Must Love Breeches (46 page)

Phineas growled, but his eyes told her he was only joking—a sign, perhaps, that they would be able to be friends again? She hoped so.

Phineas led her off the dance floor as his mother called for everyone’s attention from the balcony. His sister Caroline stood behind and to the side, her eyes drinking in the sight.

News of the Muslin Makers’ capture had rocketed through the
ton
, and while some grumbled about one of their own investigating other members, most were only too happy he’d protected their finances. Add to that his self-inflicted persona for the sake of his sister, he’d fast become something of a hero. Several debutantes now looked on her with envy.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Dowager Viscountess Montagu’s clear voice rang over their heads, “I will keep this brief, as I know you wish to continue dancing, but I ask you to forbear for a moment. As many have heard, my eldest son has married. Family has always been important to us. It is indelicate to speak of such things, but propriety be dashed. My children love each other deeply. My children have been each other’s fiercest supporters. My children will do anything for each other.” The dowager’s eyes met Isabelle’s. “The new Lady Montagu supported and loved my son, trusting him on scant information. For that, she will always have my love. It moves me greatly to present to you Lady Montagu. Welcome to the family, my child.”

Isabelle swallowed and fought the swelling tears. She blinked and smiled and glowed. As she took in her surroundings, a familiar, but long absent feeling suffused her, warmed her, crept into the last lonely corners of her soul—a sense of belonging. Phineas slipped his arm under hers and pulled her close, smiling down at her. God. That. Smile. Would it ever not give her rubber knees? She pushed up on her toes and nibbled his chin.
Finally.

His eyes sparked with shock, but grew darker. “Holy cow,” he rumbled. “Is this how you pictured the ball?”

“No.” At her answer, his smile faltered. “It’s better than I imagined.”

He plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing footman’s tray, handing her one. “To the future,” he whispered, clinking his glass against hers, his eyes bathing her in warmth and acceptance and love.

“To
our
future,” she whispered back.

Thirty years later, London

Isabelle walked around the bedroom of her recently deceased mother-in-law. God, she’d miss her terribly. She stopped her wanderings. Enough. She’d had a happy life full of love. Isabelle set herself to the task she’d delayed long enough—an inventory of her mother-in-law’s personal belongings. At a pretty inlaid wooden box, she turned a delicate key and peeked inside.

Her breath caught. The journal inside looked instantly familiar—its size and design and shape something she hadn’t seen in a long time.

It. Can’t. Be.

She pulled out the journal, fingers shaking, and déjà vu crept over her skin as, in another time and place, she’d opened the same little book.

The journal she’d found with the silver card case, the journal she’d been so intrigued and haunted by, that journal... was her mother-in-law’s?

Her eyes lurched back to the box’s interior and she put a hand on the bureau to steady herself, for under the journal rested the silver card case she’d destroyed after her return to Phineas. How—? How had—?

Isabelle shook herself and thumbed through the pages of the journal, verifying. Her breath came in short gasps. She stumbled to a chair and sank down, her eyes devouring the script that had been so familiar in two different time periods.

How had she never realized the similarity? Though her mother-in-law’s familiar handwriting was more mature than this sample. So, the initials EDA on the case stood for Elizabeth Anne Dunmore, her mother-in-law’s maiden name.

Isabelle opened the case. Within nestled the calling cards of a woman who’d become so dear. Without thinking, she tugged on the little secret pocket she’d discovered when she’d found the case. Inside was a card yellowed with age. Breathless, she pulled it out, for she remembered what the card would say, remembered why the name had seemed so familiar when she’d met him thirty years ago: “Mr. Bartram Podbury, esq.”

But how could—? Tingles raced across her nerves and flushed her skin cold. How could Mr. Podbury have ever held this particular case, since it’d been in her mother-in-law’s possession? She crammed it back into its secret pocket and snapped the case closed.

Two months later...

Isabelle stretched and smoothed a hand over Phineas’s warm chest. Miraculous. Not his chest, though it was quite lovely. No. Miraculous that after all this time it was still thrilling to wake beside him, enveloped in his scent, his warmth, his presence.

She propped herself on an elbow and gazed at the still handsome lines of his face. Gray streaked his black hair, but the strength and virility that had first drawn her to him still snagged her. She stroked a finger across his forehead and down his nose. She leaned down and nibbled the cleft in his chin. His eyes snapped open and a why-hello-there smile lit his face and her body.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her on top of him. “Morning,” he rumbled and nibbled her ear, the sensation the sweeter for its familiarity—they awoke every morning in this way, she nibbled the chin, he the ear.

“Morning to you.”

The journal and case had occupied her thoughts for some time now, and it had come to her this morning in that half-sleep morning fog what she needed to do. “Can we go to the Surrey house for a fortnight or so? Leave today?”

“Certainly. I can finish some business with the bailiff while there.”

“Perhaps Ada and William can join us.” Ada had nearly died of cancer eight years ago, but thankfully she’d pulled through. Isabelle spent as much time with her and her husband, the Earl of Lovelace, as circumstances allowed. Babbage had also become a close member of their circle. “I’d like to bury the journal and the silver case under the floorboard.”

He nodded. She knew now she must place it there so she could find it in the future. She’d already removed her mother-in-law’s cards; left it exactly as she remembered finding it. She smiled wistfully, remembering, as if a dream, her old life. Funny how she’d become so used to living in this time period.

“Phin, I’m curious. How come you didn’t recognize the case when you first recovered it for me?”

He tapped her nose. “For the simple fact that I never accompanied her on her morning calls.”

By early afternoon, Isabelle stood with Phineas in the mews outside their Mayfair townhouse, while their auto-groom loaded the last shovel of coal into their steam-autobuggy. The first steam-powered autocars had rolled off the assembly line last year, and the Montagus had been one of the initial purchasers. The trip today to their country house in Surrey would now take only an hour, instead of five.

Phineas’s anticipation was obvious in the brightness of his eyes, the restrained energy as he kept from assisting the auto-groom in his task. He loved driving the sleek touring vehicle, leaped at any chance for a drive-about. Only their eldest son Edwin surpassed her husband in enthusiasm for the invention.

“I’ll telegraph the brood and see if they can join us in Surrey.” Besides Edwin, they had another son, William, and a daughter, Elizabeth. Lord—she hadn’t seen them in months. To have the grandchildren crawling over her, all welcoming and warm and wiggly...

“Terrific idea. I am sorry to hear the Lovelaces cannot join us,” Phineas said, looking down at her. “I had hoped to take them on this trip and indulge my vanity.”

“I daresay you will be able to shortly. Their dirigible from Edinburgh was delayed by the weather for only a day. They can come down by train, and you shall drive them around the countryside to your heart’s content. After all, Ada has been angling for one.”

Isabelle smiled. Ada had been instrumental in Mr. Babbage’s success with the Analytical Engine, ushering in ten years ago what would soon be called the Analytical Age, right on schedule. In fact, the Montagus had privately donated to Babbage’s efforts. Isabelle had felt safe in doing so, knowing private donors had helped him overcome his obstacles, so why not be one? But, Lord, had she been worried early on that she might affect the timeline. Babbage’s success, and now the steam-powered cars were evidence, though, that history unfolded
exactly
as it should—she had
not
messed up the timeline.

However, while she’d been careful not to affect the main timeline, she’d not been above using her knowledge of upcoming historical events to safeguard her family and their finances, as long as others weren’t harmed.

The American Civil War had ended earlier this year after three years of brutal fighting, but the might of the British government aligning with the North brought it to a swift end.

Her descendants must still endure the War to End All Wars that would devastate the City of London in 1914, when German dirigibles would drop bombs in air raids, but she and Phineas had taken long-term precautions for their family’s safety. Lincoln, FDR and JFK would serve their three peaceful, but pivotal, terms as president.

Phineas opened her car door and she felt his gaze on her as she passed. She settled into the leather bucket seat, turned her face up to the sky, closed her eyes, and smiled.

Strange to think she’d be born eighty years from now, in the year of our Lord 1944, when the British Empire and the Western World would be in peace.

And in 1973 she would travel back and start her life here. With Phineas.

Whether she’d shifted the timeline in subtle ways or not, she’d never know. But one fact she did know with a surety that resonated in her bones, her soul, her heart—this was precisely where she belonged. This was her
true
home.

Thank you for reading MUST LOVE BREECHES!
 

I hope you enjoyed Isabelle and Phin! Keep flipping forward to read my historical note about the events in the book and, for the curious, a note about the ending. And if you 
join my mailing list
, I'll send you 11 pages of deleted scenes as a thank you! If you realllly loved it, and want to help pimp my books and get free content and be the first to hear of news, 
join my street team
!

Please Post a Review

Readers like you make it possible for writers to do what they love, spin tales! Thank you for your support. If you enjoyed 
Must Love Breeches,
 I hope you'll take a moment to share your enthusiasm with other readers by posting a review. 
Discoverability for new authors like me is a challenge and every review helps connect a reader to a book they might enjoy. 
I appreciate any review, positive or negative, so if you have a moment to post one, even just a line or two about why you enjoyed the story, on 
ARe
 and/or on 
Goodreads
, I’d be grateful! The more reviews a book receives, the more other readers are willing to take a chance on a new author. Regardless, I thank you for reading! If you do leave a review, send me an email at [email protected] so I can personally thank you, or tweet me @angelaquarles.

Other things you can do to help:

• Recommend it!
   
  Please help other readers find this book by recommending it to friends, book clubs, and discussion groups.
  
• Pin it!
   I’ve also pinned images to a 
  Must Love Breeches board on Pinterest
  , if you’re interested.
  
• Give a shout out!
   Share what you thought of this book on:
  

   
  

  Goodreads
   | 
  ARe
   | 
  Facebook
   | 
  Pinterest
   | 
  Twitter
   | 
  Google+