Page 48 of A Duke to Restore her Memory
Christina’s heart was racing frantically. Her mouth was dry. She couldn’t speak.
“After the meal was ended, I approached him,” continued Lydia. “I asked him to tell me about the lady he is searching for and why he is searching high and low.” She hesitated. “He took a small locket from the pocket of his jacket and opened it, telling me the name of the lady … and I was suddenly staring at a small portrait of you – Lady Christina Whitford.”
Christina gasped again. “That is my name?”
Lydia nodded slowly. “Yes. You are Lady Christina Whitford, the daughter of Viscount Draycott. Your home is Draycott Manor, which is located near Exmouth, about three hours’ journey from here by carriage.” She paused. “Apparently, you went for a morning ride on your beloved horse and vanished entirely.”
Christina gasped again. Images were flashing into her mind like cards being shuffled quickly, so bright and vivid that she could hardly keep track of them.
Walking into a parlour and sitting at a grand piano. Gripping the poster of a tall bed while a maid laced her into a corset, chatting like starlings.
An older lady with a kind smile placing a hand on her forehead as she lay coughing in bed. Sitting at a long mahogany dining table. Riding like the wind down a long driveway on the back of a black horse – the same black horse who was now in the stables at Newquay Hall …
She blinked rapidly, barely able to breathe, as the images kept falling into her mind, over and over.
The images of a house she knew but still didn’t quite recognize as her home. Desperately, she tried to grasp them, to fully open her mind and realize the truth of what Lady Lydia was saying … but it wasn’t coming. Not yet, at any rate.
Her heart filled with a pure joy, unlike anything she had ever felt. It didn’t matter if she didn’t fully remember that life yet or who she was within it.
She was sure it would come in the fullness of time. It was as if Lydia had given her the key to the door. She just had to find the right lock to open it.
“I am Lady Christina Whitford?” she said the name slowly as if she were tasting the words on her tongue. “I am the daughter of a viscount?”
“You are,” stated Lydia, her smile widening. She hesitated. “I was not sure if it was entirely appropriate or not but I thought you would be very eager to hear all the details of your life and would not object.” She hesitated again. “Lord Powell is here now … Christina. He is waiting in a carriage outside to talk with you.”
“He is waiting for me in a carriage outside?” Christina frowned, her mind racing.
She hesitated. As much as she tried, the gentleman’s name wasn’t ringing any bells in her mind. Her eyes flickered to the clock on the mantelpiece.
It was getting late – it was after ten in the evening. It was hardly a time to go outside and speak with an unknown gentleman in a carriage. Lydia was right – it wasn’t really appropriate.
“Lord Powell is so eager to see you, Christina,” continued Lydia. “He just wishes to confirm that it is really you, which is quite natural in the circumstances.”
Christina’s frown deepened. An uneasy feeling was entering her heart. She couldn’t recall this gentleman at all.
And even though Lydia had told her that she was certain she really was Lady Christina Whitford as she had seen a portrait of her, she didn’t know if she could trust the lady. After all, Lydia was hardly her best friend.
She bit her lip. But then again, why would Lydia go to all this trouble to enact a lie? That didn’t make any sense at all. Still, she hesitated.
The fact that the gentleman was remaining in his carriage and not entering the house was odd, as well. Why wouldn’t this Lord Powell simply wait in the parlour to see her?
“Perhaps I should go and see his grace before I meet the gentleman in the carriage,” she said hesitantly. “He should know that this is happening.”
Her heart pulsed at the thought of the duke. How would he react when he heard that his sister had discovered who she truly was? Would he rejoice … or would he feel sad that she would be leaving his home at long last? How did he truly feel about her?
Her heart skipped a beat. She knew he found her attractive. She knew he admired her, even when he was trying to fight it.
It was just there in every small glance. It was there in the way his eyes shone when he looked at her … and how he had trailed his fingers down the side of her face and softly asked her to wait for him.
But then, her heart fell slightly, and her eyes filled with tears. But admiration and attraction were not love. Would he say he was sorry to see her go but then let her go without a backward glance?
“My brother has not returned home from the dinner party yet,” said Lydia, with a small smile, shrugging her shoulders. “I left him to mingle with some gentlemen over brandies. He said that he had serious business matters to attend to, so I was loathe to interrupt and tell him about Lord Powell and the discovery of your true identity. He has so much on his plate since the mine accident. I am sorry, Christina.”
Christina’s heart crashed to the floor again. She had no idea what had happened when he confronted Hester yet – perhaps the serious business that Lydia was alluding to had something to do with his nemesis. She couldn’t blame him. Still, the news that he wasn’t in the house at all was very disappointing. What should she do?
“Lord Powell simply wishes to confirm your identity, Christina,” continued Lydia, in a pensive voice. “You are not leaving Newquay Hall yet. You will have time to pack … and to say your farewells to my brother and to thank him for his hospitality.”
Christina’s heart twisted. Of course, she knew that she must leave Newquay Hall now that her true identity had been discovered. She had a home. She had a family. She didn’t belong here. It was what she had yearned for all this time.
