Danice Allen (21 page)

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out,” said Jack, moving to the door. “I’ll start by inquiring below.”

“Thank you, John,” said Amanda, smiling gratefully.

Jack acknowledged her gratitude with a rather grim smile in return. He was anxious for the child’s welfare and angry at the parents as well. But he was most anxious about getting things settled so that his dinner with Amanda could go ahead as planned. She needed a little relaxation and amusement, and he was determined to see that she get them both.

Chapter 11

The child’s parents were found taking refreshment in the taproom, lingering over a mug of brew and chatting amiably with some fellow travelers. They were a respectable, middle-class couple on holiday, headed for a seaside sojourn at a little resort near Brighton called Goring-by-Sea.

They were quite mortified and distressed to discover that their little Charity had awakened during the storm and disturbed Amanda, but they had left her fast asleep and had only been gone from the room some forty-five minutes … or so they said. As Charity had been quite exhausted when they arrived at the inn, they’d had no notion she’d awaken before morning.

They apologized profusely and looked chagrined, but Amanda suspected that they were more embarrassed by the incident than concerned about Charity’s ordeal during the storm.

Sitting in a wing chair by the fire in the cozy parlor with John, Amanda clutched a barely touched tumbler of apple cider and was totally absorbed by worrisome thoughts of Charity and scathing thoughts of the little girl’s parents. She knew her natural empathy for Charity was made even stronger because of her anxiety about the child on Thorney Island and her own memories of a barren childhood, but she could not reason away the tension and melancholy that was the result of these intermingled concerns.

“Miss Darlington?”

Amanda was roused from her brooding reflections by John’s voice. She looked up and saw that he was leaning against the mantel, his long legs crossed at the ankles in a relaxed pose.

“Yes?” she said, feeling slightly dazed.

He peered at her intently, then raised a brow. “Where
are
you, Miss Darlington?”

Her brows knitted. “What do you mean? I’m in a parlor at the Angel Inn … with you.”

“No, you are not in the parlor with me. In fact, you are miles away … in thought, if not in person.”

“I beg your pardon,” she replied a little stiffly. “I cannot forget that child’s predicament so easily as you do.”

He pushed off from the mantel and stood in front of her. With his arms crossed over his chest, he scowled down at her, much in the manner of a sultan eyeing with displeasure a naughty concubine.

Despite her worries, a quiver of feminine awareness rippled through Amanda like a pleasant shock. It was impossible to stay immersed in one’s thoughts with such a distraction as John in the room … and standing so close. He was so close, in fact, she could smell the clean scent of him: the subtle spice of a gentleman’s soap, the freshly laundered and starched cravat that glowed snowy white at his strong throat.

She knew he’d had a bath because she’d heard the servants carting up the tub and the buckets of hot water that afternoon, but just looking at him now there was no doubt that John had spent considerable time grooming for tonight.

A new razor, and a steadier hand than he’d had two days ago, had allowed for a close shave without a single nick. His jaw was bare and smooth and begged to be caressed.

His hair was squeaky clean, the lustrous black curls a careless, disarming tumble that begged to be sifted through by eager feminine fingers.

His piratelike bandage was gone, too, replaced by a small square of gauze secured at the edges by some sort of clever adhesive.

Everything he wore from jacket to waistcoat to trousers to tall boots was freshly brushed, pressed, or polished. Amanda’s breath quickened at the idea that he’d been as anxious to look to advantage tonight as she had.
Why?
she wondered, a shiver coursing down her spine. Did he have seduction in mind? And if he did, would she have the strength to refuse him?

“Why do you consider the child in a ‘predicament,’ Miss Darlington?”

Amanda blinked, her mind working overtime to dispel thoughts of seduction and return to the original topic. “Oh, you mean Charity?”

“We
were
talking of the child,” he reminded her with a touch of amusement in his tone. “You accused me of caring less than you for her ‘predicament.’ I do not consider the child to be in a predicament. As a whole, she is well cared for. Her parents simply misjudged in this case.”

“They should have known she’d awaken and be frightened during the storm.”

“Not everyone is so perceptive and conscientious as you are, Miss Darlington,” John suggested, uncrossing his arms and stepping back to his former position by the mantel. He stared at her with a strange expression. The firelight flickered over his face and picked out the warm golden flecks in his eyes. “You’ll make a wonderful mother,” he said softly.

Amanda shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Why do you say that? You must know that I am destined to be a spinster.” She raised her chin with a show of dignified unconcern. “And I do not mind it, you know. I … I will have my nieces and nephews to keep me well enough alarmed and entertained through their growing-up escapades. It is much more comfortable to have nephews and nieces, you know, than children of your own.”

“I believe you said it was your
sister’s
child you’re picking up at Thorney Island?”

Amanda couldn’t remember whether she’d said brother or sister, but either would do, so she answered, “Yes … er … my sister.”

John chewed his inside lip and nodded consideringly. “Yes. Well, if I had the natural instinct you do for children, Miss Darlington, I certainly wouldn’t wait for my sibling to supply me with infants to attach my interests and affections.” He suddenly got a faraway look in his eyes and a rueful half-smile on his lips. “If I were to wait for
my
brother to wed—”

“Your
brother?” Amanda sat forward in her seat and set the tumbler of cider on a nearby table. “Then you’ve remembered something, John?” Perhaps she wouldn’t have to turn him over to the authorities after all!

A mixture of alarm and confusion dawned then disappeared on John’s handsome face. He chuckled self-consciously.
“If
I had a brother, Miss Darlington. I was only speaking hypothetically, you see,” he explained. “I’m sorry if I got your hopes up.” He smiled apologetically. “I know you’re dashed anxious to be rid of me, but I still remember nothing.”

Amanda frowned. “It sounded so much like you were remembering … as if you’d a very specific brother formed in your mind’s eye. You spoke with such a familiar tone, you know.”

“I only wish I could remember a brother, or any relative for that matter. Now, if you’re done with your cider, Miss Darlington, I’ll ring for dinner.”

Jack hoped the sudden change of subject would deter Amanda from further speculation on his “tone.” Damn, but he’d almost emptied the budget that time! He was going to have to be more careful. If Amanda suspected that he’d got his memory back, he’d no longer have any excuse to stay with her. And stay with her he must!

The little frown seemed stubbornly fixed on Amanda’s face, however, as she stood up and moved to the table. As Jack took her hand and helped her to her seat, scooted her chair in, and walked around to his own seat on the opposite side of the small square table, her air of preoccupation remained. If she was having suspicions, she might try to catch him in another error. But why would she suspect him of faking amnesia? Even Jack was amazed at himself for the ruse he was practicing just to stay close to a woman he barely knew.

Julian would think he was crazy. And maybe he was … Jack’s older brother was never far from his thoughts, which could possibly account for nearly mentioning him just now. Jack knew Julian, and he knew he was out looking for him at that very instant. Julian was beastly clever, too, and Jack was well aware that time was limited before his brother tracked him down. All the more reason to avoid the hub of Chichester and any place very public.

Mr. Tebbs and two female servants entered the room and began placing numerous covered dishes on the pristine white tablecloth, and Jack and Amanda sat, silent and polite. Jack could only guess at Amanda’s thoughts, but his thoughts had progressed from his brother to Charlotte Batsford, his fiancée.

Actually, he’d been thinking a great deal of Charlotte all afternoon. He was sure she’d been distraught to discover that her groom had disappeared on the very night before their wedding! She was an affectionate girl, and he truly believed she cared for him … not very passionately, of course, but enough to be sorry if he’d fallen into a deadly scrape of some kind. He’d certainly feel the same sort of compassion and concern for her.

Lady Batsford, of course, would be in the boughs, stewing and wailing and fretting and swooning, with a vinaigrette under her nose and a handkerchief soaked in lavender water to bathe her brow. The brunt of the embarrassment attached to the aborted wedding would be felt by Charlotte’s shallow and ambitious mother, rather than Charlotte herself.

Of course, Jack had every intention of returning to London as soon as he’d made sure Amanda was safely back in Edenbridge. Then he would make amends with Charlotte, explain his absence due to amnesia, stoically endure the wedding, and make everyone happy….

Everyone, that is, except himself. If there was one thing Jack had learned by butting heads with a rock, it was that he was not ready to get married. If he weren’t already bound by honor to marry Charlotte, Jack would happily wait till he was in his dotage to tie the nuptial knot and have children. And even if he didn’t come through with a spare heir in the event that Julian didn’t marry, it was really his older brother’s duty to perpetuate the Montgomery line, not his.

When Mr. Tebbs and his helpers had bowed themselves out of the room, Jack shook off his heavy thoughts and lifted his goblet of wine as if he were about to propose a toast. “Miss Darlington?”

“Yes?” said the lady, looking up from the process of arranging her napkin over her skirts.

“I have a proposition.” He smiled roguishly. “Are you interested?”

Amanda’s eyes widened. “I suppose that depends on what you … er …
propose
, John.”

He lowered his glass and leaned forward. “I propose that you and I have a delightful dinner.”

“That is a reasonable hope—” she began, gesturing toward all the covered dishes.

“I don’t mean let’s simply enjoy our food, Miss Darlington,” Jack scoffed with a grin. “I mean, let’s forget all our troubles for tonight and concentrate on simply enjoying ourselves. You seem quite burdened down with serious thoughts, m’dear, and that just won’t do!”

Amanda blushed and fidgeted with her cutlery, fussily lining up the forks with the spoons and knives. “I will admit I have been thinking of Charity since the storm, but don’t imagine, sir, that I’m overly beset with worries. I have nothing to worry about!”

Brave girl
, thought Jack.
Nothing to worry about, indeed! Nothing but an illegitimate child to collect and a hostile society to face down once you return to Edenbridge
.

But he kept his thoughts to himself and said, instead, “That’s what I mean, Miss Darlington. You’re very tense and depressed about Charity, and since I will probably regain my memory any day … any moment … I propose we enjoy tonight as if it were our last night together. I know I’ve been a royal pain in the … er … neck since we nearly collided on the road three nights ago, but I’m eternally grateful to you for nursing me back to health and have actually quite enjoyed your company in the interim. I hope you have sometimes found
me
amusing, Miss Darlington?” he finished, lifting his brows hopefully.

“Yes, you are sometimes
quite
amusing, John,” she admitted with a faint smile. He thought he noticed a slight easing of her shoulders as she smiled, a less rigid way of sitting. That was good.

Encouraged, he grinned and raised his glass again. “Then I propose that for tonight you and I forget about any troubles we might have … past, present, or future. I propose we forget that there’s another world outside this pleasant room”—he made a sweeping gesture—“or that there’s another day coming to vex us in a few hours. Let’s forget what everyone expects of us, or who everyone thinks we should be. Let’s quite simply forget for a few precious hours, Miss Darlington …
who we are
.”

Amanda smiled, shook her head ruefully, and lifted her own nonalcoholic drink … milk. “All of which is quite easy for you to do, John. You
don’t
know who you are. Or have you forgotten you have amnesia?”

Jack put his finger to his chin in a playful pose, saying, “I have amnesia? Dashed if it didn’t slip my mind!”

They both laughed and touched glasses, the cheerful chink of crystal sounding through the room. Amanda took a sip of milk, and Jack watched her appreciatively. She looked lovely tonight. That colorful shawl added warmth and a glow to Amanda’s delicate complexion. And her hair … she’d arranged it differently. It was softer, more feminine and flattering.

And perhaps most telling of all, the top two buttons of her gown were undone. Amanda Darlington’s prodigious use of buttons to secure her garments had become a symbol of chastity to Jack … and possibly a figurative safeguard against temptation for her as well. After all, she
had
given in to temptation once and was perhaps frightened to do so again. So what exactly did the two undone buttons mean? Maybe it was best he didn’t know.

“What do you say. Miss Darlington? Will you agree to forget who you are for a few hours?”

Amanda felt as though she’d been knocked on the noggin with a wand wielded by a well-meaning but misguided fairy godmother. Of course she wanted to forget who she was for a few hours. She’d been wishing as much all day. But was it wise?