by Peggy Waide
"Blessed Saint Agnes, what have I done?" she said. She abruptly stood, rocking the bench.
Knowing she had misinterpreted his sudden withdrawal, Reyn grabbed her arm. "Wait."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."
"Jocelyn."
She jerked free and ran from the room.
Reyn sat, stunned by the passionate response she had freely given, but more important, he was disgusted by his own lack of control. He was furious with himself, not her. And now, he would be the one to suffer. His manhood, eager to finish what he had so foolishly started, throbbed with need.
"Bloody hell." So much for keeping my distance, he cursed. To remain at Blackburn Manor would definitely be more difficult than he thought, so he considered the obvious solution. He would travel to London and visit Celeste, for surely his mistress could satisfy his rampant lust. He would also initiate a very thorough, very private investigation into the past of one certain mysterious woman.
He left before dawn.
"What the devil do you mean, she's an angel? How on earth do you know my wife?" Reyn paced about his dining room at Black House, stopping before the window to peer down at the tree-lined park that bordered his London residence. Walter Hathaway sat at the long, polished rosewood table, enthusiastically consuming breakfast.
"Surely you're joking, Reyn. The minute Agatha acquired the special license, the entire ton, probably all of England, knew. Don't you remember that night at Boodle's? The gossip mill ran wild even before your ship left the Thames for the open sea. And for weeks thereafter. In your absence, in case anyone missed the news, Agatha sported the girl like a new ermine cape."
Reyn groaned, attempting to gather his wits over that revelation. Walter continued to spoon eggs into his grinning mouth, irritating Reyn all the more. "How can you eat at a time like this?"
"I'm starved. As I was saying. While you were gone, Agatha flaunted your wife with more ostentation than Lord Waytelove displays his horses at Brighton. Made quite an impression actually, with the surprise and all. Everyone adores Jocelyn."
Indignant over his friend's good humor, his surly mood clearly worn on his sleeve, Reyn said, "Bloody good for them, but I denied the rumor before I left town."
"Well." Walter laughed, obviously amused by their misunderstanding and his friend's sour disposition. "I must admit my confusion. When Agatha brought Jocelyn out, I decided you were playing a grand jest on me."
How convenient, Reyn thought, that Agatha neglected to reveal this bit of news. Considering the additional complications caused by Agatha's parading Jocelyn about town, Reyn circled the massive table and stalked the corners of the dining room, feeling much too much like a trapped animal.
Walter continued to eat. "Good heavens, Reyn, sit down before you wear a path in the rug."
Grudgingly, Reyn sat down across the table to pointedly stare at his guest.
Walter said, "I have very good ears for listening, and it appears you need desperately to talk to someone. You look awful."
As he poured himself a cup of coffee, Reyn debated what he should tell his friend. It was not a question of discretion, for they shared many confidences. The difficulty came with defining exactly what he felt. He knew he didn't want to be married. He considered the entire institution a farce, if not a lifelong prison sentence. The thought of making a love match was so preposterous, it didn't even bear consideration.
Reyn added a touch of cream to his cup. As for Agatha and her gentle heart, he had already forgiven her. In her own misguided way, she meant well.
That left Jocelyn, a beautiful, .what? There lay the dilemma.
Walter interrupted Reyn's thoughts. "You are married?"
"More or less."
"To Jocelyn?"
Wondering about Walter's reaction when all the facts were presented, Reyn nodded absently.
"I find it difficult to believe that marriage to that divine creature would be a hardship."
"Perhaps the problem is not with the lady herself, but rather the baggage that comes with her." Reyn knew his cryptic statement clarified nothing in his friend's mind, and proceeded to tell Walter the entire story.
Walter sat for a moment, chewing a bit of toast. "Have you bedded her yet?"
As Reyn's arm jerked in response to Walter's question, his coffee sloshed from his cup to the table. "Good heavens. What a question. I've been back in England for less than forty-eight hours. You expected me to bed a woman I've known for even less time than that?"
A gurgle, sounding suspiciously like a smothered laugh, escaped Walter's mouth. Instantly, a scowl meant to render most people blathering idiots came over Reyn's handsome face, transforming him from dashing gentleman to menacing savage.
"Amazing," Walter said. "For years, I've tried to achieve that precise glare, to no avail. I shall have to practice more. Relax, Reyn. My question is justified and you know it. I've known you to meet, woo, bed and thank a woman in less time than it takes most men to wrest an introduction. I also know your penchant for the fairer sex, and Jocelyn happens to be one of the fairest I've seen in a very long time. And don't even bother to tell me you find her long in the tooth, or lacking in some way. I'd be forced to call you a liar. However, I was considering the complications of a divorce versus an annulment."
The sweet, passionate moment with Jocelyn, and his undisciplined reaction, came foremost to Reyn's mind. The fact that Walter tripped so closely to the truth rattled his nerves. "You know as well as I do that an annulment would be far simpler."
"Simpler perhaps, but no less damaging to your reputation. On what grounds?"
"Agatha suggested Jocelyn admit deceit in regard to her ability to bear an heir. Therefore, my reputation and the sainted family name would remain unTamished."
Walter shook his head. "Agatha's cunning is frightening sometimes. Do you believe Jocelyn lost her memory?"
Thinking long and hard, evaluating their few encounters, Reyn said, "No."
"Do you think Agatha knows the amnesia is a ruse?"
"In all likelihood, my grandmother masterminded the entire scheme."
"Really? How interesting. Why the pretense?"
"I don't know. Agatha explained little, except to say she has her reasons and to trust her. For years, Agatha has focused on my marriage, or lack thereof. Perhaps this is her attempt at matchmaking."
"Have you any other ideas?"
"I believe treachery on someone's part started this mess because no one would willingly submit to incarceration at Bedlam. Jocelyn certainly isn't addlebrained, but she is hiding something."
"Why?"
"Maybe to protect someone. Protect herself. The devil of it is, I'm as baffled as you. I accused her of a great many things. In retrospect, none of them ring true. I intend to discover her every secret down to her first rag doll before any true harm can be caused."
"If you believe deceit is in the air, why not cry false and throw her to the streets?"
Reyn seriously considered the question. Any number of disasters could befall her. The vision of Jocelyn begging in the streets surged along with the powerful instinct to shelter and protect. It didn't make sense, and he knew his answer would seem trite. "Damn and blast, it doesn't seem the honorable thing." Noting his friend's knowing smile, he snapped, "Besides, Agatha adores this girl and has made Jocelyn her personal mission. You know Agatha's determination. I would rather face a pack of hungry wolves."
"Then, since you just returned from an extended trip, where is your charming wife? Why are you back in London?"
Reyn twirled his fork several times, then looked directly at Walter. "I need to see Celeste." When his friend guffawed loudly, Reyn said, "If you so much as show another tooth, I will shove that sausage down your throat."
Pushing his plate to the side, Walter cleared his throat. "Excuse my poor manners and my obvious stupidity. If you're married to that incredible vision I met, why do you need to see Celeste?"
Knowing Walter felt no true remorse at all, Reyn bellige
rently chose to ignore his friend.
"You were saying?" Walter prodded.
Finally, Reyn relented. "I thought we could discuss dress patterns. Don't be obtuse. It's annoying. Why do you think I need to see her? I already told you I plan to stay away from Jocelyn's bed, so you know full well I intend to plant myself between Celeste's lovely thighs."
"If your current mood is any indication of your need, then by all means call on Celeste. This afternoon. Perhaps then you may be fit for civilized company."
"That is precisely my plan, and given my current frame of mind, I just might stay there the entire week."
Sighing deeply, Walter said, "Celeste will hoist her colors once again when she thinks she has you back under her spell. She wasn't pleased to discover you married. I believe she expected that boon for herself."
Reyn shuddered at the thought. "Not bloody likely."
"My thoughts exactly. Celeste might be a delight in your bedroom, but she'd be a disaster in your parlor."
"For over a year, ours has been a mutual arrangement with honesty as the basis of our relationship. If Celeste anticipated a permanent union, she has only herself to blame. She knew I had no intention of marrying."
After dabbing at his mouth, Walter laid his napkin on the table, crossed his legs and grinned. "Yet, it seems you have done just that."
Reyn tried to remain detached from his friend's teasing. It proved worthless. "Did you wake this morning with the sole intent to ruin my day?"
"Give over, Reyn. If you expect me to believe that nonsense about allowing your title and all your worldly goods to fall into the hands of some removed cousin, you're more foolish than my brother Winston. Someday, when you least expect it, you will find someone willing to tolerate your surly disposition. You will marry and probably sire fourteen children."
The small wooden chair became too restrictive for Reyn. He pushed from the table and took to pacing again. "You forget, my friend, that I witnessed the selfdestructive path my parents chose every day of my childhood. Love matches are seldom successful, and my parents' was no exception. Instead of the usual acceptance, their marriage became a battleground, growing more destructive every year. And I lived amongst the ashes. When they weren't fighting, my mother vanished for weeks. Father remained indifferent, consumed by alcohol and self-induced solitary confinement."
"Granted, you went through hell, but not all marriages are like that."
"Humpf! The combination of love and hate and marriage will only destroy a man. I saw that firsthand."
"Reyn, you don't really know what happened with your father."
Forcing the ghosts from his past back to their resting place, Reyn stopped before the window with his hands locked firmly behind his back. "I know my father drank because of grief, guilt and melancholy over another woman. I know that he chose to kill himself on my fourteenth birthday rather than live with that. And I know that when my mother died five days later at the hands of a jealous lover, I rejoiced. I will never allow a woman to hold such power over me." Reyn whirled to look at his friend. "Heavens, Walter, look at your own family."
"In their own way, my parents do love one another." With a pensive expression on his face, Walter shrugged his shoulders. "It's me they can't abide."
Regretting his outburst, Reyn rubbed his hand across his chin. Walter's childhood had been as unpleasant as Reyn's, but for different reasons. "Their loss, you know."
"Perhaps." Walter crossed to stand beside Reyn. Both men watched the traffic below. Walter spoke first. "One last thing. I had the opportunity to spend time with Jocelyn. She is a remarkable young woman who I believe means you no harm. Once you discover her purpose, you might also discover that you've made an ideal match."
"You sound like Agatha. Why is everyone so determined to marry me off?"
"Your grandmother wants a tiny cherub to bounce on her knees while I, my friend, want the women who now fall at your feet to fail at mine."
As his mood lightened, Reyn chuckled. "You are a libertine."
With an unrepentant grin on his face, Walter said, "I know." He placed a firm hand on Reyn's shoulder. "Well, now that I've succeeded in rousing us from our maudlin jaunt down memory lane, I must leave. How long will you stay in London?"
"A few days. I can't very well hide from everyone until I have the answers I need. There's another reason I came to London. I intend to set Maddox on Jocelyn's past and see what he discovers."
"Splendid. Find Celeste. Make her a happy woman and yourself a sated man. I'll see you tomorrow."
Before an ebbing fire, a brandy snifter balanced in his hand, Reyn silently applauded himself for handling everyone's best wishes with strained civility. After one week of questions and whispers, discreet glances and pointed stares, his tolerance was gone. And that restless, caged feeling still followed him.
Admittedly, his visit to Celeste had been a mistake. He'd spent a wasted afternoon in her company, valiantly trying to muster the urge to take her to bed. He had not seen her again, refusing to relegate his lack of desire to the blond-haired, dark-eyed enchantress who plagued his dreams.
In frustration, he cursed, most vividly, then reread the missive from Maddox, a bulldog of a Bow Street runner. It appears that clues are a bit thin on the road. Will continue to make inquiries. Blast! His man had failed to discover one whit of information. That left one obvious solution. He would return to Blackburn Hall, use whatever means necessary and ferret out the information himself.
Reyn slept peacefully through the night.
Leaning against a large elm, Reyn watched Jocelyn scurry through the lush gardens of Blackburn Manor. Her bare toes peeked out below the ruffles of her dress, and her skin glowed a rosy pink. With wild curls bil lowing about her head, she darted from bush to bush. Her most accommodating cat followed dutifully behind. In total abandonment, she collapsed on the woolen blanket. Caesar immediately draped himself across her chest to rub contentedly against her chin. Stretching her arms outward to pay homage to the morning sun, she openly ignored propriety as her dress hitched past her knees to reveal nicely shaped legs free of any covering.
The unguarded innocence of the scene, the smile of sheer pleasure on her lightly flushed face, left Reyn dumbstruck. Too easily did he remember the delightful taste of her rosy lips, and he found himself pondering the other delicacies hidden beneath her clothes. Jolted out of his daydream by his half-aroused state, he crossed the lawn in silence. He had a mission: to uncover secrets, not body parts.
"I must admit I envy the cat more with each encounter," he said, referring to the languid position of the cat atop her chest.
Bolting upward, attempting to right herself, Jocelyn dumped a disgruntled Caesar on the grass. She brushed her wayward curls from her eyes and pulled her naked toes beneath her dress. "That is a most annoying habit, sir."
He tried to look innocent. "What?"
"Your sneaking up on people. It makes one wonder if one is being spied upon."
"It's my estate-I can spy if I want to." His lips twitched slightly as he sat down beside her.
Open-mouthed, she stared at him. "You're teasing me.
Reyn smiled fully and leaned down on his elbow. "Am I?"
"Yes, I believe you are. No true gentleman would intentionally perpetrate such distasteful behavior toward a lady."
"I thought our previous encounters have already established my true nature." His fingers tested the soft texture of her dress, vividly aware of their close proximity, her fresh lavender scent, the blush on her cheeks, the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat.
Reyn said nothing. Neither did Jocelyn. He knew she probably had question after question running through her mind. Either she would ask about his unexpected return now, or she'd wait until she talked with Agatha. The silence stretched between them.
Jocelyn shifted to her knees. "Excuse me, sir. I have things to attend to."
So, he thought, she wished to talk with Agatha first. "Please, hold," Reyn said. "I believe we
have some unfinished business." He watched her settle again on the blanket with both hands laced together on top of her knees, her back straighter than the iron hitching posts at the stable. She looked more prepared to receive a stern lecture. Amused by her stalwart position, he tucked his chin to his chest to conceal his grin.
He said, "While in London, I considered this situation more thoroughly. I realized I hadn't been completely fair to you and Agatha. It's in my best interest to assist, rather than hinder you. The sooner your memory returns, the sooner I have my freedom back." He reached for an apple in a nearby basket. Polishing the fruit to a bright glossy red, he leaned on his elbows to watch Jocelyn's reaction. "Correct?"
"Yes."
"I have returned to do just that."
"Do what?"
"Why, help you." As he took a bite of the apple, Jocelyn nibbled her upper lip. The poor girl, he thought. One swift glance at the creamy flesh rising above the scooped neckline of her dress and he corrected himself. Not a girl, but a woman. A very beautiful woman. A woman who had stolen his bachelorhood. "I intend to help you regain your memory."
"If the doctors discovered nothing and since I continue to have no insights, what do you propose to do?" she cautiously asked.
"I'm quite exceptional at gathering information and deciphering the salient points so that the best and most appropriate action can be taken."
Jocelyn stared at him.
Reyn continued. "In other words, I'm very good at solving puzzles. I shall extend those talents to this memory business of yours, and in no time at all we will have you reunited with those who matter in your life."