Except that Alexander was not a stranger. He was the man she loved. And he was married to this hard-faced blonde shrew. Married.
No, that was unfair of her. Marielle obviously cared him if she had been mourning him all this time, and had come as soon as she'd heard the news. She had on a wonderful gown, indecently tight to flaunt her figure, but she really did not look well. Under all the make up were dark circles under her eyes and a haunted look.
"Where do you hail from, Mrs. er, Davenport?"
"We live outside Lyme Regis. He'll be delighted to get home. He does so love the sea, and his prize roses, of course. I see he's done wonders with the vicarage garden. Your brother and Pamela won't recognize the place when they return from Scotland."
"True. They won't," she reflected sickly, thinking of their decidedly altered sitting room. "You know them, then?"
"La, everyone knows Pamela. After Bath and London and the splash she made there, and their whirlwind romance and marriage, how could anyone fail to know them?"
"And your sons? How are they?" Sarah asked, testing the woman further.
She shook her head. "They were brought the Lord's bosom two years ago, God rest their souls. Surely Jason must recall that?"
"He thought you were dead as well."
She tittered. "Bless me, no. I was ill, but-" She opened her eyes wide. "Do you suppose that's why he didn't come back home? Oh, the poor little lost lamb."
"You said home--" Sarah began to ask.
But Alexander, having heard a woman's voice, had concluded there was no danger, stepped into the drawing room from the study opposite.
"Ah, here he is now," her companion said, running toward him. "Darling!" The buxom woman threw herself into his arms and kissed him hard.
Sarah felt her stomach lurch sickly, and looked away.
Alexander started in confusion, and set her away from him. "Excuse me, Madam, but-"
"It's me, Marielle. Your wife! I know you've had a hard time remembering. Miss Deveril tells me you've had some trouble. It's been good of her to look after you for so long. Such unselfish kindness."
She gave Sarah a knowing look, making her feel ugly and small.
Sarah's hand crept toward her belly protectively but caught herself just in time before the telltale gesture gave the entire game away.
"I'm sorry, Madame," Alexander said stiffly, "but I have no recollection of being married to you."
"Captain Breedon told me you had lost your memory and were searching for clues about your old life. He thought you were cousins with Miss Deveril here. How sweet. More family. But your whole family, all of your cousins, will be so eager to see you."
"Family? Who?" he demanded.
She rattled on, "There's been another baby since we last saw each other. He has grown quite big now, and-"
He sucked in his breath with a hiss. "And why should I care? The last two were naught of mine! This last one just proves what a faithless whore you are."
The blonde looked momentarily taken aback. She gave another crafty look which grated on Sarah's nerves and declared, "But we've been through all of this. I loved you. I only said that to make you angry. I thought I wanted one thing, and it turns out I wanted you all along. The boy is yours. He was conceived two years ago, just before the French troops came to arrest you and you escaped. Then I fled to the family home, have been with them ever since."
"What family? My brothers?" he asked, his tone growing more and more urgent.
Marielle looked momentarily taken aback. Not that Sarah could blame her, for an angry Alexander was a truly terrifying sight. She didn't know whether to be glad or appalled. Or relieved that she had found out what he was really like in time--
No, he was nothing like Paxton or Ferncliffe. She was not going to end up like poor Jane. She was not.
Adulteress, whore, bastard...
She swallowed hard and tried to focus upon the conversation between husband and wife once more.
"Please, I'm your wife, Alexander. I don't want a divorce, and I don't think you would like to involve Miss Deveril in any sort of scandal. Not when she's been so, er, generous to you."
The threat was unspoken, but there nevertheless. "Come, darling. Captain Breedon has been kind enough to volunteer to take us home in our carriage. It will be a long trip even if we get started right now."
He shook his head adamantly. "I'm not going anywhere until we've discussed this further, and you've proven to me that you're Marielle. So the French arrested me? Where? Why? I need more facts than that. And you can't expect me to take anything on trust from a woman who has been unfaithful to me."