Page 10 of A Secret Consequence for the Viscount
Chapter Three
He was exhausted. His migraine had dulled to a constant headache and all he wanted to do was to sleep.
Tomorrow he would clean himself up. He would have his hair cut, his beard shaved and find some clothes that were not torn and dirty. He would also see a doctor about his hand because it felt hot and throbbing and he was sure an inflammation had set in. But for now...sleep, and the bed in the chamber Jacob had given him on the second floor looked large and inviting.
A sheet of paper placed carefully on the pillow caught his attention and he walked across to lift it up.
Meet me at the summer house as the clock strikes one. It is important.
Eleanor Huntingdon
Surprise floored him. Why would she send him this? Even his own dubious moral code knew the danger in such a meeting.
Her writing was precise and evenly sloped, and she had not used her married surname. He could smell a perfume on the paper that made him bring the sheet to his nose and breath in. Violets.
A mantel clock above the fireplace told him it was already fifteen minutes before the hour she had stated. Pulling his coat from the one bag he had brought as luggage from the Americas, he let himself quietly out of the room.
* * *
Ten minutes later he saw her coming through the drifts of dirty snow, a small figure wrapped in a thick shawl that fell almost to her knees. The moon was out and the wind had dropped and in the silence all about it was as if they were the only two people left in the world.
Her face was flushed from cold as she came in, shutting the glass door behind her. In here the chill was lessened, whether from the abundance of green plant life or just good building practice, he knew not which. When she spoke though he could see a cloud of mist after each word.
‘Thank you for coming.’
‘You thought I would not?’
She ignored that and rushed on. ‘I was more than surprised to see you tonight. I don’t know why you would wish for all those years of silence and no contact whatsoever, but—’
‘It was not intentional, Lady Eleanor. My memory was lost.’
Her eyes widened at this truth and she swallowed, hard.
‘I must have been hit over the head, as there was a sizeable lump there for a good time afterwards. As a result of the injury my memory was compromised.’
She now looked plainly shocked. ‘How much of it exactly? How much did you lose?’
‘Everything that happened to me before I disappeared was gone for many years. A month ago I retrieved most of my history but still...there are patches.’
‘Patches?’
‘The week before my disappearance and a few days after have gone entirely. I cannot seem to remember any of it.’
She turned at that, away from the moonlight so that all her face was in shadow. She seemed slighter than she had done a few hours earlier. Her hands trembled as she caught them together before her.
‘Everything?’
‘I am hoping it will come back, but...’ He stopped, because he could not know if this was a permanent state or a temporary one.
‘How was your cheek scarred?’
‘Someone wants me dead. They have tried three times to kill me now and I doubt that will cease until I identify the perpetrators.’
‘Why? Why should you be such a target?’
‘I have lived in the shadows for a long time, even before I left England, and have any number of enemies. Some I can identify, but others I can’t.’
‘A lonely place to be in.’
