Page 38 of Cinderella's Charade With the Duke
Cousin?
He studied her some more, eager to remember her name. If she was his cousin, he knew her. The other woman returned with a glass of water. He struggled to sit up, even with their aid, as every muscle screamed out in agony against the movement and his head began to spin, but he sipped from the glass and swallowed before collapsing back on the propped-up pillows behind him.
Another woman rushed into the room. ‘Your Grace!’ She was older, plump and carried a tray of food and tea. The smell of it turned his stomach and he baulked, putting up his hand. He shook his head and she set the tray aside and approached, smoothing her hands down her apron. The woman had soft grey eyes that put him at ease.
Once he swallowed down the nausea, he cleared his throat. ‘I am sorry to be rude, but who are all of you? And where am I?’
The silence that followed lasted longer than he would have liked and his pulse increased, creating a throbbing in his body,especially his head. He closed his eyes and hoped they would answer before he passed out. He heard low whispers, but nothing he could decipher with his head pounding as it was. A hand gently clutched his and he opened his eyes again.
‘William?’ the blonde woman asked. ‘Do you not remember me? I am your cousin, Daphne. Lady Daphne Buchanan. We have known each other since we were children.’
He studied her.
William? Was that his name? He didn’t feel like a William, but that was no matter now. What mattered was the black blankness of his mind.
‘I know I should know you as you appear familiar to me, but, no… I do not remember you…any of you.’ His pulse increased. ‘What has happened? Why can I not remember…anything?’
‘You were in a serious accident two days ago,’ she explained. ‘It must have affected your memory. I am sure it is only temporary.’ Her hand tightened around his and he was grateful for her certainty. ‘You are William Sutherland, Duke of Wimberley, and these are your chambers. You reside here at Blithe Manor with your daughter, Millie.’
His chest tightened. Awe came over him. ‘I have a daughter?’ he whispered. Surely he would remember her above all else, yet nothing came to mind despite how he searched his mind for her. Panic bubbled in him.
‘We must send for Doctor Kemplar,’ his cousin said.
‘Yes,’ William replied, swallowing back the fear rising in his throat. ‘I believe that would be best. I’d like to know why I cannot remember a whit about who I am or the life I have here.’
Hattie paced the hallway. She took laps up and back along the corridor outside William’s chamber, taking turns in passing Daphne, who also struggled to remain seated. Mrs Chisholmhad given up waiting outside the door long ago and had busied herself in preparing for anything and everything His Grace might need now that he was awake. Maids and footmen were scurrying about the house in precision, following one order after another. Since the night of the ball and the carriage accident that had followed, the Manor had been vibrant with a frenetic energy, which had now reached a fever pitch.
William’s belief that the interest in his life and future at Blithe Manor would become more subdued after the night of the ball and his announcement of her as his betrothed, even if it was entirely pretend, had only fanned the flames of interest. His accident that evening had sent the gossip mongers andtoninto a full-blown frenzy. Social calls and gifts for ‘improving his well-being at this difficult time’ were aplenty. The latest of which was an oversized Persian rug poor Mr Simmons was still trying to create space for in the crowded receiving room and parlour where the bountiful gifts, flowers and well wishes had been set out for display.
Stacks of invitations and enquiries had arrived, most of which were addressed to her, Lady Penelope Denning. Another silver salver for her correspondence had been placed in the parlour and it was now as overflowing as His Grace’s. Only the gloves she wore kept her from nibbling on her nails and chewing the cuticles down to the quick. What had begun as a ruse had taken on an unseemly life of its own and Hattie had simply no idea what to do or how to stop it.
She wrung her hands and turned on her heel when she reached the small library upstairs and began another pass by His Grace’s chamber where the doctor was still assessing his injuries. What would she do if he never regained his memory? If only she could talk to Trudy and Ophelia. Surely they would offer their supportive counsel and help her devise a solution. For the hundredth time, the pang of missing them curdled her stomach.She clutched her hand by her side in a fist and wished she could wrinkle her nose and have them here.
The doctor’s voice grew louder and the sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floors of William’s chamber stilled her. She glanced at Daphne, who had also ceased her movements. Collectively, they held their breath as the door to William’s room opened and the doctor stepped out. He closed the door gently behind him and sighed. Once he realised he was not alone, he cleared his throat, lifted his chin and nodded. ‘May I have a word, Lady Buchanan?’ he asked, looking at Daphne through his monocle.
‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘I would appreciate an update on His Grace’s condition.’
Hattie held her ground as he walked to Daphne and spoke with her in low tones. Her gaze clicked up to Hattie.
‘Perhaps some tea, Doctor? I shall ring Mrs Chisholm and we can take refreshments in the parlour and talk further. Miss Potts should also join us.’
‘Is that appropriate?’ he asked in lowered tones. ‘While I know she is Lady Millie’s governess, I do not see—’ He paused, sending a half-hearted smile toward Hattie.
‘All will be explained, Doctor,’ Daphne promised.
Hattie followed Daphne and Doctor Kemplar down the stairs and tried to prepare herself for whatever they needed to discuss about the ruse she was still caught up in. The one-night-only portrayal of Lady Penelope Denning, betrothed to the newly minted Duke of Wimberley, was now extended into an encore performance lasting far more days than any of them had anticipated. His Grace’s injuries threatened to draw it out even further.
They settled into the parlour and Mrs Chisholm brought in the tea tray and refreshments herself. Hattie smothered a smile as the housekeeper lingered, no doubt hopeful to hear a word ortwo about William’s condition before departing. Unfortunately, the doctor was nothing if not fastidious in maintaining patient confidentiality. He did not utter a solitary syllable until the tea had been poured, biscuits selected and settled on their small plates and the door to the parlour sealed closed.
Hattie half-heartedly bit into a shortbread biscuit, usually her favourite, although it was lacking in taste this morning. The doctor took a sip of tea, settled back in the oversized chair he had selected opposite of her and Daphne, where they sat on the sofa. ‘Before I begin, Lady Buchanan,’ he said, ‘I must know why Miss Potts needed to be here.’
Daphne smiled at him. ‘Have you heard about the announcement of William’s betrothal to a Lady Penelope Denning?’
‘Ah! Yes, I did as a matter of fact. I was hoping to meet her. Her presence may help His Grace’s recovery.’
‘It just so happens she is with us, Doctor. Right now.’ Daphne gestured to Hattie.
‘I do not quite understand,’ he said, his smile faltering.
