The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  The gowns were pronounced a prodigious success by Arabella when he got back. As the maid hung them up in the wardrobe, he threw himself on the bed and told her that Michael had been asking for her.

  "We could go there of course, and we need to take the baby clothes to Sarah Davenport. But not until you're feeling much better."

  "I would feel a lot better if I could remember. It's so frustrating, terrifying. I mean, not that you're not more than kind, but you're still such a stranger to me."

  He waited until the maid had gone to fetch some dinner to suggest, "Well, why don't we at least make a start on resuming your old life? We'll get you dressed for dinner, and we can have the best meal the inn has to offer. We can sit and talk, play cards. I can tell you all about myself, and you can ask me anything. As I said, we've only been married for a short time, but I'll tell you anything I know about you."

  "All right," she said, smiling up at the handsome man who by some strange twist of fate was her husband.

  She could hardly believe it. Apart from being ill, the life he described as being theirs sounded just too perfect. "I'd like to wear the heather gown, and dress my hair."

  "I'll help."

  "No, I want it to be a surprise. Call the maid back in, and go wait downstairs for me."

  "If you like," he said with a sigh, reluctant to let her out of his sight for a minute.

  He went downstairs and reflected that he was also going to have to pick up his mail from the Jeromes at some point. If Horse Guards had been trying to contact him about taking up his officer's commission once more they would not been able to get hold of him.

  He had been here a fortnight already, but there was no telling how long it was going to take for her to get her memory back. Even if she did, how much would she recall, and how devastating would the memories be? Thus far she had shown no symptoms of disease, but that was not to say he had nothing to fear. They could show up even months after exposure.

  Blake shuddered as he thought of his promise that he would tell her anything she wanted to know. He had never spoken outright of his family tragedy. But perhaps now was the time? He had loved her from the moment they met, and had made such a mull of things.

  Now some for strange reason he had been given a second chance. If anything it was an opportunity to do things all over again, differently this time, better than before. To avoid making any of the idiotic errors he had the first time.

  The maid came down and motioned to him. "Everything is ready upstairs, sir. Just ring if you need anything." She gave him a warm smile.

  They had been suspicious of him at first, but no one could have been more tender with his wife than the huge dark-haired doctor.

  He hurried upstairs, and opened the door. Arabella was sitting at the table, and his breath caught in his throat. She had never looked more lovely, he thought, even given the dark shadowing under her eyes.

  "Some wine?" she offered.

  "Oh, er, yes, just a glass."

  She poured for him, and as she did so he told her about their New Year's Eve ball at Lady Pemberton's, and how he had tried to teach her about wine. As they ate their meal, he recounted again how they had met.

  "And everyone is well now?"

  "Yes, yes indeed. John the driver was badly off, but he's working as a footman now, and is said to be doing well. Your ribs healed well so far as you ever let on."

  "Tell me about my step-brother."

  "Peter and I met in Oxford at the political debating society. All of our friends are Radicals."

  He outlined each of the founding three Rakehells for her, Clifford Stone, the Duke of Ellesmere, Jonathan Deveril and their wives, then their wider circle of friends, Philip, Michael, Randall, Matthew, Alistair. Told her of the Jeromes.

  "And you became a doctor for the sake of social justice and welfare?" she asked with interest.

  "Yes and no. I had more personal reasons."

  "Would you like to tell me what they are?"

  He put his fork down and took another sip of wine. "Yes and no. But since I've promised I'll tell you the truth, the answer is yes."

  He took a deep breath and steeled himself to tell her the whole grim story at last. "My mother and father were not a love match. She married him for his money and status.

  "She had had a long-standing arrangement with another young man since she was sixteen, but his family lost all of their money and she was forbidden to marry him. She was expected to restore the family fortunes, and so she married my father, and within a year, I was born.

  "But she still pined for her former love, who was reduced to penury. For a time she helped him with money from her housekeeping, but it became apparent to my father what she was doing. She was an indifferent wife and mother, and resented my father the more he tried to help her. Finally one day she just ran away, left us both."

  "Oh, my love, I'm so sorry."

  "There was a scandal of course. My father tried to put a brave face on it. I know he always wondered if I was his, or if she had been unfaithful to him right from the start. It coloured my whole relationship with him. He had loved her, but she had betrayed him. He had loved me, but her betrayal caused him to fear to love me."

  "That's so unfair," she said indignantly. "Even if you had been someone else's son, it wasn't your fault."

  Blake nodded. "He came to understand that toward the end. I spent all of my boyhood trying to please him, get him to say he loved me, was proud of me. I could never figure out what I had done wrong. I tried so hard to find the key to his heart, his approval.

  "Finally, when I was eighteen, he told me the story. Everything became clear, and I wondered why I had never suspected. I didn't feel so badly about myself any longer, but it was hard not having had any parental love for so long.

  "But worse was to come. When I pressed my father, he admitted he knew where my mother was, that she was still alive. In fact, that he had been looking after her for years. Her man had proven unworthy, left her with syphilis and an illegitimate daughter with the most appalling birth defects."

  "How very sad. And how kind of him, when so many others would have turned their backs."

  Blake nodded. "Father told me the truth at last in case anything happened to him, to be sure that they would both be looked after properly. He was good at making money, taught me to manage a portfolio, made sure there was money to see they would both have continuous care for as long as they lived. I do what I can. They live in a house in Islington and I visit from time to time to make sure they want for nothing.

  "But the taint of it has haunted me, and made me help both fallen women in the clinic, and also look after sick children. I've spent my whole life terrified of disease and infidelity. The irony is that when it came time to marry someone, I nearly ended up making the same mistakes."

  "Not us—"

  He shook his head quickly. "No, my love, I meant when I was much younger, and thought I knew what love was. I never knew that until I met you."

  "Thank you."

  "I prided myself on being sensible and discerning. But Rosalie Crane Stanton was no better than my mother. She was unfaithful to me. She gave her virginity for a man who had a chance to get a peerage, and I found out later that she was exceedingly unchaste once she was wed.

  "I was lucky to have had a good, decent father. I know the consequences of illegitimacy for children all too well in this society. He could just as easily abandoned me in an orphanage, remarried, started over again. But the saddest part of all was that he actually loved my mother until the day he died."

  "Oh, Blake, I'm so sorry."

  After time she asked, "And what of you? Were you in love, are you still in love after all these years with this woman Rosalie?"

  He sighed heavily. "I'll be honest. I thought I was in love at the time. I took up with a woman called Leonore to drown my sorrows, though she meant nothing to me. I never thought I could feel that way about anyone ever again.

  "But ever since I met you, darling, I've nev
er even thought about either of the two women as anything more than embarrassing episodes in my past I would rather not recall. Since we met and I fell in love with you, my entire life has been blessed by the warmth of your compassion, decency, and generosity. You've lit the darkness in my life, and I can't believe how much I love you. Love you from the moment we met, and love you more with every passing day as I get to know you better and better."

  He reached for her hand. "You are my life, my heart, flesh of my flesh, soul of my soul. I don't know what I would ever do without you, Arabella. You've taken the ashes of my old life and sparked it into flames anew.

  "And just when I think I've somehow solved the mystery of your love, have got close to the reasons why I love you, I get even closer, bask in your warmth, the loving kindness you give everyone who meets you.

  "You're the finest person I have ever known, Arabella. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you married me. How much I long to make you happy, fulfil your every dream."

  She could feel the tears flowing down her cheeks. Any misgivings she had had about the stranger she had found herself wed to were gone in an instant. "I'm so glad. I can't recall our old life together, but perhaps that doesn't matter. We have each other now, and the future. That's what counts, isn't it?"

  He squeezed her hand. "It is. One day and one night at a time. Those are the building blocks of a happy future."

  "Then this will be the first night. I don't know if I'll ever be able to remember anything, but you seem a good man, and I'd like to be that wonderful woman you've just described."

  "You are." He kissed her hand.

  "Will you be patient with me, help me understand what you need from me as your wife?"

  "We have all the time in the world. As soon as I'm sure you're better, we can go on our honeymoon and rediscover everything important about each other all over again."

  "I think I'm a very lucky women." She smiled at him warmly, and he kissed her hand.

  "I know I'm a very lucky man."

  Many of Arabella's misgivings were assuaged after that intimate dinner. Blake knew the elation of falling in love with her all over again, sharing more and more warmth and affection, even if he was forced to withhold his passions.

  She occasionally had some serious headaches, but in the next fortnight her bruises healed completely, and if anything, she was more lovely in his eyes because he had come so close to losing her. And might still if the worst he feared became a reality.

  But to his relief, he still did not see any sign of venereal disease. Even more encouraging was that her monthly courses came exactly four weeks after the attack, flowed quite heavily, and lasted for seven days. Now he could be sure that her initial bleeding had been that, at least in part, if not in the main.

  He also knew she was not pregnant, a fact that filled him with some sadness, but also enormous relief given the circumstances.

  Arabella knew she was far better than she had been, but she could still see the haunted look on his face. She asked him one day, "Why do you always look so worried, Blake? I'm getting better, aren't I?"

  "Yes, yes you are. It's just that, well, I'm afraid of disease. I think you might have been exposed to a terrible illness unwittingly."

  "What sort of illness?"

  "A female one. Similar to what my mother had," he admitted.

  "I see. Does that mean I've wronged you too, the way she did--"

  "No, not wronged me," he said in a firm tone. "Had an accident and were hurt."

  "So you're afraid of me?" she asked quietly.

  He put his arm around her tenderly. "Not of you, darling. For you. I would never want you to end up the way she did."

  She chewed her lower lip. "Will I have a baby too?"

  "No, no, not at all," he denied. "I'm a doctor. I can be sure of that at least, if not of the other. It's been a month, though, and so far all is well."

  "How soon can we know?"

  "We might never, not for certain. Another few months, unless…."

  "Unless?"

  "I find out the truth, who caused the accident."

  She frowned in confusion, and settled back down in the bed. "You mean you don't know?"

  "No. I don't." He ground his teeth together audibly. "If I did I would bloody well kill him with my bare hands."

  She frowned and shook her head. "I may not have all of my memory, but I'm sure that's against the ten commandments, and against the law."

  "You're right. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

  "It's just that I've never seen you angry, heard you utter harsh words to anyone."

  "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

  After a time she said, "Do you suppose I could have a bath tomorrow and we can go out somewhere if the weather is fine?"

  He sat on the bed beside her in relief, and began to undo his cravat and stock.

  "If you think you're up to it. We've been here and comfortable for a month now. Perhaps you're right, though. Maybe it's about time we went back to find the answers we both need.

  "But you mustn't tell anyone about your accident. I mean, you can tell them about falling if you want, but not the disease, do you understand?

  "And I would rather you not admit that you can't remember anyone or anything. It will only worry them unnecessarily. I'll give you some help with who is who. We'll go see the Jeromes and the Rakehells, go to your old home and see your friends. Perhaps it will jog your memory."

  She looked at his bare chest and ran her hands down it, causing him to shiver with desire. "Sometimes I think I recollect things about our old life. You're so familiar. It's as if I've always known you."

  "I know how you feel."

  "Will you please kiss me?"

  He shook his head. "I don't think--"

  She frowned slightly. "Is there something wrong with the request? Is it dangerous?"

  "No, of course it isn't wrong, except that you're still very weak and I wouldn't want to hurt you in any way."

  "I feel so much better."

  "I said I would be patient."

  "Does that mean I have to be as well?" she asked with a teasing smile.

  "Just a bit longer. I'm sort of enjoying wooing you all over again."

  "The flowers and presents and all your little attentions are wonderful. We have such a marvelous time with each other, so much so that I don't even want to sleep because I don't want to waste a minute of the day with you," she admitted shyly. "But a kiss might be nice too."

  "All right, one. But you need to get under the covers first so you don't take a chill, and I don't take advantage."

  She obeyed, and he held her close, his head on the pillow beside her, and kissed her once. It was bittersweet, every bit as thrilling as he remembered it could be, yet he did not dare make love to her, not even with a prophylactic, for fear of how badly injured she might have been.

  When Blake lifted his lips at last and got up from the bed to sleep in the chair because he did not risk laying next to her when he was so fiercely aroused, Arabella breathed, "That was wonderful. I think I remember that. I think I might recall the inn."

  "Really?" he asked, both hoping and dreading it were true.

  "I can see a room, small, timbered, with a big fire and all sorts of clothes drying by the fire. It's freezing cold. We're in bed, tucked up to our chins."

  "That's right."

  "And I feel so warm and safe in your arms, just as I do now. It'll be all right, won't it, Blake?"

  "I hope so. I certainly hope so," he said with a sigh, stroking her cheek and giving her a last kiss on her brow before he bedded down in front of the fire for the night.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The following morning, Arabella looked so well-rested he allowed her a bath and then helped her dress in her warm new black watch tartan gown. He took her over to Michael's house and they had a pleasant hour's visit.

  Michael thought Arabella a bit more quiet than usual, but he did not suspect her memory was missing. She l
istened and absorbed details on the different people they spoke of, and commented when they had left, "He was very nice. He's suffered a lot."

  "He has."

  "We should stay with him for a few days some time in the near future, when you are not so anxious about my health. He would do well to go to the Baths with us again."

  Blake stared. "You remember that?"

  She nodded and began to describe not only the Baths but the Pump Room as well. Her memory was most definitely returning. Could she bear it when it did? Could he?