The Unforgettable Hero(9)

Lucy rang for the butler. “I expect her memory will be jogged when it’s good and ready to be jogged and not a moment sooner.”

Adam rubbed the space between his eyes with the tip of one finger. The headache was getting worse. “You agree with him?”

Lucy patted her coiffure. “What else am I to do? The poor woman is alone with no family, no friends, and no memory. We are currently responsible for her welfare. I shall inform Hughes to tell all of the servants that our guest should be called Lady Magnolia and you are to be referred to as Lord Peter in her presence. Now I suggest you go and speak to her. Perhaps talking to you will remind her she is not engaged to you. And do try to be charming, Adam.” She winked at him. “Like a proper duke should be.”





CHAPTER EIGHT



Magnolia let her gaze travel around the opulent bedchamber. Now that she thought on it, the space didn’t seem familiar to her, not at all. But she supposed she’d simply never seen this room in her betrothed’s house before. After all, it was not as if she stayed here. No, the house of her father, the earl, was back in Grosvenor Square, not far. Apparently she’d suffered a fall while visiting this place. The duke and his sister seemed quite worried about her. Sister? The image of a blond girl flashed through her mind but she couldn’t quite place it. She rubbed the lump on her head. Oh, perhaps the injury had been more severe than she’d realized. Would Mama come and fetch her soon? She smiled to herself. Hopefully not too soon. She had quite enjoyed the look of concern on her betrothed’s face when he’d visited her earlier. And oh, my, but he was handsome, even more handsome than she recalled. She frowned. Why didn’t an image of him from before today conjure itself in her imagination? So strange. She rubbed her temples. Her head pounded.

She focused her thoughts on her future husband again. Peter. He was tall and slender with black hair and dark-green eyes that searched her face with an intensity that left her breathless. And he was charming, too. She didn’t remember him saying anything particularly charming today, but he certainly had been charming in the past. She was certain of it.

And she was planning her wedding to that handsome man. It would be an enormous affair. Planned for spring. Mother was beside herself with happiness, and she’d never seen Father so proud. How had she got so lucky in the marriage mart?

A knock sounded on the door, and she jumped.

“Come in,” she finally called after taking a deep, calming breath.

The door opened and Peter strode through it. This time she took a moment to examine his fine physique, though she lowered her head and glanced up at him from beneath her lashes so he wouldn’t suspect she was studying him. He was wearing black breeches, a startling white shirt, and a gray satin waistcoat. He’d apparently discarded the matching navy wool overcoat he’d been wearing earlier. His jaw was set, his hair was slightly curly, and he was looking at her with that same intensity as before. As if he could tell precisely what she was thinking. Her cheeks heated. She certainly hoped he couldn’t tell what she was thinking at the moment. She was thinking he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

He arched a dark brow. She sucked in her breath. Had he caught her staring? Yes. Definitely handsome. She was still waiting for the charming.

“Miss Makepeace,” he began, striding back and forth in front of the fireplace.

She frowned. “It’s Lady Magnolia.”

He paused momentarily and then nodded. “Of course. Lady Magnolia. How are you feeling?”

“My head still hurts quite a bit,” she admitted, pressing a temple again.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He cleared his throat. “Do you … Do you recall your address?”

She furrowed her brow. “My address?”

He folded his hands behind his back and continued his pacing. “Yes. The location of your, er, parents’ home?”

She tried to keep the smile from her face, because something told her he was completely serious. “Of course I recall my address, Your Grace.”

He seemed to flinch at the name, but apparently the answer pleased him. He expelled his breath looking positively relieved.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s 123 Grosvenor Square,” she offered matter-of-factly.

He closed his eyes and groaned.

“What’s the matter?” Her brow remained furrowed.

He opened his eyes again and fixed her with that dark-green stare. “My lady, I am intimately familiar with Grosvenor Square, and I can assure you there is no such address there as 123.”

She gave him a look that declared him officially daft in her opinion. “Of course there is. I live there with my parents, the Earl and Countess of Markwood.” She shook her head as if to say, Everyone knows that.