Loving a Lost Lord

by Mary Jo Putney

  “If you go to London with a group of handsome young men, you’ll need a maid,” Julia said. “Better yet, a chaperone.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I’m calling today.” She smiled coaxingly. “Would you like a trip to London with all expenses paid?”

  “You want me to come?” Julia lowered her teacup with a clink. “I can’t possibly do that. What about my patients?”

  Mariah had known her friend would resist. Julia was not a native of Cumberland. Her accent placed her as educated, perhaps the daughter of a doctor or a vicar. Mariah suspected that her friend had come to this remote corner of England to get away from her past. But there was yearning in her face at the thought of London. “You said that your apprentice is becoming very skilled. If there is a real emergency, Jenny or the patient can call in another midwife.”

  Julia was tempted, but not yet convinced. “I haven’t the right clothes. Even if transportation and lodgings are covered, I would need pin money.” She smiled. “Much of my income is barter, and I don’t think I could use a chicken as currency in London.”

  Mariah laughed. “I suppose not. But we’re near the same size, so we could share some clothing. My wardrobe isn’t up to London standards, but I’ve received some nice things from ladies I’ve met along the way. I’m also quite a good seamstress. We could buy some used garments and I’ll alter them.” Changing her approach, she added, “Wouldn’t it be nice to get away for a bit? We could see the sights of London together.”

  “I really can’t,” Julia said. But her eyes were longing.

  “You needn’t go into society,” Mariah said. “Not if you don’t want to.”

  Julia smiled ruefully. “How did you know that I wish to avoid society?”

  “Just a guess.” Mariah made a face. “I’m not keen on the idea myself, but I must find if I can swim in those waters if there is any chance that Adam and I might wed. My father and I never moved in high circles, but I had to continually adapt to new situations, so I should be able to manage.”

  Julia’s uncertain expression firmed. “I know I shouldn’t, but…yes, I’ll go with you. I, too, have some business in London.” She got to her feet. “As to the clothing, wait here a moment.”

  The moments stretched out enough that Julia’s tabby jumped onto Mariah’s lap and made herself at home. Another cup of tea and slice of cake had been consumed by the time Julia returned with an armful of gowns. All were fine-quality day dresses, not the very latest in fashion but made with good fabric and rich colors. Mariah caught her breath, startling the cat from her lap. “Where…?”

  “Don’t ask,” Julia said as she laid the garments over a chair. “Please.”

  Mariah nodded, guessing that the clothing came from Julia’s former marriage. She must have been very young when her husband died, because she wasn’t much older than Mariah and she’d lived in Hartley for years.

  Turning up the hem of the top garment, Mariah studied the stitchery. “Very well made. A little out of date, but they can be altered to be more fashionable.”

  “I don’t want fashionable,” Julia said firmly. “Simple and unobtrusive will do.”

  That would suit Julia’s style now, but the clothing confirmed Mariah’s suspicion that her friend had a more glamorous past. “Whatever you wish. It won’t take long to do the alterations. Changing trimmings and perhaps adding fichus to the gowns with low necklines.”

  Julia pulled a rose-colored gown from the bottom. “I’d like you to have this. This color suits you much better than me.”

  Mariah stroked the sleeve with pleasure. “You’re sure? This satin is lovely. The gown could be cut apart and joined with colors that would suit your dark hair.”

  “I’d rather you have it.” A furrow appeared between Julia’s brows, as if the dress carried bad memories.

  Mariah pulled out a handsome green walking dress. “Put this on and we’ll decide what needs to be done.”

  Julia’s usually serious face lit up. “I’m going to enjoy this enormously, Mariah. As long as I avoid society, I’ll have a wonderful time!”

  Mariah had already eaten and left the house by the time Adam rose the next morning, tired from a night of bad dreams and poor sleep. He was halfway through a quiet breakfast when Randall breezed in ahead of the maid who had admitted him. “Good morning, Ash. I thought I’d take you out for some shooting practice.”

  Adam blinked. “I’m supposed to murder defenseless creatures even before finishing breakfast?”

  Randall grinned. “That’s the most convincing proof yet that you’re still you. Mind if I have some ham?” Not waiting for a reply, he helped himself to ham and toast from the sideboard, then poured tea and sat opposite Adam. “I’ve never known you to actually hunt game, but as I said last night, you’re a crack shot. I thought we should do some target shooting. See if you’re still any good.”

  “An interesting question: does shooting skill reside in the mind or in the body?” Adam said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t know where to begin handling a gun.”

  “Good! If getting knocked on the head ruined your marksmanship, I should be able to outshoot you today.” Randall helped himself to another piece of toast.

  “Are you and the others taking turns spending time with me to see what memories you can shake loose?” Adam asked a little dryly.

  “That didn’t take you long to deduce.” Randall swallowed a bite of ham. “Miss Clarke’s cook really is excellent. No wonder you don’t want to leave.”

  “Is there a competition to see which of you can best stimulate me to remembering?”

  “Not yet, but it’s a thought.” Randall polished off his food and glanced at Adam’s empty plate. “Ready to test your marksmanship?”

  “I don’t appear to have a choice. I trust you will provide the weapon?” Adam stood, privately admitting that he was curious about whether he’d retained his skill.

  “Weapons are a specialty of mine.” As they headed into the front hall, Randall scooped up a long leather gun case that he’d tucked into a corner.

  The early morning drizzle had cleared into pale spring sunshine. Adam wondered where Mariah was. He was happier when he knew she was close. Likely she had gone to the village to visit Julia Bancroft. “Beyond the gardens is an area that should make a good range. A few trees without much undergrowth and a hill behind, so stray balls will go into earth rather than traveling on.”

  “So you do remember something, even if you don’t know you’re remembering,” Randall said thoughtfully.

  “Perhaps. Or maybe it’s just common sense.” Adam studied the other man. Tall, blond, and rangy in build, Randall was the image of an Englishman, though his coiled tension was less typical. “You’re much more cheerful than last night. Then you looked ready to bite. Which mood is more usual?”

  “Biting, I think. Today I’m in a good mood because it has finally sunk in that you really are alive. I haven’t so many friends that I can spare any. Losing army friends is expected, but not men who are lolling around England in the lap of luxury.”

  “Sorry that I nearly failed you.” Adam realized that they were sliding into the sort of teasing banter one would expect of old friends. Interesting. “The dream I had, where I took you from a house in London when you were very ill. That really happened?”

  Randall’s expression tightened. “I’m the nephew of a man who doesn’t like me very much. He couldn’t kill me outright, but when I returned wounded from the Peninsula, he was willing to let me die of neglect.”

  Adam winced. “I’m glad I acted. Were there any legal repercussions?”

  The other man shook his head. “He could hardly bring charges without admitting what he was doing, so the matter was dropped. I recovered very nicely in Ashton House. That happened last summer. You saved my life. It’s a considerable debt.”

  “Given my amnesia, I’d say there is no point in worrying about debts.” They left the formal gardens behind and emerged into a clearing set against a hill. “Her
e’s the spot where I thought we could practice.”

  “Perfect.” There was a table-sized rocky outcropping to the right, so Randall laid the gun case down and opened it. Inside were two sleek rifles and a pair of pistols, as well as powder and shot.

  Adam studied the weapons. “Do you always travel armed like this?”

  “On a long cross-country trip, I’ll certainly have both a rifle and a handgun. And a knife, of course.”

  “Of course,” Adam said dryly. “A gentleman and an arsenal.”

  Randall grinned as he tapped one of the rifles. “This one is mine, the other Masterson’s. Kirkland contributed one of the pistols. Do you want to see how much you remember?”

  Acting quickly so he couldn’t think too much, Adam lifted Masterson’s rifle and weighed it for balance. A nice weapon. He checked for cleanliness and was unsurprised to find it immaculate. In a handful of efficient movements, he loaded powder, patch, and ball, then looked for a target. “Let’s see how accurate this rifle is. The blossom at the top of that gorse bush.”

  Still using instinct, he raised the rifle and fired. The yellow blossom exploded into fragments. “Quite accurate, though I think it throws a hair to the left.” He lowered the weapon. “I found that I remembered how to ride, too. Apparently muscles have memories that are separate from those of the mind.”

  “So it would seem. Certainly you haven’t lost any of your shooting skill,” Randall observed. “I’m not sure whether I should be glad or disappointed.”

  “Be glad. Smiling makes us feel better,” Adam said. “If I recall last night’s conversation, you should be able to match that. Show me.”

  Randall loaded his weapon. A crow flew by and he raised his rifle. “A moving target is more of a challenge.”

  Adam lifted his hand. “Don’t. That creature has done you no harm.”

  Randall lowered the gun, wonder on his face. “You really haven’t changed, not inside. Very well, I’ll try for the blossom on the left side of the same bush.” He sighted swiftly and shot.

  As the flower disintegrated, Adam said, “We need to use another bush. This one has sacrificed enough to our cause.”

  Randall laughed. “That also is characteristic of you. Welcome home, Adam. Now shall we try the pistols?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  In the three days before their party left for London, Mariah barely saw Adam. He was frequently busy with his friends, while she spent most of her time at Julia’s as they worked on their wardrobes. It was more restful to be with her friend than with Adam.

  They saw each other long enough to exchange messages: Yes, Julia was willing to accompany Mariah. Yes, Kirkland had hired two post chaises in Carlisle, and they would collect everyone on Tuesday morning. No, there would be no problems with Cochrane running the estate while Mariah was gone, and he knew to write her at Ashton House while she was away if anything vital required her attention. The steward had been most impressed at learning she was to be the guest of a duke.

  She presumed that Adam would have told her if there had been any breakthroughs on the memory front, but he said nothing. Though his friends were teaching him about his life, so far that had triggered no flood of recollections.

  She spent her last evening in the library, which she used as an office and workroom. She was sewing trim on a sleeve when a light knock sounded on the door. Adam entered looking calm and reserved, and damnably handsome.

  “Sorry to interrupt you.” He stood in the doorway as if wary of getting too close. “I wanted to check that all was in order for leaving in the morning. Is there anything you would like me to do?”

  “No, I’m ready as soon as this gown is finished and packed. Julia is also prepared. She’s quite looking forward to the trip.” Mariah knotted a thread and bit it off.

  “Good.” He rubbed at his head. His hair was long enough to cover the healing scar, but the wound obviously still bothered him. “I never even asked you if you were willing to come with me to London. I wanted you there so I wouldn’t feel so alone. But if you’d rather not make the trip, it’s not too late to change your mind.”

  He’d left this very late indeed. She threaded her needle again. “No matter what happens between us, I do want to go to London. I need to talk to my lawyer, Mr. Granger, and learn why he hasn’t answered my queries. Perhaps he has no more information about my father’s death, but I should have heard about my inheritance.”

  “Of course. Perhaps I can be of aid there. It sounds like the sort of situation where being a duke might help.” Adam shifted from one foot to the other, restless but obviously not ready to leave. Desire radiated off him in waves. And God help her, she felt desire, too.

  There was a reason why unmarried males and females were kept apart. With only two of them here, impious thoughts were all too easy. She wondered how he would react if she crossed the room, wrapped herself around his lean, muscular body, and kissed him.

  Her guess was that he would forget all his doubts and take her right on the carpeted library floor with her full cooperation. She closed her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by sensual memories of when they had made love.

  No!

  Reminded of the news she must tell him, she said, “You may rest easy on at least one score. I found out today that I am not with child.”

  “Thank God,” he breathed, his expression relieved.

  How glad he was to be free of her. She jabbed her needle into her hem with such force that she stabbed her finger. “There is really no need to take me to London. Your friends will look out for you, and by this time you know them well that you won’t feel alone. I will travel to London on my own.”

  “Nonsense. You’ll be much safer in our group. More comfortable, too.” He gave her a wry smile that melted her irritation. “And I really would like to have you close. At the least, I owe you some hospitality, and at the most…a good deal more.”

  “Very well. I’ll save a good deal of money by traveling with you.”

  “I hate being dependent on my friends. First you, and now the others. Kirkland is paying for the post chaises, and Randall and Masterson are discussing how to split lodging and food. I intend to pay everyone back, but at the moment, I don’t even have the clothes on my back.”

  “I have the impression that you’ve done much for your friends in the past, and they are very happy to help you now.” She took another minute stitch. “Accepting graciously will be good for your soul.”

  He grinned, more relaxed. “Excellent advice. I’ll do my best.”

  She took another stitch. “Do you wish us to maintain the illusion of betrothal?”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “Please be patient with me, Mariah. I haven’t stopped caring for you. Not even a little bit. But—I need to understand the life I will be inhabiting before I know what I can change and what I must accept.”

  She wondered if any of his friends would be as willing to admit vulnerability. Masterson possibly. Kirkland…she wasn’t sure. Randall would probably rather be torn apart by wild horses than admit weakness. “You’re right to proceed cautiously. I try to imagine what it would be like to deal with all that has been thrown at you, but I can only guess.” She smiled at him. “You’re doing admirably, you know.”

  His brows arched. “I feel clumsy and incompetent. I’m glad you don’t think so.”

  Mariah rested her hands on the fabric in her lap. “Loss of memory is as much a gift as it is a disaster. You have the opportunity to be the person you are meant to be, without the constraints of how you were raised or what other people expect of you. Do your friends find you different from before?”

  “Masterson made such a comment today,” Adam said with surprise. “He said that I seemed somewhat less reserved. Less…less dukely.”

  “Probably not a bad thing, given that dukeliness was forced on you at such a young age.” Her brows furrowed. “I wonder what I would have thought of you if we’d met before your accident? I have had little to do with the beau monde. I probably
would have found you too grand to speak to. Now you’re very approachable.”

  He laughed. “Approachable is all very well, but like most men, I would prefer to have a beautiful woman think of me as dashing or handsome or intriguing.”

  “All of those as well,” she said softly.

  His hand locked on the doorknob as their gazes caught. Dear heaven, she wanted to go to him! He said tautly, “I will leave now before we do something we’ll both regret.” He pivoted into the hall and shut the door behind him, hard.

  Mariah bit the knuckles of her right hand from sheer, raging frustration. In a few minutes of talk, her blood had been raised to boiling point. A real lady wouldn’t feel such…such lust! Sarah wouldn’t. Mariah was more like a wanton dairymaid.

  The only consolation was that Adam had felt exactly the same.

  Adam realized that it had been a mistake to talk to Mariah before going to bed; seeing her had left him aroused and yearning. She looked so guileless and honest, as well as entrancingly lovely. But she had looked honest from the first time he’d opened his eyes and found her leaning over his bed. His judgment was flawed. Perhaps he could trust her. What was clearer was that he couldn’t trust himself.

  When he finally dozed off, his dreams were the most upsetting yet, starting with him as a small, shrieking boy being dragged from his home. The setting was clearly India and the sentiment understandable. That was a memory he would have been happier not to recover.

  That was followed by a disturbing dream of a lovely young woman in his arms. He spoke to her, and she raised her face, radiant. She was fair and green eyed and English, not his mother. Though he had no wife, might he have a sweetheart? Mariah had wondered if she resembled another woman in his life, and she might be right.

  Worst of all was his dream of walking into a ballroom filled with beautiful, exquisitely dressed people—and discovering that he was naked, every inch of his too dark skin exposed. He woke up sweating, both head and heart pounding.