CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MEMORY
MEMORY
Aaron had never exited a carriage so fast in his life. He had been holding Shauna's hand the entire ride, telling her everything was alright. However, the carriage had barely rolled to a stop before he leapt out, practically running to the front door. The butler didn't even have time to get out of the way before he barreled inside.
"Gwendolyn!" he called at the top of his lungs.
It wasn't Gwendolyn, but Annabelle who came into the hallway, confused. "Brother, what's all this yelling about?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.
"Is Gwendolyn here?" Aaron asked. "Please tell me she's here."
"Yes, she's here," Annabelle said, and he practically sank to the floor in a grateful puddle.
"Oh thank God."
"Why wouldn't she be here?" she asked.
"Why would she be here?" Aaron responded. "You had us so panicked, searching through the entire camp for her."
"Why should you be so panicked?" Annabelle responded. "You told me to come and get her after a few hours. You were all working and I didn't want to bother you, so I did it quietly."
Shauna rushed in, catching the tail end of the conversation. "What? She's here? Is she alright?"
"I told you?" Aaron repeated, confused.
"Yes," Annabelle replied. "And I protested, but decided to visit my friends in the country tomorrow instead. Do you not remember this whole conversation?"
It suddenly came rushing back to him. It had been late last night. He couldn't sleep; he had gotten up in the middle of night. Annabelle had been awake, usually full of energy. He had briefly said that he thought it would be best if Gwendolyn wasn't at the camp the whole day, given what had been going on.
He had completely forgotten. All this chaos; all this running about, was because his brain couldn't remember a simple conversation. He felt like a completely idiot. "I remember now," he replied. "Oh God, Shauna, I'm sorry."
"Please bring me to her," Shauna said. "I need to see that she is really safe."
"Of course," Annabelle said, giving her brother a strange look. Aaron knew that he shouldn't go, and instead collapsed into a chair in the hallway, breathing a sigh of relief.
Shauna may yell at him in half a moment, and Annabelle may shake her head, but at least his daughter was safe.
He was starting to realize that her safety was one of the only things that mattered.
"Is she here?" Harold arrived soon after him, his face eager and concerned.
"Yes," Aaron replied. "I am a right idiot, and when Shauna comes back, it's going to be quite the interesting moment." He explained, to which Harold sighed.
"Well, at least she's alright. I'm not shocked you forgot. Frankly, I'm surprised any of us have our heads, given the situation lately."
Aaron shook his head, standing up as he heard Shauna's footsteps.
"I should have remembered. I should have thought. Instead, I panicked. That is not the trait of a nobleman...or a father."
"I don't think there's a right or wrong way," Harold replied. “You did what you could with the information you were given. No one can fault you for that.”
“Want to bet?” Aaron asked, as Shauna came barreling back into the office. Instead of shouting, she threw her arms around his neck.
“Oh thank God, she’s safe. She’s asleep now.”
“What?” Aaron asked, in surprise. “Do you not think me a fool?”
“Of course I think you a fool,” Shauna answered, pulling back to look him in the eye. “But she’s safe, and you did all that you could. Should something ever happen to her, I have no doubt that she will be very well taken care of.”
“Of course,” Aaron said. “I mean, we mobilized a search party, we explored all avenues. We concluded, very quickly, that she was not in the camp. But that does not make me any less of an idiot…”
“It makes you a good father,” Shauna said and he hugged her again.
“Thank you,” he said, regretful that she was not angry.
“Besides, children are like a moving carriage, you cannot often keep track of them. One moment they are there, and the next they are gone, and you cannot think straight half the time when they are around. I have had a few more years of practice when it comes to Gwendolyn.”
“That you have,” Aaron said. “I am sorry though. I will try to do better in the future.”
“Please do,” Shauna said with a smile. “I don’t think my heart can take another scare like that.”
Matheson and Corrigan arrived shortly after, and Aaron relayed the news to them. Grateful that she was safe, they teased him for a few minutes, but eventually let the matter drop.
“Is Lola coming back tonight?” Aaron asked. “I assume she’s gone to the hospital to see Wesley?”
“If she doesn’t kill him upon arrival,” Harold muttered to him, after he had greeted Annabelle.
“You noticed that too?” Aaron asked. “She and I had a talk about it earlier. Apparently, life is not as easy as they dreamed it would be.”
“I never would have thought them right for each other,” Harold replied. “I’ve known them both for years and I couldn’t imagine two people more different.”
“But that’s why it works,” Aaron said and grinned at him. “If they were the same, it would be a match that fizzled out shortly.”
“Your optimism often leads to disappointment,” Harold warned him as the dinner bell was rung.
“Your pessimism is often boring,” Aaron retorted, which made Harold roll his eyes. “You see? We’re very different people and yet we were fast friends from the moment we met.”
“I see,” Harold said, although it was all in good fun.
Dinner was a much more pleasant meal than the night before. It felt good to relax, to laugh, and shake off the day’s events. Aaron was so involved in a story that Matheson was telling that the butler had to get his attention twice before he registered it.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but there is a lady at the door to see you.”
“A lady?” Aaron asked, confused. “To see me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who is it?” He glanced at Shauna, who was now paying attention to the conversation. He couldn’t think of who it would be. If it was Lola, she wouldn’t lurk at the door. In addition, every other woman who was important to him was in the room, at the dinner table.
“She said her name was Marianne Marks?” he replied.
“I don’t know her,” Aaron said. He was about to dismiss the butler when he remembered the incident of the day. What if he did know her and his memory was just consistently failing? That would be in line with the events of the day, without a doubt. “Wait,” he rose. “I’ll see her. Harold?”
Without a question, Harold put down the bite he was eating, wiping his hands on his napkin. He knew Aaron was asking for reasons he’d rather not discuss in front of everyone. Their system of silent communication had been developing since Aaron first had a seizure on the ship.
Indeed, once they were in the hallway, Aaron ducked his head and lowered his voice. “If you recognize her, perhaps you can slip into casual conversation regarding where she is from? The name does not strike any bells.”
“Aaron, today was just a fluke, nothing else. You are not losing your memory.”
“That is …a symptom of people with my condition,” he admitted. “Although I thought I was spared it.”
“Come,” Harold said, leading the way to the front hall. “I’m sure it will be a stranger with the wrong house, a beggar with a coin. Nothing to worry about.”
Indeed, when they got to the front hall, there was no one they recognized. The lady who identified herself as Marianne Marks was well dressed. She dipped to the floor to curtsy, appropriate for a lord.
“My Lord,” she said. “How good to see you again.”
Aaron glanced to Harold, and then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, my Lady, forgive me. How do we know each ot
her?”
“Oh how silly of me,” Marianne shook her head. “You don’t remember me?”
“From…”
“From the palace?” she asked. “I used to be married to Lord Narvers….”
“Narvers…” Aaron racked his memory. He briefly remembered a minor lord named Narvers. “He’s passed on, hasn’t he?”
Marianne looked at the floor. “Yes, my beloved husband.”
“My apologies,” Aaron said. “I haven’t been to the palace for many years.”
“I remember you, though,” she said. “You were always the most handsome lord at the palace. Aside from my husband, of course.”
“Oh,” Aaron glanced at Harold. “Can I help you with something, madam?”
“I was in the area, and I always drop in on old friends. What a lovely home you have.”
“You just wanted to…drop in…” Aaron said. “Why are you in the area?”
“Visiting an old friend,” she said with a smile. “May I come in?”
Harold glanced to Aaron, who looked at a loss for words.
“Of course,” he said at last. “Please. We're just having dinner, if you'd like to join us?”
“That would be lovely. Who’s us?”
“Oh...some...friends. And my sister,” he said. “You do remember my sister? She always used to accompany me at court.”
“Of course I do,” Marianne said, a wide smile on her face. “How kind of you. Please, show me the way.”
“Right that way,” Aaron pointed. “I'll be right in.” As soon as she was gone, Aaron turned to Harold. “I don't remember her. What is going on?”
“Weren't you the one to tell me that there were hundreds of people at court? And just because you caught her eye does not mean that she caught yours.”
“I agree,” Aaron said. “And what else am I going to do? Turn the poor woman out in the cold?”
“Exactly,” Harold replied. “Don't worry. If you ask enough questions, I'm sure that she'll spark your memory.”
“Hopefully,” Aaron sighed. “That poor Damian chap was probably the same, and has now wandered away insulted.”
Just then the door opened, and Lola let herself in. She had a horrible habit of doing that, enjoying her independence when she was off the stage.
“Hello,” she said, surprised. “Are you standing there waiting for me? Is Gwendolyn alright?”
“She's just fine,” Aaron said. “It's a long story. How's Wesley?”
“Healing,” she replied. “It will be days, of course. It is a good thing it's winter, for he may not sail the season if it wasn't. I keep trying to tell him to focus on healing and he's trying to figure out Mr. Taners.”
“Forget Mr. Taners,” Aaron said. “Can you go into the dining room and see if you recognize the woman who came in? She claims to be nobility, and you've performed at court often enough.”
“There are a hundred people in a court room at any given time,” Lola protested. “How am I supposed to know?”
“See,” Harold said to Aaron. “It is just fine that you don't recognize her.”
“I know,” Aaron said. “But after all these accidents over the past few days and then the scare with Gwendolyn, my hackles are raised. Either I'm losing my mind or something isn't right about all of this.”
“Perhaps we should just enjoy the rest of our dinner,” Harold suggested. “And look at things with a clear head in the morning.”
“Aye, maybe you're right,” Aaron replied. “Are you coming to eat, Lola?”
“I'll change for dinner and be right down,” she replied. “But do you want me to pop my head in first?”
“Scandalize her and don't change for dinner,” Aaron said with a smile.
“Aye aye,” Lola answered, and headed into the dining room.
Aaron took a deep breath, and then put on a smile and followed her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
STRANGERS
STRANGERS
“Oh, my goodness, I can't believe you've joined the Navy!” Marianne said as they all gathered by the fireplace that night. It being late, Aaron couldn't help but extend an invitation for her to stay the night. He may be lost as to who she was, but he wasn't cruel. There was no easy way out of town that night, so she would have to stay.
What made it only slightly better, in his mind, was that Annabelle didn't remember her either. However, as Lola had pointed out, there were hundreds of people at court.
“I was in the Navy when I attended court regularly,” he replied. “But not as high ranking, perhaps.”
“Yes, a lieutenant who worked his way up, quite a feat.” She was full of life, and laughter, monopolizing the conversation. “And you're the famous Lola Montclair, pinch me.”
Lola gave her a tight smile that told Aaron she thought the newcomer annoying. “Just a normal woman on an evening off,” she said. “Shauna, do you want some help?”
Shauna had gotten up to go check on Gwendolyn, clearly annoyed with the fact that Marianne never stopped talking. Surprised, she accepted Lola's offer, and the two headed down the hallway.
“I've met actors delivering monologues who talk less than that,” Lola said, as soon as they were away. “My goodness.”
“It's more than that,” Shauna replied. “Is she giving the eye to...?”
“Oh yes,” Lola confirmed her suspicion. “She is watching Aaron like she is married to him. But Shauna, I swear to you, I've never heard her name or seen her face. I wouldn't be concerned.”
“Do you think I'm concerned?” Shauna answered. “I know that in the years we were apart, Aaron was not...a monk.”
“He practically was,” Lola said, turning to her. “There's never really been anyone else but you.”
“What?” Shauna asked. “Of course, there were other women.”
“Not unless he is excellent at keeping secrets,” Lola replied. “And he's terrible at it. There was never anyone else.”
“Really?” Shauna said in shock. “But I thought...that he...”
“He's always thought about you,” Lola shrugged. “As if it were a given.”
“Oh,” Shauna replied, and they continued the rest of the walk in silence.
Gwendolyn was still sleeping peacefully, having missed most of the drama of the day. Shauna leaned against the doorway, watching for a moment.
“She does this often,” she replied. “And I'm going to regret it. Fall asleep just before dinner and then get up before dawn.”
“I used to do that,” Lola said with a grin. “Drove my parents mad. But then, it was a good trait when we were on tour. I learned to sleep anywhere at any time.”
“If Gwendolyn could learn that, I would be happy,” Shauna replied. “But instead, it's at the most inappropriate times.”
Lola smiled. “Maybe it's a lack of routine?” she suggested. “But here...here she'd have a routine.”
“I see that Aaron has been telling you everything, as usual,” Shauna replied.
Lola simply shrugged. “Perhaps,” she said. “But mostly, I know both of you well enough that I can tell from the way you smile.”
Shauna was oddly comforted by that fact, and they slipped back to the living room.
Lola glanced at the clock, calculating how many hours she would have left to sleep if she stayed up another hour or two. She wanted to get up early to see Wesley before the camp began. Even though they were at odds now, she still wanted to use their time together as wisely as she could. She decided it was barely enough time to sleep, and rose, bidding them all goodnight.
“An early night for you?” Marianne asked as Lola said her final words.
“My intended was wounded in the camp, an accident,” Lola said, even though they knew at this point that it was not. “I'm going to see him early in the morning.”
“Oh,” Marianne got a spark in her eye. “And who is your intended?”
“He's a midshipman on the same ship,” Lola said, guarding her answers carefully. The answer was already
in some tabloids, but she had long since learned that if details of her personal life were not well known, she wasn't about to share them. She guarded what she could. “I bid you all goodnight,” she said.
She had no trouble sleeping that night; the day’s events exhausting her. Lola was grateful to slip into sleep quickly, and found herself well rested when dawn came.
No one was up except the scullery maid when she dressed and left. The cold dew made her shiver as she waited for the stable boy to put the carriage together, the horses whining in the morning light.
She was reflecting on the time she had already spent with Wesley, the moments that they’d had in private. Unlike that first time they had been together, almost everything had ended in a fight. They were tired, they were in a situation in which neither of them were comfortable, and their life was hectic. They were not mixing well.
Despite all of that, she did love him. She had known it was going to be difficult when they met, and she had been prepared for that difficulty now. She didn't want to be apart from him, even if they were fighting.
Lola hadn't believed in true love, not until she met Wesley. The fairy tale stories that she told on stage had been nothing but words on a page for her. She thought that real people couldn't feel the way the poets wrote about. Then he came into her life, and everything changed.
She dreamed of things that she’d never dreamed of before--of a little house in the country, a husband by her side. Spending her days walking in the fields or laughing at the children who would be theirs.
What was happening to her? What happened to the wild child that she used to be?
The carriage ride to the hospital was fast; her thoughts distracting her.
When she was escorted into the hospital, she was happy to see Wesley sitting up. There was a half eaten plate of breakfast beside him, and he looked much better today than he had the night before. “You are healing well,” she said as a greeting.
He looked up from the book he was reading. He still looked pale, his features still drawn. However, she noticed he had more movement than before; the wound knitting. “Lola,” he said. “I didn't...expect you this morning, given the manner in which you left last night.”
The Lord’s Secret (The Regency Renegades - Beauty and Titles) (A Regency Romance Story) Page 11