by Mari Carr
“Oh, my God.” She gulped down several large swallows of wine, trying to rid her mouth of the horrific aftertaste.
“Yes.” Ben put his spoon back down without sampling the fare. “I was afraid of that. I really need to hire a cook. First thing tomorrow. Maybe even tonight.”
“You knew,” she said. “You knew what that would taste like, and yet you let me take a bite.”
“Well, in all fairness, I’ve never had this particular soup from Mrs. Henry. At least, I don’t think I have.” He appeared to seriously consider the soup.
“Ben, don’t you think it would have been a nice gesture to warn me? I mean you just sat there and let me put it in my mouth. Of all the things I’ve forgotten, that soup is the one thing I’d like to forget and likely will never be able to.”
He laughed at her comment, a loud, long laugh that stopped Vee in her tracks. She was utterly amazed at how the smile transformed his entire face. If she thought him handsome before, now he was utterly gorgeous.
He struggled to maintain his composure obviously unaware of her close scrutiny. “I’m sorry, but it was worth your anger to see your face when the taste hit your tongue.”
Losing her battle to remain irate and thrilled by his laughter, she began to snicker as well. Suffering the ghastly flavor was worth hearing Ben laugh. It was quite possibly the nicest sound she’d ever heard. “I’m so glad I amuse you. However, I do fear that permanent damage has been done to my sense of taste.”
“Yes, well, if it’s any consolation, that may help you consume the rest of the meal, while my sense of taste, sadly, is still functioning.” He smiled as he spoke, a fact that pleased her greatly. She suspected he didn’t smile nearly enough, and the fact that she’d been able to make him laugh made the past week of tedious boredom worth the wait.
“I don’t understand. I’ve been here for nearly a week and a half and the food has been quite nice.”
“There is a girl from the village who comes in each morning to prepare breakfast. She also does the baking, breads and some desserts. If you will recall, the rest has been rather simple fare—meat and cheeses. The reason I don’t insist on formal meals is because, unfortunately, for all her talents, Mrs. Henry is a terrible cook.” Ben shrugged as if this didn’t pose a problem, which she found surprising. For the son of a duke, this man certainly didn’t seem to be pampered or spoiled as she suspected many members of the aristocracy must be.
“How are we going to eat this soup?” she asked, suddenly concerned. “Or the rest of the meal? I don’t want to hurt her feelings after she’s gone to so much trouble.”
“I agree.” He considered their predicament. “I suppose there is no help for it. We’ll simply have to—”
“I’m not eating it,” she interrupted, her refusal adamant. “I adore Mrs. Henry, but that is asking too much.”
“I was going to say we’ll have to throw it out the window.”
“What?” Had she heard him wrong?
“It’s quite simple actually. I’ve done it before,” he replied as if it were perfectly normal for a wealthy aristocrat to toss his evening meal out a window. “And as you said, we can’t hurt the poor woman’s feelings.”
“That’s true.” Vee reconsidered his suggestion. “Very well, you toss and I’ll watch the door.”
Grinning at her mischievous tone, he grabbed their soup bowls and made a great pretense of tiptoeing to the window, feigning surprise over the fact that it was already conveniently open and dumping the contents into the shrubs below. Both raced back to the table, resuming their seats mere seconds before Mr. and Mrs. Henry returned with the second course.
Vee bit her lip the entire time Mrs. Henry served them in an attempt to stifle the snickers threatening to burst out, especially when she noticed the suspicious look on Mr. Henry’s face when he saw the empty bowls. Then she had to cover laughter with a feigned coughing fit when Ben complimented the unique flavor and texture of the soup. Once the Henrys departed, they broke out into peals of laughter.
“Dare we try to eat this?”
“You can,” Ben said, attempting to catch his breath. “As I said before, my sense of taste is still fully functioning.”
“This time you watch the door and I’ll dump.” She picked up what appeared to be some sort of white fish, raw on one side and burnt on the other.
The entire meal passed mirthfully as they took turns tossing each course out into the yard, praising Mrs. Henry for her fine cuisine and choking down laughter as Mr. Henry scanned the room looking for where they were stashing the food.
After dessert—a very runny bread pudding—Ben rose from the table, rubbing his stomach as if he couldn’t eat another bite. “Would you care to join me in the newly renovated and recently repaired library for a glass of brandy?”
“Dare I hope there is edible food in there?”
“Sadly, no.”
“Well, I don’t suppose it will hurt me to skip a meal. Wait a minute. Did you say library?” she asked excitedly. “Mrs. Henry didn’t show me that on the tour. Do you have many books?”
“It is quite an extensive collection, if I do say so myself. My great aunt and uncle were both avid readers and, of course, I added my books to theirs when I moved in. You like to read?” His voice was laced with surprise.
“Oh, I love it!” she said, as shocked as Ben by her response.
“Another clue to your past,” he said, acknowledging her confusion. “Your memories are already beginning to return to you. It won’t be long before they are all restored.”
Placing her hand on his proffered arm, he led her to the library.
As they entered the room, she gasped and let go of his arm, rushing over to the freshly painted bookshelves. “Oh,” she said, her voice full of awe. “Oh, it’s wonderful.” She ran her finger along the spines of each shelf of books, pausing now and then to take one off and look inside. “Would you mind if I read some of these while I’m here?” Vee suddenly envisioned the end of her dull days.
“Of course not. Be my guest. I’m rather pleased to see this is something we have in common. I, too, am fond of reading. Have you read any of these?”
At her frown, he realized his mistake. “I’m sorry. Of course you don’t recall specific titles.”
Her frown quickly turned to a smile. “Well, if I have read them before I can’t remember, which means every book in the world is new to me. I can start over and enjoy them all again.”
“Ah, ever the optimist.” Ben was curious about her ability to read. While it was obvious she was an educated woman given her proper, albeit strange manner of speaking, it was out of the ordinary for a prostitute to be able to read. The entire idea led him to believe she was either a well-paid courtesan or simply a gently-bred woman who had fallen on hard times that left her with no choice but to pursue her unsavory career. The thought of her falling from comfort to poverty angered him, and he realized that despite where she came from, he would not let her return to that life. Once her memory returned, he would find her respectable work, perhaps as a paid companion.
He was pleased she was not the type of woman to constantly bemoan her state. It was her positive outlook on life that gave credence to his theory that she had most likely faced hard times in her life, yet come out a survivor. He admired that.
He began to wish he could be more like her in that regard. The last few years he’d been living under a dark cloud. Memories of the war, the insalubrious nature of his work with Bow Street, the shabbiness of this house and Chelsea’s silence left him constantly battling a deep depression that never seemed to completely leave him. For some reason, this lady made him laugh, made him forget his own woes. She brought out a blithe part of him he thought died long ago.
He’d carefully avoided her for almost a week until he couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing her again. He’d immersed himself in all the tedious paperwork that had piled up in the years prior to his aunt’s passing. When that failed to remove Vee from his th
oughts, he’d left the house altogether, spending long hours riding in the countryside. Yet all his efforts were for naught.
It was that damn kiss. He couldn’t get it out of his mind, constantly recalling the softness of her lips, the whisper of her sweet breath on his face. He’d spent the last week in a royal state, ready to break down the door between his room and hers every night, willing to beg her for one more taste.
“Well, if you can’t remember the books, then it is likely you can’t recall the taste of brandy either. Let me be the first to reintroduce you to it.” Crossing to the sideboard, he picked up a crystal decanter and two glasses, pouring each of them a healthy share. Handing her the glass, he raised his in a toast. “Here’s to new stories.”
“And new friends.” She tapped her glass lightly against his before taking a large sip. Hot tears sprang to her eyes.
“Ugh.” She covered her mouth with her hand before glancing at his amused face. “You got me again.”
“It’s an acquired taste. Perhaps I should have mentioned it’s best sipped, not gulped.”
“Perhaps you should have.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “You’re not as nice as I once thought.”
She turned away from him, walking to the bookshelves. Silent as a stalking tiger, he followed her, turning and taking her into his arms.
“Oh, but you’re wrong.” His face was inches from hers, his arms encasing her before he could think about his actions. “Let me show you how nice I can be.”
With that, he bent his head and his lips caressed hers in a kiss that was not gentle, not soft as the previous one had been, but full of passion. Coaxing her lips apart, his tongue swept into her mouth, touching her brandy-laced tongue with his own. Ben was swept away by the sensations the kiss created in his body, and he silently rejoiced when she wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands running through his hair as she pulled it gently, seemingly desperate to keep his lips on hers, to keep his arms around her.
“Ben,” she whispered, when he separated for the briefest of moments. Looking into her blue eyes, he was startled and distressed to see the depths of her desire, all too aware of where this could lead. Quickly, he dropped his arms, suddenly unsure of himself and of her. His undeniable attraction toward her was overwhelming, and he wondered if he’d ever experienced such powerful feelings before.
“Vee.” He kept a firm grip on her elbows to steady her swaying.
“That was nice.”
He stepped away, the distance he attempted to place between them physically painful. “But once again, inappropriate. Until we discover who you are and where you belong, it would be inadvisable for us to continue down this path. I vow to you now I won’t make any more improper advances.”
She considered his words, and he spied a definite glimmer of disappointment in her eyes. It was apparent she was familiar with kissing and not at all opposed to sleeping with him. Her promiscuous response drove home the thought that she was indeed a ladybird. The problem with her was his feelings didn’t revolve around business affairs as much as an affair of the heart. The longer he spent in her company, the more he was convinced he didn’t stand a chance in hell of resisting her allure. Dammit, he didn’t need this complication in his already convoluted life.
“You’re right,” she said. “It would be the height of foolishness to continue this way.” Her voice quivered slightly. “After all, you’re the son of a duke. And I’m, well, I’m just Vee. For now anyway. The wine and brandy have gone to straight to my head, and I’m feeling quite tired. I think I’ll retire for the evening. Thank you for a lovely dinner.”
He cursed himself for allowing her to retreat without a word. He’d upset her, but he refused to continue making a mess of a night that had begun so perfectly. As he stared at the empty doorway, he felt like the biggest fool in the world.
He didn’t know if he was coming or going with this blasted woman. Her damn cheerfulness and pleasant laughter had infected his blood causing him to act like an idiot. How could he have made that imprudent vow not to touch her again? Dear God, it was all he could do to keep from chasing her up the stairs right now. He’d never lusted after a woman like this. He needed to make a more concerted effort at finding out about her past and failing that, he needed to secure her a future. Somewhere else. The sooner the better, because too many more nights like this and he would surely lose what little was left of his mind.
Chapter 7
V is for Void
The next day Vee rose early hoping to catch Chelsea before she escaped. She’d noticed the little girl spent most of each day away from the house and its inhabitants, and she wanted to find out what she did with her time. She couldn’t believe Ben and Mrs. Henry would condone Chelsea’s actions.
Allowing a seven-year-old girl to spend hours alone in the woods was certainly not an appropriate way to raise a child, nor was she entirely sure it was safe. She didn’t know the area well, but surely there could be wild animals and snakes in the woods. No one would know if any harm had befallen the girl until it was too late to help her.
Besides, shouldn’t Chelsea be in school? What about her lessons?
Since she was forbidden to clean the house or help with any other household duties, and her attempts to cheer Ben up last night had fallen flat, she turned her attention to the next item on her list of things to do at Waterplace—befriend Chelsea. God willing, she would be more successful in this endeavor than she had been in the others.
Her wait in the hall didn’t last long as Chelsea crept from her room just after sunrise.
“Good morning,” Vee said softly, not wanting to startle her.
Fearful, green eyes rose to meet hers.
“I’ve wanted to see you again to thank you for coming to visit me the morning after my arrival.” She pointed to the fading bruise on her forehead. “I had a bit of an accident and your, uh, Lord Benjamin was kind enough to help me.”
Chelsea looked at her as she chatted on, her brows creased.
Vee realized most people were probably unnerved by the girl’s silence, but it made her feel sad. No child should have suffered what this little one had, and Vee’s heart ached to reach her. “I was wondering if you would mind some company on your morning walk. I’m not familiar with the area, and I was hoping you would serve as my guide.”
Chelsea’s face briefly betrayed her shock before her eyes shuttered closed, blank slates once again. It dawned on Vee she’d never seen anyone talk to the child. It was almost as if the other adults believed her refusal to speak was due to some inability to hear.
Perhaps the way to break through Chelsea’s self-imposed solitude was through words, not through more silence.
Although given Chelsea’s blank expression, she assumed it might take a lot of words. She looked at Vee for a long time before walking past. Vee shrugged and took it as an invitation to follow.
“Wonderful,” she said as she reached Chelsea at the front door. “Where should we go first?”
Chelsea glanced at her over her shoulder, obviously shocked by her doggedness, before continuing down the front steps and through a well-worn path in the woods to the right of the overgrown gardens.
“Wow. This is bad. Ben needs to add a gardener to his list of servants to hire.” Chelsea continued on as if Vee hadn’t spoken at all. Her continual silence and lack of expression was unsettling, but regardless of her failure to respond, Vee was sure Chelsea was listening. She could tell by the girl’s brief pauses and sidelong glances.
“I love flowers myself, but hate the actual chore of pruning and weeding and keeping a garden up. Oh, another recollection. I’ll have to tell Ben, I mean, Lord Benjamin.” It would be inappropriate to refer to Ben in such informal terms to his young ward.
Chelsea’s gait was fast and sure, in spite of the high grass and rocks in the way. Vee stumbled several times in her attempt to keep up and not to let the child lose her in the woods, which after fifteen minutes of fast walking became quite obvious as the gir
l’s intention.
After several stumbles and near falls on Vee’s part, Chelsea’s increasingly fast walk turned into a run. Not willing to back down from the girl’s blatant challenge and a bit unsure she could find her way back to the house, Vee took off after her. They raced for several minutes, Vee keeping pace with the child until an unseen root captured her left foot and sent her sprawling facedown into a pile of crisp leaves.
“Oof,” Vee cried, the wind knocked from her lungs. She didn’t have to look up to know that, mercifully, Chelsea had stopped running.
Gingerly, she rolled over, lying amidst the dry leaves for a few minutes, taking several long, deep steadying breaths before rising.
“Ow,” she cried when she attempted to put pressure on her left foot. “I was afraid of that.” She sat back down heavily and glanced at her rapidly swelling ankle. “I’ve twisted it.” She looked over her shoulder to make sure Chelsea hadn’t escaped. The girl’s expressionless face, of course, betrayed nothing.
“I’m not sure I can walk back alone. Would you help me?” She hoped the silent girl had an ounce of compassion in her.
Chelsea walked over to where Vee was sitting in the grass and studied her injured ankle. Without a word, she took off running back through the woods.
“Wait!” she called desperately. “Please don’t leave me.” But the small girl was gone in an instant.
“Great.” With a sigh, she rose slowly, hopping on one foot in hopes of finding a large stick. If she was going to make the long trek back to the house alone, she was going to need a cane of some sort to lean on.
Eventually, she gave up her hopping search, dropping to her hands and knees to look. Crawling around in a long dress was no easy chore, and she was beginning to become quite worried when it was apparent that she wasn’t going to find any fallen branches large enough or strong enough to support her weight.