Chapter Twelve

Dermott rushed down the servants' staircase, having been summoned by Sean. He was pleased that the viscount and the earl had not pushed back against the suggestion that they send an outrider in advance of their arrival when traveling between their estates.

The distance was not all that great, but given the continued rash of threats and rumors, it was better to be overcautious than to be lax in their protection of the duke's extended family.

Standing alongside Sean and Flaherty, he waited for the man dressed in the forest-green livery of Viscount Chattsworth's household to rein in his horse in front of the stables and dismount. "His lordship and ladyship will be arriving in three-quarters of an hour," the man said.

Sean motioned for one of the stable lads to come forward and see to the servant's horse, then asked, "Any message from me brother, Michael, or cousin, James?"

"None."

When Sean frowned, Dermott elbowed him. "I'm thinking our cousins will be expecting to go a few rounds with us. We can squeeze in some time to sharpen our bare-knuckle skills a bit later tonight, after things have settled down. I'll take the first shift standing guard."

Sean agreed, "We cannot let our hand-to-hand skills get rusty."

Satisfaction filled Dermott—he needed to release some of the pressure and worry building inside of him. "Do ye think James will have gone soft now that he's a married man?"

Sean snorted. "If anything, he'll be ready to take on all comers. He has added a wife to his list of those he's protecting, same as meself and Michael have."

Dermott knew his cousin had the right of it, especially after he'd told his cousins he'd added the lass to his list. But now wasn't the time to remind Sean or Flaherty. They had increased the necessary shifts and manpower surrounding Lippincott Manor—and added three more lives to protect.

"Finch is waiting to speak with ye," Sean told the footman who'd delivered the message from Chattsworth Manor. "While ye're here, ye may be on double duty, as footman and, if needed, guarding the perimeter."

The younger man squared his shoulders. "I've been training with Michael and James."

"Have ye now?" Flaherty nodded. "Sharpening yer observational skills as well as weaponry?"

The footman grinned. "You can count on me!"

"Best go and see Finch now, lad," Sean said, then watched the way the younger man sprinted to the rear entrance. "Were we ever that young and eager?"

Dermott waited a beat before answering, "Aye, but that was before me da and yers were tossed in that cell." Meeting his cousin's gaze, he murmured, "Me life is divided into three separate and distinct parts: growing up on the farm, me da's passing, and arriving in London."

Flaherty, who had been silent, spoke up. "There's not a one of us in the family who will ever forget what happened to yer da, Dermott."

Dermott grunted. "Nor what happened hours before they were released."

Sean added, "Nor the fact me da and yers were exonerated… Bloody bastards were hours too late releasing them."

Dermott's gut iced over as he remembered the day clearly, and his eldest brother's and Sean's reactions when they shared the news. His gaze met Sean's, and he knew now wasn't the time to speak of that atrocity—or his da's death. "We'd best be ready for the onslaught once their ladyships get together…" He let his voice trail off, as if not wanting to say what they three of were already thinking…and bracing for.

Dermott shoved the ache of his da's passing deep, concentrating on protecting their lordships and their families. "With the five of us guarding them—"

"Don't be forgetting me nephew-in-law Bart and the captain's men," Sean said. "Coventry is sending three of the new London guards."

Flaherty grunted. "Michael's stepson is a good lad to have at yer back in a fight. I'm pleased Captain Coventry took our suggestion of hiring on some of our contacts from the docks."

"And the stews," Dermott added.

Sean nodded. "He appreciated the fact that our contacts are cut from a similar cloth to ourselves. Honest, fiercely loyal, and highly skilled in hand-to-hand combat and weaponry."

"When will they be arriving?" Flaherty asked.

"Midday at the earliest," Sean answered.

*

The cacophony ofvoices—feminine and masculine—drifted up the stairwell from the entryway. Amber had left her door open a crack, hoping to hear Dermott's footsteps approaching, or see his handsome face when he paused in her doorway. She cocked her head to one side to better hear. Smiling, she realized the viscount and his family must have arrived. Was it a bit earlier than they were expected? From the way Lady Aurelia spoke of her dear friend, Lady Calliope, Amber had the impression it would not matter.

She was anxious to meet the viscountess, hoping that the other woman would remember meeting her in London—even though Lady Aurelia had not. The sounds grew louder, and the cry of a babe reached her. The viscount's heir, she thought with a smile. She paused as a feeling of warmth filled her. Was she fond of children?

Dropping her forehead into her hands, she wished there was some way to extract more memories from those still tangled in her injured brain. She desperately wanted to at least be able to introduce herself with her real name. Lady Aurelia had invited Amber to join her and Lady Calliope in her private upstairs sitting room when the viscount and viscountess arrived. It was quieter there, the countess had informed her, so they would be able to chat about anything and everything they desired without interruption. She was looking forward to joining them.

As the bright, bubbly, feminine voices filled the air, she wondered how long it had been since the two women had had a chance to visit. She waited a few moments, hoping that the memory of visiting with friends would break through the edges of the fog in her brain. When it did not, her thoughts drifted back to the handsome Irishman who was never far from her thoughts. She sighed deeply. The man had her dreaming of rainbows and reaching for the stars. All it took was one of his intensely dark and desperate looks. She could not quite decide what he was thinking. Pulling her into his embrace and kissing her…or something far more intimate that she could only speculate about.

Papa had been too embarrassed to speak of what went on in the marriage bed. But he had enlisted the aid of their housekeeper and cook once she was of an age to marry.

A gasp escaped before she covered her mouth with her hands. Stunned, she slowly let them drop to her sides. Relief speared through her—she had to be at least eight and ten, possibly older. Amber recalled Papa creating a list of gentlemen he deemed worthy enough to ask for her hand. She was elated by what had just popped into her mind, and at the same time frustrated. She could not even remember the servants' names! Despair swirled inside of her. What would become of her? Would she be sent off to a hospital, or worse, an asylum where people who had lost their minds were cared for?

"I have not lost my mind," she reasoned aloud. "I am fully capable of thinking, as I had been before whatever happened to me happened. The names will come to me in time—mine and Papa's—then all will be well, and I can return home."

The futility of trying clung to her thoughts like a vine, dragging her spirits down. Unable to give up, she tried to remember all that Dermott had told her when she came to. I must have liked to climb trees in my youth, she thought. After all, Dermott had said she was standing atop a stone wall when he first saw her. She'd never struck her head, so far as she could recall.

The sudden flash of memory had her stiffening her spine and sitting up straight. "I used to climb fences—to walk along the top rail!" Another flash, this time of fluffy white clouds and a bright blue sky, had her smiling—until the memory of sharp pain spearing through her shoulder filled her. "I wasn't supposed to be on the top of the fence rail. Hadn't Papa warned me?" The memory of how proud she'd been balancing there was short-lived, followed by her windmilling her arms to steady herself before she fell. Her shoulder had taken the brunt of the impact when she'd landed inside one of the corrals at their country home—

"We have a country home!"

She had to tell Dermott! Shooting to her feet, Amber rushed to her bedchamber door, flung it open, and plowed into a solid wall of muscle.

"Whoa there, lass. Where are ye off to in such a hurry?"

She blinked and stared up at the dark-haired, dark-eyed man who steadied her. He was dressed in black and had the same emblem Dermott had over his heart, an embroidered golden Celtic harp, and the word Eire in Kelly green. Was he part of the same guard as Dermott? "I, uh… Who are you?"

The man smiled, and the resemblance to Dermott was uncanny. "Name's Garahan. I'm one of the Duke of Wyndmere's guard stationed at Chattsworth Manor. Ye must be the lass me cousin, Dermott, rescued."

"Yes, my name—well, at least my temporary name—is Amber."

His measured look as he studied her caught her off guard, as did his question: "Temporary—and why would that be? Are ye hiding from someone?"

She frowned. "I do not think so, but, you see, I'm having a bit of trouble recalling what happened before I opened my eyes and looked into eyes of the clearest green."

His eyes were alight with amusement. "Green, were they?"

"Er…yes. He introduced himself as Dermott O'Malley—he works for the duke here at Lippincott Manor. Although I'm not quite certain I believe him, he informed me that he rescued me when I fell off the top of a stone wall."

Garahan's lips twitched. "What were ye doing up there?"

She shrugged. "I don't remember, and that is the other part of my problem. I do not recall my name or what I am doing here." Deciding to trust Garahan, she asked, "Is Dermott busy at the moment? Do you think you could find him for me? I have remembered something important."

He locked his gaze with hers as if considering her request. "Well now, was it yer name that ye remembered?"

She shook her head and schooled her features to appear confident. "Not yet, but I'm hopeful."

"In that case, I'll let me cousin know that you need to speak to him. Was there anything else I can do for ye, Miss Amber?"

"No, thank you. I'm grateful that you'll relay my message to Dermott. I need him."

The guard bowed to her, studying her for a moment before continuing on his way down the length of the hall to the door to the servants' staircase. Dermott must still be manning his shift. The voices had moved from the entryway and were quieter. It would be best if she waited in her bedchamber for the summons from Lady Aurelia, as she was unsure of who would arrive first—a servant to announce that the countess was waiting for her in her private sitting room, or the man who filled her mind and heart completely…Dermott O'Malley.

Settling into the green velvet lady's chair by the window, she let her mind wander. Mayhap resting it would be a better idea than continually struggling to remember what she desperately needed to know.

The knock on the door startled her. She turned toward the door, thinking it would be the summons to meet with the countess and the viscountess. "Come in."

The man who had captured her attention from the moment she'd opened her eyes to a world washed with uncertainty—and not a wisp of memory—stepped over the threshold and walked over to where she sat. "Is something troubling ye, lass? Ye're pale as flour. What's happened?"

She closed her eyes for a moment to thank the Lord for sending Dermott to rescue her. "We have a home—here—in Sussex!"

He nodded. "Sure and that's good news. Is it nearby? Do ye remember the earl and the countess now that ye remember having a home in the country?"

"Er…no. I'm afraid I do not."

"I did not mean to belittle what ye remembered, lass. 'Tis a wonderful thing that bits and pieces are starting to fill in the blanks. I cannot imagine being in yer place. 'Twould drive me bloody insane."

Her eyes widened at the expression. Surely he had not meant to use such coarse language in front of her.

He tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling. Was he counting?

"Forgive me, lass. 'Tis me mouth moving before me brain tells it to again. I should not use such language in front a lady like yerself."

She bit her bottom lip, and was about to tell him he was forgiven, but got lost in the brilliance of his emerald eyes…eyes that were locked on her lips. A tingling sensation had her pressing her lips together to quell thoughts of fitting her mouth to his. Hers would not be the first lips he kissed, though the thought did not bother her overmuch. She wondered—was he as distracted by thoughts of kissing her as she was of kissing him? Staring at his beautifully sculpted lips, she could well imagine how masterful his kiss would be. Passionate, demanding a response from her.

Had she been kissed before, or was her knowledge culled from reading romantic tales?

Dermott cleared his throat. "I'm powerful sorry to have insulted ye with me words, lass. 'Twasn't me intention."

He had been worried that she was upset, when all the while she'd been wondering what it would be like when he finally kissed her! "You are forgiven. I have been known to speak without thinking on occasion…"

"Something else ye recalled. At this rate, the pieces ye're struggling to fit into the puzzle of yer life will be falling into place so fast, ye'll not be able to keep up with it."

"Why can I remember that I was trying to escape someone, but not his name?"

He reached for her hands and held them securely in his. Warmth radiated from his callused palms to hers. "Never fear, lass. I'll protect ye until ye remember everything, and we're able to sort things out."

"Oh. Dermott. I did not know you were in here." Lady Aurelia stood in the doorway, watching them intently.

"I remembered something, your ladyship," Amber said. "I thought it would be best to tell Dermott."

"Garahan found me. As ye and Lady Calliope were visiting, I thought it best to speak to the lass first."

"I see." The thoughtful expression on the countess's face worried Amber. Was Lady Aurelia vexed with her, or was it something else entirely?

"I don't know why I immediately thought to tell Dermott. It's just… Well, I—"

Lady Aurelia smiled. "I completely understand. Our Dermott was the one to rescue you and deliver you into our safekeeping. You trust him implicitly. I felt the same the first time I danced with Edward."

"Thank ye for understanding, yer ladyship," Dermott replied. "I need to speak with his lordship."

"I believe he is in the library."

"Thank ye." Dermott bowed to the ladies and left.

The countess walked over, slipped her arm though Amber's, and confided, "If I had not already fallen head over heels in love with Edward, my head might have been turned by one of my brother-in-law's guards."

"They are a handsome group," Amber admitted.

"You have no idea what a heart-stopping tableau the sixteen of them standing broad shoulder to broad shoulder make." Lady Aurelia waved a hand in front of her face. "Positively numbed my brain and stole my breath."

They were laughing as they walked toward the countess's sitting room. "Mrs. Jones should be arriving momentarily with our tea," she said. "I just came from the nursery. Calliope is settling little William in for a much-needed nap. He was awake the entire ride over. Our maids will be watching over them while we have our tea. You'll meet Calliope's maid, Mary Kate, later."

Amber wondered why the countess—and apparently the viscountess too—did not have a nanny. Wasn't it too much to ask their lady's maids to take on that chore? Besides that, wasn't it unusual?

Unsure if it would be too gauche to ask, she thought maybe she should forgo tea with their ladyships. "I would certainly understand if now is not a good time to visit. I'd be happy to wait to meet Lady Calliope another time."

"Not necessary. Our darling babe is still asleep, but Edward won't stay that way for long. I have learned to make good use of the time in between feedings and naptime."

Neither feeding nor naptime sparked a memory. She must not be accustomed to being around or used to caring for babes. "I'm looking forward to meeting Viscountess Calliope and sharing a cup of tea with you both. Thank you for including me."

"My pleasure. Sitting in seclusion waiting for your memory to return is pointless, don't you think? Something as simple as chatting over tea is far more enjoyable, and just might prod your memory. I cannot think your sitting in silence trying to force yourself to remember would engender your brain to suddenly do so."

"I never thought of it that way," Amber said as they entered the sitting room. "Thank you for your kindness and thoughtfulness. I'm beyond grateful."

Tea arrived as they settled across from one another on matching pale green and cream striped settees.

"Shall I pour?" the earl's housekeeper asked.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Jones," the countess replied. "I do believe it's Calliope's turn to pour. She should be here any minute."

The housekeeper smiled. "Just ring if you need anything else."

A glance at the large tea tray the footman had carried in had Amber wondering what else they could possibly need. Before she opened her mouth and asked, which would not have been well done of her, a slim woman with hair the color of sun-warmed honey swept into the room.

"Ah, here's Calliope now. Come join us for a much-needed spot of tea and something sweet."

"You always know just what I need, Aurelia, thank you," the viscountess replied.

Lady Aurelia beamed. "Calliope, I'd like you to meet Miss Amber. Miss Amber, Viscountess Chattsworth."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Amber."

"I confess I was listening to your happy voices," Amber said, "as they twined with the deeper voices coming from the entryway. You are very lucky to share such a close friendship with someone your age." Why can I not remember having friends?

"We have been through a lifetime together in such a short amount of time. It draws one closer to one another," Aurelia said. With a smile for her friend, she nodded to the small tray with the covered dish. "If you'll remover the cover, Calliope, you'll find something that you and Uncle Phineas enjoy."

Calliope whipped off the lid and started to laugh. "Kippers! Oh, I do love them, though William is not as fond of them as your uncle and me. How is dear Uncle Phineas? Does he plan on visiting soon?"

Amber watched the two women chatting and laughing and felt a deep sadness as a wisp of a memory of sharing tea—not with any young women her age, but with her mum—slipped in and out of her mind. Before she could grab hold of it, the memory evaporated.

"More tea, Amber?"

"Er…yes. Thank you." A feeling of gloom and doom seemed to weigh her down. Did it have to do with her mum, or something more ominous? She would have to wait and see. Promising herself to enjoy the short time spent over tea, she joined in the lively conversation, knowing Dermott would protect her when trouble came looking for her.