‘I agree that it’s absurd.’ His tone was harsher than he’d intended, but just the memory of that night caused his anger to spike all over again. ‘However, it’s also the truth.’ He rested one arm on the mantel and jerked his head towards the window. ‘Incidentally, you’re not a prisoner, so there’s no need to scale the walls. Dr Pritchard overreacted. You’re perfectly welcome to use the staircase.’
She swallowed visibly, looking from him to the now unlocked door, before dropping her sheet-rope to the carpet. ‘It wasn’t long enough anyway, but I had to do something.’
‘I understand.’
‘Do you?’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Because I don’t. I don’t understand any of this.’
Leo studied her face, his own a mask of impassivity. When Dr Pritchard had first mentioned amnesia, he’d wondered if it was simply a ploy on her part, another cunning trick to compel him to talk to her, only, looking at her now, he didn’t think so. The bruise on her head was certainly genuine. And behind her defiant expression there was a definite look of panic; fear too, though he batted away any feeling of sympathy. No matter how vulnerable she might seem, she was still the woman who’d deceived and trapped him into marriage and he still resented her. Frankly, if anyone deserved to feel panicked, it was her.
But she was also his wife and if he didn’t explain, who would?
‘Shall we sit?’ He gestured towards two wicker chairs set on either side of the fireplace, telling himself it was for his own comfort, not hers.
She hesitated, swaying backwards as if she didn’t want to come any closer, before visibly steeling herself, clenching her fists and eyeing him warily as she edged forward and slid into one of the chairs.
He took the one opposite, determinedly averting his gaze from the way her nightdress clung to her legs as she moved. ‘I’ll get straight to the point. There was a bad storm a few days ago. It arrived suddenly and was stronger than usual for this time of year. My steward believes you took a severe blow to the head from a falling branch while you were out riding, though, since you were alone, there’s no way for us to know for certain. It appears to have affected your memory.’
She blinked slowly, her expression shifting from surprise to confusion. ‘I was out riding in a storm?’
‘Yes.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘I have no idea. To be honest, I’d hoped you might be able to explain that to me.’
‘It sounds like madness.’
‘I agree. Moreover, since you failed to tell anyone your plans, and managed to take a horse from the stables without alerting the grooms, it was some time before anyone noticed your absence. The alarm was only raised when the animal returned to the house with a saddle and no rider. Then your maid remembered something about you mentioning a trip to the village.’
‘How…odd. Didyoufind me?’
‘No. I was away on business. I came back when I received word, but by then you were under Dr Pritchard’s care.’ He felt a twist of guilt at the admission. It sounded distinctly ungallant. As her husband, he should at least have been part of the search, but instead he’d been forty miles away, talking to a man about cows. ‘I’m afraid it’s possible that you were lying injured in the rain for several hours, hence your cold. To be frank, you’re lucky to be alive.’
‘I see…’ She gave a heavy sniff and pressed a hand to her forehead, as if she was struggling to take the words in.
‘Here.’ He reached into his pocket for a clean handkerchief and then leaned forward, dropping it into her lap. ‘I know it sounds alarming, but at least you’re safe and awake now. If you stay warm and get plenty of rest, hopefully you’ll feel better soon.’
‘Better?’ Her eyes flew back to his, widening incredulously. ‘How can I feel better? None of that explains how we’re married! How can such a thing have possibly happened?’
‘I’ve asked myself the same question several times.’ He sat back again, clenching his jaw. ‘What exactly is the last thing you remember?’
‘Going to bed the night before the Wadlows’ ball.’ She answered without hesitation. ‘I remember brushing my hair at my bedroom window, looking out over Mayfair.’ She turned her head accusingly towards the window. ‘This isn’t Mayfair.’
‘True. We left London immediately after the wedding.’
‘The wedding…’ She pulled her hand away from her face, as if noticing the gold band around her ring finger for the first time. ‘Oh!’ She gave a sudden start. ‘Are we in love?’
Love?The idea was so ridiculous, he let out a guffaw of laughter before he could stop himself.
‘It’s not so unreasonable.’ She flinched, sounding embarrassed and defensive at the same time. ‘I’ve no dowry or connections. Why else would you have married me?’
‘Why indeed?’ He cleared his throat, folding one long leg over the other. His laughter had been ungentlemanly, but there was no way he was going to apologise for it. ‘In short, because I had to. I was obliged to obtain a special licence the morning after the Wadlows’ ball.’
She gave a sharp intake of breath, all the colour seeming to drain from her face in a matter of seconds, leaving her lips and cheeks entirely bloodless. Only her crimson nose stood out sharply in contrast. ‘You mean, we were compromised?’
