Page 19 of The Vanished

“Darling, the only way to ensure that you and Honor are provided for and that the next generation inherits the title and the estate is for you to marry Jesseph Bellamy. If he’s amenable.”

“Marry him?” Geneva cried. “I’ve never even clapped eyes on him. And what makes you think he’ll want to marry me? He’ll be a man of independent means, if he isn’t already. He’ll have no use for me, especially if he already has a sweetheart in New York.”

“Which is why you must charm him.”

Geneva opened her mouth to protest but then suddenly felt quite overcome. So much had been going on behind the scenes these past few months, and now the curtain had been pulled back, and her life had been blown up as if she’d just stepped on a landmine. Her father was dying, her home and the entirety of the estate would go to a complete stranger, and, if she hoped to stave off penury, she had to charm a relation she’d never met and hope he didn’t evict her and Honor the moment their father passed.

“I don’t think I can face it,” she whispered. “I don’t want to meet him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. Jesseph is coming for Christmas.”

Geneva staggered from the room and had barely made it to the downstairs lavatory before she was sick. She flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and rinsed out her mouth, but the foul taste remained and her stomach continued to heave. The past half hour had been like a terrible dream, except she was wide awake and the nightmare was real. She wanted to march back into the library and tell her father that she would not do it and their American cousin could sod it, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She had been raised to do her duty, honor her parents, and do right by future generations.

As she leaned against the cool wall tiles and sucked in several deep breaths to combat the persistent nausea, she finally understood just how trapped she really was.

ELEVEN

SEPTEMBER 2023

London

A jarring noise jolted Quinn out of the vision. The irritating riff reverberated in her brain until awareness slammed into her like a ten-foot lorry. She’d forgotten to silence her mobile and someone was ringing—probably a telemarketer. They phoned her more often than family and friends these days. She grabbed the phone and huffed with irritation when she saw a photo of a smiling Rhys filling the screen.

“So, who is she?” he asked without bothering with pleasantries.

“I don’t know yet. How did you…?”

“Colin told me he found an earring, and I have it on good authority that you visited the lab this afternoon.”

“Oh, so you’ve been badgering him as well?” Quinn teased.

“Of course, and I’m dying to know. Have you taken a peek?”

“Yes,” she said, drawing out the word to torment Rhys.

“And? Come on now. Inquiring minds want to know.”

“1923.”

“1923?”

Rhys sounded disappointed, but it wasn’t as if Quinn had any say in the historical period. She reported what she saw. She knew Rhys would have preferred that the woman was Roman or medieval, but he would make the story work regardless, and she was sure he had already switched gears and was reframing the first shot in his mind.

“It could be intriguing,” he said, sounding considerably more enthusiastic now. “That’s only a hundred years ago. Recent history.”

“It might be recent, but we won’t find anyone who knew her. Even if they were a child at the time, they’d be long gone.”

“But there are bound to be records. Have you got a name?” Rhys asked.

“Bellamy.”

“And her first name?” Rhys prompted.

“Geneva. She had a younger sister, Honor.”

Rhys went quiet, and Quinn knew he was googling the names on his phone.

“You’re not going to believe this, but there are hundreds of results for Geneva Bellamy. Not as many for Honor.”