Page 25 of A Secret Consequence for the Viscount

‘Then I look forward to tomorrow, Lord Bromley. On the last occasion you wore a dark blue jacket and beige trousers.’

‘You think the details important?’

‘I do.’

‘What was it you had on?’

She frowned at that as though she could not exactly remember. ‘It was warm so no doubt I had on one of my summer silks.’

‘In gold?’

‘Pardon?’

‘I liked you in gold at Frederick’s.’

‘I am not certain I have...’

‘Anything, Eleanor. Wear anything you feel comfortable in. I was teasing.’

A further blush at the informality of his using her Christian name. Jacob’s sister was beginning to confound him completely and the thought crossed his mind that he would sit anywhere opposite her just to see her blue eyes smile. Even in Gunter’s Tea Shop in Berkeley Square.

Had it been the same back then?

He could not ask her. He couldn’t ask Jacob either. He swore under his breath because the loss of his memory was causing havoc in every sort of way possible and Eleanor’s offer was the one avenue to help him get closer to finding out the truth.

He just hoped like hell that he had not hurt her.

* * *

She watched him leave and for just a second was transported back to the night before his disappearance. They had made love and it was late, but the magic between them seemed doused and awkward as he had escorted her to the front door of the Bromley town house and to the carriage that awaited outside.

He had not kissed her. She remembered that vividly. When she had reached up that last time he had pulled away, calling to his footman to escort her home, anger and distance in his voice. He had not even stayed to wave her goodbye either, the door shut firmly so that all light was gone. She had stumbled on the steps in the darkness and almost fallen.

Falling. It felt like that again now as uncertainty clawed at truth. She did not know him any more. The man she had imagined was different from the one he had become, but she was different, too, with the responsibility of Lucy. She was also scared of allowing him in once more and being hurt because of it.

The dry ache in her throat made her breath shallow.