Chapter Eleven
His name was Robert Melrose.
He had brothers.
He had a wife.
A wife who hadn’t returned, and Robert wasn’t sure she would.
“Wife.” The word sounded odd on his tongue. How could he have such an intimate relationship and not remember? Her name…what was it? It had slipped into the dark hole where the other facts of his life hid.
Memories gathered like wisps of wind and then disintegrated before he could stop them. He couldn’t seem to remember five minutes ago. Ten.
The never-ending pain in his head wasn’t helping.
How could a grown man not recall a bloody thing other than rudimentary facts someone else had told him? And for the life of him, how old was he?
Robert looked about the room that had begun to feel like a prison. It had been four days, he thought, of having servants hover over him every time he breathed. Though he wasn’t sure of the time—every day melded into the next, he’d slept through much of them.
Nonetheless, he was tired of looking at the same four walls. Granted, they were the only thing familiar, but this kind of familiarity was too much—the need to move beyond them was beginning to fester.
Where had his wife gone?
Every time he’d asked, the servants, even Edwin, had mumbled about family and left without answering him.
He might not remember their life, but he remembered how the vision of her in the doorway had slammed into his gut. It wasn’t her beauty, though she had plenty to spare. It was something deeper, something that pulled at his core.
It made him wonder just how much she meant to him.
Yet she had moved with a wary regard, a deep-set distrust in the set of her mouth, a guarded veil over her eyes.
“I brought you something to drink.”
Robert looked up at the broad man who stood in the door, a tray in his hands. Had he met him? The man regarded him with expectation, and a sharp jab of frustration needled him.
What the hell was he supposed to do when he couldn’t remember a damn thing?
“She’s gone,” the man said as he moved into the room. “You can stop the charade now.” He set the tray down, poured a cup and handed it to Robert. “Just as you like it.”
Robert took the cup without a word, lifted it. Sniffed and reared back. It was tea, but with a potent additive.
“What is this?”
The man gave him a dry, chiding look. “No one is around to hear you.”
He thought Robert was…what, lying? Why did that feel familiar? Had they had this conversation before? “Have we met?”
The man grabbed a chair, scrapped it along the floor and turned it so he could straddle it. Arms placed along the top, he stared. “What is your plan here? The captain will not wait long. You don’t wish to lose this opportunity.”
“What opportunity? Who is the captain?”
“Please.” The word was sharp, irritated. “I understood you didn’t wish to give up the charade while Mrs. Melrose was still in residence but I assure you she has left.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It was getting old, repeating it. Yet, how could anything feel old, when his memory lasted but minutes?
Edwin stood. “Perhaps you’re in pain. Because I can’t understand why you would put everything you’ve worked for at risk.”
“What is it I’ve put at risk?” Robert downed the hot liquid, feeling the burn down his throat.
“Robert.” The snap in the man’s voice brought Robert’s gaze to his. “Your skills will not keep you alive if you play them for fools. Don’t be stupid.”
“What skills are those? What do you know about me?”
“Mr. Melrose?” A stout woman stood in the doorway. At his quizzical look, she said, “I’m Mrs. Tandy, your housekeeper.”
He nodded.
She stepped closer. “You have a visitor.”
His heart leapt. His wife had come back. “Send her in.”
Mrs. Tandy shook her head. “It’s your brother, sir.”
Robert waited for something to hit him, an understanding, a name, anything, but he felt nothing but the sharp needles of pain in his head, and not one bloody effect from the liberally added spirits.
If he were to go by conversations he did recall, he was a liar, distrusted by his wife and now, a drunk?
What kind of wastrel was he?
“By all means, let him in.” What was one more person to fill in the dismal blanks in his life?
The man at his side stood. Robert looked at him expectantly.
The man sighed. “My name is Edwin. I will leave you to your brother. I’ll take care of this. Tell them why we missed the meeting.”
“What meeting?”
Edwin leaned closer. “It would go a long way if I could take the plates with me. Show your goodwill.”
Plates? “What plates? Am I…a cook? A chef?”
Edwin’s lips thinned. “Very funny. If you don’t wish to tell me, then I’ll do my best to smooth things over without them.”
A man walked into the room with a hesitant step. Robert awaited the strike of recognition, but nothing came.
“Will you remain with him until my return?” Edwin asked the man.
He took a small step backward. “What?”
“I have to leave, and I’d prefer not to leave him unattended.”
“I’m not a damn child.” Robert pushed his legs over the side of the bed.
“My point proven,” Edwin said.
“I’ll…I will stay,” the man said.
“Very good. I won’t be long.”
Edwin left, and the man—his brother—looked at him. “He’s quite forward. Your valet?”
“So he tells me.” Robert stood up, moving with the speed and grace of an eighty-year-old man.
His brother continued to stare at him. “You’re awake.”
“An astute observation.”
“She said you hadn’t woken up.”
She? “You have seen my wife then?”
Robert turned his gaze and studied the man for the first time. The similarities to the face he’d studied in the mirror were clear, but Robert had the oddest feeling the man looking at him didn’t know any more than he did.
“Don’t be angry with her. She was attempting to help.”
Robert frowned. “Why would I be angry?”
His brother took farther steps into the room. “I didn’t think you would want me here.”
“You would know better than I would.”
“I see I was right.” He stiffened, drew in a sharp breath. “I won’t—no damn it, I will. I wanted to be certain you were all right. I won’t apologize for that.”
Across the distance that separated them, they were of equal height. Pangs of…something, what it wasn’t he couldn’t say, but something prodded at him. Pushed him.
“Why start apologizing now?” The retort burst free, and Robert blinked at his words. Why had he said that? “You could tell me your name.”
“What?”
“Ah. I see you haven’t been told. I may be your brother,” Robert said, holding his arms out, “but I don’t remember a bloody thing.”
“This is ludicrous. I will not stand here and be made a fool of, Rob.”
“Excellent. I don’t wish to stand here at all.” Robert walked toward his brother, and as he passed, met his gaze. “Your name?”
“Cary.” His eyes were narrowed, his head tilted to the side as though sizing up his opponent. “I can’t imagine you should be walking around.”
“That’s precisely what I intend to do. I’ve been stuck in this house, and I need some air. You can come with me, or you can stay here. Your choice.” Without waiting for an answer, Robert moved past him.
A hand on his arm stopped him, and Robert turned.
His brother stood inches from his face, near nose to nose. “What is this?”
“I don’t give a damn if you don’
t believe me. But I seem to have lost my memories. I don’t remember you, me or anything else for that matter. And right now, I want to take a walk.”
His brother studied him with eyes the same dark blue as Robert’s. They were almost a mirror replica in fact. Robert’s fingers twitched, and he could see those eyes drafted on paper, filled with exasperation, anger, recrimination. He wanted to draw him? He could draw?
“We have the same eyes,” Robert said.
“All three of us do.”
“Three? That’s right, she said I had two brothers.” He remembered that. “What is his name? My other brother?”
“Wayfair. Though we’ve always called him Marcus. You aren’t the same,” Cary said, slowly shaking his head. “You aren’t Robert, are you?”
“If I could lay claim to another personality, I’d be happy to do so.” With that, he strode out of the room to the stairs. His brother matched his pace, and soon they were at the front door.
“Mr. Melrose, you’re leaving?” Mrs. Tandy came into the entryway.
“Going for a walk.”
She rung her hands together. “Do you…remember?”
“Not a thing,” Robert replied. Damned if she didn’t seem almost relieved by that. “I won’t be long.”
“Very good.”
Out the front door and down the steps to the sidewalk, they set a brisk pace. Robert welcomed the crisp, cool air he breathed into his lungs. The ground was damp from a recent rainfall, and the pungent scent from the wet mix of dirt and dung on the street rose to greet them.
“The rain always makes it worse,” his brother commented, shaking his head a bit.
“I’ll take your word on that.”
“So you really don’t remember anything?”
“Nothing.” They stepped off the street and onto a square. “Why, is there something you wish I did recall?”
“I don’t know how to answer that. There are things I would change if I could,” Cary said bluntly.
“Like what?” Robert glanced at him. “I’ve already surmised I’m not the easiest of fellows, so please, carry on.”
Cary stopped, forcing Robert to stop as well. “I would change a lot, Robert. We tried so hard to shield you from her episodes—”
“From who?”
“All we did was push you away. All we did was convince you that you were unworthy of her love. It was never that, it was always that her love was unworthy.”
“Who are you talking about?”
Cary pressed a heel of his hand to his forehead. “I can’t do this. It’s unfair. If you don’t remember, I don’t want to—”
Frustration jumped into his throat. “Stop being so bloody cryptic and tell me who you are talking about.”
“Our mother.”
Robert’s mouth snapped shut. His mother. “Where is she? Is she here in London?”
Pain flashed over Cary’s face and he turned away, shaking his head. “Is this a game? Are you masquerading in some elaborate ruse?”
His heart pummeled his chest. “Why won’t you answer? Where is my mother? Did something happen to her? Was she in the accident with me?” Why hadn’t anyone told him?
“No. She wasn’t. She’s…” His brother stopped, his face drawn with long slashes of regret. “She’s dead. She died two years ago.”
Something crawled out of the shadows in his mind and clutched his heart. “She’s dead. And our father?”
“He died last year.” Cary reached a hand out, but Robert stepped back, turned and kept walking across the square.
“Robert, we have an opportunity here.” Cary followed him. “A chance to set things right, to change it. To make it different.”
“Make what different?” His mind whirled, played a cruel game with him, like the mocking laughter of children playing hide and seek whom he would never find.
Robert turned down a street, not mindful of his direction and not caring if his brother followed. But Cary stayed with him.
They turned down another street. And another, until Cary began to slow behind him. “We can start fresh. We can be brothers again.”
Brothers again. It meant nothing to him. It didn’t yank on old memories, it didn’t separate from the shadows. Nothing did.
Robert turned. “I don’t kn—Behind you!”
He was too late. The men behind Cary smashed something against the side of his head.
“Cary!” A pain exploded from down deep as Robert lunged forward, but Cary crashed to the ground.
Robert looked up, crouched in his place, ready to spring. The two large men flanked him. Robert struck out at one, but the other caught him in the side with a painful jab.
He struck out, over and over, kicked, tried with all his might to fight them off. But he was too weakened, and they were too strong. With one final blow to his ribs, sending stabs of pain through him, Robert fell next to his brother. He reached a hand out, his fingers barely touching Cary’s outstretched, unmoving arm. “Cary.”
One of the men grabbed his arm and pulled.
Nausea rolled through as his breath. The man lifted him like a ragdoll, held a knife to his side. Hammers smashed his head, but he struggled to get back to his brother.
“Stop.” The men dragged him away. “You can’t just leave him there. Where are you taking me?” he managed, though his words blurred together.
“To see the captain,” the man replied. “As requested.”
As requested? What the hell had he requested with these people?
Adding another sign of weakness—such as the fact he had less memory than a babe in nappies—wouldn’t serve him well. So he shut his mouth.
Let himself be taken as he glanced back at the brother he couldn’t remember, lying still on the ground.
Chapter Twelve
The doorbell jingled above Lily as she entered the subscription library. Her heart had been skipping beats and trying to catch up the entire carriage ride.
That’s when it wasn’t trying to convince her to turn the other way and return to the townhouse.
She wasn’t going to play Robert’s game, and she’d already lost precious days before leaving for America. She had so much to do before she left.
Because she was leaving.
Lily lifted her chin and searched the room for Mr. Hayes. She was going to tell him, right now. Once she told someone, once she admitted it, there was no changing her mind.
Not that she’d considered changing her mind.
She spotted him at the rear of the room, setting up the circle for the next discussion hour, and headed toward him.
“Lady Melrose,” he said as she caught his eye. “I’m so glad you’re here. I know Frankenstein is a particular favorite of yours. Will you be joining us in the reading?”
Lily shook her head with regret. “No, I’m afraid I cannot.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Your—”
“Mr. Hayes, there is something I need to discuss with you.”
“Yes, you mentioned that a few days ago. Is everything all right?”
She looked down, adjusted one of the chairs a little to the left. “Yes, everything is fine. It’s just…I have some news to share. Exciting news, I believe.”
“By all means, what is it?” He moved about the circle and positioned another chair into place.
“I am leaving for America in a few weeks. Less than a few weeks now, in fact. I will be joining my mother and my sister. They moved there before my marriage, and—” Lily took in a deep breath and let it out. She was rambling.
Mr. Hayes’ eyebrows drooped, like bushy caterpillars taking purchase atop his eyes. “You’re leaving us? When will you return to London?”
Another deep breath. “I don’t know. I plan on staying for quite some time.”
Mr. Hayes looked about the library, and his eyes lit upon something. “Duchess! How lovely to see you again.”
Lily’s entire body froze, and her eyelids snapped shut. Dread filled her arms with lead, but she forced herself
to turn around.
Cordelia stood there, still, watching her with an inscrutable question.
Perhaps she hadn’t heard.
“Have you come to join the discussion on Frankenstein?” She wanted to shoot herself for the silly warble in her voice.
“I find other things to be interested in right now.”
Mr. Hayes cleared his throat. “I believe I shall welcome our guests.” He hurried away as Cordelia closed in.
“You’re leaving? Why has no one said anything to me?” Cordelia must have seen something in Lily’s face, for understanding dawned on her flawless features. “You haven’t told anyone.”
“I’m going to.”
“When? As the ship sails off? When do you leave?”
“What does it matter to you? It isn’t as if my move will affect your life one way or the other.” Her stomach churned. “He’ll still be married to me.”
Cordelia gasped. “That’s an awful thing to say.”
Lily couldn’t control the waves of fear and uncertainty flooding her or the hateful words those feelings pushed out. She hadn’t been able to handle the idea of being in London, knowing that Robert might seek Cordelia out.
But she couldn’t handle the idea of being so far away, either, and imagining what was happening here at home. The very thought of Robert with Cordelia…
Yet she couldn’t stop it. Not if she left for America.
Cordelia’s look had hardened into an unforgiving wall of anger. Lily couldn’t blame her.
“I don’t know why I bothered,” Cordelia said more to herself, then turned away.
“Please don’t tell Adam. Aria is expecting, and this could just upset them both. I will tell them, but I need to be the one to do it.”
“I’m glad you’re so concerned for Aria,” Cordelia snapped.
Lily shook her head. “I need to be the one to tell them.”
“We have our differences,” Cordelia said, “and I am not the easiest of people. But you have to meet me somewhere in the middle, Lily. I cannot do this by myself.”
With that cryptic message, Cordelia headed toward the front door. Just as she did, two men stepped inside the door.
Two very large and quite intimidating men.
Their gazes made a swift pass over the members milling about until they stopped on her.
Willoughby 03 - A Rogue's Deadly Redemption Page 10
