighs.
I gasp when he cups me over my jeans, the heat of his palm sending a sizzle of pleasure to my clit.
His mouth moves close to my ear. “I’m going to sneak into your room tonight, Abbey,” he rasps. “And I’m going to eat your pussy all goddamn night.”
Oh. My. God.
Then he smiles. “I want you to think about that when you’re with him today.”
My heartbeat is dangerously unstable. With a little smirk, Jack withdraws his hand and wanders toward the stairs.
Outside, I’m still struggling to banish Jack’s threat—or rather promise— from my mind when Nate greets me with his crooked grin. “You weren’t thinking of standing me up?”
Just that small inflection in his voice, the way he shoves his hair out of his eyes, throws me headlong back into the blender of conflicted feelings. Ten seconds ago, my heart was pounding for Jack. Now it’s careening for Nate. This is not good.
“Not a chance. Just some house business.”
Nate isn’t shy about tilting my chin up to kiss me. A deep I-haven’t-seen-you-in-weeks kiss that wakes up every nerve and gets me thinking about blowing off this whole trip to head straight to his place.
“Hi,” I say, breathless when he releases me.
Nate smirks, satisfied with himself. “Hi.” Then he helps me put on my helmet and pushes stray strands of hair off my face to slide a pair of goggles on me too. “You’ll want these. Too cold without them. Your eyes will freeze right in their sockets.”
I fit them on. “How do I look?”
“Brilliant.”
Feeling the bike rumble beneath me as we tear through the streets of London never gets old. Even the freezing air doesn’t bother me, arms wrapped tight around Nate’s waist. The ride reminds me of what I love about this city. The architecture and culture. The distinct neighborhoods with their particular rhythms. I love our ranch in Nashville, but there’s nothing quite like London.
In Tonwell, we take it slow through the cobblestone streets to a small cottage just beyond the village center. A petite woman in her late forties comes to greet us at the door.
“Well, you certainly do make an entrance,” she says after introductions are made. She’s in drab overalls with black stains at the knees and her graying hair tied up in a bandanna. She pulls off a pair of brown work gloves and waves us in. “Come on in and get warm. I’ll put on some tea.”
We follow her inside and take a seat at her kitchen table.
“Sorry I’m in such a state,” she says as she fills a kettle. “I’ve got chickens.”
Out the window, I notice a garden in her backyard and a wooden structure I assume must be her chicken coop.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” I say gratefully. “I realize it’s a strange request.”
“Oh, I’m delighted.” Ruby puts out a plate of cookies, which Nate gratefully helps himself to. “I haven’t got much family left, so your call gave me an excuse to spend some time getting to know my ancestors.” She gestures across her kitchen to a box on the floor. “That’s them. Go on and help yourself. Jo was a fascinating girl. Wish I’d had the chance to meet her.”
“Do you know what happened to her?” I ask, unable to hide my eagerness. “Where she ended up?”
“Can’t say, I’m afraid. My grandfather Matthew was Josephine’s younger brother. From what I gathered, Matthew was still a young boy when Josephine and their sister, Evelyn, went to work for the Tulleys. They didn’t see so much of each other after that. That wasn’t unusual, you know. When you staffed a family like that, you more or less gave up your own. You sent money in a letter every week, maybe popped in a couple times a year, but for the most part, it was goodbye.”
When the kettle starts whistling, Ruby pours our tea and sets the cups down at the table.
“Milk and sugar?” she offers.
“Please.”
“None for me, thanks,” Nate says, hauling the box over and lifting it into the empty chair between us.
“How did you come into all this?” I reach into the box to pull out some of the letters bundled and tied together.
“From my mum, who passed two summers back. It’s been in my attic since I cleared her place out after that.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
She nods at that. “I emailed my cousin this week asking her to check her own attic, so perhaps we’ll come across more documents that could prove useful for you. As it stands, this is all we have. Our family history mostly evaporated after the war. Displaced. What bits we have are scattered, so it was good to realize I had this. I had just assumed it was bank statements and credit card bills.”
Ruby sits with us for a while, telling us more about herself and her family and what little she recalls of her grandfather, Josephine’s brother, growing up. She pulls out some artifacts she found of interest and helps provide some context for the names and relations. Like a letter to Josephine’s mother in which she confesses she’s fallen in love.
“Oh my God, listen to this.” I’m practically bouncing in my chair as I read parts of the letter aloud. “‘He is the most generous man. He adores me. And he treats me as his equal, Mother, as if he’s proud to have me by his side.’” I skim the next couple paragraphs and gasp. “Oooh, and this: ‘His mother does not approve. It has caused a strain on his family.’”
Nate’s answering laugh is wry. “How very unhelpful. Her description of this great love is interchangeable with either Tulley brother.”
“Ugh. Right? Would it have killed her to spell it out for us?” I groan in annoyance, which summons a chortle from Ruby. “‘Dear Mother, I love Robert. Yours truly, Josephine.’ Or ‘Dear Mother, William rocks my world. Your loving daughter, Josephine.’” I grumble. “Women, amirite?”
Nate looks like he’s trying not to double over in laughter.
“Is she always this entertaining?” Ruby asks him.
“Oh yes. Certainly.” Winking at me, he reaches over to squeeze my hand.
I flash him a smile before moving on to another letter. This one also fails to mention the name of Josephine’s lover, but one line stands out to me. This time, I don’t read it out loud.
Oh, Mother, I feel dreadfully guilty for my part in this. Yet my heart led me here, and don’t you remember? You once told me that the heart never leads us astray.
The guilt is a reference to her predicament, I assume. The part about your heart never leading you astray is what sticks with me, though.
Is that true? Does your heart always lead you where you’re supposed to be in the end? If so, I wish mine would point me in the right direction already. Jack or Nate. Take your pick, heart.
Spending the next hour poring over Ruby’s documents, a comprehensive picture of Josephine Farnham begins to form in my mind. The young maid was an intelligent, mischievous, and adventurous woman full of passion and curiosity. Her letters to her mother reveal that she went into service for the Tulleys hoping it would expose her to new people and experiences. And I suppose it did. Eventually. But mostly, it left her stifled. In one letter, she confesses she is desperate for a change but reliant on the income. In a later letter, it’s obvious her reason for staying now has more to do with the man she loves than her salary.
Ruby allows me to take photographs of her archives, which I’ll include in my final project. Despite not having an answer about which Tulley brother Josephine picked, I feel an odd sense of resolution. A strange confidence that whoever Josephine ended up with, it was the right choice.
The heart never leads us astray.
After taking up more than enough of Ruby’s time, she sends us off with a loaf of homemade bread, and we return to Notting Hill at dusk. Outside the house, we linger on the sidewalk for a while, neither of us in a hurry to say goodbye for the night.
“I close tonight,” Nate says, hands tucked into my back pockets as he leans against his bike. “But if you wanted to come over after.”
I shake my head regretfully. “I’m planning to be fast asleep by then. It’s a school night, you know.”
“Right. Fair enough. As long as you’re not avoiding me.”
“If I am,” I say, fidgeting with his belt loops, “I’m doing a terrible job.”
Before he releases me, Nate captures my lips with his. His tongue slips past them, sensual and full of reminders. I get caught up in their lure until he pulls away with a parting kiss to my forehead.
“I’ll text you,” he says.
I back up as he puts on his helmet and starts his motorcycle, smiling faintly before he peels off the curb toward the waning purple horizon.
The moment he’s gone and I walk toward the house, the guilt sets in. I know Jack’s home, and he’ll have heard us drive up.
I’m really not cut out for juggling two guys. Yes, neither of them asked to be exclusive, but I know I can’t keep it up much longer.
Either way, something’s gotta give.
