Trevor mounted, then lifted the boy behind him. As he rode away, his heart lifted—if only slightly. At least he knew Louisa’s parents were of Quality, and heknewthey were not dead. This trip hadn’t been wasted after all. Yet, he still wasn’t any closer to finding out who she really was. He prayed that the weekend party his mother would have would spark something in Louisa’s memory and open a way to her past.
*
Louisa’s sides hurtwith exertion, but she pushed herself in the direction the coach had taken. No other roads had veered off the path, and she prayed she’d reach the vehicle’s destination soon. She neared the wooded area where Mrs. Smythe had told her she’d been hit. Slowing her footsteps, she glanced around the area, hoping to remember something.
Nothing looked familiar. Yet…
Breathing slower, she closed her eyes and concentrated. It was as if a memory tried to break through, but everything was dark. It was night. Only a sliver of a moon lit her way. She was running—fast—searching for someone.
Confusion had clouded her mind as she ran. Pain twisted her heart.
She’d just been to a house…
Louisa gasped and opened her eyes. There was a house nearby. Sheknewif she went to this place she’d remember something.
Once again, she ran, not caring if her legs were weak or her body hurt. She pushed herself, knowing this was where she’d remember.
Up ahead the road forked. Her mind told her to take the road going left. She ran harder. Excitement beat in her head, as her subconscious told her this was the way.
Her childhood friend, Eliza must live this way. Perhaps that’s why she felt so connected to the area. Through the trees, smoke from chimneys rose above the leaves. She pushed herself faster until the house was in full view.
Then she stopped and fell to her knees.
Home.
The gray, two-story house was exactly as it had been in the brief memories she had. A two-step porch, small flower garden, and the golden-cased knockers on the double doors were still the same.
Confusion filled her as dark clouds of doubt hung in her memory. She couldn’t possibly be remembering correctly, when only earlier she recalled the moment she was told her family died in a house fire. Yet, the house still stood—the very same as she remembered from years past.
Gradually, thoughts formed in her mind, memories blended to create a story. For seven years, she’d been told she was an orphan, but the day she was hit by Trevor’s curricle, she had seen her cousin—her betrothed—and followed him home. Here. To this very spot. She had wanted to see if her parents were still alive, so snuck closer to the window only to have two servants escort her to the tall iron gate.
These gates. She slid her hands over the cold iron, remembering vividly. She had wanted to find the constable… anyone who would remember her and take her to Frank. But in her confused state of mind, she ran into the road, not seeing or hearing Trevor’s curricle coming her way.
She closed her eyes and constrained her forehead against the iron gate as tears streamed down her face. All those years… all those miserable, horrible years with Macgregor… she had actually had family. And where was Eliza’s uncle? Why hadn’t he taken care of Louisa as her friend had promised? Why had he sold her to Macgregor?
Voices coming from the house alerted Louisa and she blinked her teary eyes to focus. Eliza walked out of the house with an older woman. A sob caught in Louisa’s throat and she slapped her hand to her mouth.Mother.
Painful sobs shook through Louisa’s body. She was unable to call out or even move. She needed to make her mother aware of her presence, but didn’t know how. They must have thoughtherdead all those years as well. Why else would they not have come for her? And why…
She glared at her friend, hate and anger welling in Louisa’s chest. Why was Eliza chatting with a woman she was told had died? Had Eliza known all this time? But she must. Eliza knew Mr. Featherspoon had taken Louisa to Scotland. Why hadn’t her friend told her parents?
Anger grew inside her like a fire spreading quickly through her limbs and gave her the strength to stand. Whether Eliza wanted this or not, Louisa was going to find out the truth. Now.
She reached for the latch on the gate, but someone’s large hand grasped her shoulder, turning her around. Evil eyes pierced straight through her as the man slowly shook his head.
“I would not do that if I were ye,” Macgregor said.
She was too upset to be afraid. Besides, her family was so close now, this man shouldn’t frighten her any longer. “My memory has returned, Mr. Macgregor. I have a family, and I’m no longer yours.”
He shrugged and folded his beefy arms. “I still have need for ye, my sweet Louisa, which means ye are still mine.”
“Are you insane? My family lives here—the very family Mr. Featherspoon told me had perished in a fire. Mr. Macgregor, you no longer have rein over me, now get out of my sight.” She swung back to the gate, but once again, he stopped her. This time his hand on her arm squeezed painfully tight and she cried out, pulling away.
“Ye were always a daydreamer, Louisa. Ye never believed yer family had died even after we proved it.” He tsked and shook his head.
“You never proved a thing.”
“As much as ye want to have a family, ye never will. I’m yer only family… me and the other children.”
