‘It’s Patience,’ she admitted, noticing his expression. ‘After my grandmother. I loved her dearly, but as a name, it’s always felt like a lot to live up to.’
‘I understand. I have five names, my own and those of the former marquesses, all the way back to my great-great-grandfather. As you say, it’s a lot.’ He lifted his eyes to the clouds painted on the ceiling before dropping them back to his soup, struck with the feeling he’d just revealed too much.
He cleared his throat again. ‘I understand that Mrs Fitch continued our tour?’
‘Yes.’ Her spoon scraped loudly against the edge of her bowl, though she didn’t eat anything, he noticed.
‘I hope it was illuminating?’
‘Oh, yes, I learned a great deal.’ The edge was back in her voice. ‘She was very thorough.’
‘She always is.’
‘I think she hopes you’re going to start collecting prints of mountains soon.’
‘I know.’ He grimaced, then nodded towards her bowl. ‘Don’t you care for the soup? Would you prefer something else?’
‘No… I mean, yes.’ Her expression wavered before shifting to one of sudden resolve. ‘I want to go back to London.’
He blinked. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘I want to go back to London.’
‘For dinner?’
‘As soon as possible.’
‘That’s quite a request.’ He put his spoon down and pushed his bowl away.
‘I know.’
‘Especially since we left less than a month ago.’
‘Not to me.’ She tossed her head, a flicker of defiance returning to her face. ‘For me, it’s like I was picked up in my sleep and deposited one hundred and fifty miles away overnight.’
‘I still don’t think…’
‘Please.’ She clenched her fists on the table. ‘Everything you told me…it all feels so unreal. I can’t… I justcan’taccept it. I need to go back and see if I can remember anything for myself.’
‘I told you what happened.’
‘I know, but…’ a shadow of something like guilt flickered in her eyes ‘…I have other questions too, and maybe if I can get the answers to those then I can find some way out of this marriage for us.’
‘There’s no way out.’
Her face blanched. ‘Maybe not, but familiar surroundings might help to jolt my memory.’
‘Well, that’s possible, I suppose…’ He reached for his wine glass again. ‘But you’re still recovering and London is a three-day journey away.’
‘I’ve been in bed for a week.’ She thrust her chin higher. ‘It may not be the wisest course of action, but I don’t care. I have to know if I’m really the monster you say I am.’
‘I have never called you a monster.’
‘A manipulative fortune hunter, then.’ She gave a brittle laugh. ‘What’s the difference?’
‘I have never used those words either.’
‘They were implied.’ She pursed her lips before continuing. ‘Look, I can understand why you hate me. Somehow I ruined your proposal to Amabel and forced you into a marriage you didn’t want. But I have to find out if I truly deserve your hatred or I’ll go mad.’ Her voice cracked. ‘And I need to see Amabel. With any luck, the Wadlows will still be staying in Grosvenor Square. The Season doesn’t finish until the end of the month, does it?’
