Well! Seemed he remembered what that looked like without any difficulty! He felt a bit wobbly, so he went back to sit down on the bed.
He’d been shot! Why hadn’t they told him?
A sudden clear image of him scaling a wall flitted through his mind.
A real memory? Or his imagination?
The laudanum they’d been giving him must have muddled his brain. Why would he be climbing a wall?
He gripped his head with both hands. It ached from all his efforts to remember. The only thing going through his mind was that his wife had lied to him!
Hadn’t she?
He wasn’t sure how, but he felt betrayed. She hadn’t told him he’d been shot.
Surely telling him wouldn’t have been prompting his memory. Had she not wanted to worry him? Or did she conceal it out of fear?
Fear of him or fear for him?
What a thought! About his own wife!
He stood up again. He couldn’t stay still. He paced to the door.
Had he been in a duel? Against whom? A cuckolded husband? But that would mean he’d cheated on Talia. That didn’t feel right to him. He thought himself a more honorable man than that. He strode back to the window.
For all he knew, if he had cheated on her, she might have shot him herself! Not that he’d blame her if she had.
Suddenly he found himself chuckling aloud at the notion of his quiet, sweet spouse shooting him. It was hard to imagine. He tugged the curtain back a little to see if the daytime snoop was watching.
On the other hand, after witnessing her anger this morning, she might have shot him just for disturbing her while painting! His chuckles turned to outright laughter. She certainly had a temper. Had the situation been reversed and she had cheated on him, he could see himself shooting the other man, but never shooting her!
Lord, he had a wild imagination. No contesting that.
A loud gasp warned him someone had entered the room and was seeing his wound for the first time. So... not his wife. Turning, he saw Mrs. P., one arm filled with sheets, her free hand to her mouth, and a shocked look on her face.
“Not pretty, is it?” What else could he say in the circumstances?
“But…” Clearly aghast, words almost failed the housekeeper. “Someone shot you!”
“You recognize the wound?”
“Me late husband was a soldier and I followed the drum. I know what a gunshot wound looks like.” She hesitated, then moving closer — probably angling to get a better look — she asked, “But who shot you and why?”
“I wish I knew, Mrs. P.”
At her bewildered look, he added, “Has no one told you that I remember almost nothing of who I am?”
“Not really.” He could see she was recalling what she’d been told. “Foster said something about you ailing, but...” Her eyes shifted away from him guiltily.
What had the old curmudgeon told her? Reed wondered uneasily.
“... he told me nothing about what your complaint was.”
She was lying. The butler must have said something pretty damning for her to not want to repeat it.
She appeared to decide he wasn’t dangerous and came further into the room. “You have no idea who did this to you or why, truly?”
“None whatsoever.” He moved over to the bed and sat down again. “Sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?”
“Tsk tsk, none of that self-pity. T’ain’t your fault your mind has gone to let.” She moved with him and patted his good shoulder.
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. He knew this wasn’t funny. But that his having no memory should make this dear woman think he had lost his mind. That amused him. “My brain works just fine, it’s my memory that’s to let.”
Like what is my name? My age? Where was I born? Are my parents alive? Important things like that.
“Of course, dear.” It was clear she was humoring him. “So what if you think you’re wed to everyone, what harm can it do?”
“What?” he asked incredulously.
“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy, I didn’t mean nothing by it. Just something Mr. Foster told me, that’s all.”
“About me thinking I was married to everybody I met?”
She backed away a little and looked a little uncertain, as if she was rethinking talking to him so freely.
It suddenly dawned on Reed that if they hadn’t told her about his amnesia, then maybe they hadn’t warned her not to tell him anything.
“So perhaps, now that you’re here, you won’t mind helping me fill in a few blank spaces? My wife and Foster have been so busy taking care of me, I haven’t wanted to bother them with questions.”
“Sure enough.” She perched on the end of the rocking chair, bundle of linen still in hand. “What do you want to know?”
“When did Miss Talia and I get married? It’s a terrible thing for a husband not to remember his own wedding date.”
“You have no idea when you got married?” She hesitated. Something had occurred to her and now, she seemed uncertain about answering his questions. “Were you married to someone before Miss Tally?”
Ah, if she believed he leapt into fictitious marriages with everyone, she might be questioning his and Talia’s marriage. Or was she worried she’d be his next quarry? “I don’t remember anything about my life until a few days ago. That’s why I’m asking you when we got married.”
“I’d like to help you, but last time I saw Miss Tally, she weren’t married.”
“And how long ago was that?”
“About three weeks ago.”
Damnation! He’d expected her to say last year at the very least. They’d been wed less than three weeks! And his memory was lost not quite a week ago.
What was going on here? The discordant note he’d felt right from the start about this whole situation was clamoring for attention.
He began quizzing Mrs. P. He knew he’d better get her to reveal as much about his wife as he could, before they muzzled her. But soon he heard Foster’s heavy footfalls plodding up the stairs. He winked at the housekeeper and said, “We’ll keep this little talk to ourselves, won’t we? No sense in worrying Miss Talia or Foster any more than we must, is there?”
Rising and moving to the door, she crossed her mouth with her thumb as if sealing it shut. “Mum’s the word,” she promised before leaving and quietly closing his door.
Abruptly, Reed decided was never going to recover his memory hiding up here in this room. It was time he faced whatever trouble he was in. And it was more than time he began getting some answers.
* * *
“So there you are.”
At his startled look, Tally realized she sounded almost accusatory.
She was surprised to find her pseudo husband already seated at the table in the dining room, waiting for his lunch. She had gone to look for him in his room and, when he wasn’t there, her first thought was that he’d left the house!
“Are you sure you’re well enough to be up?”
“I feel fine.” He swept his hand around the room. “It’s great to be up and about.”
Underneath his bravado and excitement at being out of bed, she saw the strain and effort it had taken. He looked almost too exhausted to eat. She needed to help him become stronger by making sure he ate properly. Maybe then he’d remember who he was and, at this point, it might be better for him to get his memory fully back, even if he did remember she had shot him.
She was torn. He was so interesting, such fun and very good to look at! And she enjoyed his attentions. And… Stop! Tally, listen to yourself! You’ve always said you’d never marry. Becoming attached to a man could ruin everything she had worked for and believed in.
She had to get him out of her home! It was bad enough feeling guilty about his continued loss of memory and her part in sustaining it, but his presence in this house brought her closer to ruin every day. And not just to her reputation. When he lured her to act as if they really were married, she knew she was playing with fire.
If only the thought of burning in it wasn’t so tempting!
The meal went by quickly and Joseph’s presence — bringing in and taking away dishes — helped keep the atmosphere light. Perhaps the food also helped, because Reed... um… She shouldn’t be using his first name. But the pretense and living in such close quarters made it difficult maintaining the proper distance.
She noticed a difference in him today. She wasn’t sure what, but he seemed more alert, more aware of what was going on around him.
He talked of the noises he heard outside his window when he was in bed and how he tried to guess what they were sight unseen. His next comment, though, sent chills through her.
“Have you noticed those two quiet types across the street? They appear to be watching a house on this side of the street.”
“Are you certain?”
He nodded.
No, she hadn’t noticed that. She’d been too busy watching what was going on inside her house to notice what was going on outdoors. “No, no I haven’t.”
But she would do, right after Reed was safely back in his room, she vowed to herself. “Wouldn’t you like some rhubarb fool?” She knew she was rushing the meal, but now she was anxious to end it so she could investigate this further complication.
“No thank you. I don’t like rhubarb, too tart.” His immediate rejection of the dessert was definite.
They stared at each other in stunned surprise. That was the first declarative statement he’d made about his tastes since regaining consciousness.
“You remembered!” She looked elated for him... at first, then, Reed saw she was having second thoughts. Was that dismay, he detected?
“No... not really,” he responded. “That just came out. I don’t really know if I do or don’t like it, now that I come to think of it. I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.”
He’d been so busy watching her that it had, indeed, just leapt out of his mouth.
Maybe spontaneously was the best way for him to remember.
“I think you had best jot that one down on your list,” she told him, laughing lightly. “It came out too definitely not to be true. But you can always try a bite to see if you’re right.”
At his instinctive grimace, she laughed. “Or maybe a shortbread? You might prefer that.”
He was arrested by the sparkle of her laughter, such a joyous, unexpected sound. She was usually such a serious little thing, not at all the type of woman he’d ever have expected to marry.
What the hell do I know about what kind of woman I’d marry? He cursed to himself. He had no idea what his taste in women was.
Wait a minute. He knew he was extremely attracted to his wife, so that partly answered that.
She cleared her throat and he realized he hadn’t responded to her offer of shortbread.
“No, nothing more, thank you. I don’t think I’m fond of sweets.” They discussed whether he’d still dislike the same foods he had before, without the memory of his dislike.
He was sure he would, but his wife wasn’t certain. She thought that maybe he wouldn’t.
“I think we often dislike things because of what we associate with them.”
All the while they were talking, Tally was thinking. Fretting. He was observant, too observant for the precarious situation in this household. Even drugged, he’d noticed those spies across the street.
After the attacks on her and his climb into her room, she should have been paying more attention. But, with no view to the front of the house from her bedroom and her preoccupation with their uninvited guest, she had missed this vital piece of information. What if those men were the ones who were out to harm her? Or might they be his cohorts?
“Have you recalled anything, anything at all?” she asked him as they made their way to the drawing room after the meal. He’d insisted he wasn’t ready to go back to bed yet.
She was feeling impatient. Foster had said that investigator was to arrive first thing today but she had yet to meet him. She’d been closeted in her studio since dawn, so he might already be here. Now, she was anxious to tell him about the men Reed had noticed.
“Not a damn thing of any importance,” his voice was rife with frustration. “Pardon my language. This state of affairs is the very devil and I’m wondering how long it can go on.”
They entered the drawing room. “I’m sorry…” Her words trailed off uncertainly. She advanced into the room and was about to sit in an armchair near the window so he could sit in the other one, a safe distance away, when she heard the snick of the lock on the door.
She spun around. Fear rose like bile in her throat. “Why are you doing that?” Was he going to kill her now that no one else was around? Had this been his devious plan all along?
“I want to talk with you. I don’t know what you or that grouch of a butler have been telling people, but I need you to know that I – AM – NOT – INSANE!” He ground the words out.
She almost laughed with relief. He didn’t want to kill her! Thank goodness! “Of course you aren’t,” she reassured him. What had brought this on?
“Then why does Mrs. P think I’m deranged?”
“I have no idea.” She didn’t know what to say. Foster’s story to Spence had seemed inspired. She hadn’t known he’d repeated it to Mrs. P. He should have warned her not to tell Reed about it!
“She says Foster told her that I imagined I was married to everybody I met.” By now, he was right in front of her and he glared deep into her eyes. “So, have I imagined you are my wife? Or are you actually my keeper?”
Stunned, Tally remained mute for fear of uttering the wrong thing and angering him further. She dropped her gaze from his harsh stare. She knew how she should answer. This was the perfect opportunity to tell him the truth, but he seemed too upset at the moment and she was afraid of how he’d react.
“You don’t act like a wife. You even lock your bedroom door at night.”
At her startled look, he smiled triumphantly, but it was a see–I’m–not–so–crazy type of smile, without an ounce of humor in his eyes. “You didn’t think I knew that, did you? Let me tell you, I may have lost my memory, but not my hearing.” His point made, he continued, “And you never invite me to your bed.”
“I couldn’t! We aren’t…” she choked out before stopping abruptly. “Like I said, you don’t know me… not anymore.” Caro Dio, she’d almost given herself away.
“And another thing…” He sounded like he was winding up, rather than cooling down. And he didn’t appear to have noticed her slip. She supposed he was more intent on having his say, than on hearing her talk. That was good. She hated quarreling. And she dreaded what was coming next. Did he really believe they weren’t married or was he just taking a stab in the dark? She willed herself to calm down, to think.
He had no way of knowing for certain. Taking a good look at him, at the pained uncertainty in his gaze, she understood that this was not about her or her lies. This was about him. About the anguish of not knowing anything about himself. What must it be like to lose one’s past completely — to be rudderless and anchorless in a completely unknown world of strangers?
She couldn’t bear to see him suffer so. She moved closer and tried to put her arms around him to comfort him, but he pushed them aside.
“Why wasn’t I told I’d been shot?” He threw down the words like a glove, challenging her to a duel.
He knew! She glanced away, frantic to find some plausible excuse. What was she to tell him now?
Coward that she was, she’d been putting off telling him. Foster had warned her it was only a matter of time. The problem was she still had no idea how to explain it to him, other than with more lies — and she loathed lying.
A braver person would have found a way to tell him. But she didn’t feel very rational around this man. He’d turned her normally quiet world topsy-turvy. She, who had always been so organized and orderly, felt as if she were being cast from one crisis to the next, like flotsam buffeted
about by the wind and waves.
“We… um… decided to keep it from you until you were feeling stronger, better able to deal with it.” Her voice squeaked out the timid excuse. You mouse, Tally! You could have made that sound much more believable.
“Deal with what?” Aggravation was rife in his tone. “What have I done?”
“That’s just it. We don’t know.”
“You don’t know who shot me or why?” It was clear he didn’t believe her.
“That’s right.” She paused. “You had already been shot by the time I found you. That was probably why you fell and knocked your head.”
“Yet you didn’t have the doctor take a look at it when he came?” His accusation was sharp and to the point.
“Because Foster had already looked at it. The ball only pierced the skin a little, so he cleaned and bandaged it. He assisted the doctors during his time in the military, so we didn’t feel the physician needed to do it all over again. Why cause you more pain for nothing?”
“You have that much confidence in his abilities?”
“Completely.” No lie there.
“All right,” he muttered grudgingly though he seemed mollified by her explanation. “I still don’t like being kept in the dark. Is there anything else I should know that you haven’t told me?”
There it was. The opportunity she needed. He’d just given her the perfect opening to tell him.
Do it!
“I” she began, “can’t think of anything else at the moment,” she heard herself say. Argh! She was so spineless.
Doctor’s orders! She groaned silently at how adept she was at convincing herself that a lie was necessary for Reed’s own good, rather than the craven act of a woman who didn’t want to face this angry man when he found out.
“Good!” He sat on the sofa, clearly exhausted. “This loss of memory is difficult enough, but to discover all is not as it appears, that would be even worse.” He patted the seat beside him.
Knowing it was probably not a wise idea, but wanting to reassure him, she sat. His shoulders were slumped. He looked defeated.
“Coming downstairs for luncheon was too much for you, I think.”
“No,” he disagreed in a tired voice. “I need to push myself. I can’t just allow myself to fade away.”
The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife Page 14
