“Jason, you shouldn’t be so clumsy. Look what you did to my blade.” He took the sword from Jason in an abrupt way that almost caused Jason to get another cut. “I’ll have to get this cleaned. Immediately.”
While he went to pull the cord to alert the butler to enter the room, Jason sucked on the small cut in the palm of his hand. It took him a moment to recall his handkerchief. He quickly grabbed it and pressed it to his wound. Compared to what he’d been through with the fall down the stairs, this was a minor thing. Unfortunately, he wished he could say the same thing about Mason. He didn’t know why, but Mason seemed to have a vindictive streak. And for some reason, it was aimed directly at him.
The butler entered the room, and Mason gave him orders to clean the sword. Jason glanced over at Mason, and for a moment, he thought that Mason scowled at him. But in the next instant, Mason smiled. Jason blinked and shook his head, not sure of what to make of the whole thing. Surely, Mason understood he hadn’t meant to get blood on the sword, and truth be told, he wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for Mason giving him a good swat on the back.
“Don’t stand there looking as if you’ve lost all your friends,” Ian called out in a jovial tone. “Pull up a chair. The game is getting good.”
If for no other reason than to have something to do, Jason made his way to the chess game where the two players were studying the pieces. Jason retrieved a chair, found a free spot to sit and breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized he’d been nervous around Mason.
The butler left, and Mason went to the wall of his prized collection of weapons and brushed a pistol with a cloth. Jason turned his attention back to the game. Even if he didn’t remember the rules, he thought watching the two men strategically move their pieces across the board was more entertaining than Mason’s ramblings. The men remained quiet, and the spectators upped their bets on who they thought would win. According to Ian, it was a close game. Jason could only nod and continue to watch as the men played.
He didn’t know how long he was watching the game until his mind wandered off, but the butler’s voice jolted him back to the game. “Brandy, Your Grace?”
Jason straightened in his seat and turned to the butler who presented a tray with glasses full of brandy on it. “Yes, thank you.”
He went to reach for one glass, but the butler turned the tray slightly to the right and said, “Perhaps this glass might be better.”
“I don’t think it should matter,” Jason replied.
“Lord Mason requested you have this particular glass.”
Jason’s gaze went to Mason who was examining the sword. Turning his attention back to the butler, he whispered, “I’ll make do with this one.”
He tried to reach for another glass, but the butler stopped him. “Excuse my boldness, Your Grace, but Lord Mason was quite adamant you receive this glass instead.” He lifted the glass and held it to him.
Jason hesitated, but then Mason glanced in his direction and he knew he had to accept it. He settled the glass on his lap and watched while the other gentlemen took whichever glass they wanted. Studying the glass in his lap, he tried to figure out if something was in the brandy that shouldn’t be there but knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything suspicious in it. Mason was much too clever for that.
“Are you sure you don’t want to place a bet?” Ian asked, drawing Jason’s attention back to the game.
“No,” he replied.
“I’ve never known you to resist the chance to make some easy money.”
“It appears that Jason is a different person ever since he lost his memory,” Mason said.
Not realizing Mason had walked up behind him, Jason jerked.
Mason laughed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “My goodness, dear brother, you’re as squeamish as a lady. First the sword and now this. I hope you haven’t lost your taste for liquor as well or we might have to send you to the drawing room so you can sip tea with the ladies.”
Most of the men chuckled, but Lord Basemore—if Jason remembered right—shook his head. “He’s been ill and lost his memory, Mason. There’s no need to be so critical of him.”
“You’re right,” Mason replied, appearing appropriately contrite. “It’s just that the old Jason would have put me in my place. Even if that was aggravating at times, I rather miss it. But,” he shrugged, “there you have it.” He looked down at Jason and though he smiled, there was no mirth in his eyes. “Like I said, you’re a different person. I’ll have to get to know the new you, hmm?”
Jason frowned. What did he mean by that?
“You can’t blame him for what happened,” Lord Basemore muttered and turned back to the chessboard where he waited for his opponent to make the next move.
Mason’s grip tightened on Jason’s shoulder for a second before he released his hold on him. Finally, Mason walked away from him, and Jason relaxed. He was starting to detest Mason, which was a shame since Mason was his link to his childhood and the only one who could tell him all about it. Now all the questions he’d consider asking his brother vanished. Even if he asked Mason the questions, he had no way of knowing if his brother would tell him the truth.
He glanced down at the glass. There might not be anything in it. For all he knew, Mason was playing cat and mouse with him, but he didn’t dare take the chance. A careful scan of his surroundings showed him that he was within reaching distance of one of Mason’s plants.
Lord Basemore moved his piece, causing a cheer from the gentlemen who betted on him. Since Mason was looking at the chessboard, Jason poured the contents of his glass into the plant’s soil, making sure no one saw what he was doing. Having managed the task undetected, he breathed a sigh of relief and settled back into the chair to watch the rest of the game.
Chapter Nine
“You want to what?” Anna asked at breakfast the next morning, the watermelon halfway to her mouth.
“Get married again,” Watkins replied before biting into his eggs.
She glanced around the room, conscious that the servants were watching them. None of them gave any indication as to what they thought of his odd statement. Forcing her gaze to his, she cleared her throat. “We should discuss this when we’re alone.” Despite the awkward moment, she ate the watermelon and managed to swallow it without incident.
“Oh.”
Startled by the disappointment in his voice, she turned her gaze back to his. Perhaps a change in topic might ease things. “Do you feel like going for a horse ride today?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“But don’t you want to learn? Riding a horse is something gentlemen often do.”
“Maybe some gentlemen do it.”
Curious by his hesitation, she pressed, “But not you?”
He ate another forkful of eggs and shrugged. “Is it a requirement that all gentlemen ride them?”
Gripping the fork in her hand, she struggled for the best response she could come up with. He was taking the place of a gentleman who went horseback riding almost every day. The fact that he didn’t seem to care for it marked yet another difference between him and her husband, and she didn’t know how much she could keep expecting people to believe he was the same person she and Appleton buried. Surely, even if a gentleman lost his memory, he should maintain most of the same interests he had before.
After careful consideration, she ventured, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll discuss the matter of a,” she glanced at the servants and lowered her voice, “a wedding while we ride horses.”
He frowned, not seeming happy with the bargain but nodding. “All right.”
Relieved, she offered him a tentative smile. There. That was simple enough. The only reason Watkins didn’t like the idea of riding a horse was because he hadn’t done it. Or, if he had done it in the past, he didn’t remember how much he enjoyed it. Surely, he enjoyed it. All gentlemen enjoyed riding horses.
When breakfast was over, she went to her bedchamber and allowed her lady’s maid to change h
er outfit.
“Your Grace, you’ve lost some weight since you last went riding,” she said. “I’ll have the seamstress make the necessary adjustments so your next ride will be more comfortable.”
Though Anna had no intention of riding again unless she had to, she nodded. She didn’t care for the activity herself, but her love went to music where she immersed herself in daydreams the songs provoked as she played the piano. On occasion, she’d compose a short piece and play it, but more often than not, she was content to enjoy the melodies composers far greater than she had created.
Once her lady’s maid pulled her hair back and secured them with pins, she thanked her and left the room. On her way down the hall, she passed Watkins’ bedchamber and jerked when the door opened. She noted the way her husband’s riding clothes fit perfectly on him, and for a moment, it truly seemed as if her husband had come back to life. The blood drained from her face.
In an effort to cover up her reaction, she let out a nervous laugh and placed her hand over her pounding heart. “I didn’t expect you to open the door as I was passing by,” she quickly said, hoping he wouldn’t suspect more than that.
“This doesn’t feel right,” he replied, glancing at his riding outfit. “I can’t explain it, but the clothes feel too restrictive.”
“Do they? They don’t look tight on you.”
“That’s not what I meant. I…” He shrugged. “I’m not sure how to explain it. It seems too formal.”
His comment made her wonder—for the first time—what his life had been like before he lost his memory. She knew he didn’t have a title, and to be honest, she didn’t even think he was part of the middle class.
“The sooner we do this, the sooner we can discuss a wedding,” he said but stopped before he took his first step toward the stairs. “That is, unless you’d rather discuss it over a cup of tea or a relaxing walk?”
Ignoring the hopeful grin on his face, she headed for the staircase. As she assumed, he followed her. It was yet another small difference between him and the gentleman she’d buried. Watkins would compromise with her. He would listen to her and take her thoughts into consideration. He wouldn’t force his will upon her or punish her for disagreeing with him.
She slowed her steps and waited for him so they could finish going down the stairs together. “You don’t need to be so nervous about riding a horse. It’s easy.”
“If you say so…”
She glanced at him to see if he’d continue the thought, but he didn’t. Sure that he’d feel better once he was on the horse, she led him out to the stable. Once the stable master and stableboy turned to them, she told them to get their horses ready and quietly waited next to Watkins as they performed the task.
Watkins shifted from one foot to the other, and it took her a few seconds to realize that he dreaded riding the horse. She knew he’d be anxious, but she had no idea he’d be scared. She studied his profile, noting the tightening of his brow and the way he swallowed the lump in his throat. Her gaze lowered, and she saw him clench and unclench the gloves in his hands. Looking back at the stable master, she watched as he and the stableboy finished saddling the horses.
As the stable master and stableboy led the horses to them, she whispered, “It’ll be all right,” but Watkins didn’t bother to acknowledge he heard her.
The stableboy helped her onto her horse, and as soon as she settled into the sidesaddle, she checked on Watkins’ progress. She frowned. Watkins no longer looked scared. Now he looked terrified.
“I can help you onto the horse, Your Grace,” the stable master told him.
Watkins finally glanced in her direction, and her heart went out to him. Never did anyone try so hard to please her. She sighed. Perhaps today wasn’t the time to force him into riding his horse. She cleared her throat to get the stable master’s attention. The stable master turned his head in her direction, and the horse took a step toward Watkins, neighing as it did so. To her surprise, Watkins cried out and stumbled back. He proceeded to lose his footing and fell on the stable floor.
The stable master and stableboy hurried to help him up. “Your Grace,” the stable master said as he brought him to his feet, “are you all right?”
Anna quickly got down from her horse and went over to them. “His Grace must not be feeling well today.” She handed the stableboy the reins to her horse and turned to Watkins. Removing her gloves, she touched his face, and though she already knew it would be cool, she said, “Thank goodness. No fever. I feared he might be getting ill again. I suppose we ought to take it easy. Maybe we’ll go for a ride another day.”
Watkins glanced from the horse to her, his breathing faster than normal and sweat covering his brow. Thankfully, the stable master and stableboy were already unsaddling the horses, so they were distracted. She slipped her arm around Watkins’ and led him out of the stable, eager to get him away from prying eyes. Never in all the times she’d known her husband did he show any kind of fear. God willing, the servants wouldn’t think it strange that Watkins could be easily startled by something as simple as a horse.
Once they were down the path leading to the fountain, she relaxed. “What did the horse do that spooked you?”
“I-I don’t know,” Watkins muttered, not looking at her.
She struggled for something suitable to ask, something that might give her insight into why a horse should scare him. It had to be something to do with his past. “What were you thinking when you saw the horse coming toward you?”
“I didn’t think anything. I just wanted to get out of its way.”
“Out of its way?” That didn’t make any sense since the horse hadn’t been threatening him.
“I can’t explain it. I just knew it wasn’t safe.”
She considered his words and wondered if he fell off a horse while going through the forest, but that didn’t make sense since he’d suffered injuries that only another human being could inflict on him. No. Whatever it was about the horse that scared him had nothing to do with the incident that led to him ending up in the forest.
They reached the bench by the fountain and sat down. At least his breathing had returned to normal and his face wasn’t pale. Getting away from the horse was a good thing in that regard, but it did little good when she thought of how difficult it’d be to explain why her husband no longer loved horses. Had her husband fallen off a horse, her task would be much easier.
She stared at the fountain for a long moment before asking, “Would you be willing to walk the horse?”
“Walk the horse?”
“Just hold onto the reins and lead it around. You don’t have to ride it.”
“You want me to do this today?”
“No.” She understood by the way he squeaked the question that he was in no shape to do it today. “I was thinking in a week. In the meantime, we can make several trips out to the stable, and you can get to know your horse.”
He fidgeted uneasily on the bench. “I’d rather not. I have no desire to know any horse.”
Her heart plummeted. Short of forcing him out to the stable against his will, she had no idea how she was going to convince him to get over his fear of horses.
He turned to her and smiled. “This is a bad way to start talk of our wedding, isn’t it?”
Refusing to meet his gaze, she shook her head. “It’s unnecessary. We’re already married. Everyone was there. Your being sick changes none of it.” The lie was a bitter pill to swallow, but she had to say it. Under no circumstance could she admit the truth.
“Maybe I was there, but I don’t remember it.”
She looked away from him so he wouldn’t pick up on her wince. It was getting harder and harder to hide her feelings around him. And that terrified her because she knew what it meant. God help her but she wasn’t as strong as she wanted to be.
He sighed. “Why do you continue to pull away from me? If we are husband and wife, aren’t we supposed to become closer?”
She shook her head and tur
ned to face him, silently pleading with him to understand, even when she knew deep down, he couldn’t. Her only hope was that he’d relent. “It’s not that easy.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. You yourself should understand that. You couldn’t get on a horse today, but you have no idea why. So can’t you accept the fact that I can’t marry you again?”
The first emotion to flicker across his face was hurt. The second was anger. She held her breath and waited for him to respond. The cold hand of fear wrapped its way through her body as she recalled the times her husband had looked at her in anger…and what happened to her afterwards.
“I don’t understand why I need to walk a horse around so I can eventually ride it while you don’t have to at least explain to me why you refuse to marry me again,” he said.
She waited for more, to see if he’d lift his hand against her, but he didn’t. Instead, he let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his eyes. Relieved, she released her breath.
“I really want to do this,” he softly told her. “I’m willing to overcome my fear of horses for you. Why can’t you oblige me and let me remember our wedding?”
“It isn’t done,” she argued, though her voice was weak as a part of her relented.
“So just because other people don’t do it, does it mean we can’t?”
“What you’re asking is more than a simple afternoon event. Weddings require time to prepare and bans to read. People must be notified, a breakfast prepared, outfits tailored. It’s a lot of work, and I’d have to explain to everyone what happened to you. Then there will be endless questions to answer because they’ll want to know all the details. After everything that’s happened over the past couple of months, I don’t have the strength to go through all of that.”
With a reluctant sigh, he relented. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Not really. As you said, we’re already married.”
Shoving aside the sting of guilt that crept over her, she reminded herself she was doing it for him. If Lord Mason was asking questions, then others would, too, and she could only do so much to protect him from people who might know the difference between him and her husband. “It’s for the best,” she finally said, wondering if he’d agree or not.
Her Counterfeit Husband Page 8