Carousel of Hearts (16 page)

He wished that he knew Antonia well enough to take her in his arms, but he daren’t touch her for fear of undoing whatever miracle of charm the original Adam Yorke had performed to convince Lady Antonia Thornton to marry him. Even at the most optimistic estimate, it would take time to rebuild whatever relationship had been between them. He felt like a blind man rumbling around a china shop, risking the destruction of the unfamiliar objects around him.

Wearily he raised his hand and rubbed his temples. “Perhaps now I should take your advice and rest. I have enough to think about for the time being.”

Adam was more than tired. He was emotionally and physically drained. It had been foolish of him to insist on exploring the house when they returned from Macclesfield, but he had had an intense need to develop a sense of place to fill some of the voids in his mind.

He had also hoped that some sight or sound would have meaning for him, but there had been no such event. The closest he had come was experiencing a vague sense of familiarity at the sight of the Peaks.

As he followed his cousin to the bedchamber said to be his, Adam tried to formulate a strategy for learning about himself. He had a servant, a valet cum groom named Bradley, whom he would have to become reacquainted with. So far they had only exchanged the simplest of sentences. Perhaps Bradley would have more alarming information about his alleged past.

Antonia had told him that he was involved in various commercial enterprises and that there were papers to examine. Also, the engineer whose invention had put him in this state wanted to talk to him when he felt capable.

At the moment, the only thing Adam felt capable of was prolonged sleep. Maybe he would wake up and this whole mad affair would turn out to have been a nightmare.

* * * *

Adam slept from late afternoon straight through to the next morning. When he awoke, his memory, alas, was as blank as it had been the day before.

As he began stirring about the room, Bradley magically appeared with a pitcher of hot water. The valet had grizzled hair, an eye patch, and a villainous scar across his cheek—not the usual discreet gentleman’s gentleman.

After washing up had revived him, Adam warily said, “You know that I have no more memory than a newborn?”

“Aye. Mrs. Winslow explained the situation to me,” Bradley said, unperturbed.

“How long have you been with me?”

“Five years. I went out east with the Indian army, and after I was discharged, I had a run of bad luck in Calcutta.” A pained expression crossed his battered face. “In fact, you bailed me out of the local jail.”

“What were you doing there?” Adam stopped. “Forget that I asked that. I’m probably better off not knowing.”

“That’s what you said then, too,” Bradley said, a glint of amusement in his one visible eye.

Adam smiled back, feeling more relaxed. “What else should I know about myself?”

Bradley considered. “You always preferred shaving and dressing yourself.”

“That is still true.” Adam felt obscurely glad that some traits hadn’t changed. Next question. “Were you privy to all my disgraceful secrets?”

Bradley looked distinctly uncomfortable at being asked to draw conclusions about his master. “You didn’t have any disgraceful secrets.”

“I sound like a dull dog,” Adam murmured.

“Never that, sir. But you kept yourself to yourself.’’ The servant thought some more. “You were always gentlemanly with everyone, high and low. Too much so, in my opinion,” he added with a burst of candor.

Adam grinned, understanding why he had kept the old reprobate around for five years. “I think that is about as much information about myself as I can absorb at the moment. Where are my clothes?”

Examining his possessions was another way of establishing what kind of man he was.  Apparently he liked good quality in material and tailoring, but there was a total lack of ostentation. Adam approved of that. He supposed that being comfortable in his own clothing was a reasonable place to start defining himself.

After dressing in what Bradley assured him was correct country attire, Adam went downstairs. He paused at the bottom of the main staircase, trying to remember if he knew the way to the breakfast room.

Instead, in the morning stillness he heard the lilting sound of a harp. Curious, he followed the melody to the music room, where he found Judith Winslow bent over a golden harp, her face absorbed in the melancholy tune she played.

When he cleared his throat, she looked up in surprise, then offered an uncertain smile. He smiled back. While she lacked Antonia’s splendor, Mrs. Winslow was a most attractive female. “Good morning. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“That’s all right. It is rather early to be playing, but I find it soothing.”

“Do you need soothing, Mrs. Winslow?”

Judith watched as Adam circled the music room, his quick glance registering everything. He had not been prone to probing questions before, but then, he had not been in such a situation. “Well, the last few days have been rather . . . tiring.”

He grimaced. “It must have been very difficult, even with two of you to share the nursing.”

“We did it because we wanted to,” Judith said. “Antonia could have hired someone had she wished.”

His inspection done, he came to stand in front of Judith where she sat by the harp. “I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, Mrs. Winslow, particularly since I am not even related to you. Many thanks.”

He was standing in the same spot as when he had asked her to marry him, but the moment that was so vivid to Judith no longer existed for Adam. She could have wept from frustration. Instead, she said, “You used to call me Judith.”

“We were friends?”

His gray-green eyes were so intent that she wanted to pour out the whole story. That they had been more than friends, that he had made her feel special as no one ever had before. Most of all, that he had wanted her, not Antonia.

But Adam had enough complication and confusion in his life. If she truly cared for him, she could not add more. She swallowed hard. “We had not known each other long, but yes, we had become friends.”

“Then I may call you Judith?”

“Please.”

He smiled at her, and he was so like her Adam that she could scarcely bear it. Fortunately he turned away and resumed his restless pacing before she could lose her control. “How long have you been with Lady Antonia?”

“Something over two years. Her father and my husband died about the same time. I needed employment, Antonia needed a companion, so a ferocious aunt of hers, Lady Forrester, brought us together.” Judith managed a smile at the memory. “Antonia and I are as unlike as chalk and cheese, so it really shouldn’t have worked, but it has.”

Adam glanced at her. “Is there anything I should know about you, so I won’t give offense in some way?”

She tensed. It was a perfect opportunity to speak, but once again, she could not. The truth could be destructive to both Adam and Antonia, and might do Judith herself little good.

After an appearance of deep thought, she said, “Well, I prefer not to be referred to as small. I like to think of myself as average-sized. It is just that almost everyone else is taller.”

He laughed aloud. “Duly noted, Judith. I guess the next question is, are there things that I should know about myself?”

This was without a doubt the strangest conversation Judith had ever had. “I would rather not answer that,” she said soberly.

Suddenly serious, Adam murmured, “As bad as that?”

“Not bad. Complicated.”

He looked at her quizzically. “In that case, for the time being I will accept your judgment that it is better not to know.” His tone lightened. “Can you direct me to the breakfast room? I can’t deal with too much drama on an empty stomach.”

“Neither can I,” Judith admitted. “If you don’t object, I’ll go with you.”

As she led the way to the other wing, Adam asked, “Are we likely to find Lady Antonia there?”

“No, she is probably riding about the estate now. Often you would accompany her.” Glancing askance, Judith saw that her words seemed to please him.

She had the sinking feeling that Adam-as-he-was-now was ripe to fall in love with his cousin all over again. But for the life of her, Judith did not know what she could in conscience do about it.

* * * *

That afternoon Adam decided to investigate his intimidating pile of business documents. After warning that she knew nothing useful about his enterprises, Antonia had volunteered to keep him company, even if she was no help.

Adam had been glad to accept. He felt better when she was around.

They sat on opposite sides of a double desk in the library, a mound of papers between them. Adam lifted a document and stared at it, his expression tightening. “I don’t think I am able to read anymore,” he said in a flat, suffocated voice. “This is so much gibberish to me.”

Quick concern on her face, Antonia rose and moved to his side, taking the paper from her cousin’s grasp. “Don’t worry. This is gibberish to me, too.” She frowned. “I don’t even recognize the alphabet. Some Asian tongue, perhaps Hindustani, but I really don’t know.”

She laid a light hand on his shoulder. “Try something else.”

Adam opened a thick folder and perused the top sheet, then gave a sigh of relief. “This I can understand.” He glanced at Antonia ruefully. “I was so worried that for a moment I forgot I had already done a little reading.”

“I don’t blame you for being upset. I can imagine few worse fates than being unable to read.” She gave him an encouraging pat, then returned to her seat and began leafing through a stack of documents.

There was silence for some time, broken only by the shuffle of papers. Antonia found records of a startling variety of transactions, but she did not gasp out loud until she came to the bank statements.

When Adam looked up inquiringly, she explained in a choked voice, “According to this, you have accounts of almost fifty thousand pounds in three different banks. Hoare’s, Baton and Hammond, and Mortlock and Sons, to be precise.”

Adam gave her a startled glance. “I have almost fifty thousand pounds sterling on deposit?’’

“No, fifty thousand in each,” Antonia said weakly. “The total is just under a hundred fifty thousand pounds.”

He stared blankly ahead. “That’s rather a lot of money, isn’t it?”

“To say the least,” she said, still stunned. “I suppose you used three banks as a precaution against possible failures.” She started to mention that Simon had said that her cousin was something of a legend in India, then stopped. She would rather not have to explain who Simon was. “I supposed that you had done well, but I had no idea that you had done
this
well.”

He smiled wryly. “It gets worse. Apparently I own a trading company and a merchant fleet of a dozen ships.” He held up another paper. “And if I am interpreting correctly, partial ownerships in plantations in Ceylon, Indonesia, and India.”

Antonia shook her head. “You said you were ‘something of a nabob,’ but I thought you were funning.” She waved her hand at the mass of documents. “I never expected anything like this.”

His gaze intent on her face, Adam asked, “Does this alter your opinion of me?”

“No. Yes.” She stopped. “Yes and no. I would always expect you to be successful at whatever you did, but this goes beyond mere success. You have built a royal fortune in only eight years. I can’t imagine how you did it.”

“Legitimately, one might hope,” Adam said, his voice flat.

“That goes without saying,” Antonia retorted. “You were always quite maddeningly honest. I could never get you to tell even the smallest fib to keep us out of trouble.”

She propped her chin on her palm and stared at her cousin. “I am beginning to think, Adam, that I knew you much less well than I thought.”

His bleak gaze caught and held hers. “Then neither of us knows who I am.”

He pushed his chair from the desk with suppressed violence and stalked across the room, his muscular figure taut with a sense of energy barely contained. “Am I really like I was before, Antonia, or have I changed out of all recognition?” His deep voice was despairing. “Perhaps that blow on the head is making me mad.”

“Nonsense, Adam, there is nothing mad about you.” She made her voice cool to counteract her cousin’s explosive tension.

It was the first time a crack had appeared in his controlled facade, and she sensed and understood his fear. To be a stranger to oneself was difficult enough. To wonder if one’s mind and emotions were dangerously warped would be infinitely worse.

“Remember that I had not seen you in eight years. It is too easy to see people we know in terms of what we already know about them, rather than as they are now,” she said with a sudden insight that was as valid for her as for her cousin. “The fact that you have grown and changed more than I realized means that I lack perception, not that there is anything wrong with you.”

Adam had halted by the fireplace and was staring at himself in the mirror that hung above the mantel. The afternoon sunlight touched his hair, making it glow like polished oak. Antonia was struck with the feeling that he was both stranger and intimate friend at one and the same time.

He himself saw only a stranger reflected in the mirror. “Wouldn’t one think that one’s own face would be familiar?” he asked. “Perhaps I am not really your cousin at all, but a changeling dropped into his body.”

“Dr. Kinlock said that you might seem different,” Antonia chose her words carefully. “We show different sides of ourselves to different people. With amnesia, a person cannot remember what faces he has shown the world. For me, this is a golden opportunity to see more of you, to learn to know you better, because you have obviously been far too modest about your achievements.”

Adam’s tension diminished, and when he turned from the mirror, his wry smile was back in place. “That does sound better than being mad.”

In a return to pragmatism, he continued, “I appear to have a man of business in London who oversees the day-to-day details of my investments. Fortunately he seems very capable, because at the moment I certainly am not.”