Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Lena needed to know.

The guilt had been nagging at her, a relentless burn since the night he'd identified her as the lost duchess by confirming the birthmark above her navel. Her hand involuntarily crept up to the spot and rubbed it. Goosebumps pricked her skin at the mere thought that he even knew she had this.

It was…inconceivable.

His eyes sharply followed her every move. Eyes the colour of molten silver, sharp and cold, yet she'd seen them soften to a darker shade every time they fell on Hector. There was a wistfulness in them, a quiet longing, mingled with hesitation. She had seen the same look in the eyes of a poor boy once, standing in front of a confectioner's shop window displaying a colourful figure made of fondant and chocolate.

And just now, the same look was in his eyes.

When he looked at her like that, it took her breath away, her mouth went dry, and her heart fluttered like a thousand butterflies.

He'd wanted to know about Simon, so she'd told him, but how could anyone who'd never met Simon understand who he truly was, what he had meant to her with just a few words?

Now he'd wanted to know whether she'd loved Simon.

Simon had been…Simon.

They had not been married. He had needed a friend and a mother for his children, especially for Les, who'd been so little. He had been her doctor, then a strong shoulder to lean on when she had no memory about her life, not even her name. He hadn't cared about etiquette and convention. He'd been her anchor when her world was again shaken when she discovered she was with child. He had provided a solution, suggesting she stay with them. Unconventional, yes, but it had been perfect for everyone. He had been a father to Hector and given him his name.

Had she loved him?

Of course she had. Who wouldn't love such a kind, selfless, caring man like Simon?

But they'd never been lovers, nor had they married.

And now this stranger stood before her. A powerful English Duke, handsome, haughty, and reserved. Intimidating and unlike anyone she had ever known. He claimed the most unlikely thing, that she was his wife. Then he wanted to know if she had loved Simon. How could she explain all this in a few words?

"We were not married," she said slowly, choosing her words with care. "When Simon died, I was heartbroken. I miss him every minute of every day, and I wish with all my heart that he were still alive. He saved my life. He was my rock when I thought the darkness of my lost memories would swallow me whole. He helped me out of that hole, gave me a new life, a home, and a new name. I mourn him deeply as a very dear friend, not as a husband or lover. He was neither." She lifted her eyes to meet his. "Do you understand?"

He hesitated, then gave a single nod.

But now it was her turn. She had to know. With a wavering voice, she asked, "Were we very much in love?"

His silver eyes looked haunted.

She immediately pressed a hand against her lips and regretted the question. Just when she decided to tell him never mind, that he need not reply, he opened his mouth and said, "Yes." His voice was hoarse with emotion.

And oh, that look in his eyes!

She couldn't tear her gaze from his and felt an overwhelming sadness well up in her, because she could not remember a single thing about that love that had once been. A love that had come to her. A love that had been her very own. She'd forgotten all about it. She felt the bitter taste of guilt in her mouth, as dry as ash.

"I see," she whispered and hung her head.

He retrieved some trinket from his pocket and held it out to her. "I had it sent for immediately after the soiree at Metternich's two weeks ago. Castlereagh's special courier brought it back swiftly. It arrived this morning. Do you recognise it?"

It was a small, silver locket. He placed it in her palm. A coat of arms was engraved on the oval plate, comprised of a lion, a stag, a tree, and a star. Above it, the ducal crown. Veritas Vincit , it said in Latin underneath.

"Truth conquers," Lena whispered.

It lay cold in her palm. She moved her fingers instinctively, opening the locket as if she'd known all along what was inside.

On one side was a delicately painted miniature of a lady in a blue dress. It was a young girl with a sweet disposition, her wide eyes brimming with innocence and her rose-petalled lips hinting at a smile. Her hair was swept up and fine ringlets framed her face.

On the other side was a lock of golden hair.

Lena gasped. Her hand instinctively went to her own hair. The resemblance was undeniable. The image mirrored her own features and the lock of hair appeared identical to her own.

"Do you remember?" he asked again.

Something hot pink flashed in the inner vision of her mind.

"I…" Her voice wavered. "I see…China roses?" She looked up in confusion.

"Yes." His tone was tinged with hope. "We were in a rose garden when you gave me the locket. It was an engagement present. Do you remember giving it to me?"

She stared at the locket.

"No," she whispered, hanging her head.

She did not notice the way his hand lifted and wavered in the air, reaching out to touch her, hesitating. By the time she looked up again, he'd dropped his hands .

"I am sorry," she said woodenly. What utterly meaningless words. What else could she say? She felt helpless.

He filled the room, tall, awkward, and silent.

He was a stranger she had once loved.

He was a stranger who had once loved her.

And she couldn't remember a single thing about him or the feelings they had once shared.

She cleared her throat, and it sounded terribly loud in the room.

"Well. I suppose we shall figure it out, yes?" she said with false cheerfulness and cringed inwardly. Heavens, that sounded awkward. "Eventually." She fiddled with the string of her apron, which she'd forgotten to take off when he'd arrived.

He looked at her with slightly widened eyes.

"I mean, that's why you're here." She rubbed a finger across the wooden surface of the dresser, as if to wipe away an imaginary speck of dust, just so that she could do something instead of standing in front of him like that.

He didn't say anything.

Why didn't he say anything?

She cleared her throat again. "So we can sort this out." She gestured wildly in the space between them. "This terrible mess. Together. Eventually." It didn't sound any better when she repeated it.

"Eventually," he repeated.

She nodded eagerly, relieved that he had finally said something. "Yes. It will all come together, won't it?"

He exhaled deeply, as if he had been holding his breath all the time. "I certainly hope so. "

"Good!" She beamed at him. "Excellent." She rubbed her hands. "Wonderful."

"Helena."

Her eyes snapped up. "Yes?"

"Please trust me."

Her mouth formed an oval. "Oh. Yes." She chewed her bottom lip and her eyes darted around the room, desperate to avoid his glance. Heavens! She was alone with the Duke in the bedroom. He was a man. A stranger! Even if he was her husband. What an intolerable muddle it all was. At any rate, she certainly shouldn't be in the bedroom with him.

She paused at the door and took a deep breath. "I have another question."

"Please."

She could feel his presence behind her, warm and imposing.

"After all this—" She gestured vaguely with her hands "—I mean, after everything that's happened—after all this time, are we, erm…still, well is this, uh, marriage still valid?" The latter words tumbled out in a rush.

His face remained impassive. "I gather you did not die."

She thought for a moment. "It appears I did not."

"Nor did I."

She looked at him with wide eyes.

"Nor did we ever obtain a legal separation," he added.

She tilted her head. "We didn't?"

"We most certainly did not." His tone grew firmer.

"Though it is not pleasant, it must be addressed: I have no intention of seeking a legal separation or pursuing any action based on the previous presumption of death. If I had remarried or you had wed Arenheim, the matter would have been different. Bigamy would have been a serious complication."

Her mouth dropped open.

"I have studied the law extensively and am well aware of the legal principles surrounding marriage. I will ensure that the courts in England remain uninvolved. Thus, since neither of us is deceased, and no legal separation was previously enacted, it is clear that our marriage remains both lawful and binding."

"Ah." It came out as a sigh. "How terribly efficient of you. If you don't mind, let's not discuss this any further. My poor brain can't take any more of this, and as we well know, isn't entirely reliable, so it's better not to overtax it. I have a tendency to forget certain things, you see. Such as the fact that apparently I have a husband."

She may have imagined it, but a flash of something resembling humour crossed through his steel-grey eyes. It left her flabbergasted, causing her to ramble on. "Let me see. Supper! Yes. You must be hungry. What on earth do English Dukes eat? You shall have to eat the same as the children. It can't be helped. The children must be starving. So let us eat at once. Yes. That is what we should do because that is what we always do."

She fled.