Page 38 of A Duke to Restore her Memory
No, it cannot be true. I rescued her from the pit myself. She was terribly injured and unconscious. What manner of person would deliberately hurt themselves in such a way just to deceive me and infiltrate their way into my home … and my heart?
Sebastian shifted uneasily in the chair. It was impossible. Whoever had started this rumour about Georgina clearly had no idea how injured she had been when he had found her. It wasn’t possible to fake those injuries. Dr Watson had attended to her and had never expressed one moment of doubt about her.
But she might have deceived you about her memory loss, even though she had genuinely suffered a head injury. Perhaps she is an opportunist and took advantage of the situation when she regained consciousness. Anything is possible.
Abruptly, Sebastian stood up, pacing the floor, trying to force that small, mean voice of doubt out of his head. He would ignore this rumour – for now.
Any mean-spirited person might have started it through idle gossip and didn’t have any particular information about Georgina at all.
He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, given that she had been staying here for over a month now and word had clearly moved around the district about her. He had done that himself – he had been trying to find anyone who knew her, after all.
He rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. Georgina wasn’t defrauding him for her own gain.
She was a clever, spirited, and courageous woman unlike any he had ever met before, who had the beauty of a goddess and the heart of a lion. A woman who he was dangerously close to losing his heart to completely.
Another cold sweat broke out over his entire body. She would never betray his trust in her. Or would she?
***
Christina strolled along the garden path, trying to ignore the two scullery maids who were standing in the near distance. They were staring at her quite openly, whispering together behind their hands. Their eyes were cold as they gazed at her.
She felt a trickle of uneasiness fall through her. The servants and workers in the duke’s household and on his estate had always been kind to her and never treated her badly.
But over the past day, she had felt that changing somehow. A cold, rude glare here and there. People were moving away from her when she entered the kitchen. And now, here were these maids, staring and whispering about her and not trying to hide it at all.
Her heart plummeted. She stopped walking, turning around and facing them. She knew their names were Rosie and Martha, but she had never really spoken with either of them before. Slowly, she started walking towards them. Their chatter died as she approached.
“Good morning,” she said, raising her chin in the most pleasant voice she could muster. “I could not help noticing that you seem to be talking about me. Why?”
The maids looked startled and a little sheepish at her directness. But then, the one named Rosie, a plump, hard-faced girl with eyes so small they reminded Christina of blackcurrants, raised her chin as well, looking her directly in the eye.
“They say you are a confidence woman,” declared the maid in her strong local Cornish dialect. “They say that you have not lost your memory at all but are faking it so that you can seduce and marry his grace.”
Christina’s heart hit the ground again. Of course, she should have realized the rumour that Lady Lydia had started in that genteel dining room would have spread to the servants’ halls by now.
The servants at the dinner party Lydia had attended had overheard her, then whispered among themselves … and then whispered it to the servants at Newquay Hall.
Christina had been foolish to think it could be contained. It was clearly spreading like wildfire through the entire district – in both the drawing rooms of the gentry and the kitchens of their servants, as well as among the local farmers, miners, and tradesfolk.
Her throat went dry with sudden panic. If these maids had heard Lydia’s poison about her, then it stood to reason that the duke had probably heard it, as well.
What must he be thinking? Would he believe it? But how could he, when he had pulled her from that abandoned mine shaft with a large, bleeding gash on her head himself?
The maids were staring at her avidly, clearly wanting her to react to what Rosie had just said so they could whisper about it over dinner in the servants’ quarters. There was no way she was going to give them the satisfaction.
“I see,” she said in a prim voice, raising her chin higher. “Well, only ignorant fools listen to idle gossip. So, you may believe what you want about me. But I know the truth, and that is all that matters. Good day.”
Christina turned on her heel, marching away without looking back at the maids. She crossed her arms in front of her tightly, holding her forearms, digging her nails into them, her face burning.
Abruptly, she stopped. Mrs Sollock, the housekeeper, was walking toward her. How was the housekeeper going to treat her now? Would she greet her pleasantly, as she usually did, or would she ignore her and keep on walking?
She felt panic flare inside of her. She almost turned, veering to the left, to escape the confrontation. But then, Mrs Sollock raised her hand, waving at her. Christina stood still, feeling sweat pouring down the back of her neck as the housekeeper approached.
“Georgina,” said Mrs Sollock, with a small smile. “How are you?”
Christina almost slumped with relief. Tears prickled behind her eyes. Mrs Sollock wasn’t acting any differently towards her. The housekeeper must have heard the rumours circulating about her, but she had clearly decided they weren’t true, or it wasn’t her place to judge Christina.
“I am not so well, Mrs Sollock,” she said, biting her lip. “There is talk about me.”
