“He might never regain his memory, miss,” Theo argued. “I don’t reckon ye mean to take ’im clear back to Darlington Hall!”
“Of course not. But during this initial stage of his recovery from the accident, I’m certainly not going to abandon him. Perhaps by the time we get to Chichester, he’ll be well enough to leave with the authorities. I won’t take him to Thorney Island with us.”
“It’d be best fer everyone if’n we skipped Thorney Island altogether, if’n ye ask me,” Theo grumbled.
“But no one asked you, Theo,” Amanda said curtly, edging toward the door to her room.
“Truth to tell, I think ye’re makin’ a mistake, miss, bringing that little merry-begotten of yer pa’s back to Darlington Hall,” Theo stated with the boldness of a longtime, trusted servant. “It’s causin’ nothin’ but problems. Ye ought not t’ be sleepin’ in the same room with that man, neither. But none of this’d happened if’n ye hadn’t lied to Mrs. Beane in the first place, ner left yer home without a chaperon. The master and the missus taught ye better’n that, Miss Darlington—”
“That’s enough, Theo,” Amanda said sternly, her usual soft voice slightly raised. Theo looked at her in surprise and chagrin, but Amanda had patiently allowed him to fuss over her and nag at her during the trip because she knew he held her in genuine affection and was truly concerned for her welfare. But she couldn’t allow him to bring up her parents as an example or unfavorably compare her behavior with theirs, particularly since he knew how despicably her father had behaved.
“I don’t like being short with you, Theo,” said Amanda in a softened tone, “but you sometimes forget that I’m not a little girl any longer. I know perfectly well what I’m doing, and even if I didn’t, it’s not your place to lecture me.”
“Yes, miss,” said Theo, mortified.
“Now, go and have your supper and go to bed,” she ordered. “We all need our rest for the trip tomorrow.”
Theo bowed stiffly and departed, leaving Amanda feeling like a brute. She hated wounding his pride and hurting his feelings, but the last thing she wanted to hear was how well her parents had taught her. Their lessons were sheer hypocrisy, and Amanda knew that even if she made mistakes along the way, from then on she would base her decisions on her
own
determination of right and wrong.
Because of her contretemps with Theo, when Amanda reentered the room she shared with “John” she was in a rather tetchy mood. And it did not help matters to find her supposed husband expertly entertaining the chambermaid, who was sitting on the side of the bed and laughing till it looked like her seams would split and her womanly charms would jiggle out of her low-cut bodice.
After his bath and shave, and despite the nick on his chin from an out-of-practice handling of the razor, John looked wonderful. His hair shone ebony black above his fresh bandage, the thick waves tamed into a semblance of neatness but still looking tousled and touchable.
His skin glowed from the bath, and his eyes gleamed with renewed vitality after having polished off a hearty dinner approved by the doctor.
He was wearing the nightshirt Mrs. Beane must have pulled out of a bottom drawer of her dead husband’s old wardrobe chest, but even the plain dun-colored garment did not detract from the vital beauty of the man wearing it.
As the chambermaid’s laughter subsided at last into giggles, she turned and noticed Amanda standing just inside the door. Leaping to her feet, she made a hasty curtsy and sidled away from the bed. “Oh, milady, it’s
you!”
she said nervously, as if Amanda had caught them playing slap and tickle under the covers. John simply sat there, looking relaxed and happy and not a bit like a man who’d recently suffered an accident and lost his memory.
“Well, of course it’s me,” Amanda said with forced lightness, wondering how she’d feel about stumbling onto such a scene—however innocent it might truly be—if she were actually married to this handsome stranger. Even now, with no claim whatsoever to his love or loyalty, she felt an irritating twinge of jealousy. “What has my husband said to amuse you so well?” She shifted her speculative gaze to John and raised a brow. He gave an infinitesimal shrug and smiled even broader.
“His lordship was just tellin’ me a comical story, milady,” said the chambermaid, still hiding smiles and giggles behind her hand. “He’s ever so full of jest, he is.”
“That’s my husband,” Amanda said dryly, “always the life and soul of every party.” She moved into the room, leaving the door open behind her as a hint to the chambermaid. The hint did not fall short of its mark, and after tittering through two more curtsies, the chambermaid left them alone.
“If you can remember comical stories to tell the servants, does that mean you’ve got your memory back?” Amanda asked John, taking her usual position at the end of the bed.
“Why do you always stand at such a distance when you talk to me?” John countered her question with another. “Sally’s not afraid of me.”
Amanda raised her brows at the familiar use of the chambermaid’s name. “I’m not afraid of you, either,” she lied, “but I don’t need to be sitting in your lap in order to hold a conversation with you, do I?”
John appeared to be considering this arrangement. “You don’t
have
to, but it
would
be rather cozy.”
“Things are quite cozy enough as it is,” Amanda retorted. “Now, do answer my question, John. Are you beginning to remember things?”
John made a slight grimace and shook his head. “No, not
important
things. I remembered a few bawdy jokes I must have heard in a men’s club, but I don’t have the vaguest recollection of who might have repeated them to me. Odd, isn’t it?”
“Very
odd,” Amanda agreed, tapping her toe on the carpet.
“You do believe I can’t remember, don’t you?” John asked her with a sharp look.
“I can’t think of any reason why you’d lie about it,” Amanda answered honestly. “But your memory loss seems so …
selective.”
“Yes, it does. Which makes me wonder if there’s something I really don’t
want
to remember,” Jack admitted with a thoughtful frown.
Amanda looked down and absently gave the front of her skirt an arranging stroke. “I’ve wondered—” She stopped, not sure whether she should proceed with a theory she’d been mulling over.
“What, Miss Darlington?” John prompted her.
“I’ve been wondering if perhaps you’re in some kind of trouble … or danger.” She looked up to gauge the stranger’s reaction to her suggestion. He looked serious and interested, but he didn’t look frightened.
“That’s an intriguing idea,” he said, leaning back against his pillows and laying his hands flat on his chest. While seeming to meditate on the ceiling, he continued, “Because I was wandering alone in what was essentially a wilderness, you’re speculating that someone might have … er …
dumped
me there, eh?”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” she admitted. “Why else would you be there?”
“The possibilities are endless,” said John. He stretched his arms above his head in a leisurely fashion, then crossed them behind his neck. Looking oh so comfortable, he smiled and engaged her eyes. Whenever the dratted man looked at her, Amanda found it impossible to look away. “The possibilities of who I am are endless, as well,” he added provocatively. “Doesn’t that make you nervous, Miss Darlington?”
Everything about him made her nervous, but Amanda wasn’t about to admit that fact. “Your clothes, your manner of speaking … your general
air
indicate that you are high-born, John, and probably peerage. Perhaps I wasn’t lying to Mrs. Beane when I told her you are an earl.”
John got a look about him like a preening peacock. “My air, you say? An
earl
, you say?”
“But that doesn’t mean you’re a
good
man,” Amanda reminded him, not too eager to add to the fellow’s cockiness. “Any fear I might have of you, John, would have nothing to do with your rank in life but would have everything to do with whether or not I could trust you to behave honorably.”
“I’ve wondered about that. …”
“About what?”
“About whether or not I’m honorable … whether or not I’m a good man,” said John in a considering tone. “What kind of man do
you
think I am, Miss Darlington?”
I think you’re much addicted to flirting, a knave, a rascal, maybe even a wastrel … and utterly charming
, Amanda said to herself. To John she simply said, “I don’t know.”
“Which is rather dangerous for you, is it not?”
Jack watched as Miss Darlington gave his teasing remark more serious thought than he’d expected … indeed, much more than it deserved.
“You would never hurt me,” she said at last, her sincerity obvious.
Anyway, not purposely
, she added to herself.
“How do you know that?” he quickly countered.
“I just do.”
Jack was floored. He didn’t know how to respond. Indeed, he was so surprisingly touched and embarrassed by her naive trust in him, he didn’t even know where to look. He covered his confused emotion with a cavalier laugh, saying, “Well then, you know more about me than I know about myself! Suffice it to say, I remain a mystery to us both. Now let’s talk about
you
, Miss Darlington.”
“There’s no need to talk about me. My memory is intact, and my present history is very boring,” said Miss Darlington in a dampening tone, turning to pick up a long piece of kindling and poke at the fire. “There’s nothing at all mysterious about
me.”
“I beg to differ. I had concluded that you wore black because you were trying to camouflage your beauty, but it’s true what the doctor said, isn’t you? You
are
in mourning.”
All Jack could see of her face was the hint of a blooming cheek, but the cheek paled and the edge of her mouth suddenly drooped. He was immediately angry at allowing his curiosity to cause the lady pain. “If you’d rather not talk about it—”
She turned and managed a weak smile. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t mind talking about it. My parents died six months ago.”
“My condolences.”
She turned back to the fire and resumed her idle occupation, never answering. Tactfully, he dropped the subject. But since his intense curiosity about Miss Darlington wasn’t even slightly appeased, he couldn’t help asking more questions on other matters.
“Why are you traveling alone?”
“Because as an independent woman of substantial means, I am able to do so and choose to do so. Do I need another reason?”
“No, I suppose not. But it’s dangerous.”
“It is a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Indeed, you are a willful woman, Miss Darlington.”
“Not until recently,” she murmured faintly, the words barely audible.
Jack found that comment revealing and intriguing. What had happened lately to change Miss Darlington into a willful female who jaunted about the countryside without an escort?
“Whom are you rescuing, Miss Darlington?”
She forced a brittle laugh. “No one. Where did you get such an idea?”
“From you. You said you needed to leave soon to rescue someone, but you didn’t finish the sentence.”
“And I won’t, because it’s none of your business.”
“You won’t even tell me where you’re going? How disobliging of you!” He lowered his voice. “You say you are not mysterious, Miss Darlington, but such secrecy smacks of mystery.”
She turned, the firelight catching rosy highlights in her hair, her skin. “Well, John,” she said dulcetly, “it seems we are each a mystery to the other. But since we are presently together only because of the oddest and most inopportune of circumstances, and are not destined to spend our lives together, I don’t think it matters much. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”
Jack wasn’t the least bit sleepy, but he decided that he’d questioned and harassed Miss Darlington enough for one night and obediently blew out the candle at his bedside, turning his face toward the wall so that his reluctant roommate would have a little privacy.
By firelight, she unpinned and brushed out her hair. He couldn’t see her doing it, of course, but he could hear every silky stroke of the brush and had no trouble remembering how lovely she’d looked that morning as she’d performed the same task.
He lay very still, getting drowsy. He was convinced that he normally slept alone … except for the occasional night with a ladybird, of course. And he was still quite positive he wasn’t married, which made it all the more disconcerting that he found the sounds and scents of another human being in the room with him so comforting … so welcome. So restful.
Half-dozing, he rolled on his back, expecting to see Miss Darlington’s dormant form huddled under a blanket on the cot. His eyes blinked open; his heart started hammering in his chest. No doubt thinking he was asleep, Miss Darlington had slipped behind the changing screen to have a sponge bath. She’d taken a candle and set it on the table behind her. The result was that she’d rendered the thin folding screen practically transparent. Her shadow—every slender, womanly curve—was silhouetted against the candle’s glow.
She moved slowly, quietly, trying to make as little noise as possible, but Jack was already awake … wide awake and absolutely mesmerized. Her movements were graceful and sensuous as she dipped her cloth in the basin and smoothed it over her arms and chest. Once she turned and the profile of a breast was clearly discernible … right down to the hard nub of the nipple.
Jack swallowed hard. She’d said she trusted him. To deserve that trust, the honorable thing to do would be to turn over and go back to sleep. With a supreme struggle, he finally forced himself to look away, then to turn and face the wall again. Sleep, however, was out of the question.
He sighed. Well, he guessed he knew his answer to the rhetorical question he’d posed earlier … the one concerning whether or not he was a good man, a man given to honorable impulses. Apparently he was.
Damn it.
Chapter 7
Amanda awoke to the sound of a rooster crowing. She sat up in her narrow cot, her eyes heavy from a restless night, and looked around. The room was filled with the hazy gray predawn light, and John was fast asleep. It was the perfect time to get up and dress before she was hampered by the company of her impertinent roommate. She wouldn’t even take the time to stoke up the fire for a little warmth; it was far more important to have a bit of privacy while attending to her personal needs.