“It’s true, I’m afraid,” he said. “I was injured during the rebellion and lost all memory of my previous life. I’ve only recently found my way home. And I’m sorry to say I don’t remember you or George.”
Mrs. Baxter clicked her tongue sympathetically. “How dreadful for you both. But you’ve found each other again, and that’s what matters.” She beamed at them as if they were reconciled lovers. “This cottage has seen its share of your happy times, hasn’t it?”
Courtney’s blush deepened, and she took a hasty sip of tea to hide her embarrassment. Lucien seemed equally disconcerted. “Has it?” he asked carefully.
Mrs. Baxter chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry, my lord. George and I have always been discreet. Young love needs its private moments, after all.” She winked at Courtney, who nearly choked on her tea. “We’d often leave for the village on market days and return to find the cottage had been…visited. But everything was always left neat, and there’d be a brace of pheasant, or a fine fish gifted as thanks.”
Courtney avoided Lucien’s gaze, mortified and fascinated in equal measure. She could see the questions in his eyes. Had they used this cottage for trysts? The drawing she’d done of him, their one night together before he left for Ireland, had it occurred here?
“How kind of us,” Lucien managed, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Kind indeed,” Mrs. Baxter agreed. “And we’ve kept your secret all these years, even after you were believed dead, my lord. Not a word to anyone.”
“And we’re grateful for your discretion,” Courtney said, regaining her composure. She shot Lucien a look that clearly said,don’t you dare ask what secret.
They spent another half-hour with Mrs. Baxter, listening to her village gossip and tales of local happenings during Lucien’s absence. By the time they took their leave, promising to return with yarn and some chewing tobacco for Mr. Baxter, Courtney could see that Lucien was both charmed by the woman’s obvious affection for them and increasingly curious about what exactly had transpired in that cottage during their courting days.
As they remounted the horse and began the return journey, Lucien’s arm seemed to hold her more securely against him, his hand curving possessively around her waist.
“So,” he said, his voice low near her ear, “it appears we have a history of impropriety, Lady Courtney.”
She could hear the smile in his voice and couldn’t help but respond to it. “It appears so, Lord Furoe.”
“Care to enlighten me on exactly what secret Mrs. Baxter has been keeping all these years?”
Courtney turned her head to look up at him, their faces now inches apart. “I have no idea,” she said, though her pink cheeks suggested otherwise. “I don’t recall anything…untoward.”
“Liar,” he said softly, his eyes dropping to her lips. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her again, but instead, he urged the horse forward, his arm tightening around her. “No matter. I suppose we’ll have to create new memories to replace the ones I’ve lost.”
The suggestion hung between them, tantalizing and full of promise. Courtney turned forward again, leaning back slightly into his embrace, enjoying the solid strength of him behind her.
“Perhaps we will,” she agreed, her voice carrying on the summer breeze. “After all, we did agree to a thorough evaluation.”
His chuckle rumbled against her back, and for the rest of the ride home, they traveled in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts about what secrets the cottage might have witnessed and what new ones it might yet keep.
Reality broke the daydreaming as soon as they reached the stables. The head groom said there was a problem with one of the mares, so Courtney made her way back inside the house alone. Soon Caitria had roped her into playing a game of hide and seek in the garden with Ava-Marie.
As the day drew to an end and she dressed for dinner, Courtney realized she loved it here. She could see herself building a wonderful life with Lucien, Ava-Marie and any children they might have in the future.
She hoped Lucien was thinking the same thing. As she descended the stairs to dinner, she admitted that she was falling in love with Lucien again. She was fooling herself. She’d never fallen out of love with him, even when he couldn’t remember her. She had enough memories for both of them. She prayed he had room in his damaged heart to love her back.
*
The following daybrought steady rain, confining the house party indoors. After breakfast, Julian and Serena announced their intention to write letters in the morning room, while Caitria took Ava-Marie to the nursery to measure up for new clothes. Left to their own devices, Lucien suggested a tour of the house with Courtney.
“But I know the house already,” she pointed out, amused.
“Yes, but I don’t,” he countered. “Not really. It would be nice to hear stories.”
The request touched her deeply. “I’d like that, although I’m not party to all your family secrets,” she said softly.
They began in the portrait gallery, where Courtney pointed out ancestors whose stories she remembered Lucien telling her. Next came the music room, where she recalled evenings spent with Lauren at the pianoforte while Lucien and his father played chess by the fire.
“You were terrible at chess,” she told him, smiling at the memory. “Your father would beat you in ten moves, and you’d declare it was because you were distracted by Lauren’s playing.”
“Was I truly that bad?” he asked, looking skeptical.
“Dreadful,” she confirmed with a laugh. “You much preferred cards—you had an excellent memory for which cards had been played.”
