Page 54 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
“Is it familiar?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ve walked here before but I can’t remember with whom. Someone I cared for. Only if I really cared for him would I have forgotten him?”
“Dark hair?”
“I can’t recall his features at all. To be honest I don’t even know if it’s a man. Could be a woman. I know I laughed. I yearn to laugh again. I love to laugh. I’d like to hear you laugh.”
“I laugh.”
With a wry smile, she peered up at him. “No. Your throat rumbles but you don’t laugh. I’m talking about the sort that causes your belly to ache and makes it difficult to draw in breath. The kind that brings tears to your eyes and lasts forever. It makes you feel so good that you don’t want it to stop. When someone hears you laugh they start laughing. They don’t even know why you began chuckling in the first place. It’s the best sort of contagion. Better than gossip or snide remarks. It makes you glad to be alive. I’ve not heard you laugh like that.”
He wasn’t certain if he ever had, not to that extent. Oh, he’d certainly joined in laughing with his family from time to time, but tears in his eyes? Tears were not for men. Even tears of mirth. But he would laugh when her memory returned and she realized all she’d done in his company. He’d laugh then.
But he doubted it would make his sides ache, or his breath catch, or his eyes water. It wouldn’t be joyful. It would be revengeful.
Phee didn’t deserve it. But when her memories returned, she’d fade away and leave Ophelia standing there. And Lady O deserved a bit of time in his company. He would not feel guilty about it, and he’d keep telling himself that until it became true.
However, before her memories returned, he hoped to God he heard her laugh like that. He thought it might very well be a sound he’d carry with him until the day he died. But once she recalled everything he’d certainly never hear it again. He imagined looking at her across a room, catching her gaze, reminding her that he knew her laugh. That once she’d given it to him freely. It might hold more value than her washing his back.
“What would make you laugh?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not something you can force. I fear you know nothing at all about laughter if you think you can.”
He knew dark and dangerous things. Laughter was far removed from his world. Laughter had been part of the Mabry family. His father had laughed, but it had been a cruel sound. He almost told her about his father. Almost. But the risk was too great that she would use the knowledge against him. That she would catch his eye across a crowded ballroom and give him a look that said,I know your darkest secrets.
She stopped walking, half of her lost in shadows. He wondered if he was all shadow to her. He needed to remain an enigma. Needed to maintain the upper hand. Releasing her hold on him, she faced him. “I need to confess something.”
“You remember?” He didn’t know why he was at once disappointed, but relieved.
“No, I think this exercise as you call it is going to prove futile. However, you should know that I didn’t prepare the pheasant. Mrs. Pratt did.”
“Who the devil is Mrs. Pratt?”
“Mrs. Turner’s cook.”
“And who the devil is Mrs. Turner?”
“The widow who lives next door,” she said. “I asked her cook to prepare the pheasant.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that earlier?”
“Because I’ve not been able to do much correctly, not anything that you’ve noticed at least, and I just wanted something I did to impress you, something that didn’t have you grumbling at me.”
“I don’t grumble.”
“Of course you do. I prepared you a lovely bath. You didn’t even bother to thank me for it. You simply snapped at me because I hurt my hands doing it.”
Had he? He had. Was he no better than she?
“So I took the credit for dinner,” she continued, “because I liked the way it felt to do something right. Although of course I’m not the one who did it.”
“The cook prepared the pheasant with no recompense?”
She lifted her shoulders up to her ears, dropped them back down. “I shall beat rugs for her tomorrow.”
“The bloody hell you will. You can’t hold a broom with those hands.”
“Of course I can.”
