Chapter Two

November 18, 1817

Baselford House

St. James Place

London, England

It had been six days since her husband had come stumbling home and into the ball she had thrown in conjunction with the man currently courting her. And she had no idea where he'd gone after that… until she received a letter from the Duke of Edenthorpe.

Lady Vivian Fairfax, the Countess of Baselford, sighed as she went through her correspondence in the morning room. Her hand shook as she read the letter for the second time. According to His Grace, Evan had come to his club—the Rogue's Arcade—directly following the ball that night. He'd been confused and discomfited, didn't know who he was or where he was, which had precipitated an emergency action on the club members' part.

She frowned at the words as she attempted to take comfort from them.

My dearest Lady Vivian,

At this time, Baselford resides in a private room at the Rogue's Arcade. My personal physician has been in to examine him. Unfortunately, as a result of an accident while hunting five years before, your husband suffered a blow to the head resulting in complete amnesia and a loss of everything he knew throughout his past.

Because of that, I—as well as the other members—are essentially teaching him about his own history again, and that includes his heroics during the war, even though some of those memories are bleeding through in the form of disjointed nightmares.

We are also providing him with clothing that is more befitting his station of earl, for no doubt you have either thrown out his old garments or they are too out-of-style to be of use any longer. Throughout this process, we are caring for Baselford and generally helping him come to terms with his new and shocking reality. He has been informed that he is married and that you are his wife. Some of these things have been quite shocking for him while others have laid him low.

Once we are collectively satisfied he is stable, I will write to you again so that we can meet and discuss the next course of action. In the meantime, it will not be ideal to see him, as that might prove detrimental. Above everything, we do not wish for Baselford to run again.

Yours with respect.

Edenthorpe

Yes, the letter was meant to set her mind at ease, but how could she sit around wringing her hands and worrying while her husband had returned to London, and he might benefit from seeing her and talking with her?

Carefully, Vivian folded the letter and tucked it back into its envelope with the broken green wax seal bearing Edenthorpe's initials. As she did, her mind jogged back to when she'd first met Evan at a ball during her second Season.

Oh, her head had certainly been turned by him; he was quite handsome and blond. She'd been a young woman of twenty at the time while he was ten years her senior. There had been decent attraction between them from the first. The courtship had been a whirlwind, but an easy relationship. Though there had been nothing all that exciting about him, she'd felt safe with him. They'd wed a mere six months later when he'd next had leave from the military, and their families had been pleased, for the match had basically been arranged by their parents. Her father had been a duke; his an earl. It was a good alliance, and their country properties neighbored each other.

A few years after she married Evan, her father died of natural causes, but her mother and three brothers were still alive.

Yet…

She'd laid Evan to rest years ago, at least in her mind. It had been the next natural course of action. There had been the usual and expected grief and loneliness, of course, and after a while, the hope she'd clung to since he'd gone missing in 1812 had faded. Surely, she couldn't be expected to waste her life on hope.

But how could she forget him, her husband, the man she'd come to love?

Letting the letter fall to her desktop, Vivian bit her bottom lip. To say nothing about the little matter of Lord Starkington, who presently courted her, and the feelings she had come to have for that man.

Shortly after his commission ended, Evan had gone on a hunting holiday to Cornwall. He knew a few fellows there and she figured he needed the time to decompress after being forced into being a field doctor while serving his country. She had wished him well and waved him off. They'd been married for six years at that point with no children. It was assumed she was barren. The loneliness had been intense. When she had thought her husband lost, she had asked his solicitor to file the appropriate paperwork to have him declared legally dead.

The papers were filed, but the courts had refused to declare him deceased. They wanted more time to think about it, had said five years hadn't been enough time and that he could be galivanting in America or the Continent, but they did ask that she file a new inquiry no later than June. That was last year.

And without answers, she'd let Lord Starkington pay his address, for she couldn't wait forever to live the rest of her life. It had been a year just last month. Perhaps after the holiday season, she would know what to do. It all hinged upon what would happen with Evan.

"My lady?"

The sound of her butler's voice wrenched her from her thoughts. "Yes, Davis?"

"Lord Starkington is here to see you."

Oh, dear. "Tell him I will meet him in the drawing room directly." Slowly, she rose to her feet behind her secretary.

"Of course, my lady. Would you like tea served there?"

"That would be lovely." Today of all days, she didn't wish to see Edward, for her mind was too conflicted, and for the first time in a year, she didn't know what to do, but there was no sense in delaying. Otherwise, he'd come searching for her, as was his wont. Outside the drawing room, Vivian drew a hand down the front of her rust-colored taffeta gown and then entered the space with her gaze firmly fixed on the man standing at the windows. "What a lovely surprise, Edward." She hoped there was sufficient welcome in the words.

Edward Williamette, Earl of Starkington, was a rather powerful man with a tall height and an impressive breadth of chest and shoulders. His raven hair gleamed almost blue in the late afternoon autumnal sun streaming in from the windows. Handsome and rich, he was also charming and determined. If he had a flaw, it was his tendency to be overly possessive with things—or people—he perceived as his, but she had managed to ignore that because he made her feel safe, valued, and needed, especially during the times when she'd felt lost.

"Well, I haven't seen you for a few days and wanted to pay a visit." He turned from the windows and then came across the room to close the distance between them and take her hands in his. The way he greeted her by giving her a kiss had once seemed the height of romantic except now, it was concerning. "You look worried. Has something occurred? Something regarding your husband?"

"Yes." In some agitation, she led him to a low sofa and pulled him down beside her. "Evan is currently staying at his club and will remain there until his fellows there can make him more comfortable in his life that he still cannot remember." When he regarded her with consternation in his expression, she shrugged. "They are caring for him, making certain he doesn't run again."

"I see." Annoyance flashed in his green eyes before he hid the emotion behind his mask of carefully curated boredom. "What does this mean for us?"

"What do you think?" Knots of worry pulled in her belly. When a footman came into the room with a tea service on a silver tray, she watched in silence as he laid the tray on a low table in front of her. Then she thanked him, and as the young man left the room, she poured out the first cup of tea with a shaking hand. "It means he is not dead and that we didn't misidentify him the other night at the ball."

"Perhaps, and it means that my intention to propose to you has been destroyed." Edward took the cup from her hand and then set it on the table beside the tray. "This is quite disconcerting. There are plans that have been made."

"There is nothing I can do about that." As Vivian stared at him, tiny flutters moved through her lower belly. During their year or so of courtship, she had allowed him certain liberties she should have only given to a husband. Yes, she thoroughly enjoyed his kisses and the way she felt on those days he decided to explore her body when they were alone. And she wouldn't deny the fact that the one time she allowed him to bed her after being at an especially low point when she was weak and missing Evan fiercely had been quite stimulating, but all of that must come to an end. Swallowing past the wad of emotion sitting in her throat, she said, "Evan is alive. You saw him, I saw him, and after everything, he is still my husband."

"Surely you don't believe that." He scoffed. "The man has been missing for five years. He hasn't been here with you, being a husband or taking responsibility for his title and estates. In my opinion, there is no excuse for that."

"He was in an accident, apparently, or he'd been told by the person who rescued him. According to the Duke of Edenthorpe, he truly cannot remember his life before that time." That must have been a terrible time for Evan, a terrible time for him now. "Imagine not being able to remember even the most basic facts of your life." No family, no marriage, no war. "Of course, not being able to recall his time in the war might prove a blessing."

"Then he can start his life over elsewhere." Edward met her gaze. Intensity blazed in those green depths. "You owe him nothing, Vivian, and you know it. We have made plans to have a life together. Society has been put on notice as well. I refuse to back down merely because Baselford has returned. He's not himself; thereby you owe him nothing."

"I don't know if that is strictly true." Yes, that hope he would eventually come home had finally died, and she'd directed his solicitor to file the paperwork. She'd consented to Edward's courtship, and she had been fully committed to moving on with her life and leaving grief behind. "What should I do? I'm quite nonplussed about recent events."

First and foremost, she wanted to talk with Evan herself, but Edenthorpe had cautioned against that for the time being.

"I am going to request a meeting with my solicitor. There must be some recourse we have." After pushing out a breath, Edward took her hand. "You cannot remain married to someone you don't know any longer, someone who has been essentially dead for five years."

"Except he wasn't dead. He just didn't know where he was or where he belonged." It was difficult to wrap one's head around. "The plans that you and I had will just have to wait."

"I don't accept that as truth." Shaking his head, he tightened his grip on her hand. "And I certainly don't wish to wait. I want you now." As he uttered those words, the intensity in his eyes increased. "I had you in my bed once, and it wasn't enough."

"Hush, Edward." Of course she was flattered and tiny flutters went through her belly, but was it a betrayal to Evan or merely his memory? Edward was closer to her age than her husband was and quite virile. Since he'd never been in the war, he didn't suffer from nightmares. She didn't know the extent of Evan's demons, but each time she thought about him, compassion welled. "This relationship needs to be discreet. I am not free."

Even if she was, could she truly see herself married to Edward? He was a good man in many ways, but there were still doubts.

"Your reticence says all that you won't." Quickly, he released her hand. "I don't matter. What we have been building between us doesn't matter." His frown plucked at her heartstrings. "You would toss it all away for a stranger."

"I didn't say exactly that." Oh, why had she ever been put into this position? Desperate for some sort of connection or support, she took one of his hands, brought it to her cheek. "It is just that he is my husband, and he is back. He might not be right in his upper stories, and he might be a stranger, but in the eyes of the law, this means I'm still the Countess of Baselford." She held his gaze with hers. "I will need to welcome him home, provide some semblance of normalcy for him so that I can at least talk to him and make a decision after that time." Nuzzling into his palm, she relaxed slightly when he cupped her cheek. "Surely you can understand the position all of this has put me in."

"Of course." The man's whole demeanor changed, and he was once more the kind and considerate man she'd desperately wanted comfort from when she'd consented to his courtship over a year ago. He scooted close and slipped his arms around her. "The fact of the matter is that there is little chance Baselford can even be a functioning member of society again. Seems to me he's quite mad, and if his memories cannot be recovered, he is little use to anyone. He certainly cannot continue to serve out his duties in parliament."

"That isn't for you or me to say, but can you blame him for how his mind works? After what happened to him in the war and in that hunting accident?" In some gratitude, she let herself relax in his hold. "I can't imagine how he's spent the last five years. Have some compassion."

For long moments, Edward kept his arms around her, and Vivian stopped short of burrowing into his warmth. "I won't lie and say this hasn't destroyed all my plans, but perhaps Baselford will disappear again. Or off himself. Men with minds cracked from war are always close to that edge."

She gasped. "Bite your tongue. That wasn't well done of you, Edward." The thought of Evan being dead truly this time tightened her chest. "Whatever else he is, he doesn't deserve mania of the mind on top of it. Neither should he struggle so hard or deeply that he feels killing himself is his only choice."

That was one of the reasons she wanted to talk with him, to tell him that she supported him in whatever life he chose now.

"You are happy he's back." It wasn't a question.

A sigh escaped her. "There is a part of me that had such a reaction, yes." She eased out of Edward's arms in order to peer into his face. "But I am also confused, annoyed, a bit angry. I had made strides to lay his memory to rest. I'd done my grieving. And now? There are no answers. Everything feels… suspended and waiting."

A frown pulled down the corners of his mouth. "You would toss away all we have together for the sake of that broken man? When I can give you so much more, and gladly?" Shock echoed in his voice and mirrored in his eyes. "I must say this is all quite a hard pill to swallow. I thought we were in love."

"Which is exactly why I didn't want to have this conversation right now when I haven't yet spoken to Baselford!" In some agitation, Vivian shot to her feet, wrapped her arms about herself and took up pacing about the small space. "Frankly, I feel I have no choice. I married him first, cannot abandon him. I would caution you to please be patient. This is a delicate situation." The whole thing was far too confusing.

"While I understand that, shouldn't the last year matter as well?" One of his raven eyebrows rose in question. "Perhaps we should let the courts decide who is right."

"Give it time. We will need to wait until after Christmastide at least, for the courts will be on holiday soon. By the first of the year, we will have a better idea of Baselford's temperament and his intentions." And perhaps once she spent time with him, she would know that too. If he wouldn't grant and procure a divorce, then they could agree to live their lives apart.

"Bah. I won't abandon our plans, Vivian, even if you have."

"I haven't necessarily, but I truly don't know what to do. At the moment, I am very much your mistress."

He snorted. "Is that a bad thing? Most of the beau monde has accepted us together. And this is a unique situation."

"Perhaps, but I'm not certain I am the type of woman who can break her marriage vows on such a thin excuse."

"Ah." Edward pushed himself off the sofa. The upset in his expression echoed inside her chest, for he'd truly been caught in the middle of what was rapidly becoming a sordid affair. "This current conversation is impossible, so I'm leaving for my club before I say something I will regret and might hurt you." Then he leaned down to kiss her. "I will call on you tomorrow, for I would like to make plans for Christmastide. My mother would like to see you."

Oh, dear. But she nodded and let him kiss her. The gesture was comforting and familiar, and in the end, she desperately wanted to belong to someone. However, in light of the information she'd received through the letter from Edenthorpe, that gesture sent slight unease through her insides; it was much like betraying her husband.

Even though she'd thought him dead for years.

Once Edward left, she poured out a fresh cup of tea for herself and strove for calm. The next six weeks would be emotional. How could she rest or enjoy herself knowing that her husband was a mere few streets away, but had no idea who she was? She hoped that he would feel comfortable enough that he might come for a visit where they could converse.

Please let there be an answer soon.