Page 13 of To Win a Viscount's Heart
She shook her head. “I feel as though I am walking through a thick fog. Completely lost.”
“I understand how frightening and confusing this must be for you, Selena, but please understand you are safe here. I’ve already sent word to my parents in London. Together we’ll do everything we can to help you. I’m certain Father will send a missive to alert your mother as to your whereabouts.”
“T-thank you, my lord.”
“Please call me Gerald,” he said.
She gave him a wobbly smile. “Gerald.” Although she enjoyed thinking of him as Lord Brown Eyes. Somehow, it seemed more familiar.
“Good.” He smiled back.
“So, I am Selena Bowles.” Knowing her name gave her the strangest feeling. It was as if she stood outside a window watching someone else live her life.
Gerald gave a slow nod.
There was something that she wanted so badly to remember, but no matter how hard she tried, it was just out of reach. She lifted the locket once more and gazed at the miniatures of her mother and father, hoping…praying for a glimmer of memory… something…anything. “I feel such sorrow.”
“Perhaps learning about your father has brought on this sadness along with your memory loss and your injuries.”
“I suppose…but it feels like it just happened...this terrible loss.”
“Selena, try to relax and let your memories surface on their own. I feel certain youwillremember. For now, let us focus on getting you stronger,” Gerald said.
She wanted to see her horse, Azure. “Can I see him? My horse?”
“Yes. When the doctor permits you, I shall take you to the stables.”
She blinked back a fresh wave of tears. Although the viscount was a stranger, he was kind, gentle, and genuinely concerned for her welfare. There had to be a reason why she’d ridden on horseback in a rainstorm to come here, to Bellwood. To him. If only she could remember why. There were no answers—only a growing list of questions. She was a stranger to herself.Until her memory returned, everything about her life would remain a mystery…
~*~
Rose Point Chateau
Nottingham, England
“Grom!” Percival bellowed.Where is that giant idiot?He wanted his breakfast. He was starving. The day before, they’d buried Lady Fleur Bowles in a small cemetery behind the manor. The morning was wet and very cold, and he’d unfortunately slept in longer than he should have. They’d spent the evening playing cards and drinking. He’d fallen asleep with his head pillowed on the generous bosom of one of the maids that Grom had hired.
Grom had done well, hiring several former tavern wenches for the manor. Aye, they certainly knew their business. He chuckled as he rubbed his hands together. Although he would soon be married to that little chit locked upstairs in her room, it didn’t mean he had to put an end to his various enjoyments.
Nevertheless, they were running late. He and Grom had ridden half a mile from the manor house to the isolated family graveyard, only to discover the gates were locked. Percival remembered he had fired the groundskeeper, who’d left without turning over his keys. Luckily, Grom was adept at picking locks and made short work of the gate.
The graveyard, cold and desolate, had made his skin crawl. It was surrounded by a dark, iron gate and was about half a mile behind the stables. A large oak tree stood like a sentry on the outside of the front fence. A flat wagon driven by two footmen rambled down a ruddy road in the spitting rain, carrying the wooden casket bearing Lady Bowles’ arrived on their heels. The reverend walked behind it.
They hadn’t bothered waking the dead woman’s daughter. He didn’t need a weeping girl on his hands.
“I’m here, Vern,” the hulking man strode into the study carrying a large tray.
He set it down on a table by the window.
“Don’t call me that,” Vern snapped. “I am Lord Percival Bowles. Don’t ever forget it. We can’t let anyone find out, or both you and me will end up swinging by the gibbet. He had known the real Percival Bowles—who had been his friend, or Bowles thought he was. Vern had one friend—himself. That made it easy. After Bowles had told him about the solicitor’s letter telling him he was now an earl, Vern decided this was his opportunity. When Bowles came in a little drunk for their celebration, he hit him from behind.That’s one body that will never be found, he thought.
“Yes, your lordship,” Grom said in his deep, flat voice.
“I’m starving. What took so long?”
“The kitchen maid said the cook ran out of rashers and prepared a stew instead.”
“We’ll be setting off after I eat. Where is the girl?”
