Antonia gasped in shock, but he continued inexorably. “And I have to wonder how much I don’t know about what is going on under the surface of our little gathering. Ignorance is such a dangerous thing. You and I are together all day, but I really don’t know how you spend your nights. Did Lord Launceston return to Thornleigh to persuade you to a reconciliation? If so, what kind of arguments does he make and how much do you enjoy them?”
Aghast, Antonia stared at her cousin before she jumped up and crossed the summerhouse to stand in front of him, her heart pounding with fear. “Adam, it wasn’t like that,” she said intensely. “Ever since I was four years old, you were the one person in my life whom I could rely on. It took my brief infatuation for Simon to make me realize just how much I cared for you.
“Wanting to marry you wasn’t some form of retaliation against Simon. He was already gone from my life. Only your accident and his genuine concern for your welfare brought him back to Thornleigh. Simon has not said one single word to indicate that he still wants me. You saw him with Judith. Did he look like a man mourning the loss of another woman?”
In her fierce desire to convince him, Antonia laid her palms on Adam’s chest, feeling the hard strength of bone and muscle. “I should have explained the whole history to you. But it’s not very flattering to me, and the more time that passed and the closer you and I became, the less important it seemed.”
The ice in Adam’s eyes was thawing as he weighed her words, and she knew that he wanted to believe her. She rested her forehead on his solid shoulder as her fingers curled around his lapels. She whispered, “I wanted to marry you because I need you in my life.”
Adam was still under her touch, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart. Then he sighed and his arms came around her. “Poor little cousin,” he said, his baritone voice soft. “So much needing, so much hurting.”
To her horror, she began to cry and did not even know why. “You have always been much too good for me.”
“That has been the problem, hasn’t it?” he said bleakly. “You speak of needing me, but you have never said a word about love.”
Understanding what was really upsetting him, she raised her head locked her gaze with his. “I told Simon that I loved him too quickly. To say the same to you so soon seemed a…a cheapening of the words. Also—I had always loved you as a brother. It seemed almost incestuous to desire you. That all changed the day that we went to the Aerie. There I discovered that I loved you in quite a different way, as a woman loves her man.”
Standing on tiptoe, she lightly pressed her lips to his. “I love you, Adam, with no qualifications or limits. And I want most desperately to marry you. That, I swear, is the whole truth.”
His arms crushed around her, pulling her tight against him. “Lord, Antonia, I have wanted so much to hear you say that. The worst part of not remembering is not knowing how you felt about me and being afraid to ask.” Adam’s kiss was demanding and possessive, and she rejoiced in it.
“I thought that there was something very warm and real between us,” he murmured. “Finding that marriage announcement was a ghastly shock. It made me wonder if I had been wrong about everything.’’
“I should have explained sooner, but it was easier not to speak.” Antonia leaned back in his embrace, relaxing into a smile. “You know, I am not the only one who has avoided talking about love.”
Adam smiled ruefully. “Even with amnesia, I know I’ve always loved you. It’s like knowing how to breathe. Something that can’t be forgotten while one lives.”
Antonia gave a sigh of pure delight, relaxing within the safe circle of his arms. “This is like the steam engine.”
Adam looked inquiring. “What is?”
Smiling, she sat on the padded bench, tugging her cousin to sit next to her. “It wasn’t until it exploded that Malcolm knew it needed improvement. It’s the same with you and me. I thought we were happy before, but something went wrong, we made improvements, and now I’m happier than ever.”
His laughter was rich and deep. “You have a talent for analogy.” Absently he rubbed at the healing wound on his head. There was no longer a bandage, and the stitched gash and the shaved area around it were almost covered by longer hair.
“Is your head hurting?” Antonia asked.
“Some,” he admitted. “I wonder if I’ll spend the rest of my life getting headaches whenever I become overset.”
“I’ve never known you to anger easily. I’ll certainly do my best to avoid provoking you in the future.” Antonia tilted her head reflectively. “You can’t imagine how glad I am that you challenged me when you were angry rather than becoming all cool and maddening. Simon could withdraw like an oyster, and that more than anything convinced me that we would never suit.”
“I can see how little that would appeal to someone like you, who prefers open battle,” he agreed with amusement. “I think that you and I have more compatible styles of fighting, though I shan’t repine if we don’t do it very often.”
Though his tension was gone, Adam had a drawn look that implied fatigue as well as headache. Antonia knew that he was still having occasional attacks of drowsiness, so she suggested, “Why not lie out on the bench and relax? I make a tolerably good pillow.”
“An irresistible offer,” Adam murmured, swinging his legs up on the bench and laying his head on her lap, dozing off almost immediately.
Antonia felt vastly content. The altercation between them had been painful, but in the aftermath she felt closer to Adam than ever. They loved each other, and she sensed that in the future there would be still deeper levels of closeness. When they married and became lovers, when they had a child . . .
Leaning back against the wall, Antonia herself dozed, and when she woke up, the sunlight had shifted noticeably. Adam was still sound asleep, and she enjoyed the sight of his still face, which had a boyish quality in repose.
While he did not have Simon’s stunning handsomeness, she thought him quite irresistible. She leaned over to kiss his forehead.
At her touch, Adam’s eyes opened. As his gaze slowly focused on her face, she saw confusion, then shock, in the gray-green depths. “Tony?” he asked uncertainly.
It took her a moment to appreciate the significance of the fact that Adam had used her nickname. When she did, a wave of excitement coursed through her. After the accident, she had introduced herself to Adam as Antonia, and he had called her that ever since.
But for most of her life, she had been Tony to her cousin. Scarcely daring to breath, she asked, “Adam, do you remember what happened?”
His expression puzzled, he sat up, pulling well away from her while he raised one hand to his head. Encountering the healing scar, he murmured, “What the devil . . . ?” Adam scanned his surroundings, then glanced at his cousin. “What do you mean by asking what happened?”
“I mean the explosion, and the head injury you suffered.” At his blank expression, Antonia asked, “Adam, what is the last thing you remember?”
He stood and walked across the summerhouse, a frown creasing his brow. “I was going to Macclesfield to see an engineer named Malcolm.” He unconsciously rubbed the scar on his head. “I—I seem to recall asking you and Judith if you wanted to go at breakfast, and Judith accepting for both of you.”
He shook his head, disoriented. “Did that happen this morning? It’s very vague. I can’t remember if we went to Macclesfield. Nor do I remember coming out to the summerhouse with you”—he smiled faintly—”much less how I ended up on your lap, pleasant surprise though that was.”
“In Macclesfield, Malcolm’s steam engine blew up, and you were unconscious for two and a half days. When you woke up, your personal memory was entirely gone, though you recalled abstract facts well enough,” she said succinctly. “That was three weeks ago. You remember nothing of that time?”
“The devil you say! I’ve really lost three whole weeks?” he said, astonished. “How bizarre.”
“The physician who at
tended you, Dr. Kinlock, said that your memory would almost certainly return, and do so quite abruptly and thoroughly,” Antonia explained. “In fact, I think he said it might happen while you were sleeping. Kinlock also said you might not remember the interval between the accident and your recovery of full memory.”
While Adam digested the information, Antonia bit her lip at an appalling new thought. Her first reaction to the return of Adam’s memory had been delight. But apparently the weeks of their falling in love were gone from his mind.
She could see that his behavior was subtly different, without the nuances of intimacy that had developed. Their kisses and promises no longer existed for him.
She shrugged philosophically. They would have to start over again, and he might never remember the sweeter moments of the past three weeks with her.
Still, it was far better for him to be restored to his full self, no longer incomplete. Coaxing him back to their recent state of closeness would have a certain delicious appeal of its own.
“While it’s difficult to believe that a whole piece of my life has disappeared, the evidence seems to be written on my skull,” Adam said, fingering the scar on his head again. “Have I missed any important events?”
His eyes scanned Antonia with approval. “You look much happier than you did. Has Simon returned and persuaded you to renew your engagement? I shouldn’t think that anything else could have cheered you so thoroughly.”
“This is going to be much more complicated than I anticipated,” she said ruefully. “If my looks are improved, it’s because you and I have been betrothed for the last three weeks, and it has agreed with me famously.”
Adam froze. “That’s impossible. What about Judith?”
Antonia stared at him. “What has Judith to do with anything?”
“I can’t have asked you to marry me”—Adam’s face was utterly rigid—”because Judith and I are betrothed.”
Antonia’s heart congealed. “How can you be betrothed? Neither of you ever mentioned such a thing!”
“She and I reached an understanding just before you and Simon ended your betrothal. Because you were so unhappy, we did not speak of it.” Adam’s eyes reflected the confused pain that Antonia was experiencing.
“But if you two had an understanding, why did she never speak of it?” Her mind flashed back to the time of the accident.
Antonia had been half-mad with grief. How had Judith behaved? She might have been equally worried about Adam, but she was less demonstrative by nature. She’d certainly nursed him as devotedly.
Abruptly Antonia recalled Judith’s face when her employer had announced the engagement to Adam. Judith had been more than surprised or disapproving of the rapid betrothal. She’d looked almost ill. And no wonder if she was in love with Adam! She didn’t speak up then because it must have seemed too late.
Antonia buried her face in her hands, her whole body chilled with shock. “God help us all,” she said dully.
She felt Adam’s weight settle next to her. He put an arm around her shoulders, but it was the touch of a brother, not a lover. She felt the difference instantly. “Tony, you must tell me what has happened.”
Only the whole humiliating truth would do. “I was distraught when you were injured,” she said unsteadily. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Simon was gone for good, and you had said once that I could always marry you, and you seemed to mean it. So I decided to accept.”
She straightened, but kept her gaze down. “When you came out of the coma, I said that we were betrothed. You accepted that without question, perhaps because I seemed somewhat familiar. I wouldn’t have held you to a betrothal against your will, but you seemed…quite satisfied with the arrangement.”
She stared at her hands, which lay knotted in her lap. “So for the last three weeks, you and I have been betrothed.”
Antonia finally dared look at her cousin’s face, and recoiled at what she saw. “Adam, don’t look at me like that!” she cried.
He stood and walked away, explosive tension in his steps. “What a damnable tangle,” he swore softly. “Poor Judith.”
Poor Judith, indeed. It did not escape Antonia’s notice that her cousin’s first thought was for Judith, whom he wanted to marry. Had Adam not been in love with Judith, Antonia was sure he could have been persuaded to fall in love with herself, but now Judith held his first allegiance.
Judith, her best friend, whom Antonia had unintentionally put through hell. Briefly she wondered about the overseen embrace with Simon, but in the light of what she knew now, Antonia guessed that it was not what it seemed. In fact, Judith had implied as much.
“Adam, please don’t be angry with me,” she begged. “I would never have knowingly done anything to hurt you or Judith.”
His face eased, though his body was still tense. “I’m not angry with you. There is more than enough blame to go around. Had Judith and I not kept our understanding a secret, had she spoken up after I was injured, none of this would have happened.” Adam’s mouth twisted in a smile tinged with bitterness. “This would be amusing if it weren’t so painful for all concerned. Do you know where Judith is? I must speak with her at once.”
“Of course,” Antonia agreed bleakly, still stunned by his news. There would always be a bond between her and Adam, but in the future it would be Judith who must come first with him. Judith whom he would cherish and protect and love.
“She is in the house, I believe.” There was something else he should know. “Simon is at Thornleigh, too. When he heard about your accident, he returned from London immediately.”
Adam looked at her, his eyes hooded. “I see.” Then he turned and headed toward the house.
Antonia watched his broad figure vanish among the shrubbery, feeling as if a knife were being twisted slowly in her heart. Surely God must be punishing her for every act of willfulness and selfishness that she had ever committed. Did love exist if it was not part of a person’s memory?
Yes, surely for a handful of days, Adam had loved her. Had she had the wisdom to love him sooner, he could have been hers. She knew that as surely as she knew the peaks and dales of Thornleigh. But the Adam who had loved her was gone. In a sense, he had never even existed.
Unfortunately, the love that she felt for him was piercingly alive. As the soft summer breeze caressed her, Antonia closed her eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears that coursed down her face.
* * * *
Lord Launceston was a methodical man and he had spent several hours making a list. It seemed the best way to order his confused emotions. Then he struck a light and burned the list, which was not the sort of thing that one should leave lying around.
Staring at the ashes in the grate, he knew that the precise weighing of pros and cons had merely confirmed what he had already known. He was in love with Judith Winslow.
Simon had never thought of himself as an unsteady man, but he must be. Or perhaps Antonia’s brilliant beauty had temporarily blinded him to the gentler qualities of Judith, just as the sun outshone the moon when they shared a sky.
He had liked Judith from the beginning, had admired her intelligent, thoughtful mind. It had taken that moment of passion by the stream for him to realize how much more he felt than liking. Strange how the lower animal nature had such an influence on the emotions.
He stood, smiling at his attempt to be a natural philosopher even now. Love was a mystery, and only a poet would dare attempt to explain it.
Judith may not have been as moved by that kiss as he was, but she always seemed to enjoy his company. Their minds and emotions matched well. Perhaps, now that Adam and Antonia seemed bound for the altar, Judith might consider marrying elsewhere.
Simon’s fortune was nothing like so large as Adam’s, and he was all too aware of his defects of character, but he could offer a comfortable existence and the status of a married woman as well as love. In time she might come to love him as much as he loved her. Or if not that much, at least to love him a
little.
Decision made, he set off purposefully to find her.
Chapter Twelve
Judith studied a newspaper in the morning room, looking at the shipping news. Very soon now it would be time to leave Thornleigh, and she was making plans.
At the sound of quick masculine footsteps she looked up, and when she saw Adam’s face, she knew instantly what had happened. He had always been polite and friendly in the weeks since the explosion, but he had never once looked at her like this, with the remembrance of past intimacy in his eyes.
“Your memory has come back,” she exclaimed, not really needing confirmation.
“Yes, I was dozing in the summerhouse, and when I woke, I remembered everything until shortly before the explosion. And nothing since then.”
He took a seat near Judith. “Antonia was with me and she explained what happened. All of it.” His grave eyes intent on her face, he asked, “It must have been dreadful for you watching Antonia and me together. Why didn’t you tell her about us?”
“How could I, when you didn’t remember me?’’ Her hand turned up in a gesture of impotence. “There was no proof of a betrothal, apart from my word.”
“And you didn’t want to set your word against Antonia’s.” Adam smiled wryly. “It was all quite absurd. My impetuous cousin told me that she had decided to accept my standing offer, not knowing that it was no longer open.” He regarded her questioningly. “Has anything happened in the last three weeks to make you wish to cry off from our betrothal?”
No, nothing at all, except that Judith had fallen in love with a man she could not have.
She searched Adam’s face, seeing the kindness that had attracted her to him from the first time they met in London, when he’d brought a present for a woman he didn’t even know. He would be a considerate husband. She still wanted children, the security and companionship of marriage, everything that he had once offered and she had accepted.
“No, nothing has changed,” she answered in a soft voice, reaching out for his hand as if it were a lifeline. The thought of leaving Thornleigh and being alone in the world again terrified her. She wanted the life she could have with Adam. She wanted Adam himself, for his kindness and caring. “Not if you still want me.”
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