“I would never joke about something like this.” She held out the cup of tea, but he dismissed it. He had no intention of drinking anything she gave him. His vision swam, and a rushing sound filled his ears.
Closing his eyes, he waited for the dizziness to pass. When the world righted itself, he studied the room. Heavy blue curtains hung across the canopied bed, while bookcases overflowing with books filled another wall. The pieces of remembrance snapped together as he recognized his bedchamber within Falkirk House, one of the country estates. For the life of him he didn’t know how he’d arrived here.
“How long have I been at Falkirk?”
“Two days.”
“And before that?”
She shrugged. “You left for London a week after our wedding. I haven’t seen you since February. Why don’t you tell me where you’ve been?”
He tried to reach for the memory, but nothing remained, not even the smallest fragment of a vision. Like a gaping hole, he’d lost a part of himself. It frustrated the hell out of him, having pieces of his life gone. He could remember most of his childhood and adolescence. He even recalled working upon a list of accounts for one of the estates in January. But after that…nothing.
“What day is it?” he asked, trying to pinpoint the last memory he had.
“The twentieth of May.”
He clenched the bedcovers. February, March, April, almost all of May…three and a half months of his life were entirely gone. He closed his eyes, trying to force himself to remember. But the harder he struggled, the worse his head ached.
“Wherewereyou?“ she asked. There was worry inside her tone, though he found it hard to believe she cared. Not after she’d threatened to poison him.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But I certainly don’t remember getting married.”
“You might not remember it, but it’s true.”
Something was wrong, something she wasn’t telling him. There was a desperate air about her, as though she had nowhere else to go. Likely he’d caught her in the lie.
“You are welcome to leave,” he suggested. “Obviously my return offended you.”
Tears glimmered in her eyes, and softly, she replied, “You have no idea what I’ve been through. I thought I’d never see you again.”
She dipped the cool cloth back into the basin, wringing out the water. Then she set it upon his forehead, her hand grazing his cheek. The gesture was completely at odds with her sharp words.
“You’re not my wife.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing his gaze toward her silhouette. A bit on the thin side, but the soft curve of her breasts caught his eye. The top button of her gown had come loose, revealing a forbidden glimpse of skin.
“Yes, I am.” She lowered her arms, gathering her courage as she stared at him. But her full lips parted, her shoulders rising and falling with a quickening breath. The fallen strand of golden hair rested against the black serge.
She’d never been able to tame her hair, even as a girl. He’d helped her with hairpins on more than one occasion, to help her avoid a scolding.
Now the task took on an intimacy, one more suited to a husband. Had he truly married her? Had he unbuttoned her gowns, tasting the silk of her skin? From the way she drew back, he didn’t think so.
“I want to see a doctor,” he said, changing the subject.
“Dr. Parsons examined you last night. I’m to change your bandages and keep the wound clean. He’ll return tomorrow.” She lifted the lip of the teacup to his mouth again, but he didn’t drink.
The porcelain clattered, revealing her shaking hands. Despite her bitterness, there was a look on her face that didn’t quite match her words. He caught a glimpse of something more…something lost and lonely.
He forced himself not to pity her. For God’s sakes, the woman had threatened to kill him.
At last, she gave up and set the cup down. “I didn’t poison this cup,” she said with reluctance. “There wasn’t any arsenic to be had.”
“Laudanum would work,” he advised. “In large doses.” Though why he was offering suggestions, he didn’t know.
“I’ll remember that for next time.” Color stained her cheeks, but she didn’t smile.
“Why did I marry you?” he asked softly.
