The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (5 page)

She took a deep breath.
Then, hesitant but determined, she came near enough to place her cool
hand on his forehead. “No fever. Good. I’m relieved you’re
awake at last.”

Moving to a small
table, she poured liquid into a glass. “You must be thirsty.”

Passive, that was how
he felt. He watched her silently perform these tasks. Extreme
lethargy prevented him from talking… questioning her. Soon, soon
he’d demand she tell him what had happened, why he was here…
wherever
here
was.

She came back to the
bedside and, with one hand, helped him lift his head.

It brought her bodice
closer to him and he longed to rest his muzzy head against it. One
look at her tense face decided him against it. He didn’t want to
frighten her and she looked ready to flit away like a frightened
bird.

“Here, can you drink
some barley water?”

He almost rejected it,
assailed by the sudden shocking notion that it might be tainted. Then
he relented. She wouldn’t poison him the minute he’d come to,
when she’d sat waiting for him to regain consciousness.

“I…” Was that his
voice, that crackling hoarse sound? He took another, bigger sip then
tried again. “Where am I?”

“In London.”

He’d meant where was
this room? In whose house? But he didn’t repeat his query. Perhaps
he should take account of his surroundings before he ventured too
many questions.

She seemed to read his
mind because she added, “We rented this place for a few months.”

We?
Should he tell her he had no idea who
we
...
or
she
was?

Her soft voice had a
musical quality that pleased his ear. He opened his mouth to say so,
but no sound came out. Troubled, his glance flew to hers.

She noticed his
difficulty and leaned down to plump a pillow and place it behind his
head to raise him higher. Then, she brought the glass to his lips
again.

Gratefully, he gulped
down a few more mouthfuls. That allowed him to croak, “What’s
wrong with me?”

But before she could
answer, another more urgent idea leapt into his mind.

Who... Who was he? He
was stunned into utter stillness at the numbing thought.

Oh
my god!
Who was he?
No name came to mind.
Who the
hell was he?

He encountered only
total blankness. Terror raced through his body. Ruthlessly, he tamped
it down.

“Who am I? What is my
name?” The sound of his alarmed questions startled him. He didn’t
even recognize his own voice!

For a few stunned
moments she seemed not to understand what he was asking and then,
clearly shocked, she said, “You can’t remember who you are?”

“I’m afraid not.”
He tried to keep his composure. But wasn’t it obvious he couldn’t
remember anything?

She looked dumbfounded.
She must be disappointed, hurt even. He muttered, “Forgive me, I
can’t remember.”

Her reaction puzzled
him. He’d swear he’d glimpsed relief flit through those brown
eyes. She quickly averted them. Moments later, when she again met his
gaze, there was disbelief and doubt.

She
didn’t believe him!

But why would he lie?
And how could she think he’d lie about something so serious? Was
she accustomed to him telling lies? Was he a liar?

“You… you are…
Reed,” she blurted. Her hand quickly covered her mouth, as though
she wished she hadn’t told him.

“Reed?” his voice
cracked.

“Y… es,” her soft
voice hesitated.

Reed
.
Didn’t sound familiar. He grunted. He couldn’t very well ask her
who she was or if she was his wife. He may not recall much, but he
knew a woman would be highly insulted if her husband forgot her name.

“What’s happened to
me? Why can’t I remember who I am... or anything?” He heard his
voice begin to rise in agitation and forced himself to calm down. Not
giving her a chance to answer, he asked, “Why am I here like this?
Am I ill?”

“Not really.” Her
expressive eyes said she was beginning to believe him. “You tripped
and fell and hit your head hard on the foot of a dresser. You have a
huge lump on your skull the size of a goose egg.” Her hand pointed
to the spot.

He raised his hand to
touch it. Oddly enough, despite finding the sizeable lump with his
fingers, he felt only a dull pain. “How terribly clumsy of me.”
He sent her a wry smile.

She acknowledged his
paltry attempt at humor with a shy little smile, then added, “You’ve
been unconscious for over fifteen hours. I was worried, so we’ve
summoned a physician.”

She looked as if she
now wished she hadn’t. Had they not sufficient funds?

She set the glass down
on the table. “We’ve been waiting quite awhile for him, but he
should be here any moment now. The woman he was attending was
expecting twins.” She turned back and began moving toward the door.
“I’ll go see if he’s arrived.” She looked anxious to leave.
And before he could stop her, she was gone.

Just like that. Nothing
more. No explanation of who she was in relation to him.

Of course, she must be
shocked that he was unable to remember a thing.

Not
a thing!

Panic welled up again.
He took a deep breath. Then another. Nothing to be gained by losing
control. He’d find a way to recover what he’d lost, no matter
what!

He didn’t know how
long he lay there trying to keep the horror of remembering nothing at
bay, searching for something familiar to latch onto.
Voices!
Yes, voices were coming.
He turned his head anxiously toward the door, striving not to let his
fear show.

Brown Eyes — she
hadn’t given him her name — returned with a man, carrying a huge
black bag. A Scot, he’d wager. With that ruddy coloring and those
sharp blue eyes!

“This is Dr. Graham.
He’s come to see about your head.”

She smiled sideways at
the physician. Reed didn’t like the admiring look the man sent her
when she turned away from him.

He didn’t know why,
but there was something not quite right about this situation. Had he
unwittingly become embroiled in some nefarious plot? There was a
sense of unreality about all of this. Maybe this man was only
pretending to be a doctor. He looked far too young to be a qualified
physician.

One thing was becoming
clear to Reed about who he was. He may have no memory, but he had far
too much imagination. He needed to cultivate some patience. There’d
be a logical explanation soon and all would be well again.

“Good day, Mr.
Leighton. Or not so good a one for you, it seems.” Approaching the
bed, the physician bestowed an apologetic smile on him.

Reed noticed Brown Eyes
start with surprise. What startled her? He wasn’t going to ask in
front of the doctor, so he set it aside for later. Right now, he had
more important things to think about.

His name was
“Leighton”? That wasn’t familiar either. No more familiar than
“Reed”.

The physician pressed
his fingers lightly against the side of Reed’s throat. “Pulse is
fine.” He put his head down to listen to Reed’s heart. “Heartbeat
is good.”

His fingers felt around
for the lump on Reed’s head. “That’s quite a bump you have. No
wonder it knocked your memory out of you.” He laughed heartily at
his own joke, then seeing his patient’s strained face, sobered.
“You remember nothing at all?”

At Reed’s stiff shake
of the head, he said, “In that case, I’d advise you to get plenty
of rest. Your memory should begin to come back as your head heals.”

The physician turned
back to Brown Eyes. “Make sure he gets complete bed rest for a few
days, Mrs. Leighton, and then he can get up. But he must continue to
go slowly until his memory returns. No sudden movements, no racing
about, nothing that will agitate the inside of his head.”

Ah… So she was his
wife! A pleased thrill darted up his spine. He glanced over at her.
She seemed distressed by the physician’s words. Had she thought the
man would be able to bring his lost memory back, on the spot? Oh, how
he wished she’d been correct, if that was her assumption.

Graham looked back at
Reed and, like an admonishing parent, said, “And you must not tax
your wife by asking her endless questions. It will be hard enough for
her to care for you without you pestering her with queries.” He
offered a sympathetic smile to Brown Eyes before turning back to
Reed. “Besides, the answers would only serve to confuse you. It
will be best for you to remember in your own time. If you listen to
other people’s ideas, you could jeopardize your chances of ever
recovering your own memory. You might replace your memories with
theirs.”

The doctor scribbled an
order for a medicinal potion for Reed’s sore head and a sedative to
help him sleep.

To help him sleep! As
if he hadn’t already slept far too long. Fifteen hours too long.
Long enough to have forgotten his entire life!

Graham closed and
picked up his medical bag. “Is there anything more I can do for
you?”

Reed heard Brown Eyes,
his wife, take an audible breath. Glancing at her, he noted how
wooden her expression had become. Her back hunched as if to ward off
a blow. She looked as if she feared a dire secret was about to be
uncovered. Talk about fanciful ideas. That knock on his head was
causing more than just memory loss.

He wanted to yell at
the man that he wouldn’t know if there was anything else!

His wife paused. She
did have something else to say. Then, she shook her head.

“In that case, I’ll
be on my way.” Graham walked briskly to the door. “Let us hope
your memory comes back quickly, Mr. Leighton, but if it doesn’t,
you must remain patient.” He smiled reassuringly. “Count yourself
lucky. If you had to lose your memory, at least it happened at home,
among loved ones, rather than with strangers.” Then he turned to
Brown Eyes. “And don’t hesitate to send for me if you need
anything, Mrs. Leighton. I’ll be happy to assist you in any way at
all.”

Of that Reed had no
doubt. He felt his blood simmering. If the man hadn’t just come to
help him, he might have allowed it to spill over and warn the
physician off. Even had she not been his wife, he’d have been
tempted to do so. He must be a jealous fellow.

Walking to the door
with the doctor, his wife said, “I’ll see you out.”

Graham’s hand was on
the door knob when Reed stopped him. “Have all your patients like
me recovered their memories eventually?”

He was not reassured by
the disconcerted expression that passed swiftly across Graham’s
countenance. Plastering a confident smile on his handsome face, the
doctor said, “No need to worry. Get lots of sleep and eat well. A
healthy-looking young man like you will be back to yourself before
you know it.” He seemed to know his words were not the
encouragement he might wish. He gave an I-can’t-do-any-better
shrug, bade Reed good night, and left the room with Brown Eyes.

His
wife
!
His first thoughts focused on Brown Eyes. He didn’t feel married.
But it felt good to have someone special of his very own. It made him
feel less alone in this cloud of nothingness.

* * *

Tally, on the other
hand, was horrified. “Doctor!” She called as he walked swiftly
down the hallway toward the stairs. “Dr. Graham!”

He turned with an
inquiring look.

“I… um… Dr.
Graham. I am not that man’s wife!”

“You aren’t?” He
was obviously surprised.

“No!” Realizing she
was almost shouting, she lowered her tone. “Now, he thinks I am!
What am I supposed to tell him?”

He stepped down to
continue descending the stairs. “It would be best if you didn’t
have to tell him right away. Couldn’t you delay revealing that?”
he said, then, paused to ask. “Is your husband here? I’ll talk to
him and explain the mix-up.” He looked around as if expecting to
see her spouse lolling idly about in the hallway!

“He’s away at the
moment. He has business out of town.”

“When will he
return?”

“Not for many weeks,
perhaps months. His business takes him to North America.”
Not
ever
, she wanted to say. He’s just a figment of
Monsieur’s plan to make her appear more respectable. Some people
were chary of renting to young, unmarried ladies living alone.

“Hmm… How is it you
come to know this man?”

He was making her feel
guilty. Did he think she was involved in an illicit affair with
another man! “I don’t… not really.” At his surprised look,
she said, “He’d just arrived when he tripped and hit his head. He
told us he was a friend of my brothers and had stopped by to see if
they were in town.”

“I see.” He paused.
“So he doesn’t live here. Where does he live?”

“I have no idea.”
She hurried on to avoid him asking where he had hit his head in the
relatively bare hallway. “The truth is, I had never met him prior
to his arrival last evening and I know nothing about him.”
Not
even his name!
Her voice rose in alarm at the idea that
she had a total stranger on her hands; one who remembered nothing
about himself.

“Unusual
circumstances, to be sure. I’m afraid my advice remains unchanged.
Since you cannot send him home and have no knowledge of any body who
could care for him, you must not say or do anything that will upset
him, because he might never recover his memory if you do.”

“But I can’t very
well keep him here. He’s a complete stranger!”

“But where else can
he go?”

His tone was so
reasonable, it made her feel small. Here was a fellow human being, he
seemed to say, and you are expected to help him. That was fine for
him. He thought her a married woman! What could she say, that their
visitor had not come via the front door? But how was she, an
unmarried woman alone, expected to keep a strange man in her home?
“Surely there must be some place for people... situations like
this!”