"You're not fit to travel far. But we can go see some friends as soon as you are, I promise."
He made the promise each day for another week, and went over her things, her jewels, toilette case, everything he had give her for a present.
At the end of the week he left her in the care of one of the serving maids at the inn and went into town to buy her more clothes. As he walked past the Baths he ran into Michael Avenel with his manservant pushing him in his wheelchair.
"Blake? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on your honeymoon."
He blushed. "I am. Just buying a couple of presents for my wife in the milliner in Cheap Street."
"So how is married life?" Michael asked, wondering why his friend looked so grim.
"Lovely. But Arabella had a bit of a fall, and so she's resting."
"A fall? Nothing serious, I hope."
"No, but I don't want to leave her alone too long."
Michael looked at him oddly, but nodded, shook hands, and let him go about his business.
Leonore stared out the window of her tiny drawing room. Then she started up. No, it couldn't be-
It was Blake, going into the dressmaker's shop. She grabbed her cloak and bonnet and ran down the steps, and dived into the shop as if the hounds of hell were after her.
"Blake, why, what on earth are you doing here? You're supposed to be on your honeymoon."
He could see her eyes glittering. "Yes, I am actually, and buying presents for my lovely wife. She will never believe your lies, so just stay the hell out of my way, would you."
Leonore scowled, but everyone was staring at her, and she was known in the neighbourhood. Accosting a married man in this manner was only going to get her talked about. That she couldn't afford, not if she wanted to continue to live on the fringes of affluent society.
Blake had cost her everything, for once her gentleman friend who had been footing all her bills found out what she had been up to behind his back, he had told her never to return to her little snug house in London, and cut her off without a penny. She just had to get Blake back, she just had to.
Blake bought one of every colour ribbon for his wife's lovely hair, some combs, and several new day dresses in blue, hunter green and a lovely large-checked black watch tartan, and an evening gown of delicate pale heather with cream ruching at the hems and along the scooped neckline.
He also bought her some embroidery notions, and since he knew that Leonore was still watching, some baby clothes. He knew they would not go to waste, for he needed to see Sarah Davenport at some point soon.
Leonore reacted the way he had predicted-the colour flew to her face and she stormed out of the shop.
The gowns were pronounced a prodigious success by Arabella when he got back. As the maid hung them up in the wardrobe, he threw himself on the bed and told her that Michael had been asking for her.
"We could go there of course, and we need to take the baby clothes to Sarah Davenport. But not until you're feeling much better."
"I would feel a lot better if I could remember. It's so frustrating, terrifying. I mean, not that you're not more than kind, but you're still such a stranger to me."
He waited until the maid had gone to fetch some dinner to suggest, "Well, why don't we at least make a start on resuming your old life? We'll get you dressed for dinner, and we can have the best meal the inn has to offer. We can sit and talk, play cards. I can tell you all about myself, and you can ask me anything. As I said, we've only been married for a short time, but I'll tell you anything I know about you."
"All right," she said, smiling up at the handsome man who by some strange twist of fate was her husband.
She could hardly believe it. Apart from being ill, the life he described as being theirs sounded just too perfect. "I'd like to wear the heather gown, and dress my hair."
"I'll help."
"No, I want it to be a surprise. Call the maid back in, and go wait downstairs for me."
"If you like," he said with a sigh, reluctant to let her out of his sight for a minute.
He went downstairs and reflected that he was also going to have to pick up his mail from the Jeromes at some point. If Horse Guards had been trying to contact him about taking up his officer's commission once more they would not been able to get hold of him.
He had been here a fortnight already, but there was no telling how long it was going to take for her to get her memory back. Even if she did, how much would she recall, and how devastating would the memories be? Thus far she had shown no symptoms of disease, but that was not to say he had nothing to fear. They could show up even months after exposure.