The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (19 page)

Rising and moving to
the door, she crossed her mouth with her thumb as if sealing it shut.
“Mum’s the word,” she promised before leaving and quietly
closing his door.

Abruptly, Reed decided
was never going to recover his memory hiding up here in this room. It
was time he faced whatever trouble he was in. And it was more than
time he began getting some answers.

* * *

“So there you are.”

At his startled look,
Tally realized she sounded almost accusatory.

She was surprised to
find her pseudo husband already seated at the table in the dining
room, waiting for his lunch. She had gone to look for him in his room
and, when he wasn’t there, her first thought was that he’d left
the house!

“Are you sure you’re
well enough to be up?”

“I feel fine.” He
swept his hand around the room. “It’s great to be up and about.”

Underneath his bravado
and excitement at being out of bed, she saw the strain and effort it
had taken. He looked almost too exhausted to eat. She needed to help
him become stronger by making sure he ate properly. Maybe then he’d
remember who he was and, at this point, it might be better for him to
get his memory fully back, even if he did remember she had shot him.

She was torn. He was so
interesting, such fun and very good to look at! And she enjoyed his
attentions. And…
Stop! Tally,
listen to yourself! You’ve always said you’d never marry.
Becoming attached to a man could ruin everything she had worked for
and believed in.

She
had to get him out of her home!
It was bad enough feeling
guilty about his continued loss of memory and her part in sustaining
it, but his presence in this house brought her closer to ruin every
day. And not just to her reputation. When he lured her to act as if
they really were married, she knew she was playing with fire. If only
the thought of burning in it wasn’t so tempting!

The meal went by
quickly and Joseph’s presence — bringing in and taking away
dishes — helped keep the atmosphere light. Perhaps the food also
helped, because Reed... um… She shouldn’t be using his first
name. But the pretense and living in such close quarters made it
difficult maintaining the proper distance.

She noticed a
difference in him today. She wasn’t sure what, but he seemed more
alert, more aware of what was going on around him.

He talked of the noises
he heard outside his window when he was in bed and how he tried to
guess what they were sight unseen. His next comment, though, sent
chills through her.

“Have you noticed
those two quiet types across the street? They appear to be watching a
house on this side of the street.”

“Are you certain?”

He nodded.

No, she hadn’t
noticed that. She’d been too busy watching what was going on inside
her house to notice what was going on outdoors. “No, no I haven’t.”

But she would do, right
after Reed was safely back in his room, she vowed to herself.
“Wouldn’t you like some rhubarb fool?” She knew she was rushing
the meal, but now she was anxious to end it so she could investigate
this further complication.

“No thank you. I
don’t like rhubarb, too tart.” His immediate rejection of the
dessert was definite.

They stared at each
other in stunned surprise. That was the first declarative statement
he’d made about his tastes since regaining consciousness.

“You remembered!”
She looked elated for him... at first, then, Reed saw she was having
second thoughts. Was that dismay, he detected?

“No... not really,”
he responded. “That just came out. I don’t really know if I do or
don’t like it, now that I come to think of it. I just blurted out
the first thing that came to mind.”

He’d been so busy
watching her that it had, indeed, just leapt out of his mouth.

Maybe spontaneously was
the best way for him to remember.

“I think you had best
jot that one down on your list,” she told him, laughing lightly.
“It came out too definitely not to be true. But you can always try
a bite to see if you’re right.”

At his instinctive
grimace, she laughed. “Or maybe a shortbread? You might prefer
that.”

He was arrested by the
sparkle of her laughter, such a joyous, unexpected sound. She was
usually such a serious little thing, not at all the type of woman
he’d ever have expected to marry.

What
the hell do I know about what kind of woman I’d marry?
He cursed to himself. He had no idea what his taste in women was.

Wait a minute. He knew
he was extremely attracted to his wife, so that partly answered that.

She cleared her throat
and he realized he hadn’t responded to her offer of shortbread.

“No, nothing more,
thank you. I don’t think I’m fond of sweets.” They discussed
whether he’d still dislike the same foods he had before, without
the memory of his dislike.

He was sure he would,
but his wife wasn’t certain. She thought that maybe he wouldn’t.

“I think we often
dislike things because of what we associate with them.”

All the while they were
talking, Tally was thinking. Fretting. He was observant, too
observant for the precarious situation in this household. Even
drugged, he’d noticed those spies across the street.

After the attacks on
her and his climb into her room, she should have been paying more
attention. But, with no view to the front of the house from her
bedroom and her preoccupation with their uninvited guest, she had
missed this vital piece of information. What if those men were the
ones who were out to harm her? Or might they be his cohorts?

“Have you recalled
anything, anything at all?” she asked him as they made their way to
the drawing room after the meal. He’d insisted he wasn’t ready to
go back to bed yet.

She was feeling
impatient. Foster had said that investigator was to arrive first
thing today but she had yet to meet him. She’d been closeted in her
studio since dawn, so he might already be here. Now, she was anxious
to tell him about the men Reed had noticed.

“Not a damn thing of
any importance,” his voice was rife with frustration. “Pardon my
language. This state of affairs is the very devil and I’m wondering
how long it can go on.”

They entered the
drawing room. “I’m sorry…” Her words trailed off uncertainly.
She advanced into the room and was about to sit in an armchair near
the window so he could sit in the other one, a safe distance away,
when she heard the snick of the lock on the door.

She spun around. Fear
rose like bile in her throat. “Why are you doing that?” Was he
going to kill her now that no one else was around? Had this been his
devious plan all along?

“I want to talk with
you. I don’t know what you or that grouch of a butler have been
telling people, but I need you to know that I – AM – NOT –
INSANE!” He ground the words out.

She almost laughed with
relief. He didn’t want to kill her! Thank goodness! “Of course
you aren’t,” she reassured him. What had brought this on?

“Then why does Mrs. P
think I’m deranged?”

“I have no idea.”
She didn’t know what to say. Foster’s story to Spence had seemed
inspired. She hadn’t known he’d repeated it to Mrs. P. He should
have warned her not to tell Reed about it!

“She says Foster told
her that I imagined I was married to everybody I met.” By now, he
was right in front of her and he glared deep into her eyes. “So,
have I imagined you are my wife? Or are you actually my keeper?”

Stunned, Tally remained
mute for fear of uttering the wrong thing and angering him further.
She dropped her gaze from his harsh stare. She knew how she should
answer. This was the perfect opportunity to tell him the truth, but
he seemed too upset at the moment and she was afraid of how he’d
react.

“You don’t act like
a wife. You even lock your bedroom door at night.”

At her startled look,
he smiled triumphantly, but it was a see–I’m–not–so–crazy
type of smile, without an ounce of humor in his eyes. “You didn’t
think I knew that, did you? Let me tell you, I may have lost my
memory, but not my hearing.” His point made, he continued, “And
you never invite me to your bed.”

“I couldn’t! We
aren’t…” she choked out before stopping abruptly. “Like I
said, you don’t know me… not anymore.”
Caro
Dio
, she’d almost given herself away.

“And another thing…”
He sounded like he was winding up, rather than cooling down. And he
didn’t appear to have noticed her slip. She supposed he was more
intent on having his say, than on hearing her talk. That was good.
She hated quarreling. And she dreaded what was coming next. Did he
really believe they weren’t married or was he just taking a stab in
the dark? She willed herself to calm down, to think.

He had no way of
knowing for certain. Taking a good look at him, at the pained
uncertainty in his gaze, she understood that this was not about her
or her lies. This was about him. About the anguish of not knowing
anything about himself. What must it be like to lose one’s past
completely — to be rudderless and anchorless in a completely
unknown world of strangers?

She couldn’t bear to
see him suffer so. She moved closer and tried to put her arms around
him to comfort him, but he pushed them aside.

“Why wasn’t I told
I’d been shot?” He threw down the words like a glove, challenging
her to a duel.

He
knew!
She glanced away, frantic to find some plausible
excuse.
What was she to tell him
now?

Coward that she was,
she’d been putting off telling him. Foster had warned her it was
only a matter of time. The problem was she still had no idea how to
explain it to him, other than with more lies — and she loathed
lying.

A braver person would
have found a way to tell him. But she didn’t feel very rational
around this man. He’d turned her normally quiet world topsy-turvy.
She, who had always been so organized and orderly, felt as if she
were being cast from one crisis to the next, like flotsam buffeted
about by the wind and waves.

“We… um… decided
to keep it from you until you were feeling stronger, better able to
deal with it.” Her voice squeaked out the timid excuse.
You
mouse, Tally!
You
could have made that sound much more believable
.

“Deal with what?”
Aggravation was rife in his tone. “What have I done?”

“That’s just it. We
don’t know.”

“You don’t know who
shot me or why?” It was clear he didn’t believe her.

“That’s right.”
She paused. “You had already been shot by the time I found you.
That was probably why you fell and knocked your head.”

“Yet you didn’t
have the doctor take a look at it when he came?” His accusation was
sharp and to the point.

“Because Foster had
already looked at it. The ball only pierced the skin a little, so he
cleaned and bandaged it. He assisted the doctors during his time in
the military, so we didn’t feel the physician needed to do it all
over again. Why cause you more pain for nothing?”

“You have that much
confidence in his abilities?”

“Completely.” No
lie there.

“All right,” he
muttered grudgingly though he seemed mollified by her explanation. “I
still don’t like being kept in the dark. Is there anything else I
should know that you haven’t told me?”

There it was. The
opportunity she needed. He’d just given her the perfect opening to
tell him.

Do
it!

“I” she began,
“can’t think of anything else at the moment,” she heard herself
say. Argh! She was so spineless.

Doctor’s orders! She
groaned silently at how adept she was at convincing herself that a
lie was necessary for Reed’s own good, rather than the craven act
of a woman who didn’t want to face this angry man when he found
out.

“Good!” He sat on
the sofa, clearly exhausted. “This loss of memory is difficult
enough, but to discover all is not as it appears, that would be even
worse.” He patted the seat beside him.

Knowing it was probably
not a wise idea, but wanting to reassure him, she sat. His shoulders
were slumped. He looked defeated.

“Coming downstairs
for luncheon was too much for you, I think.”

“No,” he disagreed
in a tired voice. “I need to push myself. I can’t just allow
myself to fade away.”

She hid a smile. As if
this man was ever likely to fade away! A more vibrant individual she
had yet to meet. Despite two strong doses of laudanum a day, he
emanated an inner strength she envied.

He covered her hand
with his. “What are you thinking behind that mask of serenity?”

Surprised, she tried to
ease her hand from his. Unable to dislodge it, she told the truth.
“That you don’t look like someone who is going to fade away.”

He still wouldn’t
release her hand. In one way, she was pleased. It felt... good.
Right.

He gave her a crooked
little smile that sent her heart galloping. Then, suddenly, his gaze
pinned her like an insect to a board. “Have we been married only
three weeks, my dear? Or, since you never answered me, perhaps we’re
not really married at all?”

Diavolo!
He was back to that! Again, she’d misjudged him, thinking his
doubts were allayed and that he’d be too tired to continue his
interrogation. He’d lulled her into thinking his thoughts had
turned amorous.

What was she to say?
She truly didn’t want to impede his chances of recovering his
memory by telling him they were strangers.

Ignoring his first
question, she said, “Don’t be silly. Of course we’re married.”
A warm flush suffused her whole body, from top to bottom, at the
falsehood. This was the first time she had voiced the lie outright!
She was going to hell!