Chapter Six

J ames was poring over the plans to tear down a crumbling farmhouse and build three cottages in its place when there was a knock on his study door.

"Enter," he called, not looking up from the parchment on his desk.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, Your Grace," the soft voice of young Albert, a footman, said. The lad had been terrified of his own shadow when he started working, but as the son of their former cook, James had given him a chance – and he was certainly growing into the role.

"Yes, Albert?" James said, finally tearing his eyes away from the document.

"I just wished to tell you that the lady has finished her food and is in dry clothes in the library."

James nodded. "I don't suppose she has remembered who she is, has she?"

"She has not shared that information with me, Your Grace," Albert said with a bow of his head before departing from the room.

James tutted to himself. He supposed Albert was trying to remind him of the girl's existence. Indeed, he probably had been in danger of forgetting her. But he could have done with finishing signing off on the plans first. For now he felt obligated to go and see if she was well and whether she was any closer to knowing who she was and where she belonged.

Because she certainly did not belong at Dunloch Castle.

With a weary sigh, he pushed the documents aside and stood, walking the short distance from his study to the library. He knocked before entering, because even though it was his house, he did not wish to risk interrupting her in a state of undress.

"Come in," her feminine voice called, and he entered to find a far more put-together woman than the one he had left. Cecily's green frock seemed to fit her just fine, and she had obviously availed herself of a hairbrush, for the curls that had been escaping pins were now loose but looking rather more tamed.

She stood as he entered and curtsied. "Your Grace. Thank you so much for rescuing me, and for the clothes and the food."

So one of the staff had obviously informed her of who he was. If only he knew who she was.

"It was no trouble," he said, although her presence was rather troubling. He didn't like anything to interrupt his most important duties – those of being the Duke of Dunloch.

"On the beach, I felt I might never be warm again. But I'm pleased to say I was wrong," she said with a small smile.

"I'm glad to hear it. Although, whoever you are, it was mighty foolish to go out on the ocean with a storm like that brewing."

She nodded and bowed her head in contrition. "Indeed. I am sorry for the trouble I have caused you."

He wasn't used to a woman agreeing with him and not arguing back. But then he supposed that was the challenge of having three younger sisters. They never did as they were told.

"Have you remembered your name? Or where you hail from, at least?" he asked. Once he knew that, he could put her in a carriage and send her on her way, his duty done.

She gave a sad shake of her head. "I'm afraid not, Your Grace. I remember going out on the boat, noticing the clouds…the waves hitting and then…nothing." She gave a shrug.

James could not help sighing slightly. "Well, I shall have a guest chamber prepared for you tonight. Hopefully, after a good night's sleep, your memory will be restored, and you can be on your way back to your family. You must have parents, or perhaps a husband? Someone who will be wondering where you are."

"I'm not married," she said quickly, and he wondered how on earth she could be so sure if she did not even know her own name. "I mean, I don't feel like I'm married. But you're right, I'm sure. A good night's sleep, and everything will become clear."

"Although perhaps," James said, the thought suddenly occurring to him, "I should send for the doctor. If you really cannot remember who you are, perhaps you have sustained serious injuries that are not immediately apparent…"

But to that, she shook her head. "Oh no, I certainly don't need to put you to that bother. Now that I'm warm, I feel fine in myself…"

James nodded slowly. She seemed insistent – and he really did not want to have to call for the doctor. The expense was no issue, of course, but he'd rather nobody else knew that this girl was staying in his home. And if she said she felt fine…well, who was he to argue?

If her memory had not resurfaced in a day or two, then he would, of course, call for a professional opinion. He wasn’t going to have the girl here for any great length of time. But he surely could give her a night or two, see if her memory returned by itself. And he would barely have to interact with her, really. A meal together, perhaps. That was all.

◆◆◆

Penelope was shown to a beautiful bedchamber overlooking the lake – or ‘the loch’ as the staff seemed to call it. Since this trip was, of course, unplanned, she had no belongings with her, so the footman simply showed her up and then left her there.

She stood for a long while, looking out of the window and marvelling at how far removed the weather now seemed from the storm that had brought her here. Indeed, it was hard to believe such winds had raged and such rain had fallen when looking upon the clear blue skies.

With every moment that passed, she began doubting her plan. What did she hope to achieve by remaining in this Duke’s home without him knowing who she was?

And yet, excitement fizzed away in the pit of her stomach. She could be anyone. No one needed to know, for the next day or so, that she was the daughter of an earl and countess, that she had a rather sizable dowry, or that she had four failed Seasons behind her.

The Duke clearly was not putting on any airs and graces around her; in fact, she found him rather rude. But even that was exciting because everyone was always so polite, even if one had no idea what they were like beneath the surface.

The grounds stretched on endlessly, and she could see to the left a manicured garden, clearly kept to a high standard by a gardener. To the right of the lake was open grass, leading to woodland.

It wasn’t quite her beloved Amblewood, but she did think it was a beautiful castle.

She perched on the window seat, fairly sure that she would have time alone before it was time for supper. She supposed she didn’t have to stay in the room, but it felt polite, for now, to stay put.

She needed a plan. A plan for what she wanted to achieve from this brief break from society’s expectations.

She wanted to see, first of all, what kind of man the Duke was outside of a ballroom. In fact, after meeting him briefly, she struggled to imagine him in a ballroom, though she was sure he had frequented them over the years.

She also wanted to see if there was any chance of him being a suitable candidate for marriage. It would be very lucky if the man she ended up stranded with was someone she could finally fall in love with – and a man who might finally fall in love with her.

She wouldn’t get this chance again. It was a pure twist of fate that she had ended up in the cove by his castle and that he had found her, and surely it made sense to make the most of such a situation.