Gone was the pleasant expression on Abby's beautiful face. It was now replaced with anger and mistrust. Nick's heart dropped. He'd been an idiot to confess his love so soon. Yet the words just flowed from his mouth.

She stiffened in his arms mere seconds before she pushed away from him and stepped back. She shook her head. "That cannot be right. You don't even know me. How could you love someone you've never met?"

"Abby, it's not like that."

"Harry was right. You're just after my father's money."

Nick reached for her, but she backed away. "Please, Abby, let me explain."

"What I'd like you to do, Mr. Marshal, is collect your things and leave my house posthaste. I don't wish to see you. If you don't do as I say, I will summon the police."

He sighed, wishing he could just tell her the truth. All he could do was leave, but keep an eye on her from a distance. He also needed to start asking questions. In less than two weeks, someone was going to kill her and he had to stop it.

Nick turned and walked out of the room, but stopped in the entrance, unwilling to let things end like this. He had to say something. He looked at Abby over his shoulder. Tears spiked her eyelashes, and her bottom lip trembled. He'd never wanted to hurt her, and he wished he could take back his declaration of love.

"Abby, I don't care about your father's money. If you were penniless and living on the street, I'd still have these feelings for you. I wish you'd let me prove it to you, but until then, I'm not giving up. I've given you my word that I'll be here for you and protect you, and I'll follow through with my promise."

Abigail brought her hand to her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks. He turned and walked slowly to his room to collect his vest and jacket. Then he made his way to the front door, hoping she'd be there waiting for him. She wasn't, so he let himself out.

Nick's heart wrenched with each step he took away from her house. He had no idea how he'd win her heart and earn her trust again. But he wouldn't give up. Her life—and his happiness—depended on finding the person intent on murdering her.

The only other place he could go was back to the newspaper building. Thankfully, a farmer gave him a lift this time. In 1912, dress shoes were definitely not made for walking. When he reached the office building, he stood in front and looked up. Right away he noticed where the new additions had been built during his time—different windows and automatic doors.

What was he going to do to make a living now? The laws were far different now than in the future when he practiced. It wouldn't be hard to take the California Bar Exam again; he'd just have to find out where he could take it, and find a way to pay for it. But if they required proof he'd gone to college, he'd be in trouble.

He could be a private detective. But again, where would he get the funds to get started in that profession? He also didn't know how long he'd be living in Abby's time. Was it his destiny to prevent her murder and then go back? Or would he be fortunate enough to stay in this time forever?

From the front doors, Harry and another man stepped outside and walked toward Nick. As they came closer, he recognized the second man as the one who had caught him in the office the day before.

"You, sir," bellowed the second man. "Hold up there!"

Soon Harry stood before Nick. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Marshal."

"The pleasure is all mine, I'm sure." Nick arched an eyebrow.

"My associate, Mr. Murdock here, tells me you knew what happened to the Titanic yesterday. Is this so?"

Inwardly, Nick groaned. He'd messed up again! "Yes, it's true."

"How did you know there were so many dead?"

Think, Nick, think. "Because I have, uh, an uncle who works on the Carpathia. He sent me a wire and told me how many people were rescued." Nick shrugged. "Do the math. We know how many passengers were on the Titanic. We know they didn't have enough lifeboats, so how could they all be rescued?"

Harry nodded and scratched his chin. His narrowed gaze stayed on Nick, making him very uncomfortable.

"That was brilliant of you, Mr. Marshal," Harry exclaimed. "After Mr. Murdock told me, I got to checking, and you were right. We put the news in today's paper. This issue has been our biggest sales yet."

"Congratulations."

Harry folded his arms across his scrawny chest. "I know you told me you were a solicitor, and I'm having my investigators look into it. I don't know you well at all, and I wonder why you are here in town, since I have never seen you before."

Nick groaned silently. He knew what the investigators would find, and if the truth got back to Abby, he'd be in big trouble.

"However," Harry continued, "from the few people I've asked, and by the look of your clothes, I can tell you are in need of employment. While I'm waiting to hear from my investigator, I would like you to come and work for me at the newspaper. We are in great need of intelligent men like yourself."

Nick held his breath, afraid his excitement would show. This was perfect! Abby's shooting would take place in Edward Carlisle's office. Nick had to make sure it didn't happen, and he could only do so if he could be in the building without attracting undue attention.

He nodded and held out his hand to Harry. "Agreed. When can I start?"

* * * *

The next day, Abigail donned her black mourning gown. Her maid, Lily, followed behind, assisting as needed. Anger flowed through Abigail, along with the crushing pain of betrayal. She'd believed Nick, yet he'd turned out to be just like the other men who had tried to court her.

It didn't matter if she couldn't stop thinking of Nick's kisses and the way he held her so tenderly. He had still lied to her. He'd told her what she wanted to hear, and she had fallen for it. How could she have been so gullible?

"Where are you going today, Miss Abigail?"

She met Lily's questioning gaze in the vanity mirror as she clipped the heart-shaped locket around her neck—the same necklace her grandmother had said would help her achieve her heart's deepest desire. "I'm going to the newspaper," Abigail answered. "I need Harry to show me how it runs. If I own the place now, I'd better start acting like it."

"Don't you think it's too soon?" Lily patted Abigail's styled hair into place. "After all, you're still in mourning. People won't think badly of you if you stay secluded for a while longer."

"People may not think badly of me, but I will go insane if I don't keep busy." She couldn't help but remember Nick's words about how to make the emptiness go away after a loved one died.

"You're so much like your father." Lily smiled.

Her heart lifted. "Do you believe so?"

"Oh, yes. Work was all he cared about. He hated to be idle."

Abigail sighed and nodded. "Then I'm following in his footsteps closely, just as it should be." She glanced down on her vanity table, looking for her favorite pair of earrings. "Lily, have you seen my earrings? You know, the diamond and ruby ones that dangle from my ears?"

"I know which ones you speak of, but I haven't seen them."

Abigail frowned. "They were here yesterday, and now they're gone. I could have sworn I put them right here." She pointed to the place on her vanity.

"Would you like me to look for them while you're at the newspaper office?"

"Yes, thank you, Lily. I would very much appreciate that."

Abigail hurried out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and outside. Her father's chauffeur waited for her by the car. "Hudson, please take me to the office."

"As you wish, Miss Abigail."

During the short ride, she stared out the window. The passing scenery was a blur. She couldn't concentrate on anything except Nick. At times she'd thought herself in love with him, but she couldn't be. Nobody could fall in love in one day. Nick Marshal was a charmer of the worst kind. Thankfully, he hadn't done anything to damage her reputation. And to think he'd talked her into staying with her alone in her house! What had she been thinking?

Abigail folded her arms and leaned her head back on the seat. If Nick really wanted her for her father's money, why didn't he try to make improper advances? Why didn't he try to make her feel guilty, so she would have to marry him? Instead, he had acted like the perfect gentleman. Several times yesterday he could have taken advantage of her innocence. So why hadn't he even attempted to seduce her?

When Abigail entered the newspaper office, the front-desk secretary's eyes widened in surprise, but Abigail simply greeted her and hurried by. Many men stopped while they were working to stare at her as she walked past. She gave them all a friendly wave. Apparently, they must have expected her to stay at home and mourn for the rest of her life. That was something she would not do.

Near her father's office, Harry and Murdock stood talking with another man. Abigail stopped quickly and gasped. What was Nick doing here? Harry noticed her and waved her over. She took a deep breath for courage, lifted her chin, and gracefully approached the small group.

"Abigail, my dear, you remember Mr. Marshal from the cemetery, right?"

"How could I forget?" she replied with a smirk.

Nick gave her a mock bow. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Carlisle."

Harry rubbed his hands together and grinned. "Well, I've hired him. He's doing a remarkable job at the newspaper already. Very impressive, indeed."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Congratulations, Mr. Marshal. It takes an accomplished man to impress Harry."

Nick smiled. "I'm full of hidden talents."

"Yes, you are." She tore her gaze from Nick and said to Harry, "I'll be in my father's office for a while. When you get a moment, I need to see you."

"All right. I'll be there momentarily."

Abigail nodded to Nick and Murdock. "Good day, gentlemen." She almost choked on the word, knowing Nick was more a snake in disguise than a gentleman.

With him working this close to her, she wouldn't be able to think. Harry may disagree with her, but she couldn't have Nick working here. One way or another, he would have to leave.

When she entered her father's office, his pipe scent still filled the room. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply as memories flooded her mind. Funny how he could still occupy the space even though he had passed on. Tears gathered in Abigail's eyes, but she refused to cry. Instead, she'd take Nick's advice and keep busy.

She picked up the freshly printed newspaper off her father's desk and scanned the headlines. The front page talked about the people who had perished when the Titanic hit an iceberg and sank. Those poor, helpless people! What a terrible way to die.

Nick's laughter echoed through the hallway, and Abigail's heart beat faster. Curse his hide for making me feel this way. How could she run a newspaper with him around to disturb her? She could simply dismiss him today. Yet just thinking about not seeing him left an ache in her chest.

A knock came at the door and Harry entered the office. "Hello, my dear." He walked over to her and kissed her forehead. "How are you today? I must admit, I'm rather surprised to see you here."

"Yes, I think I shocked a lot of people by coming to work. But I need to keep busy."

"That's understandable." Harry sat behind her father's desk and arranged the papers scattered across the top. "What do you need to talk to me about?"

"I'm ready to step in and assume the role of owner of the newspaper."

Harry's head snapped up and he stared at her with wide eyes. "You cannot be serious."

"I can't? Why is that? Because I'm a woman?"

"Well, frankly, yes. A woman cannot run a business, especially one as large and respected as this newspaper."

Abigail folded her arms. "Then I'd like to prove them wrong."

Harry moved away from the desk and stood in front of her, taking her hands in his. "Abigail, will you listen to me? I know what I'm talking about. Society won't let you do it, even if you want to." He brought her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "If you insist on doing this, please let me help you. I know more about the newspaper than anyone. With me by your side, we could accomplish a lot."

"Why of course, Harry. I don't plan on letting you go. You'll still retain your position with the newspaper, but instead of going to my father for instructions and advice, you'll come to me."

His lips twitched with what looked to be a smirk. Anger rose in Abigail's chest. Why didn't he believe in her?

"Abigail, my dear, I believe you should rethink this decision. Do you know how hard this is going to be? In fact, it might even hurt the company. If people knew a woman ran it, they wouldn't take us seriously, and they might not buy our paper. Do you think that's something your father would want?"

Abigail sighed. "I'll think about it some more, Harry."

"That's all I ask." He kissed her forehead again. "Now, why don't you run home and find something to do."

"Because I want to stay here." She almost choked on the emotion in her throat.

"All right, but just for a while. I'm still training Mr. Marshal."

"Harry, what if I don't want him working here?"

Harry frowned. "Are you addled? I just told you how the man has proven himself to be a worthy employee." He shook his head. "I would like him to stay on. If you have a problem with that, then I'll place him somewhere you won't have to see him." He squeezed her hand. "I believe he will be a great asset to our paper."

"I'm certain he will," Abigail muttered.

He moved to open the door. "I'll be back in a little while."

"Thank you, Harry."

As he walked out the door, he nearly collided with someone. Abigail looked around Harry to see who had blocked his path. When she recognized the older man, she froze.

"Please excuse me, but I'm here to see my niece," her uncle said with authority.

Her heart jumped to her throat. It had been years since she'd said more than a few words to her uncle. Her father didn't want Uncle Alexander in their lives. So, why was he here now?

Harry looked back at Abigail. She nodded. "It's all right. I'll see him."

Her uncle Alexander entered the room with his chin held high. Harry watched the other man with a wary eye as he slowly left the room and closed the door behind him.

Abigail sat behind her father's desk and linked her fingers together. "What a surprise it is to see you, Uncle Alexander."

"Yes. I fear we didn't get much time to talk at the cemetery."

"Even if we did, I don't think I would have been polite company. It was a very trying day, and I was out of sorts for most of it."

"I'm sure you were, as were the rest of us."

She motioned to the chair. "Would you like to have a seat?"

"No. What I've come to say will not take long."

"Then by all means, please tell me what you have come to see me about."

"I don't think my brother was in his right mind when he left his inheritance to you."

She gasped. How dare he say such a thing!

"I've known for many years how innocent and naïve you are," he continued, "and most of that is due to the way your father coddled you." Alexander crossed his arms over his chest. "But I feel I was cheated. I should have received more of Edward's wealth."

"Uncle Alexander," Abigail began, struggling to keep her voice steady, "I understand how hard this is for you to comprehend. My father did leave you a small amount of money in his will, and I think it's quite rude and inappropriate of you to demand more. I will not give you one penny more. There was a reason my father left it to me and not you."

He slapped his hands on the desk, making her jump. His steel-gray eyes bore into her like bands of fire. "I thought you would react in such a way."

"Well, of course." Her voice lifted as she rose to her feet. "This is my inheritance, and you want to take it away."

"So, you force me to do something I'd rather not do."

She scowled. "And what is that, pray tell?"

"I will take you to court. I will prove you are unfit to handle such a big responsibility. If I must, I will prove to the courts that you are insane."

She choked on her breath. "You cannot be serious."

"I'm very serious, my dear niece."

"The courts will not believe you. My father was a highly respected man in town. They know I was raised properly."

Alexander shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But I plan to make you appear insane, and don't think I won't. To stop me, all you have to do is give me what I think I should have received. It's as simple as that."

Could he accomplish such a feat? Would the courts believe him over her? And if she decided to fight him, would Harry and the staff at the newspaper back her?