Chapter Four
The next day
Bellwood Estate
Derbyshire, England
Her eyes opened to a beautiful blue sky. No, not a real sky, but a breathtaking mural. Like gazing up at the heavens. Rays of sunlight peeked from behind fluffy white clouds that seemed to be chasing each other. The mural extended down the wall to just above the bed headboard with a glorious scene depicting a three-storied, pastoral manor bordered by delicate lavender wisteria and roses in various shades of pink. She was especially drawn to the image of a majestic oak tree on the emerald, green grounds, a whimsical child’s swing hanging from a sturdy branch.
She smiled and breathed out a deep sigh.
What a lovely painting.
She shifted in the bed and gasped at the sudden sharp throbbing at the back of her head. Tentatively, her fingers touched the raised bump covered in a thick bandage.
“Where am I?”
she whispered, choking on a gasp as another sharp pain twisted her ribcage. “Oh, goodness, that hurts!” she cried out. With every movement, a new agonizing ache made itself known. A slight snore from somewhere to her right seized her attention and she sat up and promptly plunked back down as the world started to spin. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, trying to minimize the misery radiating from every muscle.
“Selena, you’re awake,”
a deep, sleep-roughened male voice said, coming from the same direction of the snore. “Selena, are you all right? Can you speak?”
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she regarded the man connected to the voice. He hovered over her, his face a study in concern.
“Selena?”
she croaked and cleared her throat. “Please. Water?”
Swiftly the man filled a cup with water from a pitcher on the bedside table and, carefully sliding his arm under her shoulders, eased her up so she could sip.
She drained the glass and nodded her thanks. “Who is S-selena?”
“You’re Selena,” he said.
“I am Selena?”
She stared at him, although she had no idea what she wanted to see. He appeared kind and he gazed directly at her. Why can’t I remember my name? She only had his word for it, but he seemed honest enough. She should be upset. She should be crying. But oddly, she found herself quite calm at this revelation. Perhaps because the pain radiating throughout her body left little room to feel anything else.
“You don’t remember who you are?”
Slowly, she shook her head.
His face creased with concern which was a pity because he had a very nice face. More than very nice. He was extremely handsome—so tall and with such broad shoulders. His dark hair, like sable, curled around his collar. How endearing. As though he’d forgotten to have it trimmed. But it was his eyes, warm and brown like fine brandy, that captivated her. She had a ridiculous urge to stare into his eyes for hours.
“You arrived last evening in the middle of a freezing rainstorm,”
he continued. “Your horse became spooked by my dog and threw you. Your head hit a rock when you fell.”
She reached up and felt the egg-shaped bump again. She could feel a raised ridge on top of the bump that felt like stitches. “That explains why everything hurts from my head to my toes.”
“I can imagine.”
He smiled.
Lord, his smile makes him even more handsome. How is that even possible?
“Do you recall anything that happened last night?”
She closed her eyes and tried as hard as she could to remember. But her mind was a complete blank. “I don’t—”
Her reply was interrupted by a very loud growl, coming from the vicinity of her stomach. Her cheeks heated with a blush. “Forgive me. My mind may have forgotten everything, but my stomach clearly remembers.”
He chuckled. “Do you feel like you could keep food down?
“I could try.”
“Good, because my cook, Mrs. McDonald, is anxious to make you anything and everything you’d like. He reached for the bell pull and tugged.
A soft knock sounded on the door a few moments later.
“Enter.”
A petite young maid stepped into the room and bobbed a curtsey. “Yes, my lord?”
Good morning Anna,”
Lord Brown Eyes said. “Can you ask Mrs. McDonald to prepare a tray with a light breakfast?”
“Yes, my lord.”
The smiling maid gave another quick curtsey and left.
Lord Brown Eyes pulled the chair closer to her bedside and sat. “You arrived last evening during a terrible rainstorm, astride a gray stallion,”
he said. “At first, I thought you were a boy, given that you were wearing boys’ clothes along with a big hat that covered most of your face. I realized my mistake when your cap fell off and your hair unfurled.”
Confusion, frustration, and a whole host of other emotions swirled through her at his explanation. “Is the horse all right? How is your dog?”
She hated the thought that either animal may have been hurt in the storm.
Lord Brown Eyes nodded. “Yes, they are both fine. Azure, your stallion, is a magnificent animal.”
“How do you know his name?”
Her father must have named it, which made her wonder why he named it after a color.
“His name is engraved in the saddle, along with a message from your father, wishing you a happy birthday.”
Her father had gifted her with a stallion for her birthday? She had so many questions . “I see. Well, it seems you have me at a disadvantage, my lord. You called me, Selena. What is my full name?”
“Lady Selena Bowles.”
“Selena Bowles.”
Nothing. No recognition of her name. She swallowed, as panic began to overtake every other emotion churning in her gut.
“Your father was Viscount Phillip Bowles, and your mother is Countess Fleur Bowles.”
He withdrew something from his waistcoat pocket. “Perhaps this will help.” He handed her a gold filagree locket on a long chain. “Mrs. Evans, the housekeeper found this around your neck when she and the maids were attending you last night.”
She opened the locket and gazed at the image of a handsome man with dark hair and gray eyes on one side and a beautiful woman with dark hair and blue eyes on the other. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she touched both miniatures with a trembling finger.
A sudden thought flashed in her mind. “You said, was,”
she rasped . “About my father. You said he was Viscount Bowles.”
“Yes.”
Lord Brown Eyes blew out a deep breath. “Your father passed away more than a year ago.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she turned away from him and wiped them away. My father is gone. “Where is my mother?”
“I assume she must be at your family’s estate in Nottingham. I believe it’s called, Rose Point Chateau. Does the name of your home spark any recognition?”
Saying the name out loud, sent a strange jolt to her heart. As if something bad may have happened. But her memories were foggy and despite her best efforts, there seemed nothing for her to grasp. She shook her head. “No.”
“Your father’s solicitors searched for his heir for many months. I haven’t heard if they found him.”
Pain stabbed her heart at his revelation. “An heir? That means I have no brother…”
“That is true, Selena.”
Her father’s solicitors were required to search for his heir. Unease pricked the back of her mind, but she couldn’t fathom why. Searching her memory, she stared down at the locket, still open in her hand. She looked up and found him staring at her, a strange expression in his dark eyes. “M-my apologies. I do not who you are. Nor how we how we know each other?”
He seemed to hesitate as he combed his fingers through his hair. I am Viscount Gerald Lawrence,”
he replied. “Our parents are friends.”
“I see,”
she said. “You mentioned my father’s estate is in Nottingham? What of your estate?”
“Bellwood is in Derbyshire, although this is an estate my father purchased for me to rehabilitate. Our family estate is in Sussex.”
“I must have traveled almost two days to get here…”
Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “How do I know that?”
He reached for her hand again and held it between his.
His hands felt warm and comforting.
“Perhaps it’s a sign that your memory is returning?”
“Yes, that seems like it would be a good sign.”
She found it hard to form a thought, but it had nothing to do with her lack of memory and everything to do with his big warm hands holding hers. “But why did I come here? Alone and in a terrible rainstorm?” She realized she’d uttered those questions aloud. “There had to be a reason, but what was it?” A memory tickled from behind the weeds of confusion. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t move past those weeds. “Why can’t I remember?” Her voice trembled.
“You were left unconscious from your fall. All night, in fact. The doctor who examined you and treated your injuries will return this morning. I am certain, Doctor Baker will be able to enlighten us. But I suspect your memory loss may be connected to your head injury.”
She shook her head. “I feel as though I am walking through a thick fog. Completely lost.”
“I understand how frightening and confusing this must be for you, Selena, but please understand you are safe here. I’ve already sent word to my parents in London. Together we’ll do everything we can to help you. I’m certain Father will send a missive to alert your mother as to your whereabouts.”
“T-thank you, my lord.”
“Please call me Gerald,” he said.
She gave him a wobbly smile. “Gerald.”
Although she enjoyed thinking of him as Lord Brown Eyes. Somehow, it seemed more familiar.
“Good.”
He smiled back.
“So, I am Selena Bowles.”
Knowing her name gave her the strangest feeling. It was as if she stood outside a window watching someone else live her life.
Gerald gave a slow nod.
There was something that she wanted so badly to remember, but no matter how hard she tried, it was just out of reach. She lifted the locket once more and gazed at the miniatures of her mother and father, hoping…praying for a glimmer of memory… something…anything. “I feel such sorrow.”
“Perhaps learning about your father has brought on this sadness along with your memory loss and your injuries.”
“I suppose…but it feels like it just happened...this terrible loss.”
“Selena, try to relax and let your memories surface on their own. I feel certain you will remember. For now, let us focus on getting you stronger,”
Gerald said.
She wanted to see her horse, Azure. “Can I see him? My horse?”
“Yes. When the doctor permits you, I shall take you to the stables.”
She blinked back a fresh wave of tears. Although the viscount was a stranger, he was kind, gentle, and genuinely concerned for her welfare. There had to be a reason why she’d ridden on horseback in a rainstorm to come here, to Bellwood. To him. If only she could remember why. There were no answers—only a growing list of questions. She was a stranger to herself. Until her memory returned, everything about her life would remain a mystery…
Rose Point Chateau
Nottingham, England
“Grom!”
Percival bellowed. Where is that giant idiot? He wanted his breakfast. He was starving. The day before, they’d buried Lady Fleur Bowles in a small cemetery behind the manor. The morning was wet and very cold, and he’d unfortunately slept in longer than he should have. They’d spent the evening playing cards and drinking. He’d fallen asleep with his head pillowed on the generous bosom of one of the maids that Grom had hired.
Grom had done well, hiring several former tavern wenches for the manor. Aye, they certainly knew their business. He chuckled as he rubbed his hands together. Although he would soon be married to that little chit locked upstairs in her room, it didn’t mean he had to put an end to his various enjoyments.
Nevertheless, they were running late. He and Grom had ridden half a mile from the manor house to the isolated family graveyard, only to discover the gates were locked. Percival remembered he had fired the groundskeeper, who’d left without turning over his keys. Luckily, Grom was adept at picking locks and made short work of the gate.
The graveyard, cold and desolate, had made his skin crawl. It was surrounded by a dark, iron gate and was about half a mile behind the stables. A large oak tree stood like a sentry on the outside of the front fence. A flat wagon driven by two footmen rambled down a ruddy road in the spitting rain, carrying the wooden casket bearing Lady Bowles’ arrived on their heels. The reverend walked behind it.
They hadn’t bothered waking the dead woman’s daughter. He didn’t need a weeping girl on his hands.
“I’m here, Vern,”
the hulking man strode into the study carrying a large tray.
He set it down on a table by the window.
“Don’t call me that,”
Vern snapped. “I am Lord Percival Bowles. Don’t ever forget it. We can’t let anyone find out, or both you and me will end up swinging by the gibbet. He had known the real Percival Bowles—who had been his friend, or Bowles thought he was. Vern had one friend—himself. That made it easy. After Bowles had told him about the solicitor’s letter telling him he was now an earl, Vern decided this was his opportunity. When Bowles came in a little drunk for their celebration, he hit him from behind. That’s one body that will never be found , he thought.
“Yes, your lordship,”
Grom said in his deep, flat voice.
“I’m starving. What took so long?”
“The kitchen maid said the cook ran out of rashers and prepared a stew instead.”
“We’ll be setting off after I eat. Where is the girl?”
“The maid said she’s still sleeping. She felt sorry for the girl and let her sleep late because her mother died,”
the butler said.
“Hmm, remind those maids their loyalty is to me, not that little chit.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And make sure you find that groundskeeper and retrieve those keys. There’s no telling what other things he took.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Percival grinned. “And let me know when the girl wakes. Mayhap I’ll go up and help her dress for the journey.”
He threw back his head and laughed.
“I will…your lordship,”
Grom said as he turned to leave.
Vern dug into the hearty stew. The cook had outdone herself. He’d never eaten so well, in his life. It was a pity he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the fine fare much longer. He had big plans, and that fine young lady upstairs was the key to making all his dreams come true. He raised his tankard of ale in a silent salute and gulped it down.
As Vern finished eating, a great yawn came over him. Damn, he was still tired. Well, a short nap wouldn’t do any harm. He went to the comfortable settee and was practically asleep when his head hit the pillow.
A clap of thunder awakened him with a start. The sky outside the window was dark and gloomy. “What the blazes?”
He stumbled over to a brown velvet cord and pulled.
“My lord… My lord… Vern! Vern wake up!”
Vern felt as though he were swimming up from the dark depths of a murky lake. He realized someone was shaking his shoulders and shouting in his ear.
“Vern! Wake up!”
He cracked his eyes open and looked up at the giant hovering over him.
“What in the blazes? I told ya never to call me Vern, you lummox!”
“Well, when I called you “my lord”
you weren’t waking, so I thought I’d try Vern.”
“Help me up, you oaf.”
“You fell asleep, my lord.”
“Yes, I know. What time is it?”
“It’s after three.”
“Three in the afternoon?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Why the hell didn’t you wake me sooner?”
“Because I was asleep too.”
“Why the hell were you asleep?
“Because I was tired.”
“Where’s the girl?”
“I haven’t seen her,”
Grom returned.
“Damnit! Go and wake her. Have one of the maids go with you. She needs to get up and get dressed. We have to leave for Gretna Green. It will be dark soon, and now we’ll have to travel all night.”
A few minutes later, Grom rushed back into the room. “She’s gone!”
“What do you mean, she’s gone? When? She was asleep,”
Vern said. “How did that happen?”
“I think we were drugged, my lord,”
Grom said. “I think everyone was drugged.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Vern demanded.
“The stablemaster and the cook. They’re gone too. I think it was that stew. We all ate some, you, me, the footmen, and the maids. We all fell asleep. I only just woke up a few minutes before I came to wake you.”
“I want the entire estate searched, including the surrounding properties and all the tenant cottages,”
he demanded. “Find them and bring them to me.”
“Yes, my lord,”
Grom said as he turned and left.
Vern Stiles cursed. No one makes a fool of me! When Grom finds that bitch I’ll teach her a lesson she’ll never forget.