Her Counterfeit Husband

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  “Your favorite meal is roast quail.”

  “All right. Can I have that?”

  “Of course. While you dress, I’ll talk to Cook.”

  She left the room, and he hobbled over to the window, aware of the ache in his ribs. He pushed open the curtains further to let more light into the room. He took a moment to inspect the grounds. From his vantage point, he saw a well-groomed landscape that was surrounded by trees. His gaze went up to the sky, and he noted how clear it was. Not a single cloud in sight. He smiled. The future stood before him and Anna, and he had a feeling it was going to be a good one—much better than whatever had been in their past.

  He turned to his clothes and dressed, taking his time since he had to stop a few times when his sore muscles protested. Recovery was taking time, and he had to remind himself that he needed to be patient. Once he was done, he checked his reflection in the mirror. He hadn’t seen himself since he lost his memory, so it wasn’t any surprise that nothing seemed familiar. Most of his face was still bruised, but he noted the broad nose, the dimple in his chin, the high cheekbones, and high forehead. His blond hair fell in waves to the shirt’s collar.

  He stared at his reflection, hoping something—anything—would spark a memory, even if it was brief. But nothing came. With a shake of his head, he turned his attention to inspecting the rest of his body, noting his tall frame and slender build. He was Jason Merrill, the Duke of Watkins, and he lived at Camden. He closed his eyes and repeated what Anna had told him several times. When someone knocked on the door, he opened his eyes and answered it, glad to see Anna had returned.

  He wasn’t sure what to make of her slight intake of breath, so he asked, “Is something wrong?”

  She blinked several times before she offered a weak chuckle. “No, not at all. You look good, Your Grace.” She entered the room and gestured to the laundry maid. “Since you’re decent, I’ll let her change the sheets.”

  “Of course,” he replied and quickly stepped aside to allow the maid into the room.

  The maid went into the room. Anna went over to the window and opened the curtains wider than they were. “I see you looked at some of the grounds.”

  “Yes.” He approached her and turned his attention to the green landscape. “I like lots of sunlight in the room.”

  “Do you?” she asked.

  “Did I not tell you this in the past?”

  She hesitated for a moment and cleared her throat. “In the past, you’ve always had the curtains drawn.”

  “I did?”

  She nodded, but she didn’t explain further. Instead, she said, “There are a couple of hills on the other side of the estate, and a path that winds through a group of trees. I think you’ll enjoy walking on that path. It leads to a beautiful fountain.”

  “You like that path a lot,” he whispered, noting the wistful look in her eyes.

  “I do. It’s like being in another world.”

  “It sounds romantic. We’ll have to walk it.”

  She peered around him, so he turned to see what caught her attention. The laundry maid had removed his old sheets and was putting on the new ones. She looked back at him and asked, “Do you feel up to coming downstairs for dinner tonight?”

  “No, not yet. I did good to walk around this room today.” After a moment of silence passed between them, he ventured, “Will you eat dinner with me tonight?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, breaking eye contact with him.

  Hesitant, he wondered if he should proceed or not. She hadn’t had any meals with him, and since he’d been eating nothing but soups, he thought nothing of it. But tonight he was going to have a real meal, and the fact that she didn’t want to share it with him made him uneasy. It was yet another indicator that things between them hadn’t been what he wanted them to be.

  “I’d like to have dinner with you,” he insisted, his voice soft. “I promise I won’t chew with my mouth open or spit when I talk.” As he hoped, she chuckled at his joke. “How can I get you to eat with me? Should I stand on my head or attempt a backflip?”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Those are odd things you’d think to do.”

  “They were the first things that came to mind, but I’ll do them or anything else you request if it means I can secure your company for dinner.”

  She sighed. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re not one to give up easily?”

  “Haven’t I always been that way?” he asked.

  He expected her to say that it was, but she cleared her throat and stepped around him. “The bedding is done. I’ll inform the footman to bring both of our dinners up here.”

  As she led the laundry maid out of the room, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something important he didn’t know but should? And did he dare press the issue when it was clear their marriage had been on shaky ground prior to his illness? It seemed to him the best recourse was to start fresh, to make this a new beginning for them both, and if he was going to make that new beginning, he couldn’t afford to rehash the past. Closing his eyes, he promised himself that he wouldn’t think of the past anymore. From now on, he’d focus on the future and see where it’d take him and Anna.

  Chapter Six

  A week later, Anna played her favorite melody on the piano in the drawing room. Many times, this tune brought her a sense of peace, and right now, it seemed to be the only escape she had from her worries. Her fingers pressed down on the keys as she closed her eyes. As in times past, she tried to conjure up a world she often imagined—a world where she was alone in a cottage near a stream surrounded by wildflowers and sunshine. It was her special place, and she didn’t dare tell anyone in case they laughed at her. She was a duchess, a wealthy one at that. Why would she have need to escape to a better place? But if people understood how shallow money was when one was miserable, then perhaps they wouldn’t think it so strange that she loved her daydreams as much as she did.

  A tear slid down her cheek, and she stopped playing so she could wipe it away. Today her mental escape to the cottage with the gentle flowing stream wasn’t coming. For the life of her, she couldn’t get the stranger out of her mind. It shouldn’t grieve her that he was so nice. She should have welcomed it after years of feeling like she was walking on eggshells to accommodate her husband. And yet… And yet, he terrified her. She didn’t know how to respond to him.

  It was her fear someone might realize he wasn’t her husband and track down her husband’s body rotting in the ground of the forest that compelled her to tend to him as much as she did. As long as she could keep them from getting close, they might not suspect anything was different. And the stranger was different. It was easy to explain the lack of memory for things her husband had known and did. But how could she explain why he hated quail or playfully joked around or asked for things instead of barking out orders? It was so obvious that he wasn’t the same person. Someone was bound to notice, or so she feared.

  “I hoped you would finish the music,” Appleton said as he entered the room.

  She blinked back another tear and took a deep breath so he wouldn’t notice her weakness. It was ironic how he’d seen her at her weakest in the past when it came to her husband, but she didn’t dare let him see how much the stranger unnerved her. She straightened her back and cleared her throat. “I think I missed a note as I played,” she finally replied and picked up from the beginning of the piece.

  “We can’t get it right every time, Your Grace,” he replied. “I thought you might like to have tea and scones.”

  “Has it already been an hour since you came in to ask if I wanted them?” She turned to the mantle above the fireplace and looked at the clock.

  “Yes, it has.”

  She turned her attention back to him and sighed. “I’m afraid I’m not in the mood to eat or drink anything. I’ll just wait until dinner.”

  “As you wish. I also came to inform you that the gentleman upstairs would like to see you.”

  Her heart poun
ded in a mixture of excitement and dread. “Oh?”

  “I suspect he’s getting restless staying in his bedchamber all day.”

  “Yes, he probably is.” She ran her fingers over the smooth keys of the piano and tried to decide if she should wait or go up there immediately.

  “You can’t keep him away from the world forever,” Appleton kindly said, his voice low.

  “I know.”

  He offered her an understanding smile. “I realize it’s easy for me to say that since I’m not in the precarious position you are, but it is comforting to know he’s a good gentleman.”

  “But since he is a good gentleman, are we condemned for lying to him? We’re making him a liar right along with us.”

  Appleton sat on the bench next to her and kept his voice low so no one would overhear them. “And what would be the alternative? Lord Mason becoming the duke? Then what?”

  Of course, he was right.

  “Wherever the gentleman upstairs is from, it’s not from around here,” he said.

  “I don’t suppose we’ll ever know what brought him to the forest that night or why someone wanted him dead.”

  “Probably not, but I see no reason to worry about it. Whatever he did to end up in the forest, I’d rather have him be the duke than Lord Mason. At least he’ll treat you well.”

  The sound of someone coming toward the drawing room caused them to stop talking. She cleared her throat and faced the piano while Appleton hastened to his feet and approached the doorway. To her surprise, the stranger entered the room. Even if he had a cane to assist him, she didn’t think he should be so careless.

  She bolted from the bench and hurried over to him. “Your Grace, you shouldn’t push yourself so hard.”

  “I feel well enough to walk. As long as I take it slow, I’m fine,” he assured her, glancing at Appleton. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No,” she quickly replied. “Appleton was just telling me that you wished to see me.”

  “Yes. I got impatient waiting for you, so I figured I’d come down to see you.” He smiled in his usual disarming way. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, no I don’t mind. I just don’t want you to get a relapse, that’s all.”

  Appleton cleared his throat. “Shall I bring in some tea?”

  “Yes, please,” she replied.

  After he left, the stranger turned to the open book on the piano. “Do you make it a habit of playing this melody?” He motioned to the songbook.

  She closed the book and placed it on top of the other two books. “Yes. Are you sure you feel well enough to be down here? The doctor says you’re making excellent progress, but I don’t think you should push yourself too hard.”

  “I told you I’m fine.” With a smile, he added, “Do you like to play music?”

  “It’s something I do to pass the time.” She didn’t know why, but she didn’t want to talk to him about it since she enjoyed it so much. Maybe it was something that was too personal. For sure, she had no intention of playing anything when he was in the room. She moved away from the piano and pulled aside the curtains. “It’s a pleasant day. If you feel up to it, perhaps we should venture for a walk. Nothing long, of course, but a brief one should be all right. Some fresh air might do you good.”

  His gaze lingered on the piano, and she thought he might press her about her music. But to her relief, he nodded and hobbled toward the settee. She noted how much he relied on the cane and wondered exactly how extensive his wounds were. She could only imagine what the men who beat him and left him for dead did to him, but considering the fact that he didn’t remember and Appleton’s friend hadn’t disclosed the details to her, it’d always remain a mystery.

  He eased onto the settee and let out a breath. With a chuckle, he glanced her way. “I hope this won’t get me in trouble, but I have to admit that sitting isn’t as easy as it looks.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed and she took a step toward him. “Are you in pain?”

  “Only a little.” As she opened her mouth to suggest he take something for the pain, he added, “It’s a minor thing. I’m already feeling better.”

  She wasn’t sure if he said that so she wouldn’t send him right back upstairs to rest in bed. He shot her a smile, and she averted her gaze.

  Appleton came into the room and set the tray with the tea and scones on it. “Is there anything else you require of me?”

  The stranger looked at her, so she shook her head. “That will be all for now, thank you.”

  Appleton bowed and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

  “Will you sit?”

  Blinking, she turned her attention back to the stranger. Though he patted the spot next to him on the settee, she opted to sit in the chair across from him. “I can pour the tea better if I sit here,” she quickly explained before he asked her why she chose to sit away from him.

  “All right.”

  Even if he accepted her excuse, he had to know it was a lie. She could reach the tea just fine from the settee. But there was no way she could sit next to him. Not when being near him was starting to stir up emotions she’d long ago forgotten she could feel.

  She poured their tea and dared a look in his direction. She knew she couldn’t keep thinking of him as “the stranger”, but she couldn’t think of him as Jason either. Perhaps it was time she settled on thinking of him as “His Grace”. He was here to be the duke, after all, and it was appropriate she start thinking of him as such. She realized putting him in her husband’s place wasn’t easy, but it was something she agreed to when she brought him here.

  Releasing her breath, she handed him his cup, hoping he didn’t detect the slight trembling of her hand. As long as he didn’t realize how nervous he made her, she could handle it.

  He accepted the cup and scanned the room. “I take it this is primarily your room.”

  “Really? What makes you say that?”

  “The flowers. They’re all over the place.”

  Curious, she turned from the tray and inspected the room. “They aren’t all over the place. I only have two vases with flowers in them.”

  His smile widened. “Exactly.”

  Realizing he was joking, she relaxed and giggled. “If you think that’s too much, just wait until you see all the flowers outside come spring.”

  “The grounds are littered with them?”

  She picked up her cup. “You might feel faint if you think two vases full of flowers are too much. I’ll bring the smelling salts when we go for walks.”

  He laughed. “I’m relieved to be in the hands of someone so practical. I bet you’ve even figured out how you’ll carry me back into the house if I should faint.”

  “I wouldn’t carry you. I’d have the footman or,” she stopped herself before she referred to Appleton by name in front of him, “the butler do it.”

  “As I said, you have it all figured out. I am fortunate to be in such capable hands.”

  She took a sip of tea. “I trust you will manage during our brief walk. Hopefully, you’ll manage the fallen leaves better than flowers. You wouldn’t want to be known as the duke who was defeated by such delicate things.”

  “No, you’re right. I’d most likely be the laughingstock of noblemen everywhere.”

  Her lips curled up at the way he shuddered. She drank more tea, glancing at him as she did so. The resemblance between him and her husband was still disturbing, and she had to remind herself the two weren’t the same person.

  He reached toward the tray and picked up a scone to eat. “It’s quite a strange thing, don’t you think?”

  “What’s strange? That you can pick up your own scone?” she asked, unable to resist teasing him.

  “No.” He grinned and ate it. When he finished, he added, “That’s a good scone. Did I always enjoy them?”

  “I think so.” She couldn’t recall her husband ever saying he didn’t like them, so it seemed like a safe answer.

  “I don’t like quai
l like I used to, but I like scones. I also still like baked eggs and roast chicken. So some things I used to like, I still do, but for some reason, my favorite meal—quail—is no longer my meal of choice. I find that hard to understand.”

  She shifted in her chair and shrugged, breaking eye contact with him as she did so. “I can’t explain it, Your Grace.” And really, she couldn’t. Not without causing a lot of problems—problems she’d rather avoid.

  “I suppose it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I still enjoy eating.”

  She nodded and finished her tea. “Eating is a good thing.” She rose to her feet. “Are you ready for that walk?”

  “What about the scones? Don’t you want some? They really are good.”

  “I’ll eat a couple when we return. You won’t be able to take a long walk, Your Grace. We won’t be more than a few minutes.”

  He took another swallow of tea and set the cup on the tray. “Very well. I will do as you suggest, Anna.”

  She clenched her hands together. Whenever he said her name, it made her heart speed up, and that wasn’t something she wanted to experience. As he stood up, he lost his balance. She ran over to him and wrapped her arm around his waist to help steady him before he tumbled to the floor. “Your Grace, are you all right?”

  “A bit clumsy, I’m afraid, but I’ll manage,” he said with a wry grin. “Though this is rather nice, don’t you think?” He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze.

  Her face grew warm and she hastened to retrieve his cane. Handing it to him, she said, “You’ll need this, Your Grace.”

  He took the cane.

  Ignoring the disappointed look on his face, she turned from him and headed for the door, ready to open it.

  “You’re very kind, Anna,” he softly said.

  Her hand on the doorknob, she paused, acutely aware that he was watching her. The heat of his stare made her tingle in excitement as much as it frightened her. Unable to look back at him, she opened the door and managed to keep her voice surprisingly calm as she replied, “Kindness has nothing to do with it, I assure you.” Then, before he could respond, she slipped out of the room.