Loving a Lost Lord (17 page)

 

After Mariah and Masterson returned to the house, tea was served in the drawing room. The party broke up shortly thereafter. Adam's friends had already done most of the planning required for the trip south. He had accepted their ideas willingly since he had no better ideas himself.

He and Mariah escorted their guests to the door, both of them sighing with relief when the men were gone. As they wearily turned from the front door, he yearned to draw her into an embrace, but he controlled the impulse. It would be too easy to slip back into intimacy, which wouldn't be fair to either of them when he was so unsure of his feelings.

Mariah said, “That went about as well as could be hoped for. Did any memories return when you talked to your friends?”

Adam rubbed his head. “No, though I can see why we became friends. I feel comfortable with them all even though I don't really remember them.”

She frowned at his gesture. “Do you have a headache?”

He dropped his hand. “A bit of one. They kept looking at me hopefully, waiting for me to cry out, ‘Now I remember everything!'” He sighed. “I wish I could oblige. The way my head aches…it almost feels as if the information is locked in my mind just waiting to burst out. But it hasn't happened yet.”

“It will,” she said comfortingly. “When you are back in your own home, you'll probably wake up one morning and everything will have returned.”

“Perhaps.” He'd rather wake up the next morning and find Mariah beside him. He clenched his hands to prevent himself from touching her. “Good night. Thank you for entertaining my old friends so well.”

She hesitated, as if waiting for a good-night kiss, or at least a touch. Her face smoothed out as she accepted that he wouldn't act. “Sleep well, Adam.”

He watched as she walked away, her steps graceful and her hips swaying. Desire, yes. It was a fire in his blood. But he was less certain of what lay beyond desire.

 

Adam slept badly, his dreams haunted by angry gods and murderous strangers. If these were memories, he wanted no part of them.

Mariah walked into town to visit Julia Bancroft the next morning. Her friend answered the door with a smile. “How nice to see you! We haven't really spoken since Adam recovered enough not to need my services. Join me for tea?”

“Has it been that long? I suppose it has.” Mariah removed her hat and followed her friend to the kitchen, in the back of the cottage. “Sorry. I've been distracted.”

Julia poured tea for Mariah, then offered a plate with slices of ginger cake. “Wild rumors have been flying around since those three very impressive gentlemen arrived at the Bull and Anchor. I hear they dined at the manor last night.”

Mariah sighed. “Indeed they did.”

“I have been hoping to hear the truth from you.” Julia chuckled. “And if that isn't a heavy enough hint, I shall have to learn to live with my curiosity.”

Mariah nibbled the ginger cake, wondering where to begin. “The gentlemen are friends of Adam, whose given name actually is Adam, amazingly. They had been looking for him, or rather, his body, since the steamboat he was on sank off of Arran Island. Now they have found him, but so far, Adam hasn't regained any memories.”

“Given how well dressed his friends are, I assume Adam wasn't a deckhand. Is he a ship owner?”

“Much, much worse.” Mariah's mouth twisted. “He's the Duke of Ashton.”

“Good God,” Julia said blankly. “He's a duke?”

“Either that or his friends are all liars.” Mariah began tearing the slice of cake into crumbs. “They want to take him home to London. He and I…we care a great deal for each other, but I think I've lost him, Julia. Before his friends arrived, I told him that I'd lied about us being married. He was upset, of course, and now he isn't sure what he thinks of me. He doesn't hate me, but he doesn't trust me, either. I think that as he returns to his old life, there will be no place for me.”

“I'm so sorry,” Julia said quietly. “Circumstances have conspired to bring you together very quickly. I understand why you claimed to be married, but I also understand why he is now upset. Perhaps in time he'll forgive your lack of truth.”

“Perhaps, though I'm not confident.” Mariah's mouth twisted humorlessly. “But he does want me to go to London with him. I think he wants a familiar face nearby. That will pass when he becomes comfortable with his old life again. Still, I do want to go, if for no other reason than to talk to the lawyer about my father's death.”

“You've still heard nothing? Perhaps the lawyer is ill himself.”

“Either that, or he doesn't feel the need to exert himself on behalf of a female client. If that's the case, I might have to find a new lawyer.” Mariah was not looking forward to dealing with a dilatory lawyer, but she would have to learn to do so. Perhaps Masterson would help her find a better man if that was required.

“If you go to London with a group of handsome young men, you'll need a maid,” Julia said. “Better yet, a chaperone.”

“That's one of the reasons I'm calling today.” She smiled coaxingly. “Would you like a trip to London with all expenses paid?”

“You want me to come?” Julia lowered her teacup with a clink. “I can't possibly do that. What about my patients?”

Mariah had known her friend would resist. Julia was not a native of Cumberland. Her accent placed her as educated, perhaps the daughter of a doctor or a vicar. Mariah suspected that her friend had come to this remote corner of England to get away from her past. But there was yearning in her face at the thought of London. “You said that your apprentice is becoming very skilled. If there is a real emergency, Jenny or the patient can call in another midwife.”

Julia was tempted, but not yet convinced. “I haven't the right clothes. Even if transportation and lodgings are covered, I would need pin money.” She smiled. “Much of my income is barter, and I don't think I could use a chicken as currency in London.”

Mariah laughed. “I suppose not. But we're near the same size, so we could share some clothing. My wardrobe isn't up to London standards, but I've received some nice things from ladies I've met along the way. I'm also quite a good seamstress. We could buy some used garments and I'll alter them.” Changing her approach, she added, “Wouldn't it be nice to get away for a bit? We could see the sights of London together.”

“I really can't,” Julia said. But her eyes were longing.

“You needn't go into society,” Mariah said. “Not if you don't want to.”

Julia smiled ruefully. “How did you know that I wish to avoid society?”

“Just a guess.” Mariah made a face. “I'm not keen on the idea myself, but I must find if I can swim in those waters if there is any chance that Adam and I might wed. My father and I never moved in high circles, but I had to continually adapt to new situations, so I should be able to manage.”

Julia's uncertain expression firmed. “I know I shouldn't, but…yes, I'll go with you. I, too, have some business in London.” She got to her feet. “As to the clothing, wait here a moment.”

The moments stretched out enough that Julia's tabby jumped onto Mariah's lap and made herself at home. Another cup of tea and slice of cake had been consumed by the time Julia returned with an armful of gowns. All were fine-quality day dresses, not the very latest in fashion but made with good fabric and rich colors. Mariah caught her breath, startling the cat from her lap. “Where…?”

“Don't ask,” Julia said as she laid the garments over a chair. “Please.”

Mariah nodded, guessing that the clothing came from Julia's former marriage. She must have been very young when her husband died, because she wasn't much older than Mariah and she'd lived in Hartley for years.

Turning up the hem of the top garment, Mariah studied the stitchery. “Very well made. A little out of date, but they can be altered to be more fashionable.”

“I don't want fashionable,” Julia said firmly. “Simple and unobtrusive will do.”

That would suit Julia's style now, but the clothing confirmed Mariah's suspicion that her friend had a more glamorous past. “Whatever you wish. It won't take long to do the alterations. Changing trimmings and perhaps adding fichus to the gowns with low necklines.”

Julia pulled a rose-colored gown from the bottom. “I'd like you to have this. This color suits you much better than me.”

Mariah stroked the sleeve with pleasure. “You're sure? This satin is lovely. The gown could be cut apart and joined with colors that would suit your dark hair.”

“I'd rather you have it.” A furrow appeared between Julia's brows, as if the dress carried bad memories.

Mariah pulled out a handsome green walking dress. “Put this on and we'll decide what needs to be done.”

Julia's usually serious face lit up. “I'm going to enjoy this enormously, Mariah. As long as I avoid society, I'll have a wonderful time!”

 

Mariah had already eaten and left the house by the time Adam rose the next morning, tired from a night of bad dreams and poor sleep. He was halfway through a quiet breakfast when Randall breezed in ahead of the maid who had admitted him. “Good morning, Ash. I thought I'd take you out for some shooting practice.”

Adam blinked. “I'm supposed to murder defenseless creatures even before finishing breakfast?”

Randall grinned. “That's the most convincing proof yet that you're still you. Mind if I have some ham?” Not waiting for a reply, he helped himself to ham and toast from the sideboard, then poured tea and sat opposite Adam. “I've never known you to actually hunt game, but as I said last night, you're a crack shot. I thought we should do some target shooting. See if you're still any good.”

“An interesting question: does shooting skill reside in the mind or in the body?” Adam said thoughtfully. “I wouldn't know where to begin handling a gun.”

“Good! If getting knocked on the head ruined your marksmanship, I should be able to outshoot you today.” Randall helped himself to another piece of toast.

“Are you and the others taking turns spending time with me to see what memories you can shake loose?” Adam asked a little dryly.

“That didn't take you long to deduce.” Randall swallowed a bite of ham. “Miss Clarke's cook really is excellent. No wonder you don't want to leave.”

“Is there a competition to see which of you can best stimulate me to remembering?”

“Not yet, but it's a thought.” Randall polished off his food and glanced at Adam's empty plate. “Ready to test your marksmanship?”

“I don't appear to have a choice. I trust you will provide the weapon?” Adam stood, privately admitting that he was curious about whether he'd retained his skill.

“Weapons are a specialty of mine.” As they headed into the front hall, Randall scooped up a long leather gun case that he'd tucked into a corner.

The early morning drizzle had cleared into pale spring sunshine. Adam wondered where Mariah was. He was happier when he knew she was close. Likely she had gone to the village to visit Julia Bancroft. “Beyond the gardens is an area that should make a good range. A few trees without much undergrowth and a hill behind, so stray balls will go into earth rather than traveling on.”

“So you do remember something, even if you don't know you're remembering,” Randall said thoughtfully.

“Perhaps. Or maybe it's just common sense.” Adam studied the other man. Tall, blond, and rangy in build, Randall was the image of an Englishman, though his coiled tension was less typical. “You're much more cheerful than last night. Then you looked ready to bite. Which mood is more usual?”

“Biting, I think. Today I'm in a good mood because it has finally sunk in that you really are alive. I haven't so many friends that I can spare any. Losing army friends is expected, but not men who are lolling around England in the lap of luxury.”

“Sorry that I nearly failed you.” Adam realized that they were sliding into the sort of teasing banter one would expect of old friends. Interesting. “The dream I had, where I took you from a house in London when you were very ill. That really happened?”

Randall's expression tightened. “I'm the nephew of a man who doesn't like me very much. He couldn't kill me outright, but when I returned wounded from the Peninsula, he was willing to let me die of neglect.”

Adam winced. “I'm glad I acted. Were there any legal repercussions?”

The other man shook his head. “He could hardly bring charges without admitting what he was doing, so the matter was dropped. I recovered very nicely in Ashton House. That happened last summer. You saved my life. It's a considerable debt.”

“Given my amnesia, I'd say there is no point in worrying about debts.” They left the formal gardens behind and emerged into a clearing set against a hill. “Here's the spot where I thought we could practice.”

“Perfect.” There was a table-sized rocky outcropping to the right, so Randall laid the gun case down and opened it. Inside were two sleek rifles and a pair of pistols, as well as powder and shot.

Adam studied the weapons. “Do you always travel armed like this?”

“On a long cross-country trip, I'll certainly have both a rifle and a handgun. And a knife, of course.”

“Of course,” Adam said dryly. “A gentleman and an arsenal.”

Randall grinned as he tapped one of the rifles. “This one is mine, the other Masterson's. Kirkland contributed one of the pistols. Do you want to see how much you remember?”

Acting quickly so he couldn't think too much, Adam lifted Masterson's rifle and weighed it for balance. A nice weapon. He checked for cleanliness and was unsurprised to find it immaculate. In a handful of efficient movements, he loaded powder, patch, and ball, then looked for a target. “Let's see how accurate this rifle is. The blossom at the top of that gorse bush.”

Still using instinct, he raised the rifle and fired. The yellow blossom exploded into fragments. “Quite accurate, though I think it throws a hair to the left.” He lowered the weapon. “I found that I remembered how to ride, too. Apparently muscles have memories that are separate from those of the mind.”

“So it would seem. Certainly you haven't lost any of your shooting skill,” Randall observed. “I'm not sure whether I should be glad or disappointed.”

“Be glad. Smiling makes us feel better,” Adam said. “If I recall last night's conversation, you should be able to match that. Show me.”

Randall loaded his weapon. A crow flew by and he raised his rifle. “A moving target is more of a challenge.”

Adam lifted his hand. “Don't. That creature has done you no harm.”

Randall lowered the gun, wonder on his face. “You really haven't changed, not inside. Very well, I'll try for the blossom on the left side of the same bush.” He sighted swiftly and shot.

As the flower disintegrated, Adam said, “We need to use another bush. This one has sacrificed enough to our cause.”

Randall laughed. “That also is characteristic of you. Welcome home, Adam. Now shall we try the pistols?”