suffered from the same malady. “I had a notion,” he said instead. “The way she held herself—a certain tension around her eyes.”
“I see.”
Catherine knew a moment of surprise. She would not have thought the charming Mr. Smith observant enough of the cares of others to have noticed those of an old woman who meant nothing to him. She had, however, noticed the hesitation in his speech.
“Tell me, Mr. Smith,” she asked, fixing her gaze on him, “have you noticed any improvement in your memory?”
He shook his head ruefully. “Not a glimmer. Well, no, that’s not quite true. Every now and then some recollection tickles at the back of my mind, but I cannot seem to grasp it.”
“It must be extremely uncomfortable to lose one’s identity,” said Catherine meditatively.
“Indeed it is,” responded Justin earnestly. “I know not what responsibilities I may be leaving untended, or what loved ones I may have left to fend for themselves. Have you received any word on the request you left with the magistrate?”
He certainly seemed the picture of a man who could not remember his own name, Catherine thought dispassionately. His gray eyes stared unseeingly, apparently into a past that was closed to him. She felt a twinge of compunction. Why did she persist in attributing such unworthy motives to him? What reason could he have to lie about such a thing?
On the other hand, what had he been doing at Winter’s Keep in the first place? He was obviously a gentleman. Why had he arrived dressed in clothes one of their footmen would have scorned? And then there was that mesmerizing charm that he oozed like honey from a comb. Even as she told herself it was as false as tinker’s gilt, she had to fight the urge to purr under his compliments. It had reached the point, she admitted to herself, where she must take pains to avoid his gaze, e’er she fall into the quicksilver pools that were his eyes.
Oh, the devil take it! She was not the susceptible ninny she’d been when she’d fallen victim to Francis’s wiles. She had never been one to blush at a honeyed phrase from a good-looking man—even Francis’s fulsome praises had made her uncomfortable, and she was not going to start acting the simpering maiden now.
She took a deep breath and answered his question. “No, we have received no word from the magistrate, but it was only yesterday that I sent to him. It is highly unlikely that we would have heard anything from him so soon. In any event, I think we must assume that you do not live anywhere in the immediate vicinity. We are well acquainted with everyone who lives within ten or twenty miles.”
“And you are sure you do not number me among your acquaintances?” he asked with a smile.
“Quite sure.” Her returning smile was thin. “And now,” said Catherine, rising once more, “you must excuse me. I, too, wish to retire and I want to look in on Grandmama before I go to my room.”
“Of course,” he murmured.
He followed her into the great hall. Most of the other candelabra in the great chamber had been extinguished, so that when Justin lit two of the candles placed on a small table by the stairs and handed one to her, they were immediately enclosed in an intimate pool of light, He moved with her, step for step up the staircase and she was intensely aware of the latent strength in his thigh and shoulder as he brushed against her. When they reached the top, Catherine turned to her own bedchamber and was unpleasantly startled as Justin moved to accompany her.
“I know my way, Mr. Smith,” she said sharply, but she may as well have remained silent.
“It would be remiss of me not to perform this mundane courtesy,” he replied smoothly. Upon reaching her bedchamber, he opened the door with a small flourish. She stepped inside quickly, and, though he made no move to follow her, he prevented her from closing the door behind her by the simple expedient of placing his foot against it.
“Sleep well,
“I see.”
Catherine knew a moment of surprise. She would not have thought the charming Mr. Smith observant enough of the cares of others to have noticed those of an old woman who meant nothing to him. She had, however, noticed the hesitation in his speech.
“Tell me, Mr. Smith,” she asked, fixing her gaze on him, “have you noticed any improvement in your memory?”
He shook his head ruefully. “Not a glimmer. Well, no, that’s not quite true. Every now and then some recollection tickles at the back of my mind, but I cannot seem to grasp it.”
“It must be extremely uncomfortable to lose one’s identity,” said Catherine meditatively.
“Indeed it is,” responded Justin earnestly. “I know not what responsibilities I may be leaving untended, or what loved ones I may have left to fend for themselves. Have you received any word on the request you left with the magistrate?”
He certainly seemed the picture of a man who could not remember his own name, Catherine thought dispassionately. His gray eyes stared unseeingly, apparently into a past that was closed to him. She felt a twinge of compunction. Why did she persist in attributing such unworthy motives to him? What reason could he have to lie about such a thing?
On the other hand, what had he been doing at Winter’s Keep in the first place? He was obviously a gentleman. Why had he arrived dressed in clothes one of their footmen would have scorned? And then there was that mesmerizing charm that he oozed like honey from a comb. Even as she told herself it was as false as tinker’s gilt, she had to fight the urge to purr under his compliments. It had reached the point, she admitted to herself, where she must take pains to avoid his gaze, e’er she fall into the quicksilver pools that were his eyes.
Oh, the devil take it! She was not the susceptible ninny she’d been when she’d fallen victim to Francis’s wiles. She had never been one to blush at a honeyed phrase from a good-looking man—even Francis’s fulsome praises had made her uncomfortable, and she was not going to start acting the simpering maiden now.
She took a deep breath and answered his question. “No, we have received no word from the magistrate, but it was only yesterday that I sent to him. It is highly unlikely that we would have heard anything from him so soon. In any event, I think we must assume that you do not live anywhere in the immediate vicinity. We are well acquainted with everyone who lives within ten or twenty miles.”
“And you are sure you do not number me among your acquaintances?” he asked with a smile.
“Quite sure.” Her returning smile was thin. “And now,” said Catherine, rising once more, “you must excuse me. I, too, wish to retire and I want to look in on Grandmama before I go to my room.”
“Of course,” he murmured.
He followed her into the great hall. Most of the other candelabra in the great chamber had been extinguished, so that when Justin lit two of the candles placed on a small table by the stairs and handed one to her, they were immediately enclosed in an intimate pool of light, He moved with her, step for step up the staircase and she was intensely aware of the latent strength in his thigh and shoulder as he brushed against her. When they reached the top, Catherine turned to her own bedchamber and was unpleasantly startled as Justin moved to accompany her.
“I know my way, Mr. Smith,” she said sharply, but she may as well have remained silent.
“It would be remiss of me not to perform this mundane courtesy,” he replied smoothly. Upon reaching her bedchamber, he opened the door with a small flourish. She stepped inside quickly, and, though he made no move to follow her, he prevented her from closing the door behind her by the simple expedient of placing his foot against it.
“Sleep well,
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