Loving a Lost Lord (16 page)

“Indeed?” Adam scratched the dog's head. “What does Bhanu mean?”

“The sun,” Kirkland said. “It's Hindustani.”

Adam smiled. “Clearly both Bhanus were beautiful in a Hindu way.”

The men all laughed, but in that moment, Mariah became sure that Adam would recover his memories. Small things, like the dog's name and Adam's dreams, proved that the past was close, just waiting to emerge into the present.

Then he would need her no more.

A maid brought in a decanter of port and four goblets. Adam wasn't surprised to see Mariah rise to her feet with unseemly swiftness. “I will leave you gentlemen to your port,” she said brightly.

As Adam poured a glass, Kirkland asked her, “Is it Ballard port? That would be from the firm run by the other old school friend we spoke of earlier. Very good it is, too.”

“I really don't know.” Mariah edged toward the door. “Someone else filled the decanter.”

“I'm sure we'll manage.” Adam slid the decanter to Kirkland. “We shall see you later in the drawing room.” He glanced at Mariah, trying to convey that he fully understood her desire to escape her guests for a while.

Unfortunately, Masterson also got to his feet. “The light lingers so long this far north. I'd like to see the grounds if you're willing to guide me, Miss Clarke.”

She did not look enthralled but was too polite to refuse. “I would be happy to show you some of the property,” she said. “Just let me get a shawl.”

She returned wrapped in her grandmother's shawl despite its shabbiness. She must have felt that she needed Granny Rose's support. Masterson opened the door for her and they departed, Bhanu at their heels.

Adam hoped that Masterson was as benevolent as he seemed. Mariah had enough to endure with these strangers invading her house. He wasn't sure how he felt about them himself. They were all honorable, intelligent men, even Randall, apart from his obvious suspicions of Mariah. But Adam didn't feel any particular bond. He rubbed his aching temple, thinking that his old life was a source of regular headaches. After the door closed, he said, “In Hartley, people think Mariah and I are married. It seemed a way to remove the scandal from my living under her roof. I would ask that you maintain the pretense as long as you're here.”

“Very well. That has the virtue of simplicity.” Kirkland frowned. “There is something we must discuss with you, Ash, and I'd rather not do it in front of Miss Clarke.”

“I do hope you aren't going to try to convince me that she is not suitable to be my wife,” Adam replied, his voice edged. He might not be sure he could trust her, but he'd be damned if he'd see her criticized by men who had barely met her.

“Nothing like that. She is an attractive, intelligent young woman and you seem to care about each other, which is a good foundation for marriage. This is quite a different matter.” Kirkland exchanged a glance with Randall. “Do you remember anything at all about the accident that left you injured and lost at sea?”

Adam's brows drew together as he thought back to his earliest, dimmest memories. “I vaguely recall hanging on to a beam and floating in cold water for what seemed to be forever. But I have no memory of the accident. Why would it matter?”

“Because we started looking for you by salvaging the wreckage of your ship, the
Enterprise,
” Randall replied. “We found that the boiler had been deliberately damaged and sloppily repaired in a way that guaranteed an explosion. Apparently someone was trying to murder you.”

Stunned, Adam exclaimed, “Murder? What have I done to earn such an enemy?”

“Nothing,” Kirkland replied. “But there are some who disapprove of a half-Hindu English duke. You've been the target of scurrilous cartoons and satirical pieces. Though it has nothing to do with you personally, there are people who dislike you on principle.”

“I can understand being despised for my blood,” Adam said slowly, “but would such anger be great enough to blow up a Scottish ship with a number of British crew members? It seems a complicated way to kill when a bullet in the heart would do. Could the villain have been trying to wreck the ship itself? Perhaps some rival steamship builder wanted to destroy the competition.”

Kirkland made a rueful face. “Anything is possible. We have no evidence. But there is no history of murderous rivalry between Scottish engineers and shipbuilders.”

“If I was the quarry, there might be another attempt.” Adam tried to grasp the fact that someone might be trying to kill him. “If I take Mariah to London, she might be hurt if someone is after me.”

Though Randall looked as if this would be a good excuse to leave her behind, Kirkland said, “I would hope you'd be safe with us, and you are more than formidable in your own right. But you need to be aware that someone might wish you ill.”

“I'm formidable?” Adam asked, bemused. “I had no idea.”

Randall's eyes glinted. “On a good day, you can shoot as well as I can.”

“And on any day, you can defeat Masterson, Randall, or me in hand-to-hand fighting,” Kirkland added. “You learned some unholy fighting techniques as a boy in India, and because you needed sparring partners, you taught your classmates. None of us was ever quite as good, though.”

“I always suspected that you didn't teach some of your best moves, and you were too quick for me to figure them out.” Randall's gaze was distant. “But I still learned enough to save my life more than once in battle.”

“So I'm a duke and a master of deadly arts,” Adam said dryly. “I hadn't noticed. But I know that it would be altogether simpler if you hadn't found me.”

“Would you have preferred that?” Kirkland asked quietly.

Adam rubbed his aching head again, wondering. The life he'd left behind sounded overwhelming and not particularly attractive. Cumberland was much more peaceful, and he would have time to come to terms with his complicated feelings about Mariah. But as long as his memory was gone, he would always wonder what he had lost. “I suppose…it's better to know the truth.”

Yet despite his words, he wasn't sure.

 

As Mariah left the house with her guest, she said, “Adam has been working on restoring the gardens, Lord Masterson. We can walk there, or we could go down to the seaside where I found him. It's not far.”

“Call me Will. Everyone does. I'd like to see where you found Ash.” Masterson fell into step beside her. “Perhaps tomorrow he can show us the gardens. He has always been interested in landscaping. The grounds of Ralston Abbey are some of the finest in England. The garden of Ashton House is much smaller, of course, but very lovely. When you walk there, you will have trouble believing you're in the heart of London.”

In a fortnight, Mariah would be in London as the guest of a duke. The visit would be very different from previous visits with her father, when they stayed in rented lodgings that were modest at best. She ached for the days when her father was alive and they were constant companions, but there was no going back. And as long as she and Adam were together, there was a chance for a future, no matter how slim.

They strolled down the lane down to the small beach. She was glad Masterson didn't seem disposed to chat. He was right about the long days this far north. Even though it was well after dinner, the sun was still above the horizon. When high summer arrived, there wouldn't be much night.

The shore was windy, with choppy waves slapping hard on the sand and shingle. Bhanu trotted to the water's edge, giving a yip when a wave splashed her nose. Masterson asked, “Was the water this rough when you rescued him?”

“Worse. It was late, near midnight.” She gestured to the place where she had first seen Adam. “There was enough moonlight that I could see something dark floating. I thought it was a drowned man.” She made a face. “I was tempted to run and hide, but the tide was starting to turn. I thought the body might be swept out to sea again, so I waded in and found Adam. Not quite dead, though close. I don't think he would have lasted much longer.”

“What brought you to the shore in the middle of the night?” he asked curiously.

If she told him the truth about Granny Rose's ritual, she would definitely be too strange for a duke. “I was restless and couldn't sleep. Burke, the former owner of the manor, was trying to persuade me to marry him and I was afraid that in a weak moment I'd agree, then regret it for the rest of my life. So I decided to take a walk and tire myself out.”

He nodded as if that sounded perfectly reasonable. Gazing out at the water, he said, “I'm amazed that Ash was carried this far south, and that he survived the cold water. His ship went down near Arran Island, not Glasgow, but even so, he must have been adrift for days. It's a miracle he's alive.”

“Not quite a miracle.” Mariah tried to remember Adam's exact words. “One of the first things he told me was that he slowed his breathing and retreated into a corner of his mind to preserve himself. I'd never heard of such a thing, but perhaps that kept him alive.”

Masterson looked interested. “That sounds like one of his bits of Hindu magic.”

“Magic?” she asked warily. Not that she would deny magic existed. Granny Rose had made her aware that there was much humankind didn't understand.

“Not magic precisely, but as you probably know, Ash maintains some Hindu disciplines. Like his daily meditation.”

Mariah felt foolish. “I didn't know that he did that.”

Masterson frowned. “Perhaps he has forgotten. He would meditate quietly in his room after washing up in the morning. If he still does, you wouldn't necessarily know. He is very private. During his life in England, he has been subject to contempt and insult because of his mixed blood. His response has been to be a perfect English gentleman, concealing his Indian heritage.”

“He rose from a sickbed and threw George Burke across the drawing room when the man was being difficult,” she said thoughtfully. “I wondered how he did it. His movements weren't like boxing at all. More Hindu practices?”

Masterson nodded. “It's called
Kalarippayattu
and it's a fighting skill of Kerala, in southern India. Adam is from the north, and he learned
Kalarippayattu
with the sons of the royal court, who were trained in all warrior arts. He in turn taught us, usually late at night.” Masterson smiled reminiscently. “Small boys can be monsters. Ash earned a great deal of respect because of his fighting skills.”

“Why are you telling me such things?” she observed. “This is not casual conversation.”

He smiled ruefully. “I thought you'd notice that. I'm explaining Ash's background because you're important to him, and for now, the person who is closest to him. The more fully you understand him, the better for both of you.”

Her brows arched. “So you don't disapprove of Adam's fiancée being a gambler's daughter?”

“Are you a gamester yourself?” he asked.

“Not at all. I dislike the uncertainty of it.” She smiled a little. “For me, money is something to be cherished and used carefully, not flung away.”

“A wise attitude. Do you have any different vices?”

She laughed. “Are you interviewing me for the position of Adam's wife?”

He laughed with her. “Perhaps. When people meet in society, they usually know each other's backgrounds, or can quickly learn. That isn't the case here. But you seem to be kind and levelheaded, and you care for Ashton. I think you might suit very well.”

She turned to look out across the water, thinking how unlikely it was she would become the Duchess of Ashton. She didn't want to explain that Adam distrusted her and why, but she could give a partial truth. “To be honest, I expect that when Adam returns to his old life and regains his memory, our betrothal will end. When he remembers his friends, he won't need me as he does now.”

“I very much hope he does remember his friends.” Masterson looked somber for a moment before glancing at her askance. “You're remarkably calm about the prospect of losing him. I thought you were…quite attached.”

She sighed. Tactful of him not to ask outright if she was in love with Adam. It was not something she wished to discuss. “I have always had to be practical. Romantic delusions too often end in misery.” She pulled her shawl tighter, wanting to feel Granny Rose close. “Though Adam isn't married, I have wondered if he might have a sweetheart whom he has been quietly courting. If there is such a female, surely she will come rushing forward when she learns he's alive.”

“I know of no such woman,” Masterson said, startled.

Bhanu bounced over and put her muddy feet on Mariah's best gown. She bent to ruffle the dog's long ears. “Can you be sure there isn't one?”

“No,” he admitted. “As I said, Ash is very private, and I haven't been much in London in recent years. But if there isn't such a woman and he still wants to marry you, will you do so? Or are you only acting the part of fiancée because he has been so alone?”

Masterson was remarkably perceptive for a man. “I would marry him gladly, if that's what he wants. But I doubt he will know what he wants for some time to come. If ultimately he doesn't want me”—she shrugged as if it was a matter of no great importance—“I won't hold him against his will, and I won't miss being a duchess. Such a rank would mean being always watched and measured and judged, I think.”

“Particularly a beautiful young duchess,” he agreed. “But you can choose how public a life to live. Ashton goes out in society regularly, but he is by no means addicted to the social round. He would probably be glad to have reasons to stay home with you.”

That didn't sound so bad. “You asked about my vices, Will. I have too much imagination and sometimes that gets me into trouble.” She thought of the very proper and mythical Sarah. “But I try to keep it under control.”

“There are worse things than imagination.” The sun was setting in streaks of gold and crimson and indigo as he turned from the sea. “It's getting cool. Time to return to the house.”

She tugged her shawl closer and fell into step as Bhanu scampered back and forth across their path, feet and floppy ears dripping wet. She liked this friend of Adam's very much. It was good to have an ally.