She wrung out the paper and then reapplied it. "Caleb and Jenny don't live here. They've just gone home. They have a small cottage about half a mile down the road."
"I see," he said quietly.
"I don't mind, honestly. To tell the truth, this is easier than attending a birth."
"So you help the local women here?" he asked with interest.
"Anyone, really. As the sister of a vicar, it's sort of expected of me. Not that I mind. I enjoy it. I also teach them how to read, write, and do sums."
"Your husband must be a very understanding man."
"I'm not married."
His brows flew upwards. "I thought--"
"No, I live here with my brother. There's no other male in the household."
"Then perhaps he should be here helping me," he suggested in clipped tones.
Sarah laughed lightly at his prim tone, worthy of a respectable maiden aunt. "I'm sure he would, if he were here. But he's just married," she reminded him. "He's headed up north with his bride for his wedding trip, and to see our family. I'm sure he'll be sorry to have missed you. If you'd care to come back at the end of the summer-"
"The end of the summer!" He sat up abruptly, then groaned and settled back.
"Yes, I'm sorry," she apologized, pressing the vinegared paper to his head once more. "He's going to visit our sisters afterwards. I don't expect him back for some time."
He drained the cup and sighed. "So you tell me you've never seen me before?"
She considered him carefully once more, racking her brain. "No, never. I'm sorry if we've met and I don't remember you. My brother has always had a wide circle of acquaintance. It grew even larger as a result of the war. What did you say your name was again?"
"Jonathan Deveril."
Sarah shot him a sharp look, took the nearly empty cup from his hand and clinked it down on the table abruptly.
"Please, no more jests. I'm accustomed to many of my brother Jonathan's friends being wags, but this really has gone too far. I've been more than hospitable, I feel. The least you can do is let me know who it is I have the honor of addressing."
He said in an agitated tone, "That's just it. I have no memory of what happened to me, who I am. So far as I know anything about myself, my name is Jonathan Deveril."
Chapter Four
The vehemence of the stranger's tone was enough to make Sarah relent in her anger.
She soothed him with one hand pressed to his brow as she sat on the edge of the bed in the shadowy chamber. "Pray calm yourself, sir. You'll only make your head throb more. I'm not angry, really. I'm sorry to have probed. This is all very confusing for you, and you must be exhausted. Please, just rest yourself."
"Don't try to humor me like a child. I'm Jonathan Deveril," he insisted.
"But it's not really possible--"
"Why are you acting like I'm lying? I tell you, that's my name."
"I never said--"
"I'm not mad," he rasped.
"No, of course not!" she gasped, gripping him by the shoulders when he looked as though he would rise from the bed.
"I swear to you, Sarah, I'm not here to hurt you or cause any trouble," he promised. "But I need to find the truth. Friends, family. Someone who can help me, tell me who I am and where I belong now that the war is over."
"I understand, really I do," she said, stroking his bare shoulder and chest. She tried not to start as his flat male nipple sprang to life under her innocent caress. She was fascinated, and glad he couldn't see her face. She could feel a parallel response in her own body, and the room was anything but cold.
"Please, do rest yourself, my friend. It's not important now. I suppose it's perfectly possible there are two Jonathan Deverils in the world. Or that there has been some obvious mistake. But we don't need to worry about it this minute.
"Pray don't upset yourself so. The main thing is for you to start feeling better. You need sleep, and good food to build you back up again. A few days in a good soft bed, keeping warm and dry and resting after all you've been through will help your situation as well. Things will seem so much better once you start feeling better, I'm sure."
He trapped her hand against his chest lightly. "You're right. I'm sorry if I've upset you or been difficult. It's just so hard not knowing. Not being able to see, being unable to do more than the simplest things for myself. Scrimping every penny, walking for miles, never knowing where my next bed or meal is coming from. Hoping I'm not going to be attacked or killed in the road."