Loving a Lost Lord (14 page)

Mariah spent a restless night wondering if Adam's shocked numbness would turn into anger. The misery in his face when she'd confessed had made her feel ill. And despite her guilt, she missed having him in her bed. Though they had slept together for only a few nights and made love only once, his absence ached like an amputated limb. She could hardly bear the thought that they might never be physically close again.

There was some comfort in waking to find Annabelle standing on her chest, the furry black and white face earnest in the faint light. The cat usually stayed in the kitchen by the fire, but perhaps she sensed Mariah's distress. Whatever the reason, she was glad to have the sleek black and white body settle next to her.

Mariah was nervous when she got up and went downstairs. Adam wasn't in the breakfast room when she arrived. Her imagination immediately produced an image of him packing up in the middle of the night and fleeing on horseback to get away from her lying, untrustworthy self. Sister Sarah would
not
have found herself in such a situation.

He appeared when she was pouring tea and gave a faint smile as he accepted the cup she poured for him. “Did you sleep well?”

“Honestly? No.” She smiled ruefully. “Annabelle kept me company.”

“And Bhanu joined me.” He buttered a piece of toast. “It was…not an improvement on what I had come to expect.”

They shared a wry glance. She almost melted with relief. It might be impossible for them to be together in the future, but it mattered tremendously that he didn't hate her.

Feeling a dangerous desire to kiss him, she reminded herself sharply that at any moment, Adam might recall a life that had no place for her. “Try some of the blackberry preserves. Mrs. Beckett's daughter made them.”

“Thank you.” He scooped out a heaping spoonful. “I think it best if we continue to act as we have in the past. Up to a point.”

And she knew exactly where that point was. He hadn't touched her since that last, desperate embrace in the garden. He was a wise man. Wiser than she. “I agree. I much prefer being on friendly terms with you.”

“And I with you,” he said softly.

They were chatting amiably, almost like they had before her confession, when the downstairs maid entered the breakfast room, her eyes round with excitement. “There is a gentleman here to see Mr. Clarke. A Mr. Masterson. He's waiting in the drawing room.”

Granny Rose had sometimes had flashes of certainty that she said were like being splashed with ice water. For the first time, Mariah experienced that chilling sensation.

Adam rose and said, “Likely it's someone from the village looking for employment. He should have gone to Cochrane, but he might not know we've hired a steward. I'll talk to him. I like to get the measure of men we…” Adam hesitated, then continued, “Men you might employ.”

Heart pounding, Mariah also rose. “I'll go with you. Perhaps I'll recognize him from church.” As she walked beside Adam, she wished she could grab his hand and run away, but she knew in her bones that whatever fate awaited could not be avoided.

They entered the drawing room, and she immediately understood why the maid had said “gentleman.” The tall stranger, Masterson, stood by the window, his broadly built body tight with tension. Brown haired and gray eyed, he wore power and authority as easily as his well-tailored clothing. He was around Adam's age, and while not as handsome, his wide-cheekboned face looked designed for laughter.

As soon as they entered, he stared at Adam, riveted. “Ash!” he breathed.

Pain stabbed through Mariah. Disaster had arrived.

Masterson rushed over and grabbed Adam's right hand with both of his. He didn't even see Mariah. “My God, you're alive! We were all sure you had drowned!”

Mariah felt shock blaze through Adam. Shock, but also eagerness. He asked, “You know me?”

“Anytime these last twenty years.” Masterson's brow furrowed and he released Adam's hand as he realized something wasn't right. “Don't you recognize me?”

“I'm afraid not.” Adam closed the door. “We must talk. Why did you think I was dead?” He took Mariah's hand and led her to the sofa, his clasp numbingly tight.

Masterson took a chair opposite. “Your steamship exploded on a test run out of Glasgow. You were missing and presumed dead. After Randall, Kirkland, and I heard the news, we traveled to Glasgow and we've been looking for you or your body ever since. How did you end up this far south?” He studied Adam's impassive face.

“I had a head injury that scrambled my wits.” Adam absently touched the healing scar on his head. “I don't remember the accident, but I vaguely recall clinging to a piece of wreckage for a long time. Days. Eventually I came ashore here with no memory of my name or past.” He frowned at Masterson. “Yet…I've seen your face in a dream. An icy night near London, and a woman's death.”

Masterson's face paled. “There was such a night. Do you remember nothing else from before you were in the water?”

“Only dreams that might be true dreams.” His voice became intent. “How do I know you?”

“Six of us met as the first class at the Westerfield Academy when we were around ten or eleven years old. We've been fast friends ever since.” He smiled a little. “It was a school for problem boys. I'm Will Masterson. My problem was acute stubbornness.” For the first time, he seemed to notice Mariah, and his gaze was uncomfortably sharp. “Will you introduce me to this lady?”

“She is Miss Mariah Clarke. The woman who saved my life by pulling me out of the water and taking me in.” Adam's grip on her hand tightened. “My fiancée.”

Mariah was almost as startled as Masterson, whose jaw dropped. Apparently Adam wished to maintain the illusion that they were a couple. If they could be. Afraid of hearing the worst, Mariah asked, “He isn't married already, is he?”

“No.” Masterson collected himself. “Forgive my rudeness. I am merely surprised by the suddenness. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Clarke. Especially since you saved Ash's life.”

Mariah almost dissolved with relief. Thank heaven that the devoted wife and loving children of her imagination didn't exist! She wasn't sure why Adam claimed her as his fiancée, but guessed that she was his shield against this new uncertainty.

“I'm glad I haven't forgotten a family,” Adam said. “But you have not yet told me who I am.”

Masterson smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I'm not thinking clearly. I'm still stunned by the miracle of your recovery. Your name is Adam Darshan Lawford.”

“Adam?” He glanced at Mariah, startled.

“I picked the name at random!” she said under her breath.

“This explains why it felt comfortable.” To Masterson, he said, “So my name is Adam Lawford. Where do I live? What is my occupation? Do I even have one?”

“You have several homes. One in London, of course,” Masterson said, as if a London house was the most natural thing in the world. “While you own a number of other properties, your principal seat is Ralston Abbey in Wiltshire.”

As Mariah bit her lip at the thought of so much wealth, Adam said warily, “I sound…prosperous.”

“Rather more than prosperous,” Masterson replied with amusement. “And you're kept rather busy as well. You're the seventh Duke of Ashton.”

Mariah's relief at Adam's single status vanished. “Adam is a
duke
?”

He was as far away from her as ever. Perhaps even farther.

Adam heard Mariah gasp. Her shock echoed his. He was getting devilish tired of shocks. “A duke. If I recall correctly, that's a very high rank, is it not?”

“The highest, outside the royal family,” Masterson replied.

A duke. Adam hated the idea. Just thinking about it made him feel strangled. “It seems improbable that I should be a duke.”

“Improbable, but true,” Masterson said patiently. It must be strange for him to be talking with an old friend who didn't recognize him. Though not as strange as it was being the old friend.

Adam flashed back to the dream he'd had in which a younger Masterson had just lost a beloved wife. The friendship between him and Masterson had been palpable. Yet he had no true memory of the thousand small interactions that had built into that friendship. He did, however, retain an underlying trust. He had no doubt that Will Masterson was telling the truth.

Adam had expected to be delighted to rediscover his past, but he had assumed his memories would come back on their own. Having his life explained to him was profoundly strange. “I'm glad no wife and children have been mourning me.” He squeezed Mariah's hand again. Despite the awkwardness of their situation, she was familiar. “Do I have other family? A mother, brothers, sisters?”

“You haven't many close relations.” Masterson frowned. “I'd best start at the beginning. You were born in India. Your father served as the British Resident at a Hindu royal court; I'm not sure which one. He was a cousin to the Duke of Ashton, but not closely in line to inherit. I believe there were four or five nearer heirs. So when he fell in love with a lovely, high-born Hindu girl, there seemed no reason not to marry. Many other British officers serving in India have done the same.”

Adam stared down at the hand that wasn't holding on to Mariah's. So this was the source of his dark, un-English coloring. He thought of the familiar taste of curry on his tongue, and the exotic flowered garden. Most of all, he thought of the beautiful dark-haired woman. “I presume the other heirs died, then my father, so the Ashton inheritance went to an un-English half blood.”

“Exactly so. I believe your father had just been informed that he was the sixth duke and he was making plans to return to England when he was struck with a fever and died.” Masterson's voice turned dry. “Naturally the authorities stepped in and sent you back to London with a British family that was returning home so you could be raised as a proper English gentleman.”

How casually “the authorities” had ripped him away from everything he had known. “What of my mother? Do I have any younger brothers or sisters?” He thought of the dream where he had played with a boy and a girl with green eyes.

Masterson started to reply, then halted. “Now that I think of it, I don't know the circumstances of your mother's death. You've never talked much about your past. Perhaps she died before your father inherited. There were no younger children, or they would have been brought home, too.”

“What crime landed me in a school for problem boys? Being foreign?” Adam's voice was edged.

Masterson looked embarrassed. “I think that was much of the reason. You were being difficult and your trustees just didn't know what to do with you.

“But being sent to the Westerfield Academy was for the best. Lady Agnes Westerfield is the founder and headmistress of the academy, and she's the most amazing woman. She has traveled the world, visiting wild and dangerous places. She used to tell us tales of her adventures if we were good. She started the school to keep herself busy. In fact, you were the first student. She actually likes boys, which made the academy a fine place to be.” More quietly, he said, “She became the mother none of us had.”

Adam looked at his dark hands again, with their calluses. He couldn't have been anyone's idea of a duke. “I have no other family?”

“You spent summers and holidays in the household of your father's first cousin. He and his family were away from England when you first returned, or you might have been sent to them instead of Westerfield. You called them Uncle Henry and Aunt Georgiana. He died a while back, but she and her two children, Hal and Janey, survive.”

Glad he wasn't entirely devoid of relations, Adam asked, “Do my cousins have green eyes?”

Masterson thought about it. “As a matter of fact, yes. Their eyes are very like yours. As far as I know, you get on well with both of them. Hal is a good fellow, and Janey is a real charmer.”

A thought struck Adam. “This cousin Hal. He would be my heir, I think. He may not rejoice to learn I'm alive.”

“I suppose that's true.” Masterson's expression changed, as if an unpleasant thought had just struck. “He may be somewhat disappointed that he won't be the eighth duke—that's only human. But he'll be more happy than sorry to see you alive, I think.”

Masterson's statement seemed rather tentative. Even a fond cousin was apt to feel disappointed when a great prize he thought he had inherited was taken away. A pity that Adam hadn't been left in India so this cousin would have been the duke. He surely would have enjoyed the rank more.

He glanced down at Mariah, who was sitting silent and unhappy, her fingers locked in his. With her blond loveliness and grave expression, she looked like a wounded Madonna. If he had never left India, he never would have met her, so he must be grateful for his inheritance, despite his confused feelings about her.

“What more do you want to know?” Masterson spread his hands. “I'm not sure where to start. You are well respected and have many friends. You like working with your hands, whether it's building a steam engine or digging in your garden.” His gaze strayed to Mariah. “And you have been considered one of the greatest catches on the Marriage Mart since you first entered society.”

Adam winced. “I think I'd rather not have known that.” His head was throbbing with the worst pain he'd experienced since Mariah had pulled him from the sea. Now, despite everything, he wanted to be alone with her. “I think I've heard all I can absorb for now.”

Taking the hint, Masterson got to his feet. “Kirkland and Randall should be arriving in Hartley today, barring the unforeseen. They'll want to see for themselves that you're alive. When would be a good time to call?”

As Adam and Mariah stood, she said, “You can all join us for dinner tonight if that's all right with you, Adam.”