Azalea (29 page)

"I suppose ye be right, me
lord, seein's how ye don't remember me face. I didn't recognize
yours right off, neither. I had to follow ye about Lunnon a bit, to
be sure. But there must be some way to convince ye. Let's see—do ye
remember how Captain Whitten of the
Fortitude
used to yank on his beard
when he got riled? Thick red beard he had. No one on
the Angel
— what a name
for a slaver, eh?— would know that. The captain was lost afore ever
they found us." He watched Lord Glaedon expectantly.

"Whitten... The
Fortitude
... I do
remember a red beard. But surely the captain's name was Taylor, and
the ship the
Artemis.
I'm certain the captain who told me about the colonies was
Taylor, and dark haired." Christian was becoming more confused
instead of less.

"Aye, I remember back then
ye kept saying something about a Captain Taylor. There weren't no
Taylor, captain or crewman, aboard the
Fortitude,
that's certain. But ye
say ye remember the beard. If so, ye must remember the storm, at
least!"

At Glaedon's blank look, he continued. "We
was two er three weeks out of Virginia, 'most halfway to England,
when it broke. It started with that dead calm under a funny-colour
sky, then the thunder started rumbling, and almost afore we could
batten down the hatches, the wind was on us! The chickens got swept
overboard first thing, then we lost two crewmen —one was that tall,
skinny fellow with the squeaky voice, do you recollect him?"

Christian nodded vaguely. He was thinking
very hard, snippets of old nightmares swimming into focus and then
retreating.

"Anyways, we ran afore that
wind for two days, losing bits and pieces of the ship as we went.
Finally, we was too bad hurt to stay afloat and started to go down.
You and me and Jacob got into one of the boats, but Jacob got
washed over by a wave, so then it was just you and me. Ye won't
remember that part, though, 'cause ye was out cold —a spar knocked
ye in the head, I think. Lucky for us, the wind died down a few
hours later, but there weren't nothing left of the
Fortitude
that I could
see. A couple days later the
Angel
picked us up. Ye was awake, but real dizzy.
Neither of us hadn't had no water for prob'ly three days by
then."

At this point Christian
interrupted his narrative. "Wait, wait! I'm remembering all of
this, I think. I certainly remember the chickens going over the
side. But you said we were halfway to England? Don't you
mean
from
England?"

Sykes looked at him strangely. "Ye never did
remember it all, did ye? That must have been a worse knock on the
head than I thought. No, we sailed out of port in Hampton,
Virginia, in America. Not a real big town, but busy, and with
plenty of amusements for sailors with time and a bit o' money on
their hands. There was a big church tower in sight of the docks
—red brick it was…."

Suddenly, Christian could see that church
tower and the buildings surrounding it. He could hear the sound of
the bell and... he could see another church, this one of grey
stone. The day was bright, but the interior of the church was dim.
There were only a few people in it: his father, the rector of the
church performing the ceremony and, at his own side, a young girl
with bright red curls under a lace veil.

With a suddenness that nearly sent him
reeling, full memory returned —the remainder of his westward
voyage, his meeting with thirteen-year-old Azalea, their marriage,
everything. He sat down abruptly, trying to grasp it all.

Luke Sykes had stopped speaking, and was
looking at the young nobleman before him in concern. "Be ye all
right, me lord?" he asked tentatively. "Shall I fetch someone to
bring ye some water or brandy, like?"

Christian looked at him dazedly. "I am fine,
Mr. Sykes. Perhaps for the first time in six years. You shall
certainly have that reward —you have earned it twice over now!"

* * *

CHAPTER 16

Within the hour, Christian set off for
London at a pace a less skillful driver would never have attempted.
He was determined to get to the bottom of the deception Azalea had
been practising on him since her arrival in London.

Though
he
might have forgotten that they
were married due to the injuries he had sustained in the
shipwreck,
she
had no such excuse. Remembering certain looks and words she
had sent his way, he knew it must have been on her mind from the
first. Why hadn't she told him at once?

He intended to find out.

Before leaving, he had briefly acquainted
the dowager with all of the particulars of his suddenly recovered
memory. She was at first astonished and then relieved. She informed
him that for the past two years she had been aware that something
had been haunting Christian, and now she hoped that his ghosts
could be laid to rest.

"Of course, you must speak to her at once,
Chris," she agreed. "If she is indeed your Countess, you must bring
her here as soon as everything is settled. There must be records,
if there was truly a wedding, which obviously there was," she
continued quickly, encountering Christian's glance. "Those records
may well be in America, I suppose." She had chuckled then. "This
will be quite a setback for Kayce. I wish I could be there to see
his face when you arrive!"

Christian could not help but feel that his
grandmother was taking the situation a little too lightly, but he
was at least relieved that she appeared more supportive than
shocked. Somehow, he thought that she and his bride would deal very
well together... if he didn't throttle Azalea first.

Now, he almost laughed at the anguish he had
felt at "sullying" the innocent Azalea with his caresses. She was
an innocent, there was no doubt of that, but to think that all
along she had been his wife —and that she knew it perfectly well.
Her lack of resistance was one more thing his full knowledge of the
past explained. Already he found himself eager to show her how much
more pleasure could be in store for them both.

It was late afternoon when Christian pulled
up in front of Beauforth House, where he meant to make enquiries
before proceeding to Lord Kayce's. After a great deal of thought
during the day's drive, he felt he now partially understood
Azalea's reluctance to mention their marriage, when he himself had
been so obviously unaware of it.

He had also rehashed each and every detail
of their last conversation in the Park, and was now convinced that
Azalea had not willingly entered into any betrothal. In only a few
moments he would know for certain, he told himself, striding up to
the front door.

"Is Miss Clayton in?" he asked the butler
the moment the door opened.

"No, my lord," came the expected answer.
"Shall I announce you to Lady Beauforth?" At the Earl's curt nod,
Smythe showed him into the front parlour with an expression
suspiciously like relief on his normally passive face. "Perhaps now
something will be done," Christian heard him mutter under his
breath as he went to make his lordship's presence known.

"Lord Glaedon!" exclaimed Lady Beauforth
eagerly as she came into the parlour a few moments later, her hands
fluttering nervously. "One of the very people I was hoping to see!
Perhaps you can offer me advice, for I am very nearly certain that
something is not quite right. But I was unsure what I could do
about it even if that were the case, for Kayce is her guardian,
after all. But maybe nothing is truly wrong, in which case I would
feel terribly foolish for interfering! I would have asked Mr.
Plummer, except he is out of Town. But, of course, you understand."
She dropped into the chair closest to him and fanned herself
vigorously.

"No, ma'am, I am afraid I do not understand
at all," said Christian more severely than he had intended. Lady
Beauforth's disjointed manner had never been more irritating. "When
I was here last, if you recall, you told me that Miss Clayton was
excited about her upcoming nuptials. Are you now saying that she is
in some sort of trouble? What has Kayce done to her?"

"Well... nothing, so far as
I
know
," said
Lady Beauforth, twisting her fan in her hands. "She is staying with
him until the wedding, as I told you before, but I fear that I did
deceive you a bit on one point. She was not at all pleased with the
betrothal, I confess. At the time I thought I was acting for the
best, but now..."

"I think you had better tell me the whole,
madam," said Christian, striving for patience he did not feel.
"Start with the betrothal announcement. You say that it was not
Azalea's idea?"

"No, she was quite
surprised, even angry, I fear, that it had gone in. Apparently it
was all her uncle's doing, and I must admit it seemed odd at the
time that he would not consult her first, even though Lord
Drowling
is
such
a good match. I do know that she sent retractions to all of the
papers, but they never appeared in print. At least not in
the
Post,
which
is the only one I seem to find time to read."

Distractedly, she moved from the chair she'd
been sitting in to the sofa, and motioned him to sit opposite.

"And?" he prompted, seating himself on the
edge of the chair indicated.

"Yes, I suppose that is neither here nor
there. At any rate, on the morning of the day you last called,
Azalea went out without telling anyone where she was going, and the
next thing I knew I had received a message from Lord Kayce saying
that in the interests of convenience, she would be staying with him
until the wedding, which is apparently to take place much, sooner
than anyone told me about." Lady Beauforth paused to catch her
breath.

"When?" snapped the Earl. "When is the
wedding taking place?"

"Why, as I just said, no one has told me
anything. And I've practically acted as a mother to the girl these
two months past! I have sent a note round twice asking Azalea for
particulars, and whether she wants my help in selecting her
trousseau —her uncle is hardly the one she would prefer for that
sort of help, I am certain —and all I have received in reply is a
formal note from Kayce saying that poor Azalea is too busy at
present to answer her correspondence. So, as I said at the first, I
am beginning to worry, for it is not at all like her to ignore me.
She has always been most considerate and sweet-tempered with
me."

"Could Kayce be keeping her prisoner, do you
think?" asked Christian sharply. Why had this shatter-brained
female not done something the day Azalea disappeared?

"That is precisely what I
am beginning to fear," answered Lady Beauforth worriedly. "At first
I thought that perhaps it was for her own good, as she kept
declaring that she would never marry Drowling no matter what
arrangements had been made. I thought she was merely being
headstrong, as young people can be, and that her uncle likely knew
best. Such a good match, you understand, my lord!
Much
better than she
could have hoped for in the ordinary way."

At Lord Glaedon's scowl, Lady Beauforth
broke off uncertainly, before continuing in a slightly different
vein.

"Anyway, the more I thought about it, the
more wrong it seemed. Azalea really has become almost a daughter to
me, and not for the world would I wish to see her truly unhappy in
marriage. I fear her temperament is such that even great wealth may
not compensate for her dislike of Lord Drowling. And so I would
like your advice. Do you see any way that I might help poor Azalea?
Without creating any sort of scandal, of course," she added
hastily.

"Lady Beauforth, I believe you can leave
this entirely to me. Was there any man of business —a solicitor,
perhaps —with whom Azalea has consulted since her arrival in
London?"

"Why, yes, a Mr. Timmons," replied Lady
Beauforth in surprise. "Why?"

"Do you have his direction, by chance?" Lord
Glaedon was becoming more impatient by the moment to be gone. He
must not arrive too late!

"Well, I did at one time... Ah! The coachman
will know," said her ladyship, increasingly bewildered. "He drove
her there more than once."

"Thank you, I'll speak to him on my way out.
I shall be in touch with you on the matter shortly." Christian rose
to depart.

At that moment, Marilyn hurried into the
room. She was stunningly dressed in a powder blue gown that matched
her eyes to perfection, but Christian scarcely noticed.

"Mother, Smythe told me... Oh! You are still
here! Good afternoon, my lord."

Christian nodded curtly, impatient to be
gone. "Your servant, Miss Beauforth." He took a step towards the
door, but Marilyn stopped him.

"Might— might I have a word with you, Lord
Glaedon —in private?"

"Marilyn, Lord Glaedon is in something of a
hurry just now, I'm afraid," put in Lady Beauforth, to Christian's
relief. "Perhaps later—"

"But Jonathan will be back tomorrow, and I
promised to speak to Lord Glaedon before then," protested Marilyn,
earning a startled look from her mother and a frown from the Earl.
"And you have been from Town as well, my lord." She turned back to
Christian accusingly.

He sighed and sat back down, realizing that
he might as well get his unpleasant business with Miss Beauforth
out of the way, as well.

Before he could speak, however, she hurried
on, with a distracted glance at her mother. "It—it is about our
betrothal, my lord. You see, I have thought much about it and I
fear that— that we should not suit."