Danice Allen (25 page)

Chapter 13

Amanda couldn’t bear the accusing way John was glaring at her. “I had no choice, John,” she said with a beseeching look. “This is the best way to find out who you are.”

“At any rate, it’s probably the fastest way,” John said grimly, as he stood up and threw his napkin on the table. “And since you’re itching to be rid of me, I ought not to be so
very
surprised to see these gentlemen here this morning.”

Amanda stood up, too. She felt weak and trembling inside, not just because John was angry and hurt because he considered her involvement of the police a betrayal, but because she didn’t want him to go! Last night had been heavenly, and she could hardly bear the thought that she’d probably never see him again.

Amanda wrenched her gaze from John and addressed the older of the two constables, a man with a shock of black hair, a bulbous nose, and a walruslike mustache. “I did not suppose you’d come so very early. He’s not even had his breakfast yet!”

“I was just told to come this mornin’, miss,” said the constable, exuding stalwart authority. “And it seems the sooner this business is commenced, the better it’ll be for all concerned.”

Behind the constables, Amanda noticed Mr. Tebbs’s anxious face looking in at the door and a couple of mobcapped maids.

“You aren’t arresting me, are you?” John demanded to know.

“Not exactly, sir,” the constable said after a considering pause.

John’s brows lifted. “Then by what authority and to what purpose do you intend to take me into custody? I certainly haven’t broken any laws.”

The constable pointed to Amanda with his nightstick, making her feel even guiltier. “This here lady says that due to an accident, you’ve plum forgot who you are, sir. We can help you establish your identity.”

“How Good Samaritan of you, to be sure,” John said caustically. “But what if I don’t need or want your help?” He stood straighter. “What if I refuse to willingly go with you?”

The younger constable, a thin youth with a spotted face, shifted from foot to foot and glanced nervously at his superior.

“Well,” began the senior constable, “first I’d figure that there’s something havey-cavey goin’ on if you don’t want to know who you are. I might conclude that you’re playin’ fast and loose with the law. Maybe you’re a wanted man … a smuggler or a thief gone incognito.”

John smiled contemptuously. “You have an active imagination. I can assure you I’m neither of those things.”

The constable shrugged. “If you’ve got nothin’ to hide, sir, by my reckoning there’s no logical reason why you wouldn’t want to know who you are.”

“But I dislike your methods. Is there no other way to resolve this dilemma?”

“As the lady is no longer willing to take responsibility for you, sir, and if you refuse our assistance, there’s only one alternative.”

“And pray what is that?”

“The hospital asylum, sir, for the mentally deranged.”

John laughed. “I’m not mad. I’ve simply lost my memory!”

Amanda began to wring her hands. She had not expected John to be so uncooperative, nor the police to be so stern and businesslike. And the very idea of John going to Bedlam or such was unthinkable! She’d take him to Thorney Island with her, and even Darlington Hall, before she’d let that happen.

“Come along quietly, sir, and we won’t have to restrain you.”

Amanda’s eyes widened with horror as she noticed for the first time that the younger constable was holding a length of rope.

“Gentlemen!” she exclaimed. “Surely it won’t be necessary to tie him up!” She turned to John. “Oh, do please go with them quietly, John! They mean you no harm and only wish to help you!”

John gave her a gently rebuking glance, then spoke again to the constable. “It should be perfectly obvious that I’m neither a criminal nor a madman. I’ve got plenty of blunt and have no more need of this lady’s assistance than I have of yours.”

He took out his purse and cradled it in one palm. The two constables exchanged glances.

“I can rack up in an inn and wait till my memory returns, if need be. So why don’t you tell me, sirs, just what it will take to get you off my
arse.”
John plopped the purse into his other palm with a jingle of coins and waited.

Amanda thought it looked very much as though John were attempting to bribe the two officers of the law. The keen expression in the senior constable’s eyes was either avarice or righteous indignation. It turned out to be the latter.

“If you think you can bribe me, sir,” he growled, “you’re dead wrong. And if you don’t want to be arrested for doin’ just that, I think you’d better put away that plump purse of yours.”

John hesitated, glowering belligerently, but finally put the purse away in his coat pocket. Amanda could actually see the tension ease out of the senior constable’s broad shoulders a little. He didn’t want trouble, either.

“In answer to your question, the only way to get us off your
arse
, sir, would be for you to tell us who you are. Can you do that, sir?”

Amanda got the distinct impression that even if he could tell them who he was—which, of course, he couldn’t—John’s hackles were up, and he’d withhold the information out of sheer spite and stubbornness. He set his jaw, lifted his chin, crossed his arms, and stood as silent and grim as a palace guard.

The constable sighed and nodded at his young helper. “Well, then, there’s only one thing left to do—”

Amanda squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for a wrestling match between John and the constables. But an unfamiliar voice came from the direction of the doorway to pierce the strained silence.

“I can tell you who this man is.”

Amanda’s eyes flew open. Standing head and shoulders above Mr. Tebbs was a man with the sculpted beauty and grace of a Greek statue. He was fair-skinned and blond with startling pale blue eyes that were fixed on John. As Mr. Tebbs and the maids stepped aside with open-mouthed awe so the stranger could enter the room, John steadfastly returned the man’s gaze. But he did not portray any emotions. His face was completely expressionless.

The stranger walked past Mr. Tebbs and the gaping maids, and past the stunned constables without sparing any one of them a single glance. Once inside the room, as he stood a little removed from them all and continued to stare at John, Amanda stared at him.

From his snowy-white cravat and stiff collar to his pale blue waistcoat with white stripes, his Bishop’s blue cutaway coat, white pantaloons and tall black boots, he epitomized cool, patrician elegance. She, as well as all the others in the room, waited breathlessly for him to speak. Finally he did.

“This gentleman, whom you seem so eager to truss up like a chicken and cart away to your offices, is Jackson Thadeus Montgomery, Viscount Durham … my brother.”

Amanda was shocked. She glanced back and forth between John—who apparently was a Jack—and the stranger. They didn’t look anything alike. Jack was all darkness and fire, his brother was lightness and ice. Jack was impulsive. His brother looked completely in control … although she did think she detected a particular brilliance in his eyes as he looked at Jack that hinted at strong emotions held firmly in check.

As Jack still had not moved or spoken, Amanda caught his arm. “Do you recognize your brother, John … er, that is …
Jack
?”

Jack stirred, throwing Amanda a furtive glance before locking eyes with the stranger again. “No, I don’t recognize him,” he said coolly, then added in what Amanda thought was a rather grudging tone, “But there is a vague familiarity about him.”

The stranger smiled wryly and took a step forward. “I should hope I look vaguely familiar, Jack. What rig are you up to now, little brother?”

Amanda moved closer to Jack and held up a restraining hand. “Jack has had a memory lapse, sir, due to an accident. It would be a wonderful thing if indeed you
are
his brother, but since he has not yet recognized you, could you please introduce yourself and give us some proof as to your connection to him?”

The stranger stopped his approach, shrugged, and gave a slight, formal bow. “My name is Julian Fitzwilliam Montgomery, Marquess of Serling.” Then he tucked two slim, elegant fingers into a waistcoat pocket and pulled out a chain and locket. In a leisurely manner, he pinched open the locket and moved closer, offering the jewelry for inspection.

“This locket belonged to our late mother. We were rather younger then, but as you can see, there can be no denying that these likenesses are of Jack and myself.”

Jack and Amanda both looked at the tiny etchings. The evidence seemed irrefutable. Jack looked thoughtful and Amanda nodded, convinced. The marquess then offered the locket to the constables, who duly examined the article and returned it.

“Well, it looks like you won’t have to come with us after all, your lordship,” said the senior constable, giving his hat a straightening tug. “You’re lucky your brother showed up just now.”

“Yes, but how did you know to look
here
for your brother?” asked Amanda, turning toward the marquess.

“Mrs. Beane, the proprietress of the Three Nuns, gave me a clue as to which direction you were headed after leaving Horsham, and I’ve been on the lookout for you since I got to town yesterday afternoon. This particular inn escaped my notice when I made what I thought was a thorough search of places you might stay the night.” He raised a brow, much in the same manner as Jack sometimes did. “But this one is rather off the beaten track, isn’t it?”

Amanda blushed, all too aware that the inn had been chosen for just that reason.

The marquess continued. “I was making another round of the town before leaving and traveling westward when I spied these constables marching purposefully down the street as if on official business. I followed them on a hunch.”

“You ought to have contacted us the minute you came to town,’ said the constable. “We are trained to handle such situations, my lord.”

The marquess gave a soft, beleaguered sigh and removed a speck of lint off his otherwise spotless lapel. “I abhor a public to-do when I feel fairly confident in being able to handle things myself. Now if you don’t mind,” he continued, effectively taking charge, “I would like some time alone with my brother so that we might get reacquainted. Landlord, bring another setting, won’t you? I haven’t had breakfast.”

Summarily dismissed, everyone scrambled out of the room except for Amanda. Jack had caught her hand and was holding fast. “Miss Darlington will stay, of course,” he said.

The marquess looked at Amanda and bowed. “Of course,” he agreed, smiling. If he did not like her presence in the room, he hid it well behind a polite facade.

They sat down at the table, and plateware for the marquess was immediately brought in. Mr. Tebbs hovered and served for a few minutes, but reacted promptly to a pointed look from Lord Serling and left the room.

“So, Jack,” said the marquess, ignoring the food and leaning forward with his arms folded on the table. “Your memory is quite gone, is it? You remember nothing of your former life?”

“I remember nothing,” he answered calmly. Amanda thought Jack was acting very cautious and reserved. But if he didn’t recognize this dignified marquess as his brother, it would be rather daunting to suddenly find out they were so closely related.

“How dashed inconvenient,” said the marquess, with a faint smile Amanda suspected was a little insincere. But why would Lord Serling make mocking comments at such a serious moment? “However, I am a wealth of information at your fingertips. Don’t you want to ask me a few questions?”

Jack chewed consideringly on a piece of toast. “The truth?”

Lord Serling spread his hands wide. “But of course.”

“Actually I’m not terribly interested in knowing particulars about myself just now.”

“Jack!” exclaimed Amanda. “I should think you’d be dying of curiosity!”

“It is enough that my brother has found me and can help me return home when the time comes.”

Lord Serling raised his brows. “When the time comes?”

“I have business to finish here first,” Jack answered obliquely. Amanda had a bad feeling she knew exactly what that “business” was. She was going to have to make it perfectly clear to Jack that she would not allow him to escort her to Thorney Island. She was about to tell him so when the marquess spoke up.

“But. you have friends and loved ones worried about you … waiting for you,” Lord Serling told him.

Jack sliced a piece of bacon. “Do I have a wife?”

Amanda held her breath. She had been wondering the same thing, agonizing over the possibility that she may have made love to another woman’s husband.

The marquess sat back in his chair and watched Jack with a penetrating gaze. “No,” he said at last.

Amanda released her held breath with a shudder of relief.

“Therefore I must conclude that I have no children … at least none that I can acknowledge. Do I have parents still living?”

“No,” said the marquess.

“Siblings?”

“Just me.”

“So, if you are my closest living relative and you already know I’m safe and sound, I see no reason to rush home. Do you?”

Lord Serling cast a flickering glance Amanda’s way and said, “You have responsibilities, Jack. Places to go, my dear brother, and … promises to keep.”

Jack dabbed his mouth with a napkin, then caught and held the marquess’s gaze. “Any promises I’ve made
will
be honored … have no fears about that. They must simply wait an additional day or two for my attention. In the meantime, perhaps you would be so good as to send word by messenger to my … er … friends and let them know I am safe and will see them within the week. Does that satisfy you?”

The two brothers stared at each other as if communicating in some unspoken language. Presently, the marquess stirred and said matter-of-factly, “I suppose it must satisfy me for now.” He lifted his fork and began to eat.

“But there’s no need for a delay of any kind,” Amanda protested, unable to hold her tongue any longer. “Jack has some harebrained idea he must escort me to Thorney Island to pick up my nephew. But I can assure you that there is no need for his escort or assistance at all!”