Tessa shook her head.She felt quite nauseous; the last thing she felt like was food.She had an unpleasant acrid taste in her mouth.That strawberry fool last night that had tasted a bit funny.Had it been off?Did it make her sick?But she’d only had a couple of mouthfuls.
And if she could believe the maid, she’d been here two days, sleeping!Two days!So, the strawberry fool wasn’t last night, but several nights ago.
What had happened?What was she doing in this strange house with a strange maid tending her and wanting her to eat?And why would this Lord Alverleigh bring her to his house and fetch a doctor to her?She was sure she’d heard the name before.Why couldn’t she recall who he was?And why, oh why did nothing make sense?
The image of a minister in a long black cassock, a white surplice over it haunted her.Was it a memory or a nightmare?
Had there been another wedding?Was it too late?
No, the maid had called her Lady Hewitt, not Lady Lester.But maybe the maid didn’t know ...
The confusion, the blankness, the terrifying, unanswerable questions—it was all so dreadfully familiar.She clutched the sheets around her.She couldn’t let herself panic, not now, not yet.
The maid slipped from the room, closing the door softly behind her.Immediately Tessa moved to get out of the bed.She had to get up, find out what was afoot, get out of this place.
But the minute she tried to stand, her legs quivered, then buckled beneath her.She would have ended up on the floor, but she managed to grab hold of the covers and haul herself back onto the bed.
Once she’d caught her breath, she tried to stand again, this time, holding on tight to a smooth carved wooden bedpost.Her legs wobbled, her head swam but she forced herself to keep standing while she breathed in deep, slow gulps of air.It helped to clear the dizziness somewhat, and her legs slowly gathered strength, but the questions whirling in her brain remained unanswered.
Realizing she was dressed in an unfamiliar nightgown, much too big for her, she looked around for her own clothes.A dressing gown hung from a hook behind the door.Lurching slightly as she walked, she reached the wardrobe and threw it open.
“What are you doing up?”A deep masculine voice came from the doorway.
She stepped back in fright and almost fell over—her dizziness hadn’t yet passed.In two steps the man crossed the room, scooped her up and laid her gently on the bed.“You haven’t yet recovered,” he told her.The maid had followed him in, and he told her to help Tessa put on the dressing gown and get her properly into bed.
“Recovered from what?”she said accusingly, then faltered as she recognized him.“Oh.It’s you.”Even to her own ears her voice sounded thready, uncertain.
“Yes, you’re safe, in my home,” he told her.“Just rest and let yourself recover.”
“Recover from what?”
“It seems your brother drugged you.”He paused a moment, then added, “My physician confirmed it.”
Edgar haddruggedher?Tessa sank back against the pillows and let the maid tuck her in.Her brain was whirling.
Drugged?And not for the first time, she realized slowly.
She should be more shocked, but in retrospect it made terrible sense.No wonder the sensations she’d felt on awakening—the taste in her mouth, the foggy brain, the lethargic limbs, the bewilderment—had felt so familiar.Drugged.
She drank another glass of water.It was very like when she’d woken to find herself married to Lord Hewitt, after she’d experienced what Edgar and her new husband had explained was an illness: she’d suffered ‘a brainstorm’ they told her.
That was why she’d been so confused and why she didn’t recall her second wedding.She hadn’t been ill at all; she’d beendrugged.By Edgar.
Somehow, she wasn’t as shocked as she ought to be.
It was as if, deep down, she’d known it was something like that, only she’d refused to face it.Edgar was, after all, her brother, her only living relative.He had his faults, to be sure, but ...
And anyway, once they’d shown her the marriage certificate with her own wobbly signature ...it had been too late.
She looked up at the tall man standing by her bed.She knew him, felt somehow safe with him, though she couldn’t immediately think of his name.“So tell me, am I married or not?”she asked dully.No point in asking to whom—it would be Sir Henry, Edgar’s latest choice.But if so, where was he?And why was she in Lord—she couldn’t remember his title—in Marcus’s house?Yes, that was his name—Marcus.
“No, we were in time.”
She struggled to sit up.“I’m not married?”
“No.As I said, we stopped it in time.”Seeing her confusion, he said firmly, “There was no wedding.It didn’t happen.You are safe.And free.”
There was a knock on the door.The maid opened it and another maid entered with a tray.“No, thank you.”Tessa held up her hands to shoo it away.“Nothing to eat.I’m not hungry.”
