She considered lambasting the doctor for his actions. But she did need to get Teddy safely to Brighton where she had recently taken up residence. She certainly did not want something terrible to occur en route, such as him throwing himself from the carriage or sneaking off at one of the coach stops once she confessed the truth to him of their relationship.
Yes, this was for the best. She would tell him everything once they arrived in Brighton, and not before.
The doctor continued. “You’re heading to Brighton, I believe you said? Taking into account three coach stops to change your carriage team, he should be coming ’round during the last portion of your journey. I recommend giving him another dose at that juncture to help get him settled in. Godspeed madam, and best of luck in future. You’ll need it.”
Chapter Four
Georgina was thoroughlyexhausted by the time the journey from Surrey to Brighton neared its end. It had been a long day, and her nerves were frayed ached from the continual jostling. Still, she’d enjoyed the rarity of staring at Teddy to her heart’s content, especially as he’d spent the last several hours asleep, half sprawled on the cushions as she cradled his head in her lap, smoothed his hair back from his forehead, and traced the chiseled bones of his face and jaw.
Teddy had amnesia. That was why his family had kept him sequestered from society. She’d never even considered the possibility.
But now, forced to consider his condition, something had become blazingly clear to her over the last hours. Her plan to share with him that the two of them were not man and wife, then offer him the use of her Brighton Beach villa in which to recover while leaving him to his own devices, was not a remote possibility. At least, not until she determined whether she could trust him on his own.
She had never intended to deceive him. Had never intended to act out the part of his wife. But what choice did she have? As far as she could tell, none.
He muttered in his sleep, some unintelligible gibberish that said hewas dreaming, and not of pleasant things. He’d become increasing restless over the last half hour. Now, as she looked upon him, his eyelids fluttered open.
He gazed up at her, a dazed expression in his melted-caramel eyes. Then he glared and heaved himself to a sitting position beside her.
“You drugged me,” he accused, his voice hoarse, slightly slurred, and unmistakably petulant.
Georgina had anticipated this. She’d made up her mind not to allow him to browbeat her, or rather, not to appear cowed by him. She could not cede control of the situation if she intended to care for him with any degree of success, which she vowed to do, somehow, some way.
But what did she know of caring for a man with amnesia and violent tendencies? Absolutely nothing.
She forced down the hysteria threatening to overtake her, and answered him in a calm, assured manner. “I did no such thing.”
“You did,” he insisted. “I clearly—”
She held up one hand, palm out. “The doctor took it upon himself to do so without my foreknowledge. I am merely the one who removed you from the madhouse. I got the impression that was your preference. If I was wrong, I can order this conveyance turned around at once, and we can—”
“No.” He clipped out the one-word denial. Eyeing her, he scrubbed a hand over his jaw, and the scruffy growth of tawny hair covering it. His beard was springy and not exactly soft to the touch, as she very well knew.
“My wife, you say. Married before I departed for the war, eh?” His head lolled back against the cushions. It seemed to take everything out of him to pose the question.
“Indeed. Your idea,” she proffered.
“You don’t say?” He grasped the edge of one of the velvet curtains between two fingers and flicked it aside to survey the passing scenery.It was well into night and pitch black as far as the eye could see. “Good God, we’ve departed the civilized world for no-man’s-land. Where are we going, if I may ask?”
“To our villa in Brighton.”
“Brighton.” He repeated as if trying to place it.
“It’s located on the coast.”
He sent her a disgusted look. “I know that. I am trying to recall the villa.”
“Oh. As to that, you’ve never been there. It’s a cottageorné, on the Marine Parade. Not exactly on par with your parents’ London manse, but I assumed you would not wish us to return to your ancestral home as…” She considered how to phrase her summation with any subtlety.
A sardonic smile curved his finely shaped lips, barely visible under his scruff. “Right-o, as my so-called parents and dear cousin Jonathan deemed it appropriate and, I quote,for your own good, Theodoreto lock me up in a dressed-up sanitarium? A wise course of action, madam, especially as they clearly have no notion of your existence.”
“Oh, they know who I am,” she corrected, in all honesty. “They simply know nothing of our nuptials.”
He studied her with an unreadable expression.
“We’ve a ways to go,” she offered, seeing him struggle to keep his eyelids open. “Perhaps you wish to rest a bit longer? You may rest your head on my shoulder,” she offered.
“Nonsense. I’m wide awake,” he replied with a belligerent tone, then promptly nodded off once more.
