Loving a Lost Lord

by Mary Jo Putney

  Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. He managed to find wry amusement in the situation after he calmed down. He was quite sure no such incident had ever happened. The dream must have been about his fears of entering London society when he felt so unprepared. He would feel naked and vulnerable no matter what he was wearing.

  Thank heaven for his friends. Though his lack of recollection frustrated them, they showed no signs of abandoning him. He would be well defended.

  He must also give thanks for Mariah. Her lying about their marriage was a deep ache that he didn’t want to contemplate, but she was still his favorite person. More than anyone, she saw him as he was now. He felt better when they were together.

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t even talk to her without having his brain clouded by desire, and the less he saw of her, the more intense his yearning. That was another reason for his difficulty in sleeping.

  At least he had figured out how to alleviate unruly lust, though doing so was less satisfying than being with Mariah. As he touched himself, he wondered if such behavior was forbidden in English society. That was one piece of information he didn’t need.

  After three days of busyness, Mariah found it a relief to let Adam hand her into the “yellow bounder,” as post chaises were called. The bright yellow body made the hired carriages unmistakable. This one had room for four passengers and was drawn by four horses. The chaise that was collecting Adam’s friends in Hartley would be the same.

  By changing horses several times a day, they should be in London in a week or so. A mail coach was faster, but the chaise would be quicker than most other methods of traveling. She and her father had usually traveled by regular coach, which was slower and less comfortable, so a post chaise was luxury.

  She relaxed back into the leather seat and smothered a yawn. She’d slept little the night before, worrying about whether she’d packed all she would need as well as brooding about Adam. Annabelle had jumped off her bed this morning, given her an injured glance, then stalked off to the kitchen. Mariah hoped the cat would forgive her absence when she returned to Hartley. But cat and estate would be in good hands with Mrs. Beckett and Mr. Cochrane.

  Adam was about to join her in the carriage when Bhanu leaped inside enthusiastically. She seemed prepared to settle down and travel to London. Mariah leaned forward and scratched the dog’s head. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay here. Think how Annabelle would miss you.”

  Adam scooped the dog into his arms. “I think she’ll have to be locked inside or she’ll follow. I’ll take her to the kitchen and she won’t notice we’re gone.”

  A short time passed as he took Bhanu inside. Then he returned and the driver set the chaise in motion. Adam’s gaze rested on the house as they pulled away.

  “Are you thinking you might never return?” she asked, keeping her voice even.

  Looking uncomfortable, he replied, “I certainly hope to come back, but…I just don’t know.” The carriage turned into the lane that led to the road, ending his view of the house. He gazed at Mariah. “So much has happened here.”

  “I’ve wondered if something will happen to bring back memories of your early life, and this time since the accident will disappear,” she said reflectively. “I once met a physician who had dealt with many head injuries, and apparently anything can happen.”

  “I cannot imagine forgetting you.” His gaze was intense.

  She shifted restlessly under his gaze at the same time the chaise hit a rut. Her knee brushed his. He caught his breath. “I think I should ride in the other chaise most of the time. Not a rejection of you. Rather…the contrary.”

  “Very wise,” she agreed. “Of course, Julia will ride with me, but if she didn’t, there would always be the danger of this happening.” She slid forward and caught his shoulders, then offered a kiss that tried to say everything that she couldn’t put into words. That she loved him, desired him, was sorry for lying…

  If she hadn’t claimed they were husband and wife, would they have become so close? No point in wondering now.

  He gasped and circled his arms around her waist as he kissed her back, his mouth devouring. “This is dangerous,” he said huskily.

  “There isn’t room for misbehavior in a carriage,” she said with a choked laugh.

  “You think not?” He tightened his hands around her waist and lifted her toward him, pulling her onto his lap with her legs straddling him.

  She was shocked at how intimately they were pressed together. Shocked, and aroused. As his hands caressed her back, she melted into him, her hips moving in an involuntary rhythm. “It would be easy…” she gasped. The rocking of the carriage added to the intoxicating motion. Her hand slid down between them.

  “Easy, but not wise.” His breathing ragged, he caught her hand before it could descend farther. “Luckily, it’s a short ride into Hartley.”

  “Oh, heavens!” She tried to break away as reason returned.

  He held her on his lap, his hands again caressing. “We still have a few minutes.”

  But only a few. She wondered if this would be their last kiss. There would be few opportunities to be alone together during this journey, and once they reached London, circumstances would rapidly come between them. She rested her head on his shoulder as she thought about the days ahead. “Are you ready for London?”

  “As ready as I can be.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I’ve asked the others not to discuss my amnesia. My close friends and family will need to know, but I’d rather not have my weakness tittered about by everyone in London society.”

  “It’s not a weakness; it’s an injury.”

  “It feels like a weakness when everyone knows more about my life than I do.”

  “You’re a duke,” she said. “Sneer them all down.”

  He gave a surprised laugh. “You’re a mischievous minx.” His arms tightened around her. “How can something wrong feel so right?”

  “Because you’re weighing on two different scales.” She stroked her hand down his chest. “Feeling is…feeling. Taste, touch, emotion, excitement—matters of the heart. Right and wrong are quite a different matter. They involve morality, wisdom, justice—matters of the mind.” She sighed. “So often they don’t agree.”

  “Wisdom is something you have a great deal of. In London, I hope to slay the dragons of my mind. Then—we shall see what comes next.” He caressed her cheek tenderly with the back of his hand, then lifted her from his lap—not easy since he was sitting—and set her back on her seat. “You look misleadingly demure.”

  “It’s my specialty.” She locked her gloved hands together. Demurely.

  A few minutes later they pulled up in front of the Bull and Anchor. The other chaise awaited with Adam’s friends lingering in the open air as long as they could. The men climbed in and followed to Julia’s cottage, which was on the way out of town.

  Mariah climbed out of the coach and walked to the cottage, Adam beside her. Julia opened the door, bonneted and ready to go. Like Mariah’s, her luggage consisted of a small trunk and a bandbox. Adam scooped up the trunk. “I’ll take this for you.”

  Julia gave him a bemused glance. “I didn’t know dukes carried baggage.”

  “I’m sure I will grow in arrogance as I approach London,” he said solemnly. “But for now I prefer to be useful.” He turned and headed to the chaises.

  Mariah waited as Julia locked the door. “Are you having second thoughts?”

  “Second, third, fourth, and fifth,” Julia said wryly as they walked to the chaises. “But—I’m glad to be going. There is someone I must see before it’s too late.”

  “We shall have each other for support. We’ll need it, too, I suspect.”

  When they reached the chaises, Adam introduced Julia to his friends, who had climbed out to meet her. Masterson was his usual affable self and Kirkland was impeccably polite, but Randall frowned and gave Julia a stare that would freeze the whiskers off a badger. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bancroft,�
�� he said icily.

  “The pleasure is mutual,” Julia said, not raising an eyebrow. She allowed Adam to help her into the chaise and Mariah followed. For Mariah, Adam had a special hand squeeze, but he then turned away and told his friends that he would not selfishly keep two beautiful ladies to himself and asked who would like the first chance to ride with them.

  “What was that about?” Mariah inquired in a whisper as the men discussed seating arrangements. “Do you know Randall?”

  Julia shook her head. “We’ve never met. He obviously took an instant dislike to me.”

  Mariah gave a ladylike snort. “Randall doesn’t think highly of females. He’s convinced I’m a fortune hunter, trapping Adam into marriage.”

  “But you had no idea who Adam was when you found him.”

  “Randall is not a man to let facts interfere with a good snarl.”

  They shared a smile. Masterson opened the door and joined them in the carriage. “I’m the lucky man who has won the company of two lovely ladies.”

  Mariah laughed. “We should have let Bhanu come to balance out the loveliness. Though, to be honest, I find her beautiful.”

  “If you can love an ugly dog enough to find beauty, you shouldn’t waste yourself marrying a handsome man like Ash,” Masterson said promptly. “Better you should ally yourself with a man like me who needs your gift of ignoring reality.”

  For an instant she saw something in his gaze that made her think he was at least half serious, but the moment passed. “By the time we reach London, we shall all be heartily tired of the sight of each other,” she said.

  “And bruised and stiff and weary of traveling,” Julia added.

  “But at least we’ll be uncomfortable at a high rate of speed rather than a slow one,” Masterson pointed out.

  They all laughed. It was a good start to a long journey.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Adam had assumed that Ashton House would be a substantial town house. Not a freestanding Mayfair mansion surrounded by gardens and a high stone wall topped with formidable spikes. “Good Lord,” he said as they pulled up to the high iron gates. “This is rather more than I expected.”

  Kirkland, sitting on the opposite side of the chaise, said, “Didn’t any of us mention that it’s the largest private house in London? It’s quite nice, actually. There’s plenty of room for your friends, so it often seems like a particularly fine hotel.”

  “I always stay at Ashton House when I’m in London. You’ve given me my own rooms, actually,” Randall said. “Is that still acceptable?”

  “Of course.” Adam studied the sprawling mansion. “The place is so large I could go days without seeing you.”

  The journey had gone as smoothly as one could hope, with endless changing of horses and only one instance of being bogged down in mud during a drenching rainstorm. They had stayed at good inns, usually opting for three rooms, with the women sharing one and the men the others. But days in a carriage allowed too much time to think.

  No doubt he could deal with London and its demands, though the likelihood that someone had tried to kill him added a little too much excitement. While the subject was never mentioned, he was very aware that his friends kept a sharp eye on their surroundings. Since Masterson had written ahead to tell the Ashton household and cousins that he was returning, it wasn’t impossible that a determined assassin might be able to deduce their route. It was another good reason not to ride in the same chaise with Mariah. If he was shot, at least she should be safe.

  But that meant they’d almost never seen each other. Her absence had ached like a missing tooth. The only times he saw her was when all six of the group had dined together in the private parlors of various inns. No matter how long the day, Mariah had been calm and unruffled and uncomplaining.

  Julia Bancroft had been an equally good traveler. Though she was quiet, her presence had been soothing. Everyone liked her but Randall, who stiffened whenever she was around. He’d never shared the women’s chaise. With Masterson and Kirkland to carry the conversation, their dinners had been pleasant.

  After dining, the ladies had withdrawn to their shared rooms. Adam hadn’t been alone with Mariah since the carriage ride from Hartley Manor to the village. Surely this great sprawling barracks of a house would allow them some privacy. Not that he wanted to ravish her—well, he did, actually, but he wouldn’t—but he would love to sit and drink tea and perhaps hold her hand. To relax with her as he couldn’t with anyone else.

  A liveried gatekeeper, elderly but sharp eyed, emerged from the gatehouse to inspect the two muddy yellow bounders. The driver of Adam’s carriage announced grandly, “The Duke of Ashton and friends.”

  The gatekeeper must have been informed of Adam’s survival, but his face still worked for a moment as he glanced into the chaise to confirm Adam’s identity. “Welcome home, your grace.” He bowed deeply, then opened the gate.

  As they drove up the sweeping arc of driveway, Randall said, “We’re back to the land of fussing servants and social obligations.”

  “Complain if you like,” Kirkland retorted, “but I for one will be glad to have fresh clothing and my valet to dress me.” He glanced down at his dark green coat and buff pantaloons, which looked well lived in. “I shall tell Jones to burn what I’m wearing. But traveling rough does make one appreciate the comforts of civilization.”

  “Traveling rough is the retreat to Corunna,” Randall said dryly. “A journey to Scotland is merely tiring. Though I’ll admit that sharing quarters with you and Masterson for weeks was punishing in its own way.”

  As Adam and Kirkland laughed, the chaise pulled up under a wide porte cochere. A young footman with powdered hair rushed outside, his face beaming with excitement. As he opened the carriage and pulled down the steps, Adam said, “I wonder how large the welcoming committee will be.”

  Randall grimaced. “Large. Though no one knew the exact time of arrival, by the end of the afternoon, all of fashionable London will know and half of ’em will be calling to see with their own eyes that you’re alive.”

  “And that’s not counting the staff waiting inside,” Kirkland added.

  The second chaise halted behind theirs and the footman assisted Julia and Mariah out, followed by Masterson. Adam offered his arm to Mariah. “Shall we enter the lion’s den?”

  Her eyes smiled reassurance as her hand curved under his elbow. “Lead on, your grace.” It was the first time they had touched since Hartley. The effect was…energizing.

  Despite his trepidation on the journey, he found he was now eager to immerse himself in his life. Surely here he would reclaim what he had lost.

  His party entered the vast, echoing spaces of a three-story-high entry hall. It was full of servants. Dozens of them.

  When he and Mariah appeared, there was a tidal wave of movement as the females curtsied and the males bowed. Everywhere he looked were beaming smiles. These people he didn’t recognize were genuinely glad to see him alive. He noticed several pretty housemaids and hoped he’d been gentleman enough not to have molested them.

  Three senior servants approached. The middle-aged woman had to be the housekeeper, immaculately dressed and radiating confidence. The man to her right was an equally immaculate butler. Adam’s friends had briefed him on the senior staff, so he knew that the couple were Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. Strange how he remembered how a large household was run, but not his own life.

  The other man was…very different. Though well dressed, he had the burly build and scarred face of a street fighter. Randall murmured, “The fellow on the right is Wharf, your valet. I should have told you more about him.”

  Too late. The trio reached him and said, “Welcome home, your grace,” in near perfect unison. He wondered if they had practiced.

  “It’s good to be here,” he said. “You know most of my friends, I believe, but you haven’t met Miss Clarke and Mrs. Bancroft. They will be staying at Ashton House. Take very good care of them.”

  “Of course,
your grace.” Mrs. Holmes looked thoughtful. “The blue suite has two bedrooms connected by a sitting room. Would that be satisfactory?”

  “Of course,” Mariah murmured. Julia nodded agreement. Both of them wore expressions of calm acceptance, as if they stayed in ducal residences regularly. He was amused, but didn’t like the reminder of what a good actress Mariah was.

  “Mr. Randall, your usual rooms are ready.” The housekeeper’s gaze returned to Adam. “If it suits your grace, luncheon will be served in an hour, so there will be time for you and your guests to freshen up.”

  Since breakfast had been at dawn, Adam was hungry and he assumed his friends were, too. Masterson and Kirkland planned to go on to their London homes, but at the least, he owed them a meal now that he had resources again. “That would be very good, Mrs. Holmes. Masterson, Kirkland, will you stay?”

  “I should be happy to spend the next hour in your library with a pile of newspapers and a glass of sherry,” Kirkland said. “Not moving!”

  Masterson laughed. “I’ll join you there.”

  The ranks of servants dispersed, Adam’s friends being led off in different directions. Turning to his valet, Adam said, “I’m in need of a change of clothing myself. If you would guide me to my rooms?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  So far, so good. As he followed Wharf upstairs, Adam wondered what the afternoon would bring.

  Mariah left a maid unpacking her garments and opened the connecting door to the sitting room. Julia was already there, having left another maid unpacking behind her. Closing the door so they were private, Mariah exclaimed, “Have you ever seen such a place, Julia? One assumes that dukes have wealth, but this place would put Carlton House to shame!”

  “Carlton House is more grand, but less welcoming, at least from what I’ve seen.” Julia drifted across the room and looked out a window at the gardens.

  Mariah stared. “You’ve been in Carlton House?”