Carousel of Hearts

by Mary Jo Putney

  “How could I? Adam doesn’t remember me and seems willing enough to believe Antonia. And however confused her motives for wanting to marry Adam, she certainly seemed sincere.” Judith absently pleated the fabric of her cambric gown. “Besides, Antonia is the best friend I have ever had. I couldn’t bear to call her a liar to her face, not with all she has had to endure.”

  Simon briefly laid his hand on hers. “Your sentiments do you credit.” He rose and restlessly crossed the parlor, thinking hard. “It’s a damnable situation, but when Adam regains his memory and recollects his feelings for you, the problem will solve itself. Certainly he would never break his word to you, nor do I think that Antonia would try to persuade him to do so.”

  “What if he doesn’t regain his memory?” Judith had had longer to imagine the pitfalls than Simon. “Or what if they become so involved that they must marry?”

  Simon winced, not wanting to think about what she was implying. “Then we must do what we can to end their engagement as soon as possible.”

  “But how?” Judith asked. “I’ve already said that I can’t bring myself to confront Antonia and call her a liar, and I can’t think of a better strategy.”

  She watched as Simon paced around the parlor, avoiding furniture with his usual grace. It seemed unfair that worry made him look more handsome, the beautiful bones of his face more prominent under the drawn flesh. Judith knew that she herself merely looked haggard.

  Half to himself, Lord Launceston muttered, “Ideally, Antonia would call it off by telling Adam that she had taken her fences too fast and they had not really been betrothed. The question is, what could persuade her to do that?”

  As Judith watched Simon, she knew the answer to his question. “That’s simple,” she said. “The one thing that will surely undermine Antonia’s resolve to marry Adam is you. Antonia fell in love with you the moment she met you, and if she had not believed that you were gone for good, she would never have considered another man.”

  Simon turned to her uncertainly. “Do you really think so? I’ve wondered if what she felt was temporary infatuation, not real love.”

  He was too modest to believe that no woman could possibly resist him, so Judith only said, “I’m sure. Unfortunately, Adam stands between you and a reconciliation. If you went to Thornleigh and said that you still love her and want to renew your betrothal, Antonia would feel honor-bound to stay with Adam because of his injury. After all, he believes that they were already betrothed.”

  Judith frowned, her thoughts uncomfortable. “I wish I knew how Adam felt about Antonia. He is very easy with her, but that may be partly because on some level he senses that they grew up together.’’ It was also possible that he was falling in love with his cousin, and that if she withdrew from their engagement, he would be deeply hurt, but Judith dared not think of that.

  Simon considered, then shrugged. “All we can do is work on one problem at a time. First of all, will Antonia let me call at Thornleigh to see Adam, or am I still persona non grata?”

  “She will certainly let you call on Adam, but we need some reason for you to run tame at Thornleigh again. The more she sees of you, the sooner she will set her nobility aside.” Judith smiled wryly. “But I have no idea how that can be accomplished. If you try to court her openly, she will show you the door from loyalty to Adam.”

  Simon was staring abstractedly into space. “What if I called on her to ask about Adam, told her that she was quite right that she and I wouldn’t suit, and wished her happy with him? If she thought that I could not press my attentions on her, she would have no reason to feel threatened by my presence.”

  “That’s well enough as far as it goes, but we still need a reason for you to call often. Adam is good for several visits a week, but that might not be enough.”

  An expression of uncharacteristic deviltry touched Simon’s chiseled features. “That is simple enough. I’ll call on you.”

  “What!” Judith positively squeaked. “Simon, have you run mad? Why would you be calling on me?”

  “Why, for the obvious reason,” he said teasingly. “You are an attractive woman. Why should I not seek out your company? What objection could Antonia make without sounding gothic?”

  “This is not a good idea,” Judith said emphatically.

  His amusement fading. Lord Launceston came and knelt on one knee before Judith, his face pleading. “I know that we are grasping at straws, attempting to predict how other people will react. There is nothing very wise or honorable about trying to play God. But the alternative is to stand by and watch while Antonia and Adam’s betrothal develops so much inertia that it can’t be stopped.”

  Distracted, Judith asked, “What is inertia?”

  “The propensity of matter in motion to stay in motion or matter at rest to stay at rest, unless influenced by an outside force.” Not sure that his explanation had helped, he translated, “In other words, if we don’t try to stop them, the betrothal will take on a life of its own, and they will end up marrying even if it’s a mistake for both of them. Is that what you want to happen?”

  “Of course not,” Judith retorted. “But we are playing with emotional fire here. We might all of us be burned.”

  “There is a risk of that,” Simon agreed soberly. He said nothing more, just looked at her with his intensely blue eyes.

  As sure as the sun rose in the east, Judith knew that the consequences of such a charade could be disastrous. She had agreed to marry Adam, to bear his children and share his days and nights for as long as they lived. But in a small corner of her heart, the image of Simon was enshrined as her beau ideal, the quintessence of her romantic dreams.

  A fantasy was harmless as long as it stayed a secret, but what would happen if Simon went through the motions of courtship with her? If she was the recipient of his devastating smiles, that fantasy might come alive and interfere with the solid reality of her feelings for Adam.

  She closed her eyes in anguish. It was not fair that any man should be so attractive. He made it impossible for her to think.

  She stood and slipped by Simon, putting a safe distance between them so she could evaluate his suggestion on its merits. The damnable thing was that his idea might work, though Judith doubted that he understood the female mind well enough to realize just what a potent plan he was proposing.

  If his lordship appeared to be courting Judith, not only would Antonia see him constantly, but jealous pride would help undermine Antonia’s determination to marry Adam. Would Antonia really be able to stand by and watch her man go to another female, especially one so inferior in looks, charm, and fortune?

  Judith doubted it. Antonia had her share of pride. Very soon she would feel the need to reassert her claim to Simon, leaving Adam to Judith.

  How fortunate that polyandry was not permitted in England, or Antonia would end up with both men.

  Judith turned to Simon and said gloomily, “You realize that we may all end up hating each other? Antonia may throw me out of her house and never speak to me or you again. Adam may call you out. Heaven only knows what other catastrophe might befall.”

  At her tacit agreement, Lord Launceston smiled with relief. “Perhaps, but I doubt it. The most likely outcome is that Adam will regain his memory before our plotting has gone too far. It may have even happened while you are here in Buxton.”

  “We will not be that lucky,” Judith said with conviction.

  “Probably not,” Simon agreed. Then his face brightened. “I have some good news for you. My publisher friend is eager to do a book of your wildflower studies. He thought they were exquisite, both as art and as natural history. He hopes that The Flowers of the High Country will be the first of a series on flowers of different parts of Britain.”

  “Really?” Judith was startled, having almost forgotten that Simon had sent the drawings to London. Then her lips curved involuntarily into a smile of delight. “How wonderful! I didn’t really believe he would be interested, in spite of what you said. Thank
you, Simon, for sending them off in spite of me.”

  His faith in her work was deeply gratifying. Beyond that, perhaps the acceptance of her drawings was a sign that Judith’s luck was changing and this dreadful tangle would soon be sorted out.

  She most fervently hoped so.

  * * * *

  The ladies of Thornleigh were sitting in the morning room when the butler brought in a calling card on a gilt salver. Antonia was surprised. While a number of neighbors had left cards as a sign of concern for her cousin, it was generally understood that she was not receiving for the time being. Who would have insisted that the card be brought in?

  When she saw the card, Antonia understood.

  At her small inhalation of shock, Judith glanced up from her embroidery. “Is something wrong?”

  “Simon is here.”

  Judith’s eyebrows arched speculatively. “No doubt he heard about Adam’s injury.”

  Antonia made an effort to collect herself. “Of course. I should have thought to write him, but I was too distracted. Send Lord Launceston in.”

  Judith stood and packed her embroidery into her workbasket. “I assume that you would prefer to see him alone.”

  Antonia was by no means as sure of that as Judith was, but she did not attempt to stop her companion from leaving. Nervously she touched her hair, wondering how she looked, before telling herself not to be a goosecap. She was betrothed to Adam, and all her starry-eyed foolishness about Simon was behind her.

  That being the case, why did her heart twist in her breast when Simon entered the room? He halted just inside the door, dark-haired and elegant, more handsome than any man had a right to be. His expression was contained, giving little away, but she saw no signs of anger or the withdrawal that she found so alarming.

  “I know this is an imposition, Lady Antonia, but I heard about Adam and have been very concerned. I hope you will forgive my intruding on you.”

  She found that she could still breathe, if she thought about it. “Of course. You are Adam’s friend and have every right to be concerned. If I had been thinking more clearly, I would have written myself.” Antonia waved him to a seat, asking hesitantly, “How much do you know about the situation?”

  “Quite a bit, I think,” he said as he sat. “I arrived in Buxton last night. Since you are the great lady of the district, events at Thornleigh are much discussed.”

  Antonia nodded, unsurprised. Most of her servants were local, so the great house held few secrets. “Then you heard about Adam’s amnesia?”

  Simon nodded, his dark-blue eyes grave. “Yes. And also about your betrothal.” Antonia tensed for condemnation, but her former intended made no attempt to rail at her. “I won’t deny that the news was a considerable shock, but when I thought about it, I understood. You and Adam have always been close, you share many of the same interests.” He smiled sadly. “You were right, you know. Much as it hurts for me to admit it, you and I would not suit. May I wish you and Adam happy?”

  Antonia felt a sharp sting of tears. Simon was such an incredibly nice man that it hurt. In a choked voice she said, “Of course you can. You are very generous.”

  In a more normal tone, she continued, “It would be more appropriate to say that Adam and I have an understanding rather than a formal betrothal. Nothing more specific can be decided until Adam is better.”

  “How is Adam feeling?”

  “Physically he is quite well, though he has headaches and sleeps more than usual. In fact, he is resting now. However, the doctor said that was to be expected and should pass soon.”

  Her qualification did not escape Simon. “How is he mentally and emotionally?”

  “Although he doesn’t complain, it’s obvious that he finds the situation rather distressing. Or perhaps maddening would be more precise.”

  “One can certainly understand why,” Simon said feelingly. “Since I heard the news, I have tried to imagine what it would be to wake up a stranger to oneself, surrounded by other strangers.” He gave her a questioning look. “I’d like to see him, unless you think it would be a bad idea.”

  “No, I think you should. Adam is coping amazingly well, actually. He asks a lot of questions, trying to establish what his life was like. Since you knew him in India, which was such a large part of his life, you can tell him things I know nothing about.’’ She glanced down at her well-groomed fingernails. “I have discovered that I knew him less well than I thought.”

  “That must be very disconcerting,” Simon sympathized.

  “I prefer to think of it as educational.” Antonia smiled suddenly, feeling very much in charity with Lord Launceston. “It is too easy to take our nearest and dearest for granted. Adam and I are having a unique opportunity to rediscover each other.’’ She stopped when she saw a slight tightening of Simon’s face. Really, it was not at all the thing to be discussing the man she intended to marry with the gentleman who had previously occupied that position.

  Simon rose. “When would be the best time to call on Adam?”

  Antonia glanced at the mantel clock. “He should be awake soon,” then absently bit her lip as she thought. “Where are you staying?”

  “At the White Hart in Buxton.”

  “It seems silly for you to be staying there,” she said tentatively, not quite sure how she wanted him to respond.

  “Well, I could hardly expect you to welcome me here,” Simon said reasonably.

  He was being such a perfect gentleman . . . “Oh, bother with propriety,” Antonia said with exasperation. “This is the most absurd situation. Surely we can be friends, since we are in agreement that our betrothal was a mistake. As my friend and as Adam’s, you will always be welcome at Thornleigh. It would make much more sense for you to stay here while you are in the area. And I think it would be good for Adam to have a male friend near. There is some danger that Judith and I will smother the poor man in solicitude.”

  Simon laughed. “There is no one like you, Antonia. If you can bear to have me underfoot, I should be happy to stay here.” Then, with a subtle shift in tone that did not escape his hostess, he asked, “Speaking of Judith, how is she?”

  “Very well. She was a tower of strength after Adam’s accident. I would have gone mad without her. When you were announced, she tactfully disappeared.” Antonia made a rueful face. “Unlike me, Judith is always tactful.”

  Simon chuckled. “If you are sure that my presence will not distress you, I will go into Buxton to fetch my belongings.”

  Antonia offered her hand, and after an infinitesimal pause he bowed over it. The gesture was a tense one for both of them, and the feel of his fingers lingered on hers, but the moment passed without incident.

  After Lord Launceston left, Antonia sank into the sofa and congratulated herself. They had both carried that off very well. Of course, she had felt a few daft girlish flutters at the sight of him—Simon could make a stone Madonna turn her head in admiration—but she hadn’t made a fool of herself. Proof positive that her infatuation was a thing of the past.

  She was so sure of that that it would have seemed foolish not to invite Simon to stay. One must be hospitable. Of course, the fact that his presence would be beneficial to Adam was the most important aspect.

  Of course.

  * * * *

  As he went outside to his carriage. Lord Launceston breathed a sigh of relief that the first hurdle had been surmounted so easily. Antonia was really the most splendid woman. She might be impetuous, but she was also fair and uninterested in holding grudges.

  Which made his own duplicity all the more contemptible. Only the belief that his actions would ultimately benefit all four people involved could justify his behavior. Simon was startled and not best pleased to discover after thirty-one years that he had an alarming talent for duplicity. It had been remarkably easy to act the role of the sorrowing but noble suitor.

  He hoped Judith was right that Antonia was still in love with him. He himself was not convinced. There had been nothing tenta
tive about the way she talked about Adam. When he analyzed her manner, he decided that she spoke as if she was one-half of a couple, and that did not bode well for his hopes.

  He shrugged and snapped the whip over his horses. Only time would tell. Meanwhile, he was doing everything he could to promote a desirable outcome for all concerned.

  Chapter Ten

  Adam was sifting through his business papers in the library when Lord Launceston was announced. Antonia had prepared Adam for the visit of an old friend, but he still tensed. It was hard not to feel wary around people who knew more about his past than he did himself.

  But Lord Launceston made it easy. He entered quietly and offered his hand. “Hello. You always called me Simon. Do you mind if I call you Adam again?”

  “Not at all.” As Adam shook his visitor’s hand and indicated a seat, he was impressed at Launceston’s grasp of what it was like to be a stranger in one’s own mind. “Antonia said that we met in India?”

  Simon nodded. “You came into the Bombay observatory one night and wanted to use the telescope.”

  Adam’s gaze drifted for a moment. “I remember seeing the surface of the moon through a telescope and trying to identify the seas. Mare Imbrium, Mare Crisium.”

  “You actually remember that?” Simon said eagerly.

  Adam shook his head. “It’s like everything else. I remember the results and what I learned about astronomy, but not you or the occasion. It seems that everything personal has been excised from my mind.”

  “It’s only been a week or so since a roof landed on your head,” his visitor pointed out. “One can hardly blame your memory for wanting to go on holiday.”

  Adam grinned and settled back in his chair behind the desk, thinking that his old self had had good taste in friends. “Perhaps you can tell me some things about my life in India. I never wrote Antonia much detail about my business activities, so there is little she can tell me.”