“I’m sorry. I hope my daughter hasn’t been bothering you.”
In an instant, Farah knew something was very wrong. There was no recognition in his eyes and he spoke with a heavy Irish accent. But it was Lucien, all right. She drew in a breath before saying, “No. She hasn’t been bothering me. I’m here in Malahide looking for someone.”
“Oh, you’re English. I’m John Collins. This is my daughter, Ava-Marie,” he said, swinging the little girl who looked so much like her father it hurt, into his arms. His Irish accent was broad. A commoner’s accent.
“Yes, she introduced herself to me.” To fill the awkward silence, she asked, “Have you always lived here in Malahide?”
A frown crossed his face. “No. I think I lived in England before coming home, because I got injured in France, I believe. Or so my wife used to tell me. I can’t remember anything from before five years ago.” He touched his head near his scar. “A head wound took my memories.”
Farah bit down on the urge to stamp her foot and yell into the breeze. Someone had told a man who had so obviously lost his memories, lies to keep him here. He’d never fought in the war with France. She was out of her depth and wasn’t sure what to do when a voice behind her boomed out, “Christ. Lucien, oh, myGod youarealive!” The next minute Rockwell came barreling into them, hugging Lucien and his daughter while tears poured down his face.
Lucien began to struggle and Farah could see the panic in his eyes. She pulled hard on Rockwell’s coat, pulling him away from Lucien. “He doesn’t know who you are, let alone who he is. He’s got amnesia.”
Rockwell stumbled backward, shock and then relief on his face. Farah guessed what he was thinking. Lucien hadn’t deserted his family. He just didn’t remember them.
Farah focused her attention back on a shocked Lucien. “Mr. Collins. This is my—friend—Lord Rockwell Ware, and he has been looking for you for a long time. He’s simply overjoyed at finding you.” She smiled at the man she’d known most of her life, who now looked at her like a stranger. “Is there somewhere we could go to explain why we are here?”
Chapter Eight
Rockwell’s heart wasstill pounding in his chest. Lucien was alive, and he’d found him. He wished he could hug his friend until the memory of standing over his graveside vanished. He didn’t even care that the man before him couldn’t remember who he was.
How awful that all he could feel was relief in learning that Lucien had lost his memory and hadn’t just turned his back on his friends and family. He stood looking at the man he’d grown up with and considered one of his best friends, but the blankness in his eyes proved beyond a doubt that Lucien didn’t have a clue who he was. He ran a hand through his hair and wondered how to proceed. It was going to be a lot for Lucien to take in.
“What on earth are you talking about? Why do you keep calling me Lucien?”
He watched as if in a dream, as Farah put her hand on Lucien’s arm to calm him. Rockwell could see fear and confusion enter his friend’s eyes. Farah gently spoke. “We know you. We have a story to share with you and it will not be easy to hear.” She turned to Rockwell. “Show him the locket.”
He scrambled in his pocket, pulling out the locket Lauren had given him when he’d asked for a keepsake of Lucien’s, and opening it. He shoved it toward Lucien and let him see. Lucien’s hand reached out and took the jewelry from him and he stoodstaring at the images inside for a moment. There was a picture of Lauren and one of Lucien, himself.
He handed it back, then shifted Ava-Marie onto his other hip, and said, “My cottage is about a mile from the village. We can talk there. I have my cart here, so you don’t need to walk.”
Rockwell looked at Farah. “We have our own carriage. Why don’t we just meet you at your cottage? I’ll need directions.”
Lucien nodded. “If you keep following the road along the cliff tops past the vicarage, after a mile, you’ll come to a small cottage with a swing in the front yard. That’s my home.”
Farah smiled tentatively. “Thank you. I know this is very confusing for you. But you need to hear what Lord Ware has to say.”
Lucien nodded. “Aye, I think I do. Come Ava-Marie, we need to go.”
“But we haven’t played hide and seek today,” she complained.
“Next time,” Lucien promised, and they walked off. At the gate, he turned to look at them, or was it Ava’s grave, before leaving?
“We’re going to hurt him—a lot. All those around him have lied to him. He thinks the woman in that grave is his wife. I wonder if they were ever married or if she merely told him they were.”
Rockwell cursed into the wind, and if he could have hit something, he would have. “How could she have done that to him? How could she take advantage of an injured man?”
“We will never know. But you said it in the carriage—women are strong and will do anything to survive. Ava saw an opportunity and took it. She wanted out of the horrible life she’d obviously had in that brothel. So, she brought a man with no memory home from Dublin as her husband and I suspect no one was the wiser. I also think she hoped he’d be happy and thatshe really wasn’t hurting anyone. He probably was happy, for he was crying over her grave. He must have loved her.” She sighed. “He’d have remained happy or at least content, and he’d be none the wiser if we hadn’t showed up. The one thing I know for certain is the child is his.”
“Agreed. The little girl is the spitting image of him. But he deserves to know the truth, doesn’t he?”
She turned to him and slipped her hand over his arm and tugged him along to walk back to the village. “Yes. He does. But it doesn’t mean he will not be hurt as we turn his life upside down. And perhaps, he won’t want to leave here.”
“Of course he will. He’s the heir to an earldom.”
“An earldom that is all but broke.”
“I’m glad you’re here with me. I don’t think I could have handled this very well on my own.”
