Her Counterfeit Husband (4 page)

Appleton stood from the chair where he was having tea and w
ent over to her.  “What is it, Your G
race?”

Lowering her voice so
the doctor
wouldn’t overhear, she said, “He doesn’t remember anything.  And when I say
anything
, I mean anything.”

“He’s lost his memory?” Appleton whispered.

She nodded.

“And if he was beaten and left for dead, then someone out there doesn’t like him.”

She nodded again, even though she had no idea if that should be a concern or not.  He didn’t strike her as a bad person.  She’d been intimidated by her husband when she first met him, but
she assumed that was because he’d been a duke and she’d been an eighteen-year-o
ld lady having her first Season
.

“We’ll take him to Camden, and then I’ll do a search to see if I can find anyone who knows him,” Appleton finally whispered.  “In the meantime, I thin
k it’s best to limit what we tell him
.”

That sounded like a good way to proceed, so she agreed.

Appleton turned to
Dr.
Grant.  “I’m sorry
, but
we can’t stay
any
longer.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Dr.
Grant said and faced Anna.  “I’m just relieved your husband will be all right.
  Let me gather the supplies
you’ll need, and then you can be on your way.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. 
At least this part of the ordeal was over.  Now it was a matter of getting him home.  From there, she and Appleton would have to decide what to do.

***

By the time Anna and Appleton got the stranger back to Camden and in
to
a clean bed, Anna was exhausted, but she knew their task was far from over. 
They had to explain
his
injuries to Dr. Unger who was due by at ten that morning.  As dawn came up over the horizon, she glanced at Appleton who tucked the clean bedding around
the stranger’s body.  Fortunately, the medicine
from
Dr. Grant
had
made him
sleepy so she was spared
from
having to answer any questions he might have.

She examined the bandages, gauze
s
, ointment
s
, and medicine
s
on the table by the bed.  “Appleton, should we hide these when Dr. Unger
comes here?”

Appleton went over to her.  “
He’ll see he’s been tended to by another doctor
.  He’ll know something happened.  What we need is an explanation for why he has cuts and bruises on his body.”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead, willing the ache to subside.  “I can
’t think of a good reason.  Can’t we just tell him that my husband is well and that his services are no longer required?”

“Not without arousing suspicion.”

She groaned and sank into the chair by the table.  “What are we g
oing to do?  We can’t explain something like
that when he’s been in bed the
entire time.”

Appleton clasped his hands behind his back and paced the room a few times before he stopped and looked in her direction.  “A fall.”

“What?”

“If he got out of bed, he could have fallen.  A fall that is hard enough can lead to bruises and broken ribs.
  We can say he fell down the
stairs.  That kind of fall can
do substantial damage.
”

“And the cuts?”

“He could have caught a few nicks on his way down. 
He could have scratched himself if he tried to cover his face.” He shrugged.  “This gentleman also has some bruises on hi
s legs
. 
Whoever did this, they
wanted to make sure he was in pain before he died.”

She shivered as she thought of the reasons why someone would want to do that.  “Do you think we made a mistake in bringing him here?”

“I don’t
think we had any other choice, Your G
race.  At least we know
Lord Mason won’t be taking your husband’s place.  If this gentlemen,” he motioned to the stranger, “turns out to be an unsavory sort,
I think it’d behoove you to live somewhere else.  He lost his memory, so we’ll tell him that you were only here until he got better.”

“All right.  But do you think the doctor will believe he fell?”

“I don’t know, but he can’t prove he didn’t.”

That was true.

“Everyone is getting up for the day,” Appleton said and helped her stand up from the chair.  “I need to change clothes and tend to my duties.  Try to get some sleep.”

Before he could leave the room, she grabbed his arm.  “You’ll make sure I’m there with the doctor?  If he doesn’t believe this stra
nger fell down the stairs…”

“He’ll have to believe it because there’s no way he’ll assume a lady buried her husband in the middle of the night
, found a lookalike husband, and brought him back here
.”

“And these medical supplies?” she asked, turning to them.

“We’ll say that i
t’s very fortunate I had a personal friend who was a doctor who came
for a stay last night.
  What a pity
it is that
he had to leave early in the morning.”

“It’s too much of a coincidence.”

“Maybe, but what are the chances we’d find a gentleman who looks exactly like your husband?”

He had a good point.  They were already going to tell one lie.  What were a few more?  From this point forward, their lives would revolve aro
und keeping their secret safe.

“Your G
race, try to get some rest.  When the doctor comes, we’ll deal with it then,” Appleton softly said.

“You’re right.” Her hand tightened around his arm.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  I can only hope the new duke will deserve you.”

Touched by his care and concern, she smiled before she turned to the door leading to her bedchamber.  The night had been a long one, and it was likely that the day would be even longer.  But she would get through it.  Weary, she slipped into her bedchamber and took a light nap.

***

Three days later, the gentleman woke from his slumber
and winced from the pain in his forehead.  The door opened, so he turned his head
in time to see the lady—his wife—enter the room.  She appeared to him every day as an angel
with her golden hair framing her head like a halo.  He spent all of his time in bed, the medicine making him sleep
so he could heal
, so he didn’t often wake up in time to see her
.
  He was glad he woke up when he did.

Each day, he felt better, but he still didn’t remember anything up to the night when
a doctor
was tending to his wounds.  That was the first night he saw her and learned she was his wife.  And ever since
,
she tended to him, cleaning his wounds and seeing to his needs.

As she had the day before, she set down a bowl of clean water by his bed and
touched the bandage on his forehead
.  “How do you feel
?” she asked him, her voice soft and tender.

“Better, thanks to you.” He tried to sit up, but his strength faltered.

“Please don’t strain yourself.” She helped him settle back in a comfortable position and fluffed his pillow for him.  “You need your rest.”

“I get impatient.”

“I understand, but I promise these days will pass and you’ll be feeling like your old self in no time.”

He nodded, knowing she was right.  “Mind if I ask what my old self
was like?”

She glanced at him for a
moment before removing the bandage from his forehead.  “I think the ointment
the doctor
gave us is doing wonders.  You’ll have a scar but nothing more.”

“Why won’t you answer my questions?  Every time I ask you something, you avoid the topic.”

She placed his old bandage on the table and dipped a clean cloth into the bowl.  “Do I?”

“Yes.  You start talking about my wounds.”

With a sigh, she shrugged and turned back to him so she could dab his forehead with the water.  “I don’t know what to tell you.  So much has happened
in the past.” She cleared her throat and put more ointment on his forehead.  “I don’t even know where to begin.”

That was fair enough, he decided.  After thinking it over, he asked, “How did we meet?”

She picked up a clean bandage and placed it over his wound.  Her fingers brushed his skin, almost tickling him.  “I don’t remember all of the details.  It happened six years ago.”

“What do you remember?”

She sighed.  “Isn’t there something else you’d rather
learn?”

Disappointed since she didn’t want to
answer his
question, he considered other things he wanted to know.  He never felt right in forcing her to answer his inquiries, which was why he hadn’t had any luck
in learning about his past
. “All right.  I would like to know your name.”

“I am the Duchess of Watkins.”

“No, not your title.  I want to know your name.” When she didn’t reply, he
asked, “Do we r
efer to each other by our Christian
names since we’re married?”

“Actually, we don’
t.  We refer to each other as ‘Your G
race’.”

He frowned.  “We do?”

She nodded.

“But why?”

With a shrug, she checked his nose.  “Does this hurt?”

“It’s a little sore but not too bad.”

She turned her attention to his ribs
and lightly patted the gauze
.  “Do you feel any better than you did this morning?”

“Yes.  Now will you please answer me?”

Her gaze met his and she shook her head.  “You sure are persistent when you’re awake.”

“Is that something new about me?”

She brought her hands up to his shoulder and peeled back the bandage
to inspect his cut
.  “Just as I suspected.  You’re bleeding.  You need to stop trying to sit up without my help.”

He groaned.  “
I’ll
sit up right now unless you tell me your name.”

“What?” She turned her bewildered eyes to him.  “You can’t be serious.”

Frustrated, he got up on his good elbow to show her that he was, indeed, serious.

“Anna!  My name is Anna.”

Satisfied, he settled onto his back, relieved his bluff had paid off since he didn’t have
the energy to sit up
.  As it was, his head was spinning.

Though she didn’t say anything, he could tell she was irritated
by
the way she
threw
the bandage on the
table
.

Wishing he hadn’t upset her, he took her hand in his and squeezed it.  “I’m so
rry.  I didn’t want to annoy you.  I just wanted to know your name.”

She relaxed and gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling her hand away
from his
.  “It’s hard to explain why we don’t refer to each other by our Christian names, but we never have.”

He hesitated for a moment then asked, “
What is
my name?”

She bit he
r lower lip.

“Well
?”
he pressed.

Bringing the wet cloth to his bad shoulder, she cleaned his wound, and though she was gentle, he winced.  “Forgive me.  I know it hurts
,
but
I
can’t think of anything I
can do to ease the pain
.”

“You can tell me my name,” he replied through gritted teeth.

For the first time since he started asking her questions, she laughed.  “You really don’t give up when you want something.”

“Does that mean you’re going to answer me?”

“Very well.  The Duke of Watkin
s
’
Christian name is Jason.”

His eyebrows furrowed.  That was an odd way of answering him.  Why didn’t she come out and say
his
name was Jason?
  Were they
that
formal with each other?  “I’m sorry.”

She dabbed ointment on his shoulder.  “Sorry about the name being Jason?”