June 2021

I liked my car. With leather interior, the capability to go zero to sixty-two in under four seconds, and the smoothest steering that money could buy, my Audi R8 was perfection in a vehicle.

I liked my car, but I liked it a lot more without the baggage—the literal and the metaphorical baggage that was currently being loaded into it.

"Olivia," I groaned. "There is no possible way that you need to bring all that. We're only staying for a few hours."

The boot slammed closed, causing the entire car to shake with the force. I was positive that the energy Olivia put into hurling it shut was directed more at me than my Audi.

She jerked the passenger door open, again taking her anger out on my poor car. Olivia raised a brow. "You said that you were going to kidnap me. I am merely ensuring that I have sufficient clothes for the duration of my captivity."

I rolled my eyes in response and watched as Olivia slid into the leather seat. She shut herself inside the car with a quick tug, and I wondered if I should tell her that her cute little sundress had been caught in the door. But I supposed that was what she got for her dramatic performance.

"I'm not kidnapping you, Olivia," I breathed, exhausted from this damn woman.

Her big brown eyes snapped toward me. "You said that we were going to Rosecrest Manor and that you weren't going to let me leave until I agreed to selling the property."

"Yes, and that should take no more than a few hours. Once you see the state of the place, I doubt you'll even set a foot inside." I glanced down at the heeled monstrosities on her feet. "Not in those."

"You underestimate me, Asher," she said, finally buckling her seatbelt. Thank god.

I was ready to leave and get this over with. Not wasting any more time, I quickly pulled away from the flat that Olivia had been staying in since our separation and headed in the direction of the motorway.

"You've always underestimated me," Olivia continued. "I'm not letting you sell off a piece of history like Rosecrest Manor regardless of its state."

"If you say so," I murmured, knowing there was no way that Olivia Graham would sound so sure of herself when we arrived.

I'd be the first to admit that I shared some fault when it came to the state of the property. My brother, Avery, was the current viscount Lord Trotten, but he'd given Rosecrest to me to care for. The manor was one of our family's only properties that wasn't entailed. But it had already been decaying and dilapidated in parts at the time I acquired it, and I worried that if I tried to fix it, I'd bankrupt myself.

Throughout our five years of marriage, Olivia had never cared about the mansion. I hadn't thought twice about putting both of our names on the paperwork when my brother signed the property over to me. And now, I was very much wishing I hadn't.

Normally, the journey into the countryside would have been enjoyable. There was something peaceful about driving out of London, the car humming beneath my fingers as we traveled into the fields and the sun. But that peace was entirely interrupted by the incessant tapping of Olivia's toes. Her irritation was the cause of my irritation, highlighting that nothing had changed in the last three months since she moved out.

I had to admit; the winding front drive leading to Rosecrest Manor was picturesque. As we approached, the weathered stone of the mansion grew up from a bed of tangled gardens. Some of those vines stretched across the front. I glanced at Olivia, noticing that she had an awed expression that didn't bode well for me.

The moment I stopped the car, she was already jumping out, her ankles wobbling as she tried to traverse uneven ground in her wedge heels. A still, hot summer air hit me as I watched her.

"It's amazing, Asher!" she exclaimed. But despite her initial reaction, I wasn't worried. 

She hadn't seen the inside yet.

Ignoring her, I strolled to the massive front doors as I found the right key. A modern lock had been thrown onto the ancient entrance, and I wondered how effective it had been in keeping out unwanted visitors. But the key clicked, and the door swung open, hitting us with a wave of musky air.

"Look," I said, stepping into the great hall ahead of Olivia. "I told you it was a mess."

It wasn't hard to imagine how amazing Rosecrest could have been at one time or another, with its sweeping, tall ceilings. The cobweb-covered chandelier that hung above Olivia and I would have sparkled as the sun hit it through the arched windows.

But the beauty of this place had faded a long time ago. I'd learned that the beauty of everything fades at some point.

"I don't care if it's a mess, Asher!" Olivia exclaimed as she stepped over a broken tile on the floor. "Do you even realize how often Queen Adelaide stayed here during her reign?"

I sighed. "I'm well aware of the connection that Queen Adelaide had with my family, yes." Olivia made a wrong step, wavering a bit, and I grabbed her elbow to steady her. She peered up with me with sheepish gratitude, and I said, "But Queen Adelaide is dead. And she's been dead for over one hundred years."

Olivia gasped as if I'd personally offended her dead grandmother.

I released her arm. "Stop being dramatic, Liv."

She didn't reply, merely walked past me, considerably more confident in her steps.

"Where are you going now?" God, she infuriated me at times.

Olivia pushed open a pair of double doors in front of us before pausing, spinning to look at me.

"I believe it is rather obvious that I am going to see whatever is in this room." And then she disappeared through the dark hole, and I swore beneath my breath. Scratch what I'd said—she was infuriating all the time.

"Would you come back here?" I called, even as I began to walk toward her. "I don't need you getting hurt. The last thing I need is for you to fall between some floorboards, Liv."

Striding through the double doors, I halted at the sight within. Books, hundreds of books, lined the walls. Sunlight streamed between heavy, faded curtains, giving the room a faint glow. Tiny particles hovered in the rays of light like bits of pixie dust.

"I suppose that would be convenient for you, Asher. If I were to fall into the basements of this mansion, never to be seen again," Olivia drawled, snapping my attention back to her.

"What?" I choked out as the images flashed through my mind. Shuddering, I said, "Don't say things like that, Liv."

She shrugged, her attention fully on the antique books. "You could get rid of me and the manor in one swoop."

"Olivia, cut it out," I ground out, making my way to her side, suddenly terrified that she would fall to her death in this old house. 

Thankfully, her mouth drew into a thin line, remaining silent. Then she made a little grimace, glancing down at the dusk accumulating on her fingers as she poked at the volumes of text. Looking back at the bookshelf, she blew at it, and dust erupted in a gray explosion.

It was hard to keep from laughing as a thin layer of it settled on Olivia's face and previously white dress. Such a ridiculous sight, seeing the prim and proper Olivia Graham covered in dust and dirt.

She began to swat at it, as if it were a single bug she could kill off. Wiping a manicured hand over her face, she removed a path of dust. But plenty remained.

Chuckling, I took a step closer and lifted my hand to her cheek, wiping away the dust with my thumb. Her eyes flicked up to mine, dust clinging to the ends of her lashes.

"What are you looking for, Olivia?" I murmured. "They're just old books."

"I like books," she said hotly, swatting my hand away.

I snorted. "When was the last time you read a book?"

She turned away from me and leaned in toward the bookshelf, squinting at the titles on the endless spins of books. A little bit of dust still clung to her dark, wavy hair. "Last night, Asher. I read all the time."

"You never read before." I leaned my hip against the bookshelf, hoping it didn't give way completely beneath my weight. But it seemed stable.

"Yes, I did." She rolled her eyes, making me roll my own. "I read every night before bed on my iPad."

A little frown pulled on my mouth. "That's what you were doing on there?"

Waves of exasperation rolled off of Olivia as she replied. "What did you think I was doing, Ash?"

Shrugging, I said, "I just assumed you were scrolling through social media."

Olivia's lips pursed as she went back to examining the books. She pulled one out, flipping it open.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in delight. "This one is all handwritten." Her head ducked as she looked closer at it. "A diary of some sort." 

Olivia tilted her head to the side, and I wondered if the writing was honestly that slanted.

"1868," she breathed. Her head whipped around, her eyes wide as she looked up to me. "Maybe one of these entries mentions her!"

"Who?" I asked, already becoming bored with this entire thing, this entire day.

"The queen! What if it mentions one of her visits to Rosecrest?"

Olivia didn't give me a chance to reply before spinning around. She sat primly on the edge of a cloth-covered sofa, opening the antique book wider. Her fingers traced the yellowed pages.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes...again. Olivia had always been a little obsessed with aristocracy. My guess was it was the reason why she married me in the first place.

"Stop staring at me like that and come over here, Asher," she demanded, and for some reason, I listened. I'd never really been able to say no to her. Which could be a problem today.

Relaxing onto the sofa, I was pleased that this piece of furniture also did not give way beneath my weight. Olivia was perched next to me, her cream-colored thighs exposed and rubbing against my slacks. The white dress she'd worn was already crumpled and dirty, and I was shocked she hadn't complained yet.

She rubbed at that little button nose of hers, reminding me of all the times I'd kissed it. But that was before, and this was now. Today that cute nose had turned all red and blotchy from the allergens undoubtedly in the air. Though I still thought it looked kissable.

Olivia cleared her throat before her softened voice began to read. I watched as her eyes skimmed over the text.

"June, 1868. Lady Whitley Ash."

Olivia stopped to clear her voice one last time and licked her dry lips before continuing.

"It is a hot summer here at Rosecrest Manor. But the heat honestly does not bother in the slightest. No, there is only one true bother at Rosecrest. Well, perhaps two. Most definitely two. And they go by the names of Simon and Sawyer Pearce..."

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