Her Counterfeit Husband Page 3

  She examined the bandages, gauzes, ointments, and medicines on the table by the bed. “Appleton, should we hide these when Dr. Unger comes here?”

  Appleton went over to her. “He’ll see he’s been tended to by another doctor. He’ll know something happened. What we need is an explanation for why he has cuts and bruises on his body.”

  She sighed and rubbed her forehead, willing the ache to subside. “I can’t think of a good reason. Can’t we just tell him that my husband is well and that his services are no longer required?”

  “Not without arousing suspicion.”

  She groaned and sank into the chair by the table. “What are we going to do? We can’t explain something like that when he’s been in bed the entire time.”

  Appleton clasped his hands behind his back and paced the room a few times before he stopped and looked in her direction. “A fall.”

  “What?”

  “If he got out of bed, he could have fallen. A fall that is hard enough can lead to bruises and broken ribs. We can say he fell down the stairs. That kind of fall can do substantial damage.”

  “And the cuts?”

  “He could have caught a few nicks on his way down. He could have scratched himself if he tried to cover his face.” He shrugged. “This gentleman also has some bruises on his legs. Whoever did this, they wanted to make sure he was in pain before he died.”

  She shivered as she thought of the reasons why someone would want to do that. “Do you think we made a mistake in bringing him here?”

  “I don’t think we had any other choice, Your Grace. At least we know Lord Mason won’t be taking your husband’s place. If this gentlemen,” he motioned to the stranger, “turns out to be an unsavory sort, I think it’d behoove you to live somewhere else. He lost his memory, so we’ll tell him that you were only here until he got better.”

  “All right. But do you think the doctor will believe he fell?”

  “I don’t know, but he can’t prove he didn’t.”

  That was true.

  “Everyone is getting up for the day,” Appleton said and helped her stand up from the chair. “I need to change clothes and tend to my duties. Try to get some sleep.”

  Before he could leave the room, she grabbed his arm. “You’ll make sure I’m there with the doctor? If he doesn’t believe this stranger fell down the stairs…”

  “He’ll have to believe it because there’s no way he’ll assume a lady buried her husband in the middle of the night, found a lookalike husband, and brought him back here.”

  “And these medical supplies?” she asked, turning to them.

  “We’ll say that it’s very fortunate I had a personal friend who was a doctor who came for a stay last night. What a pity it is that he had to leave early in the morning.”

  “It’s too much of a coincidence.”

  “Maybe, but what are the chances we’d find a gentleman who looks exactly like your husband?”

  He had a good point. They were already going to tell one lie. What were a few more? From this point forward, their lives would revolve around keeping their secret safe.

  “Your Grace, try to get some rest. When the doctor comes, we’ll deal with it then,” Appleton softly said.

  “You’re right.” Her hand tightened around his arm. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I can only hope the new duke will deserve you.”

  Touched by his care and concern, she smiled before she turned to the door leading to her bedchamber. The night had been a long one, and it was likely that the day would be even longer. But she would get through it. Weary, she slipped into her bedchamber and took a light nap.

  ***

  Three days later, the gentleman woke from his slumber and winced from the pain in his forehead. The door opened, so he turned his head in time to see the lady—his wife—enter the room. She appeared to him every day as an angel with her golden hair framing her head like a halo. He spent all of his time in bed, the medicine making him sleep so he could heal, so he didn’t often wake up in time to see her. He was glad he woke up when he did.

  Each day, he felt better, but he still didn’t remember anything up to the night when a doctor was tending to his wounds. That was the first night he saw her and learned she was his wife. And ever since, she tended to him, cleaning his wounds and seeing to his needs.

  As she had the day before, she set down a bowl of clean water by his bed and touched the bandage on his forehead. “How do you feel?” she asked him, her voice soft and tender.

  “Better, thanks to you.” He tried to sit up, but his strength faltered.

  “Please don’t strain yourself.” She helped him settle back in a comfortable position and fluffed his pillow for him. “You need your rest.”

  “I get impatient.”

  “I understand, but I promise these days will pass and you’ll be feeling like your old self in no time.”

  He nodded, knowing she was right. “Mind if I ask what my old self was like?”

  She glanced at him for a moment before removing the bandage from his forehead. “I think the ointment the doctor gave us is doing wonders. You’ll have a scar but nothing more.”

  “Why won’t you answer my questions? Every time I ask you something, you avoid the topic.”

  She placed his old bandage on the table and dipped a clean cloth into the bowl. “Do I?”

  “Yes. You start talking about my wounds.”

  With a sigh, she shrugged and turned back to him so she could dab his forehead with the water. “I don’t know what to tell you. So much has happened in the past.” She cleared her throat and put more ointment on his forehead. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  That was fair enough, he decided. After thinking it over, he asked, “How did we meet?”

  She picked up a clean bandage and placed it over his wound. Her fingers brushed his skin, almost tickling him. “I don’t remember all of the details. It happened six years ago.”

  “What do you remember?”

  She sighed. “Isn’t there something else you’d rather learn?”

  Disappointed since she didn’t want to answer his question, he considered other things he wanted to know. He never felt right in forcing her to answer his inquiries, which was why he hadn’t had any luck in learning about his past. “All right. I would like to know your name.”

  “I am the Duchess of Watkins.”

  “No, not your title. I want to know your name.” When she didn’t reply, he asked, “Do we refer to each other by our Christian names since we’re married?”

  “Actually, we don’t. We refer to each other as ‘Your Grace’.”

  He frowned. “We do?”

  She nodded.

  “But why?”

  With a shrug, she checked his nose. “Does this hurt?”

  “It’s a little sore but not too bad.”

  She turned her attention to his ribs and lightly patted the gauze. “Do you feel any better than you did this morning?”

  “Yes. Now will you please answer me?”

  Her gaze met his and she shook her head. “You sure are persistent when you’re awake.”

  “Is that something new about me?”

  She brought her hands up to his shoulder and peeled back the bandage to inspect his cut. “Just as I suspected. You’re bleeding. You need to stop trying to sit up without my help.”

  He groaned. “I’ll sit up right now unless you tell me your name.”

  “What?” She turned her bewildered eyes to him. “You can’t be serious.”

  Frustrated, he got up on his good elbow to show her that he was, indeed, serious.

  “Anna! My name is Anna.”

  Satisfied, he settled onto his back, relieved his bluff had paid off since he didn’t have the energy to sit up. As it was, his head was spinning.

  Though she didn’t say anything, he could tell she was irritated by the way she threw the bandage on the table.

  Wishing he hadn’t upset her, he
took her hand in his and squeezed it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to annoy you. I just wanted to know your name.”

  She relaxed and gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling her hand away from his. “It’s hard to explain why we don’t refer to each other by our Christian names, but we never have.”

  He hesitated for a moment then asked, “What is my name?”

  She bit her lower lip.

  “Well?” he pressed.

  Bringing the wet cloth to his bad shoulder, she cleaned his wound, and though she was gentle, he winced. “Forgive me. I know it hurts, but I can’t think of anything I can do to ease the pain.”

  “You can tell me my name,” he replied through gritted teeth.

  For the first time since he started asking her questions, she laughed. “You really don’t give up when you want something.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to answer me?”

  “Very well. The Duke of Watkins’ Christian name is Jason.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. That was an odd way of answering him. Why didn’t she come out and say his name was Jason? Were they that formal with each other? “I’m sorry.”

  She dabbed ointment on his shoulder. “Sorry about the name being Jason?”

  “No. I’m sorry that I said or did something in the past to make you think you can’t be more personable with me.”

  She paused, and though she didn’t make eye contact with him, he detected the unshed tears in her eyes.

  “I don’t know what kind of husband I’ve been to you, but I’d like it if we could start over. I love your name, and I’d like to call you by it, if that’s all right?”

  A tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t. You must refer to me as ‘Your Grace’ and I must refer to you as…as…”

  “Your Grace?” he filled in for her.

  She gulped and finished applying the ointment. Once she placed a fresh bandage over his wound, there was a knock at the door. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered before she stood up and wiped her hands on the cloth.

  He watched her as she left, hoping he hadn’t said anything that made things worse. She made her way quietly to the door and opened it a crack. He couldn’t see who was on the other side of the door, but he saw her nod and promise the person she’d talk to him shortly. When she turned back to him, she picked up the cloth and placed it in the bowl.

  “Are you leaving?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Will you be back?”

  “Yes.”

  “When will you be back?” he pressed.

  “Soon.”

  “How soon is soon?”

  She groaned. “Soon.”

  After a moment, he asked, “You won’t stop coming to see me will you?”

  “I come in to check on you every hour. What makes you think I’ll stop?”

  He shrugged. “Because I ask too many questions?”

  At that, she smiled. “I’ll be back before the clock chimes six. I promise.”

  Relieved, he returned her smile, glad his angel would be back soon.

  Chapter Four

  Anna shut the door of the bedchamber and followed Appleton down the hallway and down the stairs. She clutched the bowl and damp cloth, fighting the urge to insist he tell her what he learned about the stranger right away. She dreaded what he might have discovered, but she needed to know. If the stranger already had a wife, he needed to go back to her.

  When she and Appleton reached the drawing room, he shut the door and she placed the bowl on the desk. Turning to him, she asked, “What is it? What did you learn about the stranger?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? But did you show the people who live around the forest my husband’s portrait?”

  “I did, but no one recognized him. It’s like he came out of nowhere.”

  “Is it possible that you ran across the reprobates who left him in the forest?”

  “It’s very possible, Your Grace.” Appleton took a deep breath and released it. “Since they want him dead, they wouldn’t dare mention they know him.”

  “So there is no wife?”

  “No.”

  Relieved, she sank into a chair and relaxed. She hadn’t been aware of how anxious she’d been for the past three days, worrying that someone was going to tell her that she kidnapped the stranger, that his wife and children needed him. Now there would be no reason to send him away, and really, why would it be to his advantage to return if Appleton took him back to the forest? He wouldn’t know where to go, and those men who wanted him dead would most likely finish the job.

  It seemed that the safest recourse they had was to keep him here. He’d pretend to be her husband and protect her from Lord Mason. She’d give him her husband’s title and name, and protect him from whoever wanted to kill him. And the estate would be better off without Lord Mason running it into the ground with his notorious spending habits. Having him here was the best thing for everyone.

  “Your Grace?” Appleton asked.

  Unaware he’d asked her a question, she turned her gaze in his direction. “I’m sorry, Appleton. What did you want to know?”

  “I wondered if we should proceed with our plan and get the gentleman upstairs acquainted with being a duke?”

  She nodded and stood up. “Yes. I see no reason to delay it.”

  “Very good, Your Grace.” He picked up the bowl. “I’ll take care of this and assure the others that His Grace is on the mend.”

  Just as she was ready to thank him, the footman opened the door and bowed. “Your Grace, Lord Mason has come by for a visit.”

  She cringed. Of all times for him to show up! Knowing she couldn’t delay seeing Lord Mason without arousing his suspicions, she nodded her consent to let him into the drawing room.

  Lord Mason came in and bowed. She gave the obligatory curtsy but refused to make eye contact with him.

  “I came to inquire after my dear brother’s health,” he said, hands clasped behind his back and his eyebrows raised in interest.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and squared her shoulders back. If she was going to lie, she needed to make it as convincing as possible. “You’ll be happy to know he’s on the mend.”

  A flicker of disappointment crossed his face before he smiled. “Is he? Then this is good news.”

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, it is.” Though not for you, I suppose.

  “May I see him?”

  “Oh, well…” She glanced at Appleton who gave a slight nod. “Of course, you may, Lord Mason. I’m sure His Grace will be delighted to see you.” She held her hand out to Appleton. “I’ll take the bowl upstairs and dab his forehead with some cool water.”

  Lord Mason chuckled. “Please tell me you don’t do menial tasks as the mistress of the estate.”

  “I don’t consider caring for my husband a menial task,” she told Lord Mason as she retrieved the bowl and cloth. “I enjoy it.”

  He crossed his arms in amusement. “Do you?”

  Lifting her chin in the air, she replied, “When it’s a task done out of love, it gives one a sense of joy.”

  “If you say so…” He chuckled again and motioned to the doorway. “Ladies first.”

  She forced her feet forward, acutely aware of the way his eyes scanned the length of her body as she passed him. Ignoring him, she strode down the hall and up the stairs. She’d given him way too much power in the past. Well, that wouldn’t be the case any longer. From now on, she’d never let him see any weakness in her. He wasn’t going to take her husband’s place. The kind stranger was, and now that she had his protection, Lord Mason couldn’t touch her.

  She reached the top of the stairs and made it to the bedchamber. Since Lord Mason insisted on walking too close behind her, she didn’t bother to pause and check to make sure the stranger was awake before entering the room.

  The stranger glanced her way and smiled. “You came s
ooner than I hoped.”

  Lord Mason stepped by her and strode over to his bed. “My dear, dear brother! I hear you are feeling better.”

  He looked between her and Lord Mason who threw his arms wide open as if he planned to hug him then let out a sigh of happiness and dropped his arms to his side.

  “To think the last time we talked, you looked as if you were ready to take that first step into eternity. But here you are, and you’re on the mend.” Lord Mason went over to the table by the bed and lifted the candle so he could get a better look at him. “However, the last time I saw you I don’t recall you being covered in bruises. What in the world happened?”

  Before he could speak, Anna cleared her throat and took a step toward the bed. “He fell, Lord Mason.”

  Turning to her, he asked, “Fell?”

  “Yes. He developed a fever, and when it was at its worst, he grew delirious. I tried to keep him in bed, but he thought he needed to ride his horse so he could singlehandedly defeat Napoleon.”

  “He thought he was going to defeat Napoleon? All on his own?”

  “I told you the fever made him delirious.”

  Lord Mason arched an eyebrow. “That’s rather strange. When I talked to him, he was rather lucid.”

  She shrugged. “It happened suddenly. There was no preparing for it.”

  “All right. So he decided to be the hero and then what?”

  Realizing that the stranger was watching her—and believing everything she was saying, she took a deep breath and proceeded with her and Appleton’s lie. “He left the bedchamber and fell down the stairs.”

  “A fall down the stairs?” Lord Mason’s eyes grew wide in what she suspected was false horror. “Then my brother is a very fortunate man indeed, for such a fall should have killed him.” He turned to the stranger and added, “Usually, a fall down the stairs would break one’s neck.”