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“In my mind, I realize what you say is true,” Richard said with a shrug of resignation. “Obviously, until she recovers her memory, Lady Emma does not wish a relationship with me: I remind her of the worst night of her life.”

When Lords Orson and Beaufort returned and announced they had lost sight of the stranger, Emma realized she had lost an opportunity to learn why she had proven to be the victim of such a heinous crime.

The idea that she could not be trusted with her own choices had become more and more troublesome for her.

Assuredly, she knew someone or, rather, a crime had robbed her of part of her memories, but should not her instincts have remained in place?

And her instincts said, with the man’s disappearance, her hopes of a resolution to this mystery had also vanished.

“Please tell me you truly did not mean to confront a stranger and accuse him of your attack?” Lord Orson demanded as he approached.

Emma understood his frustration, but her world was in such a state of upheaval, she could barely function, and there was no one who truly understood the turmoil churning inside her.

“What I planned, my lord...well, let us say I release you from any obligation you think you owe me. You have expressed yourself perfectly, on more than one occasion, on my ‘lack of reason.’ I could not consult you on the matter, for you were too busy with your burst of ill humor and left me alone in the coach. You took no notice of the man watching our carriage when you darted away to speak to your friends. Only me, my lord. I was the only one who noticed a stranger watching our comings and goings. When I approached, the stranger did not run away from me. He ran only from you, which to me says he was up to no good or he would have stayed to speak to you.”

She could view Lord Orson’s frustration, but Emma had tired of this madness. She turned to Lord Graham. “Pardon, my lord, might I impose on you to secure a coach and driver for me so I might travel to London? I shall see you are properly reimbursed for your kindness.”

Graham glanced to Lord Orson, but he did not wait for Richard’s opinion, “You may rejoin Beaufort and me, my lady, or if such is not to your liking, I will employ a separate carriage for you.”

“Though you and Lord Beaufort have been most kind, my lord, I would not wish you to be required later to answer to Lord Orson’s complaints,” she told the man, while Beaufort jabbed Orson in the ribs with his elbow, in an “I told you so” manner.

She turned to Lord Orson to say, “I am forever in your debt, my lord. You saved me when others would not. You pressed your family to assist me, and you have taken on the task to keep me safe. However, there is only one of two ways this madness will end: Either I shall remember who exacted harm upon me and see the person brought to justice, or I shall spend my life with this cloud hanging over my head until I reach an early grave.”

In the end, Beaufort decided to return to London in Lord Orson’s coach, while Emma joined Lord Graham in Beaufort’s carriage.

Beaufort had insisted that he and Orson speak to the officials regarding someone shooting at them, but Emma had heard little of the conversation meant to settle the matter.

It was all so deeply sad, for she had bought into the idea of becoming one of Lord Duncan’s “daughters”—the wife of one of the man’s “sons.” Moreover, she had always desired a large family—any family, for that matter, but definitely a large one—for as long as she could recall.

For more than the last decade. All her days in England, such had been her most private prayer.

“I shall be waiting in the carriage, my lord,” she told Lord Graham. “I am at your disposal when you are prepared to depart.”

“Did you see anything of the man that might be of use to Orson in discovering the identity of your attacker?” Graham asked as her trunk was placed on Beaufort’s coach, and Lord Beaufort’s things transferred to Orson’s carriage.

“Nothing,” she said, her energy and her desire drained by her melancholy.

“His gaze was steady and occasionally his lips twitched in apparent amusement. He apparently found it amusing that I meant to challenge him.” She turned her gaze on Lord Graham’s now-familiar countenance.

“For a few elongated seconds the man feared me. I know that sounds absurd, but for the passage of a handful of heartbeats, the power had shifted to me. Then, Lord Orson called my name, and I saw relief arrive on the stranger’s features.

He would not be held accountable by me. I knew without a doubt he had been my attacker, and for a short glitch in time, he feared me.

Then Lord Orson called, and he was again free. ”

Lord Graham studied her carefully in that manner she had become accustomed to know was his way of seeing the world, before he said, “Someday, I pray to hold my mother accountable in the same manner. Unlike your attacker, she did not purposely harm me—did not drop me with the intention to maim me, but she never once looked back with a care for my safety or to answer my cries of pain. She kept walking away from me, though I called out to her over and over again.” He shook his head as if his lordship released the image of the scene from his mind.

“In my opinion, you have taken your tormentor’s measure and found him wanting.

I will rejoice when I can say the same. Well done, my lady.

You are well on your way to remembering it all. ”

“You are the most remarkable man, my lord,” she pronounced as he climbed into the carriage with her.

“But I am not Orson,” he said as he settled upon the opposing bench.

Emma smiled sadly. “No, I fear not. Yet, even my admiration for Lord Orson cannot hide his actions of late, which, most assuredly, do not impress me in the least.”

As the coach rolled away from Bletchley, Lord Graham said, “Such does not mean I cannot be your gallant, as you promised to be mine, my lady. You obviously require someone whose emotions do not cloud his thinking. We can be as brother and sister, bickering over the most insignificant situations, but loyal when it is most important.”

Though she wished to speak more on what had occurred, Emma and Lord Graham avoided discussing Lord Orson or the man she had challenged on a street in Bletchley. Instead, Lord Graham spoke of the numerous towns and villages through which they traveled and the history associated with each.

She said, “I had not noticed your Scottish accent previously. Though I suppose the blame lies with me. I have been too much involved in recovering my memories to take a true notice of those about me.”

“No harm,” Lord Graham said graciously. “Though all know my home seat is in Scotland, many like to remind me I hold an English university education.” He grinned largely, which tugged his scar at an awkward angle, but Emma found the change in his expression endearing, for he appeared to be at ease with her.

“I wish you could have heard Lady Elsbeth Duncan. She would chastise the other boys when they would tease me regarding my accent. Hers would be so thick when she did so, and they knew Duncan would have taken a belt to their hides if they dared to talk back to her or to know amusement at his wife’s expense.

She would finish by saying, ‘Now, that be a Scottish woman talkin’. ’”

Emma was laughing along with him, ignoring the soreness about her own mouth.

Lord Graham appeared happy. “When Beaufort adds his Irish Gaelic to a conversation, it can be quite difficult for Orson, Marksman, and Thompson to understand a bit of the conversation. Beaufort and I often pretend to communicate when the others are listening in on us. We make up words and gestures that they cannot know, for they truly do not exist.”

“Oh, I hope I am around to view this for myself!” Emma said, caught up in the laughter.

“You will be,” his lordship said. A smile of something that appeared to be longing appeared upon his features. “And I will rejoice in reminding Orson that I was the first to make you laugh.”

“You are,” she said as she, too, sobered. “It has been a long time since I have done so. I do not recall enjoying myself so easily with anyone.”

“Not even Lord Orson?” he asked in serious tones. “A man and a woman must be able to enjoy each other’s company.”

“We have not reached that point yet,” she admitted. “We are still in the ‘challenging,’ and, I suppose ‘testing’ stage. I was quite jealous of how his lordship and Lady Theodora ‘fought’ over which music to play the last night I was at Duncan Place.”

“They are both quite gifted on the pianoforte. Lady Theodora also excels on the harp.”

She knew his lordship wanted to ask if she recalled any so-called accomplishments of a fine lady, but Emma did not volunteer a response, and so, Lord Graham glanced at the fingerpost along the road to determine how far they had traveled.

Bletchley was some five and fifty miles from London, and so the daylight hours were becoming thinner.

“We will soon be in London, and we should decide where I am to set you down. I would prefer you did not yet return to Donoghue House. There is still the mystery of the missing lilies, and, after your reaction to the sound of distant gunfire, I—rather I should say ‘we,’ meaning the Duncan contingent—believe your attack came at your house, likely when you discovered what occurred with your mother’s lilies. ”

Emma sat in quiet regard for several elongated seconds before she responded, “I feel you are accurate in your summary, but, if so, it is as Mr. Rheem said: I trusted the wrong person.”