Because, as it turned out, his mind was stubbornly preoccupied with the woman moving about the kitchen.
Daisy.Daisy.
She worked with quiet efficiency, her skirts shifting softly with each step, her curls tumbling in a cascade of gold down her back. Some had settled along the curve of her neck, others bounced slightly whenever she turned her head.
The sight was… distracting.
And it wasn’t like him—at least, he didn’t think it was—to be so utterly captivated by a woman.
He had heard tales of military men falling for the women who nursed them back to health, but that wasn’t what was happening here.
No, this was something else entirely.
Daisy Montgomery was a stranger, and yet… not. Who the devil was she?
Yet another question he couldn’t answer.
Before the frustrating thoughts could hit him full force, he closed the door behind him and approached the tall worktable. Against the far wall was a cooking range, a washbasin, and a few shelves filled with neatly stacked dishes. Everything looked well used, but the place was tidy, the tools lovingly maintained, and the setup was meticulously efficient—a reflection of the owner, he surmised.
It did not surprise him.
“You’re awake!” The boy—who bore a striking resemblance to his sister—announced the obvious with wide-eyed enthusiasm.
Daisy whipped around, and he couldn’t help but notice the faint flush that crept up her cheeks.
“What are you doing out of bed?” She scolded him, but he could also see that she was a little pleased.
Because it meant he was getting better, and the sooner he could remain upright for more than ten minutes at a time, the sooner she could be rid of him.
The thought of leaving shouldn’t have knocked the wind out of him as much as it did.
But whether it was regret at leaving the comfort of Daisy Montgomery’s care, or outright fear at facing the unknown, it didn’t signify.
He’d relied on this woman for everything these past days—food, care, answers she couldn’t provide. He couldn’t go on like this.
His gaze flicked over the kitchen, taking in the well-scrubbed work surfaces, the wrapped cakes of soap waiting for delivery, the simple but tidy surroundings. She worked hard to keep her shop running, to make ends meet, to pay for her brother’s education.
And he was an added burden she had not asked for.
When he settled his affairs, he would find a way to repay her.
“I can’t lie abed indefinitely,” he said simply, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weakness still lingering in his limbs. “I need to find some answers.”
Then he glanced down at himself, taking in the threadbare nightshirt that, while clean and serviceable, left much to be desired in terms of propriety.
“Although I suppose I’ll have better luck if I can borrow a pair of breeches.”
Daisy opened her mouth—likely to protest—but before she could speak, the shop bell jangled, signaling a customer.
But the footsteps that followed did not stop in the outer room.
They moved closer and closer to the kitchen.
With deliberate. Purposeful. Strides.
He barely had a moment to react, but even if he’d had his full wits about him, he wouldn’t have hidden. Because hiding wasn’t in his nature.
And yet, how could he know that, but not know his own bloody name?
