Chapter Four

June 15, 1811

Hyde Park

Mayfair, London

It had been just over five years since she'd married Evan and having him home on leave for a few weeks was quite the boon. He had been everything solicitous and charming, even if he had been reserved and more quiet than usual, but then, she supposed that seeing all the horror and pain the war had brought might do that to a man.

When he asked her to go walking in Hyde Park that afternoon, she'd jumped at the chance, for there was much to talk about.

As they walked along the bridle path, she was content to be in his presence, adored the solid feel of his muscled arm beneath her fingertips and the way his warmth was pleasant and comfortable.

"I am glad you're home for a bit. I worry so much when you're away." A self-deprecating laugh escaped her. "No doubt I sound like a silly widgeon, for there are many women whose husbands are away at war."

"You are entitled to your feelings, sweeting." With an indulgent chuckle, he led her off the bridle path then followed a narrower walking trail that led through the more forested parts of the park. "And it's lovely knowing there is someone here in England who is thinking of me, who wants me to come home. It's what keeps me fighting, keeps me going forward… keeps me sane."

"That is good to know." Vivian smiled, for the day was fine and the company even better. "Where are we going?"

"There is a specific spot I know here in the park. It's a bit out of the way, but it's quiet and secluded, encourages thinking and calm. I like to come down here whenever I'm in the park." He took her hand from his arm and then threaded their gloved fingers together. "I wanted to share it with you, and in doing so, perhaps you will come here and find peace while I'm gone."

"That's sweet." She lifted a handful of her skirting as they plunged down a series of rough-hewn stone stairs cut into the gentle slope of a hillside. "And I appreciate that." Though he'd given her little gifts over the course of their marriage, this one felt different.

"Good." When he grinned at her, flutters went through her lower belly. "Ah, here we are. This little pond sometimes hosts mallards, and once I caught a pair of black swans using the area for feeding and bathing."

"That would have been a sight. Swans are just so elegant and romantic."

"Agreed." Then Evan tugged her around the small pond to a stone bench with a bit of moss on one of the legs. "Please, sit with me." As soon as she settled on the relatively cool stone, he sat beside her and turned toward her. "The time spent with you on this leave in particular has been most startling."

"How so?" Her pulse accelerated when he took her hands in his.

"Perhaps since I have been away with the damned war it has been driven home to me what is truly important in life. What I yearn to come back to on a permanent basis." When he delved a finger into the pocket of his waistcoat, she held her breath. "What I am laboring unsuccessfully to say is that I have fallen in love with you. Irrevocably, and I cannot wait until I'm with you next year, to spend all my time with you and perhaps make inroads into starting the family we have always wished for." Then he opened his hand. On his gloved palm rested two sapphire earbobs, teardrop-shaped and framed with tiny diamonds. "I hope you will wear these and think of me until my commission is over."

"They're beautiful." The awe in her voice was evident even to her own ears. "But I don't need baubles to remember you." She laid a palm to his cheek. "I have come to fall in love with you as well, Evan. Your letters mean everything to me; your words keep my heart buoyed with hope. And yes, I long for the day when you are with me permanently." There hadn't been enough time spent in intimacy with him to result in a child, but she was certain that eventuality would come. "And thank you."

"You are most welcome." He slipped a finger beneath her chin, lifted her face, and fit his lips to hers.

January 11, 1818

Baselford House

St. James Place

London, England

The memory stayed fixated in Vivian's mind as she went about her daily tasks that morning, and it was the driving force behind her going immediately to her secretary and dashing off a missive to the Duke of Edenthorpe to let Evan meet her in Hyde Park beneath the main arch. She would take care of him from that point forward. No more delays. She wanted to see Evan, and she wanted to do it now. The man he used to be in the past might be gone forever and a stranger in his place, but until she saw him, talked to him for herself, she couldn't make any sort of decisions regarding her—their—future.

Now, to decide what to wear when she met him at two o'clock. Thank goodness it was only gloomy and not snowing or raining. Would he remember who she was, or would deeply ingrained instinct take over? All of that remained to be seen.

Oh, dear heavens, there he is! She had instructed her driver to come back for her in an hour, for she would know one way or another how her life would go by then.

Vivian's heartbeat accelerated the moment she saw Evan. As tall and broad shouldered as she remembered, he stood beneath the arch as he spoke directly to his carriage driver. The faint breeze ruffled the capes of his great coat and played with the hair that curled toward his collar. Though his blond tresses were heavily mixed with silver and darker blond strands, he was every bit as handsome as he was the day she'd married him.

"Evan," she said, and her voice was little more than a whisper as she joined him beneath the arch. "Thank you for meeting with me." She glanced at the driver of his carriage. "Lord Baselford will need about an hour. Will you come back for him at that time?"

The man bounced his gaze between them. "Of course, my lady."

With her nerves that felt strung too tight, Vivian rested her full attention on her husband. "I am glad you conceded to my request. In order for the both of us to move forward, we needed to talk, to find our bearings, to assess if there is anything left for us to salvage."

"I agree." Yet he didn't take the first steps down the path. Instead, he ignored the other people milling about and stared at her. "You seem well."

"That largely differs daily." But she offered him a smile nonetheless and hoped it was encouraging. "Shall we walk?"

"I'm afraid you will need to lead. I, uh, don't remember a favorite path even though some of my fellow rogues have taken me here multiple times." His brown eyes winked with mild humor beneath the brim of his beaver felt top hat. "Can I assume this place has special meaning to you?"

"Yes, portions of it." With nothing else for it, Vivian slipped her hand through his crooked arm and led him into the park and along the main path. "Uh, you and I visited many times on fine days." Her breath clouded about her head as she spoke, for it was a chilly winter day. "When you were on leave from the military, you always maintained that walking through Hyde Park brought you calm and peace."

"I could see how that might be so when it is full of lush foliage and summer breezes." Though he said nothing else, his presence beside her was both confusing and thrilling. "I am grateful you sent ‘round a note, for I had come to the same conclusion as you. Nothing is gained by sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I have learned all that I can from my fellow club members, I think."

She nodded. "I wanted to see you. It's not right we are apart even though you were assumed dead for so long." How could she put into words everything she'd felt and experienced during his absence?

"Yes. We at least need to talk face to face." A sigh escaped him. "I had considered writing letters to exchange with you, but upon further introspection figured it was lazy since we are only separated by a street or two."

"I understand the sentiment." Beneath her gloved fingertips, his muscles went taut. "But we're here now and we will say what we should have said two months ago." After a few minutes of silent walking, she finally led him down the stone steps set into the earth. "This is the spot."

A frown pulled at the edges of his sensuous lips. Other lines framed the delicate skin around his eyes; he was no longer as young as he'd once been. "What is the significance of this place?" As he sent his gaze about the space, it alighted on the stone bench that was significantly more weathered than it had been on the long-ago day he'd said he loved her. "I can feel it's important but don't know why."

"Five years ago, or rather nearly six years now, this is the place where you told me that you had fallen in love with me."

If possible, his frown deepened. "From what Strathfield told me, we were already married by then, correct?"

"Yes." She nodded and then perched on the bench. Thankfully, the cloak she wore kept the cold from seeping through her skirting. "Five years, but since our union had been an arrangement or understanding between our parents, it wasn't a love match." When he did nothing except stand there, Vivian patted the bench beside her. "Come sit with me. I won't bite."

Yet she desperately wanted to kiss him, for she couldn't stand this new stranger who was her husband or how panicky his amnesia made her feel each time she allowed herself to think about him never coming back to himself. However, she kept hold of that urge. It wouldn't do to spook him.

"I shall take your word for it." As she settled on the bench, the disarming grin he offered nearly had her sobbing.

With all the willpower she possessed, Vivian tamped on the need to become an emotional watering pot. Instead, with a shaking hand, she withdrew the pair of sapphire earbobs from a pocket within her cloak. "The last time we came here, you gave me these." Would he remember them? More importantly, was there any sort of hope they could regain a shred of what they'd had before? Perhaps it was too early to tell, and she needed to calm herself. "To date, they've been the loveliest gift I've ever been given." The gemstones sparkled in the dull light like otherworldly drops of rain on her palm.

"They are quite beautiful." Glancing from them into her face, he said, "They reflect well the color of your eyes."

"That was one of the reasons you said when you gave them to me." With a sigh, she tucked them back into the silk-lined pocket. "I was so happy that day, Evan. It was much like we'd finally overcome all the obstacles that had been in our path, and we were walking into a bright new future."

"Except I returned to war, and nothing was ever the same again," he added in a barely audible voice.

"Yes." She couldn't help but nod. This was more difficult than she'd assumed it would be, for it was truly much like speaking with a stranger. "Do you remember where you procured the earbobs?"

"I do not." Once more, his lips curved downward in a frown, and she couldn't stop staring at his mouth. Would he cry foul if she stole a kiss? "Is it important?"

"It was to me at the time." Shoving down the urge to cry deep into her chest, Vivian pasted on a false smile. "They once allegedly belonged to Marie Antoinette." When she peered into the brown depths of his eyes and didn't find any sort of recognition there, tears prickled the backs of her eyelids. "In your younger years, you were a jewel thief."

"Ah, that must have been the reason some of the club members keep referring to stolen jewels and various pieces they can use to lure out a criminal."

It was her turn to frown. "We shall circle back to that. You once told me that being a jewel thief was a prerequisite to joining the Rogue's Arcade." When he nodded, she took a modicum of encouragement from that. "As the story goes, you charmed Marie at a ball once when you were a wet behind the ears young man. Apparently, after you lured her into a shadowy corridor, you charmed the earbobs right off her ears while you distracted her with kisses." Oh, but he'd always been so proud of that story! Would it help him to remember?

"Can I assume I was a much braver man when I was younger?"

"You must have been, for you became a hero during the war." Yet none of it mattered if he couldn't recall any of it. "You kept the earbobs as a badge of honor and then as proof for entrance into the Rogue's Arcade." When she grinned, she uttered a low laugh. "There is also an impressive necklace that matches. The former queen gave you the piece once she found out you'd taken the earbobs, and as a gift for your wonderful kisses." Needing to touch him and reassure herself he was truly there, she rested a hand on his arm. "You gave me the necklace when we celebrated our anniversary the same year. I rarely wear it because it's so valuable."

"After five years." It wasn't a question. "Somehow, after being here with you now and talking with you, I suspect I should have bestowed those gifts on you on our wedding day."

Tears welled in her eyes, and she quickly glanced at her lap lest he feel more badly about his situation than he already did. "Our parents were pleased with the match. Their country properties were near each other, so it was easy and expected."

Slowly, he nodded. "Are mine still alive?"

"No, they perished of a fever early on when you left for war." She cleared her throat. "Your older brother was supposed to have been the earl. You were the spare and never wanted that responsibility." She well remembered how heartsick and anxiety ridden he'd been when he'd written that his brother had perished.

"What happened to him?"

"He was taken in one of the more heated battles of the war, a few years after your parents perished." Not knowing what else to do, she patted his arm. "Apparently, it was a swift death, and he didn't suffer."

"Thank you for telling me. That was one of the things my well-meaning friends left out." He blew out a breath. "Do I have any more siblings?"

"I'm afraid not. You are what's left of the Fairfaxes, for your father didn't have any living siblings either."

"Ah, then we aren't a terribly healthy lot or perhaps we're unlucky." The attempt at a joke fell flat, so he quickly sobered. "Are your parents still alive?"

"My mother is. She lives at the country estate. The air is easier for her to breathe there than in London. My father died a few years back of a stroke." Once more, she glanced at the hand that rested in her lap. "It was… a difficult time in my life, for you'd been missing three years at that point. When Papa died, I felt as if I didn't have anyone left in my life to protect me or to offer advice." A waver entered her voice. "My mother was devastated. My brother holds the title now. He visits her more often than I do, and he's recently wed, so there is more hope in that relationship than my own."

What a sad testament of her life.

"Ah, Johnathan."

"What?" She gawked at him with widening eyes as he stared back with the same shock on his face that she felt. "How did you know his name?"

"Uh…" Evan shrugged. "I don't remember. Sometimes things pop into my mind and are disconnected from anything else. Nothing makes sense anymore. In my brain, it's very much like moving through mud." His swallow was audible. "Random names float through my consciousness. Only rarely do I find a slot to put them into, but I never know if they mean anything."

"At least it's a start. That is encouraging." She clasped her gloved hands in her lap. Perhaps he would eventually remember more if he was immersed in his former world long enough. "Yes, my brother Johnathan is the Earl of Dorchester. I rather like his wife. She's much younger than him. No doubt they'll have a slew of children." A tiny sigh escaped her. "In fact, I believe she's increasing at the moment even though they haven't announced it."

For long moments, Evan remained silent. Then he stirred. "Did we, uh, ever have children?" His breath clouded in the cold air. "No one told me that I had a family beyond you."

"No." The unexpected subject matter had tears once more welling in her eyes, but it was important he hear this from her, since it was their life. "We were never blessed with children. Granted, we hadn't been together intimately all that many times since you were away with the military and then after that, you were… gone." One of the tears dropped to her cheek. "I rather suspect I am barren or perhaps the stress of having you away took a toll…" She shrugged. "It matters not. I have made peace with it. I've had to." When her voice broke, worry lined his face. "It seems death and worry have been my constant companions in some way or another these recent years."

"I'm sorry, Vivy."

She gasped, for that had been his pet name for her, and only he used it, and never while in public or mixed company, and he utilized it when he was feeling quite amorous. How had he remembered it? Did he realize that significance? "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He slipped his arms around her, and the feelings were much too overwhelming yet familiar. Against the shell of her ear, he said, "It seems my returning to London has made everything worse, or at the very least has dug up unpleasant things for you."

Dear heavens, the tremors in her chest from his baritone, the warmth of him and his arms around her, the scent of him—like pine trees and the air just before the rain—all worked at her undoing. "It is better than the alternative."

"True." Evan pulled back enough to peer into her face. "There is no alternative, however. The accident happened. I've lost my memories. I am different."

"I know." She nodded. "As am I."

His gaze never dropped. "And we are still married."

"We are." Yet nothing in his expression gave away his thoughts. "That has to mean something, don't you think?"

Slowly, he nodded. "Uh, the men at the Rogue's Arcade told me that the Earl of Starkington is courting you. Is that true?"

"Oh, I…" Vivian blew out a breath. There was no way to avoid the subject. Heat filled her cheeks. "He is. Or was. For just over a year, but please understand I thought you dead at the time, needed to move on with my life instead of being held prisoner by it."

For long moments, Evan searched her face. Was he disappointed by her? Disgusted by her weakness? "It's understandable. I was gone for five years without a word or trace, and as far as I know, no one came looking for me." He shrugged. "Do you love him?"

Did she? Or had he been a convenient replacement for her husband because she'd felt lonely? "It is complicated." Regardless of what she thought, she couldn't lie.

"I appreciate the honesty. What I've learned since being at the club is that some people when confronted with my situation are compelled to tell me the truth of things while others think it's kinder to couch their words in lies, to make it easier, I suppose."

"I'm sorry." For all of it. "However, when you returned to London, I broke things off with Starkington. The past is the past, Evan; you are my husband, and my loyalty is still with you. I haven't seen him for nearly two months, refuse his gifts." Did she miss Edward? Perhaps, but knowing she still held hope for Evan diffused that loss.

He blew out a breath and pulled away a bit more. "You needn't be a martyr."

"I'm not. I just want you back." That was the truth of it all.

"As do I."

"Though we have been married for eleven years, it feels as if we were cheated of much of that life together by circumstances beyond our control. I…" Her gaze faltered to the knot of his cravat. "Perhaps I selfishly want that."

"In all honesty, I fear that will not happen in the way we both hope." Confliction went through his expression, and then finally, he again slipped his arms around her. "I cannot sleep," he admitted. "The doctor and others have told me I need to rest after my ordeal, but I wish to do anything beside that. I have already lost so much time."

"Why?" Vivian frowned. "Do you need laudanum to help with that?"

"No, no, I refuse to use the drug… it's too tempting." Panic jumped into his eyes, so much so that she wondered what else he struggled with. "I have lost everything, Vivy, do you understand? Everything." As he tried to compose himself, he continued. "My mind has shattered. I receive back bits and pieces, and of those, many of them are fractured or fraught with pain and horror."

"Shh. You needn't talk about it if—"

"I must, though! Someone needs to know this, to take me seriously." He tightened his grip on her, and she didn't mind, for she craved that closeness. "I am afraid that if I close my eyes even to sleep, I will forget everything again, or worse. That I will be right back in that damned war where I was forced to be a soldier and a surgeon, or so the men at the club say, neither of which I wanted to be." Emotion lingered in his voice, and when she pulled slightly back, tears slid down his cheeks. "I cannot make my peace with that; I want to remember but I also do not. Perhaps the amnesia is a small kindness God has given, and with the melancholy I battle with, laudanum would be an easy way to escape… everything."

"I had no idea that you were battling so much." It frightened her, and her heart squeezed for him. She forced a hard swallow, for the man she'd known before had never shown emotion. In small ways, he'd changed, but honestly, some of them were good. And they solidified her budding decision. "Come back home, Evan."

"What?" His eyes rounded as he stared.

"Just what I said." Offering a tentative smile, she nodded. "Come back home. Be with me. I promise when you wake, I will help you remember, I will make sure I am the first face you see so you won't need to dwell on the horrors if you don't want to." Was she mad or just desperate to offer him such a thing? "I occupy the countess suite; you may have the earl's suite at the opposite end of the corridor. You'll maintain privacy."

He continued to gawk. "But you and I... You have Lord Starkington."

"Not any longer. I told you that." Her pulse accelerated so much it felt as if she'd run here from France. "Nothing else matters. First and foremost, you are my husband, regardless of how long you have been missing. And you don't deserve to be lost any longer." To help her cause, she laid a hand to the side of his cheek. "Come home with me. You have been in London for two months. What have you to lose? A change of scenery might help."

His lips turned down with a frown. "And if it doesn't?"

"You will be safe. You will have familiar things around you. You will have me." Would it be enough to convince him? "None of which you had before."

"Perhaps that's true, but I'm frightened." The emotion showed in his eyes. "I don't remember anything before I became a laborer in Cornwall. Nothing about our life together or being a surgeon in the military. What if I never do?"

"Then you don't, but that doesn't mean you aren't worthy of living life now." She glided her thumb along his cheek, whisking away lingering moisture. "You remembered my brother's name. That's something, and enough that you shouldn't give up hope."

Another swath of silence met her words as he again searched her face with his gaze. Then he sighed. "Disjointed memories, nightmares, and the daily struggle is wearing on me, but somehow, it doesn't seem as horrible when I am in your company."

"We have only spent this last hour together." In some shock, she pulled back. "But it's a lovely sentiment." Her heart trembled a bit in response.

"It is what I know as the truth. It is the only thing in this moment that is real." The longer he stared at her, the more his eyes darkened. "May I kiss you?"

It's what I want above all things. She nodded. "I'm your wife. You don't need permission." But her pulse pounded with anticipation, almost as if she were that young twenty-year-old girl he'd married so long ago.

For the first time since he'd joined her in Hyde Park, Evan smiled. "I rather think I do. We no longer know each other. It's much like starting over." Uncertainly went through his expression. "If you are amenable, that is."

"Oh." Though she was still confused by him, had feelings for him and Lord Starkington, she wanted to do right by him, wanted to try and repair their marriage. "Perhaps you should try to court me all over again." She said it in jest, but her heart strained to hear his answer.

"I might." Surprise lined his face. "At least it will keep me occupied and my thoughts relatively ordered." Then, he moved a hand to cup her cheek.

Slowly, so impossibly slowly, he gently kissed her, and the second his lips met hers, trembles tumbled down her spine and a butterfly ballet awakened in her belly. It wasn't the same style as she remembered, for he'd had a habit of being more aggressive in his overtures, but this was quite pleasant and sweet. It lit tiny fires in her blood and expanded the craving already there. When he tugged her closer to him on the bench, she went willingly and laid a hand on his chest, and all the while, she kissed him back, even went so far as to moan softly, for she'd waited so long to be with him like this again.

"Ah, Vivy." He furrowed gloved fingers into her hair, cupped her breast with his free hand and her world tilted a bit, but he didn't appear to want to release her. "With you, like this, away from everything else, I feel… safe."

"It is a start." Yes, it was best they spend time together, learn how to interact with each other in these new circumstances. It would either repair their marriage or drive them apart, but he would be home with her.

The rest could work itself out.