Page 26 of Romancing the Scot
“I apologize, m’lord. I only left my sick bed two days ago.” She turned to face him. “I hope you’re not offended. I don’t think I would have been very good company.”
However striking he thought the color of her eyes before, his estimation soared today. Delicate rings of gold encircled the blue irises.
“Hardly offended. Though I can’t imagine you would be anything but the best of company,” he said. “You see, it isn’t too often that we have the pleasure of so mysterious a guest here at Baronsford.”
“You’ll have to pardon me, m’lord, but since I do not recall my past, I’d find it trying to be inspected and judged in strange company. After all, I can offer nothing of substance with which to defend myself.”
Whenever Jo was at Baronsford, dinner was part of an ongoing series of social visits and engagements. It had only been family last night, but they did need to decide on how they would explain Grace’s identity and her presence here. Her reserve was reasonable. As a judge, he understood the strain felt by those who testified. She was suffering from her loss of memory, and cast among the strangers. Still, he was inclined to tease, hoping to soften the shell of uneasiness.
“You assume that people will think the worst, not knowing your name or background.”
“Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t,” she said, looking away in the direction Jo had gone. “I believe that’s the general attitude in England?”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re in Scotland,” he said lightly. “But you’re right. Still, isn’t that human nature, regardless of where one lives?”
“You have me at a disadvantage, since I can hardly use my personal experience in the argument.”
“True, but your comment would indicate that you’re not English.”
“You see? Even in this I can’t defend myself.” She turned her attention again to the carriage barn.
Hugh recognized the depth of her discomfort and searched for a topic that would distract her from her current dilemma. She made the choice for him.
“Lady Jo told me you found the coins.”
“Yes, I did. That first day. They were lying in the bottom of the basket.”
Hugh wondered again if she could be an American. He had family who called Boston their home. Pierce, his uncle, and his wife, Portia, lived there with their children. Now that the war with the former colonies was behind them, perhaps he and Jo could introduce Grace as an acquaintance of his American relatives.
“Those coins could be a clue to where you came from.”
“Perhaps. I just can’t say.”
He thought back to the day she arrived. “When I was carrying you to the house, you murmured lines from a ballad. Do you remember it?”
“I suppose I must enjoy reading. I recall hearing my own voice in the crate, reciting lines of poetry. What works they came from, and when I came across them . . .” She shrugged.
Hugh suppressed a smile, thinking of her feverish desire to read his law journals in the study. “We have two well-appointed libraries here at Baronsford. You’re welcome to use them at your convenience.”
“Thank you, m’lord. That’s very kind of you.” Grace’s attention turned to the gondola she’d arrived in. “Is that the one?”
“Would you like a closer look?”
“Please,” she said, following him into the barn.
“We cleaned out the basket entirely. Aside from the coins, there was nothing else to indicate where you might have come from, other than Antwerp.”
Slowly, she circled the basket and peered inside.
“This must feel like meeting an old friend.”
“Actually, I now know how Lazarus might have felt passing his burial cave.” She shivered. “Or how a former prisoner feels returning to view his cell.”
Five days, he thought. Captive. Isolated in near darkness, knowing her surroundings only by touch. Never knowing if she would ever see the light of day again.
He motioned to the open doors. “Perhaps we should go. I don’t mean to torment you.”
“You’re too kind, m’lord, but I asked to see it,” Grace said softly. Looking back into the basket, she added, “And I’m fine now.”
