Remember Me - Regency Brides 03 (4 page)

wrong with that dress or yo' hair." Mil ie took Helen's arm, pul ed her away from the mirror, and directed her to sit at her dressing table. "Now yo' jus' got yo'self al in a lather 'cause o' that young man who's comin' to dinnah, tha's al ! Now sit stil and let me fix yo' hair up real pretty."

Josie took that particular moment to let herself in the room without so much as a knock. "1 knew it! 1 knew she was sweet on the preacher!" she crowed with delight.

Mil ie stopped brushing Helen's hair to shake the brush in Josie's direction. "Miss Josie, I done tol' ya and tol' ya. You gonna listen at the wrong do' one day, and it's gonna get yo' in a mess 0' trouble!" She pointed the brush to the chair next to Helen. "Now sit yo'self down, and I'l get to yo' hair next." Josie did as she was told because Mil ie, slave or no, just had the kind of voice you obeyed. It was then Helen noticed the dress the younger girl was wearing. Josie, you can't wear that old dress to dinner!" she blurted with horror.

Josie frowned as she looked down at the plain beige dress made of slightly wrinkled cotton. "What's wrong with it? I've worn this to dinner lots of times, and you've never said anything about it." Helen took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and then in her best teacher's voice, she instructed, "When guests are dining with your family, you must dress in a more formal manner." She noticed Mil ie looking for a hairpin and opened her drawer to find one for her. She then continued. "Especial y when you have a guest like the d-" She stumbled over the word
duke
and quickly corrected herself "Er, North." Josie let out a breath to show her frustration with the whole conversation.

"He's just the preacher. It's not like he's the president of the United States."
No.

More like the Duke of Northingshire.
If Helen's nerves were this frazzled with trying to keep her story straight and not saying the wrong thing, how was it going to be in front of North?

What a mess she'd gotten herself into!

In the end, Josie kept her plain dress on, and with her hair done up "pretty" by Mil ie, Helen decided, droopy or not, her dress would have to do, also. She noticed as she approached the three adults that the Baumgartners wore their usual casual attire; and when she saw North, she was glad they did. Of course he would have no other clothes! How sil y of her not to remember that al his belongings had not been brought from the ship. And even when they were, would he realize the garments belonged to someone else? Would he remember that his own trunks contained the finest clothes England had to offer and not those of a poor vicar?

She had to remind herself not to get into a mental tizzy as she walked up and greeted him.

"Hel o, Reverend," she greeted, as she tried to ignore the guilt she felt over cal ing him that false tide. "Are you getting settled in?"

The smile he gave her was lacking in confidence, and his words were those of someone putting on a brave front ...and failing. at it. 'Uh, yes, I think so. I'l just need time to adjust to the …uh…culture change."

The Baumgartners al laughed at that, and though Helen joined them, it was only out of politeness. Since she, too, was stil experiencing quite a culture shock, it was difficult to joke about it just yet.

They were al seated in the dining room, which boasted a long table that could easily seat sixteen people. Helen was not accustomed to such extravagance, since her own family manor was of modest means. Neither was she accustomed to al the house servants who worked around the clock to make sure the family had all they needed.

No, she wasn't accustomed to such a lifestyle, but she knew North was. This was apparent only to her as she watched him walk into the room without so much as blinking at the expensively carved furnishings or the heavy blue brocade-and…satin drapes framing the ten large windows in the room. The only thing that caused him to pause was when he noticed the large cloth-covered fan above the table that was framed in the same carvings as the table and chairs. Attached to the fan was a blue satin cord that ran along the high ceiling al the way to the corner, where a smal child was pul ing it, causing the fan to swoosh back and forth, creating a breeze.

"Remarkable" was the only comment North made as he seated himself by Mrs.

Baumgartner and across from Helen. There was a smattering of smal talk as they were served their first course, and Helen noticed North was clever enough to keep the conversation off himself by inquiring about the plantation and Mr.

Baumgartner's plans for it. Under normal circumstances, it might have been enough; however, North had never dealt with Imogene Baumgartner.

"Oh, enough about business! You must tel us about yourself, Reverend. I quite expected you to have a Scottish dialect and am curious as to why you do not,"

she voiced, interrupting the gentlemen's conversation.

Helen could actual y see the nervous sweat start to bead on North's brow as he paused before answering. "I was raised in England but spent summers with my family in Scotland. I later moved there, but my accent was already established,"

he answered, parroting the explanation she'd given him earlier.

. ' And what town were you from in England?" she persisted.

North glanced briefly her way, and Helen could see the rising panic in his eyes.

He had no idea where he was from, and Helen scrambled for a way to answer for him. Her only problem was that by saying the name of Northingshire, it might make him remember suddenly who he was. So she thought of the town next to it. .

"Lanchester, isn't it? In County Durham? I believe you mentioned that town when we last saw one another," she blurted out, and from the odd looks by the Baumgartners, she knew her answering for him in such a forceful manner seemed quite odd. But North adeptly smoothed the awkward moment, as would anyone used to handling al manner of social affairs. ' Yes, I used to cal Lanchester home. Excel ent memory, Miss Nichols," ·he answered easily. Helen was amazed that, though he couldn't remember his own name, he stil acted like the nobleman he actual y was. Helen prayed his answers would satisfy Mrs.

Baumgartner, but to no avail. ' And your parents, are they stil living?" Imogene asked. Once again, his panicked gaze flew to Helen, and once again, she intervened. "Oh, I meant to tel you how sorry I am that I was not able to attend your father's funeral." Helen looked at Mrs. Baumgartner, who she noticed was looking a little put out by her interruptions, and added, "It was influenza. His mother, however, stil lives in Scotland." North seemed to be digesting what she'd just said, and Helen had to add one more lie she would have to beg forgiveness for later. In truth, she didn't know how his father had died. She only knew he'd become duke at the age often. North's panic was now curiosity as he looked in her direction, and she could tel he was trying to remember what she'd told him.

"Real y, Helen!" Mrs. Baumgartner scolded, causing both of them to look to her.

"I real y think that the Reverend Campbel can answer my questions himself"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Helen apologized as she forced herself to look contrite. In truth, she was just plain stressed by the position she'd put both North and herself in. But it was too late to fix it now! What was she to do? Quickly she scrambled to find a reasonable, believable explanation for her behavior. "I suppose I am just excited about seeing a familiar face from England."

Helen couldn't have come up with a more perfect excuse. Immediately Imogene's expression changed; she thought she knew a secret as she slid her gaze from North to Helen and back again. "Of course you are, dear!" she crooned as she put a hand to her chest and sighed. "1 forgot you haven't had a chance to reacquaint yourselves."

"So do you hol er when you preach?" Josie piped up in her usual straightforward fashion.

"Wel , my word, Josie! What a thing to ask," her mother reprimanded her.

The thirteen-year-old shrugged. "Wel , the preacher at Joseph's church down the bayou hol ers. Joseph says it is because the preacher wants to make sure the devil knows they won't fal for his tricks."

Helen quickly covered her mouth with her napkin to conceal her laughter, and when she looked across the table, she noticed North was having a hard time containing his own.

"Maybe it is because sometimes the preacher believes his
congregation
is hard of hearing when he sees them doing something that isn't right," North suggested when he had his laughter under control.

Josie nodded sagely, unaware she was entertaining them al . "You could be right, Reverend. So
do
you hol er, too?"

North appeared to think about it and then answered, "I don't believe I have ever hol ered in church."

Helen had to cover her mouth again when she pictured North "hol ering" at al .

He was much too dignified. Again, North slid his gaze Helen's way and shared a smile with her.

Their look apparently did not go unnoticed, although it may have been misread.

Surprising them al , the usual y silent Mr. Baumgartner spoke up. "Why don't you walk him our to the bayou, Helen, and show him our newly built pier? It is a ful moon tonight, so there should be plenty of light. It wil give you two a chance to get reacquainted." He took a drink of water and then continued. "I'l have Joseph fol ow you at a distance to act as a chaperone."

Helen stared at her usual y quiet employer, and she was further surprised when he gave her a brief wink that only she could see.

"All right," she murmured, looking back at North. 'Would you like to see the bayou?"

A look of pure relief relaxed North's strong, manly face, and a smile curved his lips. "Only if you tel me what a bayou is."

They al laughed at his comment, and Helen stood up from her chair. "It wil be better if I show you."

In a matter of moments, Helen and North were walking the path that led out to the pier.

' I want to apologize for putting you in the position of having to answer for me, "

North told her as he looked over at her, admiring how the moon il uminated her soft features. "But I thought you said you didn't know much about me."

He hoped she knew more than she let on, not only for the sake of getting his memory back, but because it might mean that she'd been interested enough in him to find out.

She didn't answer right away, and when she did, there was regret on her face as she gave him a quick glance. ' I'm afraid I told a smal lie in there just now."

She blew out a breath and stepped in front of him to stop him from walking. "I lied about your father."

He had trouble focusing on what she was saying, so drawn was he by her beauty and the soft tones of her voice. But when he did realize what she'd said, he frowned in confusion. "What are you saying? That he is alive?"

She seemed horrified by his question as she put her hands on either side of her face. "Oh no! I didn't mean that. ... I mean ... he is deceased." She shook her head. "Oh, dear! I meant he didn't die of the, flu like I said. I hope I did not give you false hope." .

North reached out and took her hands from her face, squeezed them, and let them go. ' You didn't injure me, Miss Nichols. When you said my father had died, I instinctively knew you were right. I can't explain how I know this, but it was the same when you cal ed me 'North.' " He thought for a moment. "Do you know my mother?"

Helen looked regretful when she shook her head. "I'm sorry, but no. I never met her, nor do I know anything about her."

He sighed. "It seems a shame not to remember one's own mother." He smiled at her wistful y. ' It seems a shame not to remember you, either."

Helen looked up at him for a moment, making North wish even more for his memories back, if only the ones he had of this lovely, enchanting woman who was gazing into his eyes. Then she seemed to grow uncomfortable with the intimacy of their situation. The moment was over when she turned to resume their walk to the pier.

When they arrived at the pier, she announced to him that the stream of water that looked like a smal river was the bayou they had spoken of. From there, she explained, smal er ships and barges could move their sugarcane out to the gulf.

They discussed the merits of such a waterway awhile longer but soon fel silent.

Helen and North stood there a moment, letting cool air off the bayou's water flow over them as they breathed in the sweet smel of the magnolia blossoms on the nearby trees.

"Did you know my house has only two rooms?" he commented, final y breaking the silence with an odd subject.

She looked up at him and laughed. "I beg your pardon?"

He held up two fingers to her but kept his gaze looking over the water. "Only two.

A bedroom and a living room that has a large fireplace from which I am supposed to cook my meals."

From the corner of his eye, he saw her cover her mouth to hide her smile.

"Oh, dear. I didn't realize it was so smal ," she said in a muffled voice from behind her fingers.

"Can you tel me, Miss Nichols: Have I ever lived in such a smal house before?"

"Uh …
no," she answered with certainty. This time a giggle escaped.

"No, no. Go ahead and laugh. I expect I shal get used to it. At least that is my goal."

She laughed, and he joined in with her. It went a long way in releasing the stress he'd felt ever since arriving at Golden Bay.

"I must have been prepared for such a life of imposed poverty. Why else would I have journeyed to such a primitive part of the United States to be their pastor?"