I shall burn up if I do. I shall lose the ability to speak altogether.
“That did not seem like such a problem to you before,” he said, a note of dry amusement in his voice.
She swallowed. “Yes, well, I cannotrememberbefore, can I?” She hesitated, biting her lip. “I did not find you displeasing?”
“Not my appearance,” he answered. “Indeed, that did not seem to concern you whatsoever when you asked me for a child.”
A gasp slipped from Thalia’s lips, her head whipping back around to stare at him. Was he not the one who had just said he did not wish to influence her? Was he not the one who had just explained that he did not want to affect the return of her memories? Why would he go and say a thing like that?
She blushed furiously, so warm that she wondered if the flickering torches were to blame, radiating more heat than theyshould. “What are you talking about? You should not toy with me, Your Grace. You could, as you said yourself, worsen my condition.”
She was breathless as she spoke, searching his face for any deceit, still just as mistrusting as he had said she was. Surely, she would not have made such a request of this man, when they led such apparently separate lives?
“I am testing to see if a little encouragement might actually help,” he replied, a smirk upon his lips. “You see, you sent me a letter a while ago, declaring that you wanted to be a mother. You were not requesting that someone else be the father; I am certain of that.”
She continued to stare at him, aghast.
For a fleeting half-second, his fingertips brushed hers. “I wonder if you even know what giving you a child means. Perhaps, you lost that memory.”
Thalia withdrew her hand sharply, as shock rippled through her like the vibrations of a violently swaying carriage, making her feel unsteady.
A moment later, she darted out of the intense closeness of him, taking that open invitation to depart his company. She hurried to the top of the interminable staircase and, breathing hard, tossed back over her shoulder, “Inform me of when you are available to take me to my family. Until then, I will be… resting.”
Not waiting for his response, not turning to see his expression, she bolted down the stairs as fast as her shaky legs would carry her. The irony was not lost on her that she might suffer a third accident if she was not careful, but as she rushed downward, she had to wonder if she had done this before.
Wasthatwhy she had gone to Henry’s chambers that night? To ask him for a child? She had to stop to fan her feverish face with her hand and catch her breath, pressing her back flat against the curving wall to catch her breath.
No, he would have mentioned it. He spoke only of a letter.
But the rationalization was no comfort as her eyes lifted upward. Henry was not peering down, the landing now far out of sight, but the same could not be said of the lasting feeling inside her chest: that weird, inexplicable symptom, so akin to fear, yet not quite the same.
Clamping her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp, she realized what that feeling was. Maybe, her body had finally named it and passed the message on to her brain, or maybe it was a memory creeping back. Whatever the truth was, she knew the feeling now: it was attraction.
Shewas attracted to her husband. The lost version of herself, at least.
No… oh, no, no, no… that cannot be.She scrunched her eyes shut in the hope it might chase the feeling away.What did that beast do to me, to make me react this way whenever he is near?
Whoever she was before she fell down those tower steps, she must have been utterly, completely mad.
Well, that was stupid.
Henry had not intended to spook his wife, though the echo of her retreating footsteps reverberated his accidental success.
In truth, hehadbeen testing a new theory, encouraged by the suggestions of his friends… and, perhaps, the snifter or two of brandy that he had imbibed while he was with them.
Her perfume lingered in the air, as did the memory of her wide eyes, the hitch of her breath when his fingertips had grazed hers, the closeness of her. Staring at the staircase, he half wished thathemight tumble down them, so he might rid himself of the sensation.
“Shall I take the tea to her?” Baxter asked, appearing in his silent, catfooted way with a silver tray in hand. He must have passed Thalia on the ascent.
Henry nodded. “Yes, take it to her.” He took a breath. “And watch her closely, Baxter. I do not believe this will be the last time she tries to run from me.”
CHAPTER 9
The next afternoon, still somewhat rattled by the night before, Thalia found herself in the drawing room, greeting an unexpected visitor.
“Goodness, you are pale!” the young woman with the golden blonde hair and astonishing blue eyes declared, in a tone that suggested they were at least familiar with one another. “Ghoulish, in truth. And here I am, foisting myself upon you without so much as invitation. I should have written; IknewI should have written.”
At that moment, the housekeeper hurried in, carrying a hastily arranged tray. “FrancesBrooks, Your Grace,” she blurted out. “The duke’s first cousin.”
