Synopsis

He promised to help her reclaim the memories she lost—no matter what they found.
Until she remembered another man.

Cornwall, 1913

For three years, Merryn has lived without a past—no family, no history, no home that’s truly hers.

When the threat of being locked away for her own “protection” looms, she takes a desperate chance on AJ Winthrop—a warmhearted, whimsical stranger who offers a hasty marriage of convenience and a promise: he will take her back to Cornwall and help her uncover the truth about who she once was.

But along the wild Cornish coast, the memories that begin to surface are not the ones she expects.

Another man.

Another wedding.

A life that may already be hers.

When a hidden painting reveals Merryn’s own face staring back from another life, the fragile life she’s begun to build with AJ begins to unravel. Because the truth waiting in her past could destroy the love she’s only just found.

Cornwall, 1947

Haunted by the war and estranged from the wife he still loves, William Crawford is determined to save their family home for her—even if it means selling the mysterious portrait of Merryn Dunn tucked away in his cottage. But the secrets hidden within the painting threaten to overturn everything he believes…or lead him toward a redemption he never expected.

Decades apart, two lives are bound by a single portrait—and the truth it refuses to keep hidden. This sweeping dual-timeline historical mystery weaves together lost memories, buried truths, and a love story that refuses to fade. Perfect for fans of Mimi Matthews, Susanna Kearsley, and Kate Morton.

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Excerpt

Chapter 1

Merryn, 1913

I propose to Ansel Winthrop in a spontaneous rush of words, and only then do I notice that birds have fallen silent. The park holds its breath to see what will come of this boldness—Merryn Forsythe is breaking the rules again, proposing to a man. But pigeons, knowing that unspoken rules only hold humanity back, say nothing. They only cock their heads as I lean against the tree beside my friend, awaiting his yes to be as quick and jolly as ever.

AJ, have tea with me in the church bell tower!

What time?

AJ, let’s sneak into the Roman fort ruins after dark!

I’ll bring the lantern.

AJ, there are tunnels under the park!

Lead the way!

It has been this way between us since we met, one astounding yes after another. Yet today the air is different, the park heavy with low-lying fog. A muscle jerks in his cheek, but his eyes remain closed.

His silence means nothing. It only feels long because I’ve put so much stock in this. His yes will change everything, and it won’t matter if the rest of my life continues eroding.

And yet…refusing me really is the only wise thing to do.

Is AJ wise?

Not if he can help it.

My proposal seemed perfectly fitting when I said it, resembling the casual flirtation of our first meeting—what was it?—three weeks ago, here at this park. Only three weeks. I’ve eaten cheese older than that.

This is a terrible idea, isn’t it? That’s why he’s still lying back on the grass, hands behind his head, eyes closed. He is formulating his refusal. If only he’d hurry and spit it out so I might return to the business of being free.

Free from family.

Free from all financial entanglements.

And as of this week, free from my position.

But then…then I will have to face Cecil. Dear, precious Cecil. Even at seven, he’s wiser than I am. I’ll have to admit that he was right, too, and that I cannot take him along with me after all. My heart pounds hard.

I cannot be his guardian. I can scarcely be guardian of myself.

Unless…unless AJ shocks me and agrees to my madcap scheme. Right now. I puff out a breath. “Well?”

AJ peeps one eye open. “What, no declaration of undying love?” he quips. “No self-respecting gent would accept without such shows of affection.”

I jiggle my foot, glancing about the park with an odd sense of being watched by someone. “Shall I read you sonnets and kiss your fingertips?”

“At least cling to my hand when you declare your love.” He dangles it beside me.

I duck away, my face burning hotly. “For all that is holy, you needn’t say yes, AJ. Just have done with it and refuse me.”

He sits up and seizes my hands, heedless of the ladies on the path behind us. Instantly I melt in the rich brown-green of his gaze. “You’re serious.” His brow knits. “Marriage.”

I flash my cheekiest grin and shrug. “Only if you agree.” How stiff my shoulders are.

Something flashes across his face like a magic lantern show. Suddenly the romance of the moment billows up until the rightness of this risk firms up in my heart.

“So I’m the safest harbor in sight, am I? You desire security now that you’ve lost your position.”

Security, yes. But also, he quoted Emily Barrett Browning at our first meeting and he made me laugh even when I was angry and even children love him and his smile has magic in it and…and it’s AJ. Marriage to anyone would be a rescue right now, but marrying AJ would prove an Eden-like delight.

He angles a critical gaze at me. Likely he thinks me shallow. Perhaps I am. But can I bring myself to declare my undying love for him? I’ve known the man little more than a fortnight.

Yet I do know this—Ansel James Winthrop brings color and life to all he meets, myself included. I’ve never felt so instantly at ease with anyone before. Is that love? Perhaps a woman in reduced circumstances hasn’t any business expecting love. “Come now, AJ. I’m only hastening along what would have happened anyway.” We’ve exchanged subtle flirtations for weeks now, and what is the point of all that if not an eventual declaration? Surely he sees the sense in this. Love doesn’t always require time—only sincerity, and a good dose of delight.

Instead of answering, he flops back on the grass, hands behind his head, eyes closed against the bright sunlight.

The cad.

I open my mouth to take it back, to beg that he, instead of wedding me, take on a seven-year-old, orphaned boy with an extra-sensitive nature. But then AJ says, “Very well,” with a jovial tone that might have ended with, Why not? “I accept your terms.”

I exhale, sagging against the tree. “Well, that’s grand.” I’m overcome with such lovely calm, the like of which I’ve not felt since Lady St. Laurent’s funeral. Nay, since that terrible middle-of-the-night hour I spent at the dear woman’s deathbed, clutching her hand as her vibrant life slipped away. Those days were dreadful.

But now, life is clarifying into one clear path, and all I have to do is walk it. With AJ. I slip my hand into his and cling to this man who has agreed to tie himself to me. Which is quite brave of him, all things considered.

He cracks one eye open to look at me, smiles, then closes it again, squeezing my hand. Another long, low exhale of contentment, which somehow calms my nerves. He’s happy. This isn’t the worst idea. Just a hasty one. “We’ll have a quiet ceremony at the chapel, as soon as possible.”

“But Lady St. Laurent wished you to have a fine wedding at St. Peter’s, and you should honor her wishes. She’d be most pleased.”

I sigh. “Very well, I suppose you’re right.”

Only afterward does the obvious strike me—not with alarm, but with a faint, hollow click of recognition. I hadn’t ever mentioned to him the contents of my late employer’s will—not any of it. Not the wedding provision or the more generous portions.

I let him lead me out of the park, still dazed by how neatly everything has fallen into place. All my careful scheming suddenly felt less like planning and more like stepping onto a path already laid out for me to follow.

About the Author

JOANNA DAVIDSON POLITANO writes atmospheric historical fiction that blends romance, mystery, and emotional depth, often set in distinctive old estates.

Drawn to coastal landscapes and old houses steeped in story, Joanna’s work is known for its immersive settings, layered characters, and a poignant sense of hope, no matter the circumstances. Joanna is the author of multiple award-winning historical novels and is an avid researcher who delights in uncovering forgotten details of the past and weaving them into stories that feel both timeless and intimate.

Outside of writing, Joanna is a homeschooling mom and adventure coordinator, exploring every park, library, and hiking trail within driving distance, and coming up with wild stories on the drive. She and her family live in the woods near Lake Michigan.

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