Unable to knock, Adam kicked the front door with his booted foot.
Hughes, Derek’s regal butler, opened the door and promptly raised a judgmental eyebrow at the sight of his master’s younger brother holding a lifeless-looking woman in his arms.
“Sir?” The butler’s mouth formed a disapproving line, and a scowl was deeply etched into his forehead.
Adam didn’t pause to explain. He pushed past Hughes, into the magnificent high-ceilinged marble-floored foyer, and strode into the nearest drawing room. His sister-in-law, Lucy, was sitting at a writing desk, obviously seeing to her correspondence. She dunked her quill into the inkpot in front of her.
“Adam, is that you? Derek is still at the club and—” Lucy turned slightly and caught sight of him. “What in the world—”
Adam crossed quickly to the light-green velvet settee and gently laid the woman down. She let out a small breath that reminded Adam of a sleeping kitten. He carefully lifted her head to slide a small silken embroidered pillow underneath.
“She was hit by a coach in the street just now,” he said.
Lucy tossed her quill aside and jumped up from the desk. Plucking up her sapphire skirts, she rushed over to the settee to stare down at the young woman. Lucy pressed both hands to her cheeks. “Is she all right? Who is she?”
Still watching the young woman, Adam braced both hands on his hips and shook his head. “I’ve no idea. Please keep an eye on her.” Lucy nodded while Adam turned abruptly and left the room.
“Hughes,” he called across the foyer.
The butler materialized instantly. “Sir?”
“Send a footman for Dr. Archibald.”
Another judgmental brow arch ensued (the bloody man thought he was a duke), but the butler left to do as he was told.
Adam pushed open the front door and jogged down the steps. The lady had no reticule or anything else to identify her. If she didn’t wake soon, the only clue to her identity might be the papers she had lost in the street. He glanced around and exhaled. The traffic had already scattered many of them. He had to collect them quickly. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
CHAPTER FOUR
It smelled like roses. Fresh roses. It had been so long since she’d smelled fresh roses. She took a deep breath and sucked in the sweet, cool air. She stretched and then winced at the pain in her back. What was that about? She carefully blinked open one eye and focused on the unfamiliar fresco ceiling. She stretched her arms above her head, luxuriating in the delicious feel of the soft, clean sheets beneath her and the obviously high-quality mattress upon which she lay. She pushed herself up and winced again. Her head felt as if it had grown two sizes too big. She gingerly touched her scalp. A large knot had formed there. And it was sore. She poked it, clenched her teeth, and hissed. Slowly, she pulled herself up against the headboard and glanced down. She was wearing a decidedly dusty gray gown, but her slippers and bonnet had been removed. Where was she? She glanced around the large, well-appointed bedroom decorated in hues of lavender, spring green, and white. The pink roses she’d smelled earlier were artfully displayed in a glass vase on the side table near the bed. Big fluffy down pillows supported her head, and the room was cavernous with a large, comfortable-looking upholstered chair—perfect for reading—atop a luxurious rug placed in front of a wide fireplace.
Before she had more time to study her surroundings, the door opened and a beautiful, smiling lady with black curls wearing a sapphire-blue gown floated into the room. As the lady approached the bed, her smile grew wider and she noticed something else. How interesting. The woman’s eyes were two different colors, one green, the other blue.
“Ah, I see you’re awake,” the lady in blue said, still smiling. “Are you feeling all right?”
She rubbed her head. “I … I think so.”
“I’m awfully glad to hear it. You gave us quite a scare.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She clutched the bedspread nervously.
“Don’t worry about a thing. The doctor is coming. The duke’s doctor is the best in London.”
The duke?
“That’s … encouraging.” She poked at the lump on her head again. And winced again.
The blue lady nodded so vigorously that a black curl sprang loose from her coiffure and bounced against her forehead. “Yes. Dr. Archibald is highly skilled. You took quite a bad fall. But we’ll make sure you’re all right before you leave.”
“Leave?”
“Yes, return home, I mean. Although I suppose all of this would make better sense if we began with the obvious.” The lady pulled a delicate chair out from beneath an intricately carved white writing desk. Arranging her expensive skirts, she took a seat.
Another poke on the head lump. No wince this time. “Which is?”
“Well, you might begin with telling me your name,” the lady in blue said with another irrepressible smile. Whoever she was, she was quite friendly indeed.
“My name?” She searched her memory. Good heavens, what was her name? She glanced about the room, the ornate wooden mantelpiece above the fireplace, the obviously costly rug, and the fresh, glorious pink roses. The mention of the duke. It was quite obvious who she was.
“My name? Why, it’s Lady Magnolia Makepeace.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“She’s awake,” Lucy informed Adam minutes later when she emerged from the patient’s bedchamber. Or more correctly, one of the many guest rooms in Derek’s town house. “And her name is Lady Magnolia Makepeace.”
Adam stopped pacing and swiveled to face Lucy. After gathering all of the papers he could retrieve from the street and depositing them in a large, dusty, crumpled pile on a table in one of the drawing rooms on the main floor, Adam had been pacing in the corridor outside of the mystery woman’s bedchamber. The pages were not in order, of course, and while he’d scanned several of them, it was quite obvious that they were part of some sort of a romantic novel. There was nothing in them to indicate the lady’s identity. Thank God she’d woken and could tell them herself who she was.
“Lady Magnolia—?” Adam frowned at Lucy. The name seemed vaguely familiar but he couldn’t place it.
“Yes. It’s an odd name, to be sure. I’ve never known any Makepeaces, either.” Lucy tapped her cheek and began pacing where Adam had left off. “I suppose she might be someone’s distant relative, but I don’t know that family name.”
Adam scrubbed his hand through his hair. He was only glad to know that the lady was awake and obviously speaking. “Is she all right?”
“She’s got quite a bump on her head, but I suppose we won’t know for certain how she is until Dr. Archibald examines her.”
Adam nodded. “Of course.” He strode toward the window at the end of the corridor. “Magnolia Makepeace.” He couldn’t place the name either, but he was hardly an expert on London Society. “Do you think she’s from the country?”
Lucy pushed a curl behind her ear. “It’s possible. But even then, you’d think I’d be acquainted with her relatives. Though I wasn’t about to ask her to recite her family tree under the circumstances. I think it’s best to leave her to rest until the doctor arrives.”
“Agreed.” Adam cleared his throat. “Did she mention where her lady’s maid was?”
Lucy plucked at a fold in her skirt. “No. She didn’t seem to even remember her lady’s maid’s name, which is also odd,” she added. “But then again, she’s suffered quite a shock. I doubt she’d be pleased to know that her trusted servant ran off.” Lucy sucked in her breath. “Oh, you don’t think her servant was involved in pushing her down and taking her coin, do you? She doesn’t have a reticule.”
Adam shook his head. Leave it to his imaginative sister-in-law to come up with an outlandish scenario. “No. I saw the coach that hit her and there was no sign of a lady’s maid. Nor a reticule for that matter.”
Lucy shrugged. “At any rate, I informed her that the doctor is on the way and I begged her to rest before he arr
ives.”
Adam unrolled his sleeves. “That sounds sensible.”
Lucy rocked back and forth on her heels and gave Adam a mischievous look. “But I believe she wants to see you.”
Adam looked twice. “Me?” He pointed at himself.
“Yes.” Lucy nodded, her curls bouncing. “She was carrying on about someone named Peter, but I got the distinct impression that she meant you.”
Adam frowned again. “Peter? That’s odd. Besides, I never told her my name. She wasn’t awake.”
“Which explains why she doesn’t know you’re named Adam.” Lucy laughed and nodded toward the lady’s bedchamber. “Go on then. She won’t bite. At least I don’t think she will.”
Adam tugged at his cravat. “Do you truly think it’s a good idea? She should rest.”
“I don’t see what it can hurt. She’s perfectly decent. And I don’t see how much more rest one can get while lying in a bed. I assume she wants to thank you for saving her life.”
Adam swallowed hard. He hadn’t saved her life. He was no hero. He’d never been a hero. Never would be one. No, that role was reserved entirely for Derek.
At Lucy’s second insistent nod, Adam reluctantly agreed. He squared his shoulders and made his way to the bedchamber door, where he paused momentarily, his hand arrested above the handle. He took a deep breath, then pushed the handle and swung open the door.
She was sitting up against pillows. Lucy had managed to place a bandage on her forehead but otherwise, her long dark hair hung down around her shoulders and she blinked at him with big, dark doe-like eyes. Adam sucked in a breath. She was … well, breathtaking. And that was a horrible thing to be thinking about a poor young woman who could easily have lost her life earlier today.
He closed the door behind him and took a few tentative steps toward her. She gave him a dazzling smile and he felt … aroused. Good God. That was inappropriate.
She tilted her head to the side. “There you are.”
He eyed her carefully, his brow furrowing. “You remember me?”
Her dark eyes widened. “Of course I remember you.”
The furrow deepened. How was that possible? The woman had been completely insensible when they’d—ahem—met. “You do?” he prodded.
“Yes, of course. You’re my betrothed, after all.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Your betrothed!” Adam couldn’t keep the shock from his voice, though the words came out louder than he’d intended them to.
Her brow furrowed. “Yes, of course.”
“Have you lost your—” He stopped abruptly. The look on her face was quickly turning to fear. In that moment he realized she was entirely serious. And he needed to remain calm and not frighten her.
“Lost my what?” She searched his face.
Adam began backing away. “I think there’s been a mistake.”
She sat up, her back ramrod-straight, but the look of concern still creased the corners of her eyes. “Mistake? What mistake?”
He studied her face carefully. “What is your name?”
A shadow of hurt crossed her pretty features. “You don’t remember the name of your future spouse?”
He swallowed again. How in the devil was he supposed to deal with this? “I’m not sure you remember the name of yours.”
She smiled at him and shook her head. “Oh, Peter, you’re always so droll.”
Peter? Who the hell is Peter?
“You’re Lady Magnolia Makepeace?” he asked, eyeing her as if she were some type of wild animal that might bolt at him at any moment.
“Of course I am.” She patted the coverlet and gave him a look that clearly indicated she was certain he’d taken leave of his senses. “And you’re Lord Peter Peregrine, the Duke of Loveridge.”
The Duke of Loveridge?
Bloody hell.
Adam braced his hand on the solid wood table near the door to ground himself. He hunched his shoulders, exhaled, and glanced up at the woman staring at him from beneath the sheets in his brother’s guest chamber. There were multiple problems here. First, he clearly was not the Duke of Loveridge. Second, there was no such man as the Duke of Loveridge. At least no man Adam had ever heard of. Adam might have been born a mere mister into a military family, but he’d met quite a lot of the aristocracy since his brother’s advent into their midst.
He narrowed his eyes on the pretty, insane woman. For clearly she was insane. Either that or the hit to her head had been worse than they’d first feared. He opened his mouth to argue, to explain that he was not and never would be a duke, let alone her betrothed.
And then it hit him. He snapped his mouth shut. If he was not the Duke of Loveridge and she thought he was, perhaps she was not Lady Magnolia Makepeace. He slapped his palm against his forehead. Of course. It made perfect sense, hence Lucy never having heard of such a lady before.
A hundred thoughts flew through his mind. Was she a criminal? Someone after Derek’s money? Was she a liar, pretending to be someone she was not? He quickly discarded that notion. He’d seen the carriage strike her with his own eyes. That had certainly not been faked. She might be a crazy person but more likely she had suffered a head injury from the accident. It was best to leave her be until the doctor could examine her. Adam spoke softly, carefully, as if speaking to a small excitable child. “Would you excuse me for a moment, my lady?”
She waved her hand in the air. “Yes, Peter, of course.”
Adam sprinted from the room. He nearly knocked Lucy over, as the young duchess had obviously been listening at the door. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he grabbed Lucy by the shoulders and pulled her into an alcove.
“Do you know any such man as the Duke of Loveridge?” he asked.
Lucy scrunched up her nose. “The Duke of Loveridge? There’s no such person. Not in England at least.”
There, confirmation. Adam let his hands drop to his sides. Lucy had been born into the world of the English aristocrats. She knew positively everyone.
Adam rubbed a hand across his forehead. “She seems to think I’m the Duke of Loveridge, some chap named Peter Peregrine, and she’s Lady Magnolia Makepeace, my betrothed.”
Lucy’s different-colored eyes widened, and she blinked rapidly. “Peter Peregrine? Why, I never—Betrothed!”
“Yes.” Adam grimaced. “Betrothed.”
Lucy scanned his face. “You don’t suppose Lady Magnolia Makepeace is not her name, either, do you?”
Adam scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck and groaned. “I have every reason to believe it’s not her name.”
Lucy slid down onto the light-blue cushion of the window seat that was built into the wall. “Oh, dear. This is quite bad.”
Adam braced a hand against the wall. “You’ll get no argument from me on that quarter.”
“She must have hit her head harder than we thought.” Lucy tapped a finger against her cheek again.
Adam nodded once. “Agreed.”
Lucy half rose from the seat. “Did you tell her your name isn’t Peter?”
Adam crossed his arms and slowly shook his head. “No. Nor that I’m not a duke or any sort of lord. I didn’t want to frighten her.”
Lucy lowered herself back onto the seat and tugged at her fingers. “That’s probably for the best. What are we to do?”
Adam sighed. “I have no idea.”
The doorknocker sounded from the floor below. Lucy stuck a finger in the air. “Oh, thank heavens. The doctor!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Despite his name, Dr. Archibald was in possession of a full head of hair, gray though it was. He was also in possession of an unfashionable mustache for good measure. He was brisk and efficient, with a business-like air that was no doubt severely tested when Lucy ushered him into the drawing room and informed him that their patient might just be touched in the head.
In response to the good doctor’s confused expression, Adam launched into a retelling of how the young woman had come to be ensconced
in the duke’s guest chamber with a large lump on her head. Dr. Archibald nodded and grunted a few times but otherwise remained silent. He’d set down his dark-brown bag that no doubt contained all sorts of doctorly instruments and waggled his mustache at Adam upon occasion. Finally, Adam finished his tale and Lucy jumped into the ensuing silence.
She paced in front of the doctor and wrung her hands. “So you see, she hit her head when she fell and now she believes she is Lady Magnolia Makepeace and my brother-in-law here is the Duke of Loveridge.”
The doctor’s mustache twitched. “The Duke of what?”
“Loveridge,” Adam replied with a completely straight face, despite the urge to laugh.
The doctor’s bushy eyebrows met over his dark eyes. “There is no such man.”
“Precisely,” Lucy said with a flourish of her hands.
“That is curious, indeed,” the doctor replied. “May I see her?”
“Of course,” Lucy replied before leading the doctor up the staircase while Adam remained below.
After the better part of half an hour, Dr. Archibald returned with Lucy trailing him. He reentered the drawing room where Adam had remained and tugged at his lapels. “She says her name is Lady Magnolia Makepeace.”
Adam nodded. “Yes, we know. But we have reason to believe no such lady exists.”
Dr. Archibald cleared his throat. “She says she is engaged to the Duke of Loveridge.”
Lucy nodded vigorously. “Yes, we know, and of course no such man exists.”
The doctor inclined his head, a skeptical look on his face. “She says her betrothed lives here.”
The Unforgettable Hero Page 2