Page 19 of A Duke to Restore her Memory

“A letter, Your Grace,” said the butler in a smooth voice, placing a silver tray in front of Sebastian and bowing low. “It arrived just ten minutes ago.”

“Thank you, Owens,” said Sebastian, taking the letter off the tray. “You may leave.”

The butler nodded, withdrawing from the study. Sebastian stood up from his desk, letter in hand, walking towards the fire. He sat down in the upholstered armchair closest to the fire, breaking the red wax seal on the letter and opening it.

His eyes slid to the bottom of the parchment to find out who the sender was. It was an old friend of his father’s, Major Tomkins, who had served with the late duke in the army during one of the Napoleonic wars. Major Tomkins lived nearby and was his godfather, so he tried to keep in regular contact with him. The gentleman was in a wheelchair now and quite hard of hearing, but he still had a sharp mind, nonetheless.

He stared into space for a moment, gripping the letter tightly in his hand. It had been three days since the explosion in the mine, and he had barely slept a wink.

Another miner had died of his injuries, taking the total number of casualties to sixteen. Yesterday, he visited the dead men’s families, offering his condolences and telling them that he would always look after them. But the guilt still hung over him like a dark cloud, and he didn’t know if it would ever leave him.

In addition to his guilt, he still struggled with his feelings towards Georgina. He had managed to resist sending for her or going to her room, but it had been very difficult. Every fibre of his being yearned to be with her.

Seeing how she had sprung into action during the disaster at the mine had strengthened his feelings towards her to such an extent that it was difficult to contain them now. He was growing warm just thinking about her.

She is under the same roof as me. What is she doing at this very moment?

With great difficulty, he forced himself to turn his mind back to the letter in his hand. Major Tomkins had very wavering, spidery handwriting, and reading it took a fair amount of effort.

Dear Sebastian,

I hope you are well and not feeling too bad after the accident in the mine. It is a terrible business, of course, but it does happen from time to time, and you should not take it to heart. You have always done your best for your workers and will continue to do so.

I am writing to you about another matter that has come to my attention. I attended a small garden party yesterday afternoon and was more than a little perturbed to hear your name mentioned … and the name of the mysterious young woman you are housing. The young woman who fell down a mine a month or more ago and who you took into your home out of the kindness of your heart.

I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but there was much speculation about this young woman, and none of it was good.

Apparently, there is a strong rumour circulating that this young woman is a fraud, deceiving you that she has lost her memory and is actually a confidence woman, intent upon seduction and making herself the next duchess.

Obviously, I was shocked and distressed to hear such a claim and thought I should let you know immediately that there might be a viper in your nest, so to speak.

If you need any clarification about this rumour, or further information about what people were saying, then do not hesitate to let me know, old chap. I am more than happy to help.

I remain, your loyal godfather,

Major Peter Tomkins

Sebastian stared at the letter in shock, not certain that he had read it correctly. Was his godfather actually saying that Georgina was defrauding him … and had deliberately been doing so right from the very start?

He shook his head incredulously, reading the letter again and then a third time before slowly closing it, staring into space again.

He felt cold sweat trickling down his neck. Lydia had made such claims against Georgina, but he had instantly dismissed them, knowing that his sister had taken an instant strong dislike to the young woman he had rescued and had sensed the attraction between them, which hadn’t suited her at all, given that she was hell-bent on matching him with her best friend.

He shook his head again. But now … now there was a rumour circulating about Georgina’s authenticity.

Lydia couldn’t possibly be the source of it – she despised gossip and would never start a scandal that would besmirch his reputation or the reputation of the duchy. His sister was far too loyal and had always been fiercely protective of the duchy.

His blood ran cold. If his sister hadn’t started this rumour … then who had? And did that person have information about Georgina that he wasn’t privy to? Or was it simply idle conjecture?

No, it cannot be true. I rescued her from the pit myself. She was terribly injured and unconscious. What manner of person would deliberately hurt themselves in such a way just to deceive me and infiltrate their way into my home … and my heart?

Sebastian shifted uneasily in the chair. It was impossible. Whoever had started this rumour about Georgina clearly had no idea how injured she had been when he had found her. It wasn’t possible to fake those injuries. Dr Watson had attended to her and had never expressed one moment of doubt about her.

But she might have deceived you about her memory loss, even though she had genuinely suffered a head injury. Perhaps she is an opportunist and took advantage of the situation when she regained consciousness. Anything is possible.

Abruptly, Sebastian stood up, pacing the floor, trying to force that small, mean voice of doubt out of his head. He would ignore this rumour – for now.

Any mean-spirited person might have started it through idle gossip and didn’t have any particular information about Georgina at all.

He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, given that she had been staying here for over a month now and word had clearly moved around the district about her. He had done that himself – he had been trying to find anyone who knew her, after all.

He rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. Georgina wasn’t defrauding him for her own gain.

She was a clever, spirited, and courageous woman unlike any he had ever met before, who had the beauty of a goddess and the heart of a lion. A woman who he was dangerously close to losing his heart to completely.

Another cold sweat broke out over his entire body. She would never betray his trust in her. Or would she?

***

Christina strolled along the garden path, trying to ignore the two scullery maids who were standing in the near distance. They were staring at her quite openly, whispering together behind their hands. Their eyes were cold as they gazed at her.

She felt a trickle of uneasiness fall through her. The servants and workers in the duke’s household and on his estate had always been kind to her and never treated her badly.

But over the past day, she had felt that changing somehow. A cold, rude glare here and there. People were moving away from her when she entered the kitchen. And now, here were these maids, staring and whispering about her and not trying to hide it at all.

Her heart plummeted. She stopped walking, turning around and facing them. She knew their names were Rosie and Martha, but she had never really spoken with either of them before. Slowly, she started walking towards them. Their chatter died as she approached.

“Good morning,” she said, raising her chin in the most pleasant voice she could muster. “I could not help noticing that you seem to be talking about me. Why?”

The maids looked startled and a little sheepish at her directness. But then, the one named Rosie, a plump, hard-faced girl with eyes so small they reminded Christina of blackcurrants, raised her chin as well, looking her directly in the eye.

“They say you are a confidence woman,” declared the maid in her strong local Cornish dialect. “They say that you have not lost your memory at all but are faking it so that you can seduce and marry his grace.”

Christina’s heart hit the ground again. Of course, she should have realized the rumour that Lady Lydia had started in that genteel dining room would have spread to the servants’ halls by now.

The servants at the dinner party Lydia had attended had overheard her, then whispered among themselves … and then whispered it to the servants at Newquay Hall.

Christina had been foolish to think it could be contained. It was clearly spreading like wildfire through the entire district – in both the drawing rooms of the gentry and the kitchens of their servants, as well as among the local farmers, miners, and tradesfolk.

Her throat went dry with sudden panic. If these maids had heard Lydia’s poison about her, then it stood to reason that the duke had probably heard it, as well.

What must he be thinking? Would he believe it? But how could he, when he had pulled her from that abandoned mine shaft with a large, bleeding gash on her head himself?

The maids were staring at her avidly, clearly wanting her to react to what Rosie had just said so they could whisper about it over dinner in the servants’ quarters. There was no way she was going to give them the satisfaction.

“I see,” she said in a prim voice, raising her chin higher. “Well, only ignorant fools listen to idle gossip. So, you may believe what you want about me. But I know the truth, and that is all that matters. Good day.”

Christina turned on her heel, marching away without looking back at the maids. She crossed her arms in front of her tightly, holding her forearms, digging her nails into them, her face burning.

Abruptly, she stopped. Mrs Sollock, the housekeeper, was walking toward her. How was the housekeeper going to treat her now? Would she greet her pleasantly, as she usually did, or would she ignore her and keep on walking?

She felt panic flare inside of her. She almost turned, veering to the left, to escape the confrontation. But then, Mrs Sollock raised her hand, waving at her. Christina stood still, feeling sweat pouring down the back of her neck as the housekeeper approached.

“Georgina,” said Mrs Sollock, with a small smile. “How are you?”

Christina almost slumped with relief. Tears prickled behind her eyes. Mrs Sollock wasn’t acting any differently towards her. The housekeeper must have heard the rumours circulating about her, but she had clearly decided they weren’t true, or it wasn’t her place to judge Christina.

“I am not so well, Mrs Sollock,” she said, biting her lip. “There is talk about me.”

There was an uneasy silence. The housekeeper nodded slowly.

“Yes, there is,” she replied eventually. “There is a lot of it.” She hesitated. “I think you should talk to the duke about it … before someone else does.”

Christina gulped. She hadn’t seen or talked with the duke since the day of the explosion. The last time she had seen him he had kissed her hand fervently and told her there was no other woman like her in the world.

Her heart shifted. How was he going to treat her now?