The Complete Regency Surrender Collection

‘And what was it?’ Will asked. If he was here now, he must have returned, with a story that would explain his current condition.

‘We heard nothing from you, for months. When Justine brought you home, you were in no state to say anything. There had been an accident. She thought it best that you be with your family, when...’ Adam’s voice broke again and he looked away.

‘Who is this Justine?’ Will said, looking around. But judging by the shocked expression on the face of the woman holding his hand, the question answered itself.

‘You really don’t remember?’ she said. And he did not. Although how he could have forgotten a face or a voice like that, he was not sure.

‘I remember the christening,’ he repeated. ‘But I have no recollection of you at all.’

The gold eyes in front of him were open wide now, incredulous.

Adam cleared his throat again, the little noise he tended to make when he was about to be diplomatic. ‘It seems there is much you have lost and much that must be explained to you. But first and foremost, you must know this. The woman before you now is Lady Felkirk.’ He paused again. ‘William, may I introduce to you your wife, Justine.’

‘I have no wife.’ He’d had more than enough of this foolishness and swung his feet out of the bed to stand and walk away.

Or at least he tried. Instead, he flopped on the mattress like a beached fish, spilling the water and sliding halfway out of bed before his brother could steady him, and muscle him back to the centre.

‘It is all right. As long as you are getting better, it does not matter.’ There was the voice of the ministering angel again, his supposed wife. What had they called her? Justine?

The name, though it was as beautiful as its owner, held no resonance.

Adam leaned over the bed again, smiling, although the grin was somewhat stained. ‘Justine brought you home some two months ago, and you have lain insensible since then. I feared you would never...’ There was another pause, followed by a deep sigh. Perhaps fatherhood had made Adam soft, for Will could not recall ever hearing him sound near to tears. ‘The doctors did not give us much hope. To find you awake and almost yourself again...’

So he’d cracked his skull. He did not remember it, but it certainly explained the throbbing in his head. ‘What happened?’

‘A fall from a horse.’

That seemed possible. He sometimes overreached himself, when in the saddle. But his old friend, Jupiter, was the most steady of beasts, as long as he held the reins. And a wife... He stared pointedly at the woman leaning over him, waiting for her to add some explanation.

‘We were on our honeymoon,’ the woman said, gently, as though trying to prod the memory from him. ‘We met in Bath, at the beginning of summer.’

Still, nothing. What had he been doing in Bath? He abhorred the place, with its foul-tasting water and the meddling mamas of girls who could not make a proper match in London.

‘I am sure marriage must have been in your plans when you left us,’ Penny said, encouraging him. ‘You did promise us a surprise. But really, we had no idea how welcome it would be. When Justine returned with you...’ She gave an emotional pause again, just as his brother had done. ‘She has been so good to you. To all of us, really. She never lost hope.’ Under the guise of wiping her fogged spectacles, Penny withdrew a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

Only the woman, Justine, seemed to take it all calmly, as though a husband returning from death’s door with no memory of her was a thing that happened to everyone. When she spoke, her voice was unbroken and matter-of-fact. ‘You will be all right now. Everything is better than we could have hoped.’

‘As if being concussed and losing half a year of one’s life is a thing to be celebrated.’ He glared at her. Perhaps this lovely stranger had done nothing to deserve his anger. Or perhaps she had got him drunk and knocked him on the head so she could pretend to be his wife.

But that made no sense. He lacked the money and title necessary to be the target of such intriguing. If she meant him ill, why did she bring him home, afterwards? Why bother to nurse him back to health?

The mysterious Justine ignored his dark look and smiled down at him. ‘It is to be celebrated. The physician said you would never wake, yet, you did. Now that you can eat properly, you will grow stronger.’ But did he see a fleeting shadow in her eyes, as though his recovery was something less than a blessing?

Perhaps she was as confused as he, after all. Or perhaps he had hurt her. He had taken the trouble to marry her, only to forget her entirely. Now, he was snapping at her, blaming her for his sore head. Had he treated her thus, before the accident? Perhaps the marriage had been a mistake. If so, he could hardly blame her for a passing desire that his prolonged illness would end with her freedom.

When he looked again, her face was as cloudless as a summer day. The doubt had been an illusion, caused by his own paranoia. When he was stronger and had a chance to question her, things would be clearer. For now, he must rein in his wild thoughts and wait. He shook his head and immediately regretted it, as the pain, which had been ebbing, came rushing back.

She leaned closer, reaching across him for a cool cloth that lay beside the bed, pressing it against his forehead.

How did she know it would soothe him? It did not matter. If she guessed, she guessed correctly. He took her hand and squeezed it in what he hoped she would know as gratitude. But though the pain was lessening, his doubts were not. There was nothing the least bit familiar about the shape of the hand he held. Surely, if he had married her, the joining should not feel so entirely alien. As soon as he could do so without appearing awkward, he withdrew his hand.

She made sure the compress was secure and withdrew her own hands, folding them neatly in her lap as though equally relieved to be free of him.

While the two of them were clearly uncomfortable with each other, the rest of the room was ecstatic. ‘Whenever you are ready, we will bring you downstairs,’ Penny said. ‘Perhaps we can procure a Bath chair so that you might take sun in the garden.’

‘Nonsense.’ The compress slipped as he tried to struggle to his feet again. This time he made slightly more progress. He was able to swing both legs over the edge of the bed and sit up. Almost immediately, the dizziness took him and he felt himself sliding to the side.

Once again, Adam rushed in, taking his arm and holding him upright. ‘Easy. Do not try too much at once. There will be no Bath chair, if you do not wish it. You may go at your own pace. I am sure you will be walking well on your own in no time at all.’

‘But you do not need to do it now,’ Penny insisted. ‘Rest is still important. And quiet. For now, we will leave the two of you alone.’

‘No.’

‘Yes.’ He and the woman spoke simultaneously.

‘You need your rest,’ Justine said, laying a hand gently on his chest to try to ease him back down to the mattress. ‘There will be time later for us to speak.’

‘I have had more than enough rest,’ he said. ‘If you are all to be believed, I have been asleep for months.’ She was probably right. His head ached from even this small bit of activity. He needed time to think. But before that, he needed answers. Despite the innocent look on the beautiful face in front of him, Justine knew more than she had said.

‘Leave, all of you. Please,’ he added after noticing the shocked looks on their faces at his short temper. ‘But send for my valet. After all this time in bed, I want to wash and dress. Until he arrives, I will talk to my wife.’

‘Of course,’ his brother said, with a relieved smile. ‘If you are well enough, you can come down to dinner, or we will have a tray sent up. Either way,’ he stepped forward again and clasped Will’s hand in a firm grip, ‘it is good to see you recovering. Come, Penny, I am sure they have much to discuss that does not concern us.’

Once they were gone and the door shut behind him, he was alone in a room with a woman who claimed to be his wife. He suppressed a rush of panic. He was still too weak to defend himself, should she not be as kind as she appeared. But why could he imagine such a sweet-faced thing as a danger to him? If she’d meant him harm, she’d have had ample opportunity before now.

Still, should not a new bride be happier to see her husband recovering? If she loved him, why was she standing at the side of his bed, mute like a criminal in the dock? There was something wrong about her. It was one of many things he could not place.

She seemed to realise this as well, for she attempted a hesitant smile and slipped easily back into the role of caregiver. ‘Is there something I can get for you? Anything that might give you comfort?’

‘What a good little nurse you are, to be so solicitous.’ he said, not feeling particularly grateful for it. ‘At the moment, there is nothing I need, other than an end to this charade.’

‘There is no charade,’ she said, looking more puzzled than frightened. ‘We are not trying to trick you. You were injured and have been unconscious for several months. Come to the window and you shall see. The christening was at Easter time. It is no longer spring, or even summer. The leaves are falling and the night air is chill.’

‘I do not need for you to tell me the weather,’ he grumbled, glancing at the grey sky beyond the glass. ‘I can see that for myself. And I know I was injured, for I still feel the pain of it.’ He ran a careful hand through his hair, surprised at the crease in the scalp. ‘But that does not explain the rest.’

‘What else is there?’ she said, though she must know full well what he meant.

‘It does not explain you. Who are you, really? And who are you to me?’ He looked full into the wide green eyes. ‘For I would swear before God that you are not my wife.’

‘William,’ she said, in a convincingly injured tone.

‘That is my name. And what is yours?’

‘Justine, of course.’

‘And before you married me?’ he said, unable to help sneering at such an unlikely prospect.

‘My surname? It was de Bryun.’ She paused as though waiting for the bit of information to jar loose some memory. But nothing came.

‘So you say,’ he replied. ‘I suppose next you will tell me you are an orphan.’

‘Yes,’ she said, unable to keep the hurt from her voice.

In a day, he might regret being so cavalier about her misery. At the moment, he had problems of his own. ‘So you have no one to verify your identity.’

‘I have a sister,’ she added. ‘But she was not present at the time of our wedding, nor was your family.’

‘I married without my family’s knowledge?’ Penny had hinted at as much. But it still made no sense. ‘So neither of us considered the feelings of others in this. We just suddenly...’ with effort, he managed to snap his fingers ‘...decided to wed.’

‘We discussed it beforehand,’ she assured him. ‘You said there would be time after. You said your brother had done something much the same to you.’

As he had. That marriage had been as sudden as this one. And Adam had admitted that he could not remember his wedding either. But while circumstances were similar, he had more sense than Adam and would never have behaved in that way. ‘You could have learned the details of Adam’s wedding anywhere,’ he said.

She sighed, as though she were in a classroom, being forced to recite. ‘But I did not learn it anywhere. I learned it from you. You told me that your father’s name was John, your mother’s name was Mary. They were Duke and Duchess of Bellston, of course. You had one sister, who died at birth. And you told me all about your brother. It was why I brought you here. Why would I have done that, if not for love of you?’

This was a puzzle. He rubbed his temple, for though he was sure there was a logical explanation for it, searching for it made his head ache. ‘You could have got any of that from a peerage book.’

‘Or you could have told me,’ she said, patiently. ‘And it is not so unusual that I have no parents. You have none either.’

That was perfectly true. So why did it seem somehow significant that she had none? He shook his head, half-expecting it to rattle as he did so, for he still felt like a broken china doll. ‘I suspect I can quiz you for hours and you will have an answer for everything. But there is one question I doubt you will answer to my satisfaction. What would have motivated me to take a wife?’

‘You said you loved me.’ Her lip trembled, though she did not look near tears. ‘And I did not wish to lie with you, until we were married.’

It was not a flattering explanation. But it made more sense than anything else she had said. ‘I can believe that I might have wanted to lie with you. My eyesight is fine, though my memory is not.’ He stared up at the magnificent hair, still mostly obscured by her very sensible cap. Tired and confused as he was, he still wanted to snatch the muslin away, so that he might see it in all its glory. ‘You are a beauty. And you know it, do you not? You are not going to pretend that you are unaware of the effect you have on men. Why did you choose me?’

‘Because I thought you were kind and would be a good husband to me,’ she said. There was something in her voice that implied she had been disappointed to find otherwise. Then she cast down her eyes. ‘And you are right. I cannot help the way I look, or the reaction of others.’

‘I do not see why you would wish to,’ he answered honestly. But when he looked closely, her face held a mixture of regret and defiance, as though she very much wished she were plain and not pretty. Her clothing was almost too modest, nearly as plain as a servant’s. The cap she wore was not some vain concoction of lace and ribbons, but undecorated linen. If she was attempting to disguise her assets, she had failed. The simple setting made the jewel of her beauty glow all the more brightly.

‘You are acting as if, now that you have what you want, it is somehow my fault that the results do not please you.’ She absently straightened the cap on her head, hiding a few more of the escaping curls. ‘I did not seduce you into a marriage you did not wish. Nor did I injure you and leave you to your fate. I doubt I can prove to your satisfaction that things are just as I claim. But can you prove that I have done anything, other than to give you what you wanted from me, and care for you when it resulted in misfortune? You are alive today because of my treatment of you. I am sorry that I cannot offer more than that.’

To this, he had no answer. If she truly was his wife, she was a very patient woman. She had reason to snap at his harsh treatment of her. But there was no real anger in her voice, only a tired resignation as she accepted his doubt. If it weren’t for the troublesome void where their past should have resided, he would have believed in an instant and apologised.

‘I will admit that I owe you my gratitude,’ he said. ‘But for the moment, your help is not needed. Please, go and prepare for dinner. Perhaps I will see you at table. We can speak again later.’

‘I will welcome it, my lord.’

She was lying, of course. She rose from the bed and offered an obedient curtsy, before leaving the room. But there was an eagerness in her step that made her simple exit seem almost like an escape.

Chapter Two

He did not remember her.

Justine de Bryun stopped just beyond William Felkirk’s door and tried to contain the excitement and relief she felt at this convenient amnesia. She must channel that tangle of emotion into an appropriate response for a woman whose husband had awakened like Lazarus, before someone saw and questioned her. Felkirk had asked more than enough questions during the difficult conversation that had just occurred. She did not need more questioning from the duke and duchess. At least not until she could discover a way out of the mess she had created.

Penny was waiting for her, a little way down the hall, trying to pretend that she was not interested in a description of what had happened, when she and William had been alone together. She must try to come up with something that was not a total lie. Since coming here, she had lied too much to her hostess and felt guilty each time. What had Penny ever done to deserve such treatment? From the first, the duchess had offered the hand of friendship and the sympathy of a sister.

While Justine had reason enough to hate the Felkirk family, there was no reason her animosity need extend to a woman who had married into it. Nor did it feel right to hate the heir, who was nothing more than an innocent babe. The duke, who was the true head of the family, had been kindness himself as well and earned some measure of forgiveness.

That left only William Felkirk. His meddling in her affairs had earned him the whole share of any punishment for the family’s past sins. His slow recovery had been more than sufficient to satisfy her desire for vengeance.

It had been too much, if she was honest. Her father had died a quick death. But William Felkirk had lingered on the brink for months, wasting away in endless sleep. On several occasions, she’d been surprised to find herself praying that God would be merciful and release him. When the prayers had gone unanswered, she had given him what Christian comfort she could.

Or she had until the moment he’d awoken and begun causing trouble again.

Penny was coming towards her now, hands outstretched, ready to celebrate or console, as was needed. Justine discovered she did not need to dissemble much, for her lip actually trembled in what was likely the beginning of tears. Once again, she was alone and helpless in a situation she had done little to cause and was not able to control. While the Duchess of Bellston did not appear to wish her ill, Justine had seen how quickly supposed friends became enemies when they knew one had nowhere to turn. She must be on her guard. ‘He does not know me,’ she said, softly, glancing back at the bedroom behind her. ‘And he does not believe we are married.’

The duchess enfolded her in a motherly hug. ‘There, there. It will be all right, I’m sure. Now that he is recovering, it will only be a matter of time before he recalls what you once were to each other.’

‘Of course,’ Justine answered, as though that was not another reason for tears. Felkirk’s total absence of memory was the best news she’d had in ages. He had forgotten the worst of it and she might still escape punishment. One could not be complicit in an attack on a noble family and avoid the gallows. She had known her fate was sealed the day that she had found him on the salon floor in a pool of blood. Even if she had wished him ill, William Felkirk both recovered and amnesiac was a gift straight from God.

Of course, it also meant he could not recall the things she actually wished to know. And that was most vexing. Without that, why had she bothered to save him?

Penny patted her shoulder. ‘As soon as he has recovered his strength, you can return to the old manor. That is his house now and will be yours as well. We will be less than a mile away if you need us. Familiar surroundings will have the memories flooding back in no time.’

A flood of memory was the last thing she needed. Moving to Felkirk’s own home would draw her even deeper into the ruse she had created. They would be alone, with no duke and duchess to help her deflect Lord Felkirk’s endless questions. ‘It will be quite different, being alone with him there,’ she said, trying to keep the resignation from her voice.

‘We will be just down the road,’ Penny replied cheerfully. ‘We can come for visits or for dinner, as soon as you are ready to receive us.’

They would come, and leave again, before bedtime. Justine would be left to manage the nights, alone with a strange man who would expect more than nursing from a beautiful woman who claimed to be his wife. What had he said to her, just now? You are not going to pretend that you are unaware of the effect you have on men.

Montague had said something similar, when he had informed her of what her future would be. Now, it would be happening all over again. When he was unconscious, William Felkirk had been as pale and beautiful as a statue. But awake she could see the virile strength that had been dormant. The blood was returning to his lips and the observant blue eyes turned on her already sparkled with interest. Soon there would be another, very male response to her presence in his bedroom. She could not help herself, she shivered.

Without a word, Penny slipped the shawl from her own shoulders and wrapped it around Justine. ‘You are tired, of course. You have worked so hard to make him well again. And it has not turned out as you expected.’

‘No, it has not,’ Justine admitted. She had assumed, no matter what she did to prevent it, he would die. She would enter the sickroom some morning to find the patient stiff and cold. It had made her search all the harder for evidence of her father, or a sign that he had delivered the jewels he’d been carrying, when he’d died. If she could have got her hands on them, she might have disappeared before anyone discovered her lies.

Then, it had occurred to her that, if William Felkirk died, it might be easier just to stay as she was, allowing the duke and duchess to comfort her in her mourning. Montague would not dare tell his half of the truth, for fear that she would tell hers. In a year, when she’d cast off her black, there might be holidays, and summer, and a Season in London with balls and parties...

And where would that leave Margot? As usual, the thought doused all happiness like cold water. How unfair was it that any thought of her beloved little sister should be wrapped in negatives?

As they walked down the hall and towards the main stairs, Penny continued to chatter on, filling the tense silence with descriptions of a happy future that could never be. ‘Above all, do not worry yourself over his behaviour today. I am sure he loves you. But the truth was quite a shock to him.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘The doctors said there might be changes in his character, because of the accident.’

‘True,’ Justine agreed. How could she tell? She knew nothing of his character, after only one brief meeting. When he had entered the shop, she had thought him handsome and pleasant enough. But his initial smile had faded, when he’d realised who, and what, she was.

Penny sensed her unease and added, ‘He will remember you, in time, I am sure. You have nothing to worry about.’

‘I am sure you are right.’ The words were true, even if the smile that accompanied them was not. He would remember her. She must be long gone before that happened, even if it meant returning to the life with Montague that she had hoped to escape.

They were at the door of her bedroom now and she gave the duchess a light kiss on the cheek to prove that it was, indeed, all right. ‘I think I should like to lie down before dinner.’

‘Of course,’ Penny replied. ‘Now that your husband is better, you must take care of yourself. And you will want to look your best for him, should Will be able to come to down for his meal.’

Justine smiled and nodded, and prayed he would not. It would mean another inquisition, nearly on the heels of the last one. She needed time to plan and create answers for the questions he would ask. She wasted no time, once the door was closed. A moment’s hesitation might cause her to doubt the wisdom of what she had done so far. And that doubt would lead to weakness, and eventual doom. Had not bitter experience taught her that only the strong survived?

She would be strong, even if it meant that she would not be happy. She went to the bedside candle and lit it, carrying it to the little table in front of the window, where she was sure it could be seen from a distance.

It was still burning when she left the room for dinner.

Chapter Three

Will was beginning to fear that Penny had been correct in her suggestion that he use a Bath chair. If he lacked the strength to walk across his own room, there was no way he could manage the stairs to the ground floor without help from the servants. If he had to stagger to get down them, it would take all his energy to avoid the indignity of being carried back upstairs after.