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Chapter Three

“ I do not understand what you mean,” Violet said, struggling to comprehend what her husband had just told her.

“Which part are you having difficulty with?” he asked simply.

“Which part?” she sputtered. “All of it! All the parts! What do you mean, you have lost your memory? How is that possible? And if so, how are you here? How do you know that I am your wife, yet you do not remember me? Is this a joke? Is this some sort of trick!” She was breathing heavily as she felt herself coming undone. “Answer me!”

This doesn’t make any sense. It must be some sort of… a ruse! That is all it is. I would have guessed my husband is toying with me, but he is not the type. What is going on?!

Violet looked to him for an explanation, doing what she could not to unravel, but finding such a task beyond her. Looking at him, he was undoubtedly the same man she had married, and yet… there was also something different about him. Softer, perhaps? Not quite so withdrawn and cold?

Not that this proved anything.

“I assure you, I am not trying to trick you.”

“So you say.”

“Nor is this a joke.”

“Good, because I am not laughing.”

“This is real, Violet…” He stepped toward her, reaching for her hand and taking it.

She might have pulled away, was she not so flustered. But he held on tight, and that same warmth she had felt earlier from their kiss made her arm tingle in a way she wanted to ignore but could do nothing about.

“My last memory is from two weeks ago, which I assume is the time of the accident.”

“Accident? What accident…” She tried to pull her hand back, but he refused to let go.

“As I said, I do not remember,” he replied. “But everything before two weeks ago is vague at best and in many instances non-existent. In layman’s terms, I have amnesia.”

“I…” She searched his eyes for the lie, seeing nothing but the truth. “You… you really do not remember?”

“That is what I am saying.”

“But how is that possible?”

Her eyes flicked to his hand, which held her own, as the other covered it and began to stroke it gently. That sent more tingles up her arm.

How gentle and caring his touch was.

Oh no…

“I do not wish to bore you with the details,” he continued.

“Especially since I do not know them myself. But this changes nothing,” he then insisted, looking into her eyes now in a way she did not recognize, even though she understood it perfectly well.

“I am still your husband, and you are still my wife. Let us just be glad that at the very least, that has not changed.”

“Has not changed…” She leaned back, her pulse quickening as his eyes darkened.

He has never looked at me this way before. It is as if he wants me. But surely not?

“What do you mean?”

He took a quick step toward her. She gasped, but before she could take a hurried step back, his hand landed on her waist and held her close.

Her heart leaped into her throat, and the urge to push him away was certainly there, but it was a weak thing because despite how much she loathed her husband, his touch stirred sensations within her.

Her eyes were wide. Her body was shaking. But still, she did not push him away.

“If I’m being honest, when I saw you just moments ago, I breathed a sigh of relief.”

“You… Why?”

He flashed his eyes, and his smile grew wicked. “It is embarrassing to say that I could not picture your face, Violet. A fact that I find rather hard to believe, considering that your face must have kept me warm on many a night.”

“It… What… I do not…” she stammered pathetically, caught between revulsion because she did not want anything to do with whatever this was, and amorous desires that she had little to no control over, all things considered.

“Come now,” he purred as he released her waist, only to stroke the side of her face.

His fingers traced her skin lightly, and she quivered.

“I may not remember much, but I am certain that if anyone can remind me, it is you. Although perhaps…” He flashed his eyes again, and she could see how hungry he was.

“Perhaps you may need to remind me a couple of times, just to be safe.”

Her pulse was racing. Her body was flooded with warmth. Roderick held her tight, his eyes flicking down to her lips, his head tilting as he puckered them and then leaned in to kiss her.

Her eyes widened, and while she wished to pull away and tell him exactly what the nature of their marriage was, she felt herself slowly leaning in.

“Your Grace!” a voice cried suddenly from across the foyer.

Violet gasped, jolted out of the moment, and then wrenched herself free before it was too late. She stumbled back, gasping for air, her entire body rebelling against itself, as confused and unsure as she had ever been.

Roderick did not seem to notice her rejection, turning to address the man who had called his name.

He was a short fellow, so fat and round that he might have rolled instead of using his legs, but with a kind face dominated by oversized features.

He hurried to Roderick, his jowls wobbling as he went.

“There you are!” he exclaimed. “You promised that you would wait for me!”

“Did I?” Roderick turned and shrugged. “I will remind you that I have amnesia.”

“You know that is not how it works,” the man snapped. “Just as you know I am not as fast a rider as you.”

Roderick scoffed. “I thought it was worth a try. Let’s just say that I was excited to see my wife, Mr. Wallows. Surely you cannot blame me for that?”

“Understandable. But as we discussed, it would have been better if I had been with you when you arrived. For obvious reasons.”

“No harm done,” Roderick assured him, his tone friendly, which again was so unlike him that Violet could hardly believe it. “My wife and I were just getting reacquainted.” He looked at her and winked. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

“I…” Violet gave her head a shake, forcing herself to focus.

Not that it will do me much good, for this entire situation is becoming stranger by the minute!

“I am sorry, but who are you?”

“This is Mr. Wallows,” Roderick introduced the portly man.

“Dr. Wallows,” he corrected, stepping toward Violet and executing a low bow.

“I am treating your husband’s malady—a task I have found to be extraordinarily enlightening.

Truly, I have never seen anything like it.

” He could not have sounded more pleased.

“My hope is to publish a paper on it, in due time. We know so little about amnesia, its cause, and the cure if there is even one! My work will hopefully do much to change all of that.”

“Just so long as you find a way to restore my memories,” Roderick reminded him. “That was our deal, remember.”

“I am very sorry for this, Your Grace,” Dr. Wallows said to Violet.

“I have spent the past two weeks with His Grace, enough time to observe and ensure that the worst was behind him. The plan today was for me to accompany him here so that I might be of assistance, should there be any questions…” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Of which I am sure there are many.”

“Oh…” Violet looked between the two men. “I… Is it real?”

Well done, Violet. Very insightful.

“I assure you that it is,” Dr. Wallows said with a most serious look. “An oddity to be sure, but there is no normal circumstance where amnesia is concerned.”

“I still do not understand…” Violet tried to gather her thoughts. “He has no memory of… of what, exactly?”

“It is hard to explain,” Dr. Wallows began, to which Roderick snorted in agreement. “The easiest way to think of it is as that of an oil painting.”

“Excuse me?”

“His Grace’s life, I mean,” Dr. Wallows explained.

“His life is an oil painting that has been soaked in water. The vaguest outline of the piece is there, but it is impossible to make anything of it. In this way, he remembers how to speak, how to walk, and the names of common things. But the finer details of his life are where we run into issues, and almost every event that has shaped him has succumbed to water—to keep the metaphor going.”

“I see…” Violet certainly did not, but it felt like the right thing to say.

“The last two weeks are all he remembers. After the accident—you told her about the accident, I assume?” he asked.

“I mentioned it.”

“A most strange thing,” Dr. Wallows mused. “A mystery, to be sure, as His Grace suffered a severe head wound. From what, we cannot say?—”

“Because I cannot remember,” Roderick cut in. “I remember coming to in my bed, which I was told was a solid month after the accident. Alas, I haven’t a clue about the cause.”

“You have no idea what happened?”

“I was found on the floor in my foyer, bleeding from the head. It seems that I…” He shrugged. “Tripped and hit my head on the marble. Truly, I am lucky to be alive.”

“And as recovered as you are,” Dr. Wallows added eagerly. “It has been a long road, but there is still much to go. My hope is that in time, all your memories will return, but there is no guarantee.”

Violet looked between the two as she felt her bewilderment grow to levels unheard of. Everything the doctor was saying made enough sense, in that she understood it well enough. But there was a large difference between logic and reality, and she felt caught between the two.

How is this even possible? And what on earth am I supposed to do about it? If anything!

“I…” She rubbed her forehead as if in pain, her mind very much fractured into a million little pieces. “I still do not know why you are here?”

Roderick frowned. “Why would I not be here? We are married, yes? I am right about that.”

“Well, yes, but?—”

“Which is why I am hoping you might help. I can only assume you have been worried about me, so I am curious as to why you were not at the estate with me when the accident happened. Did I send you ahead to ready the manor for the Season? And do you remember anything at all that might explain why?—”