Chapter 8
They survived by eating wild berries and a rabbit Simon caught. He cleaned and skinned it by the river, then made a spit outside and slow roasted the meat until it was thoroughly cooked. Fanny surprised him by picking some herbs and rubbing them over the rabbit, saying they would help with the flavor. They’d also found salt in the larder and had sprinkled some on the meat. The scent as it filled the air had been mouthwatering, and they had shared a smile as they waited with keen anticipation for it to finish its slow roast.
They remained outside, soaking up the rays of the sun, a welcome relief after the early morning chill which had lingered after the rain. Fanny had taken the two spindly chairs from inside the cottage and settled them down on verdant grass. He discreetly watched her as she took her first bite into the succulent meat, purring her pleasure.
“Simon, this is wonderful! I thought we would have starved.”
He smiled and took a healthy bite of his own food. The meat was indeed tender and tasted more flavorful than what he’d consumed in the war. “My estate is only a few miles trek through the woods. It is a shortcut.”
“You know where you are?”
“Only some of my memory is missing.”
“I see.”
“I will return this evening to the main estate and leave instructions for a hamper to be delivered here daily. Perhaps twice each given your enthusiastic appetite.”
Her soft laughter felt like another burst of sunshine, and he frowned at the feelings that filled him. Simon noted that he was comfortable with her as if his body knew what his mind did not. He strained to feel some deeper connection, but nothing in him stirred. The lady was ravishingly beautiful, but the only feeling he could summon for her was a visceral lustful attraction. Outside of his fleeting wisps of memories that left him before he could understand them, Fanny Fairbanks was a stranger. It seemed almost impossible that they’d had anything deep and sensual or loving between them.
“When did we meet Fanny?”
Her vivid blue eyes captured his, and, for a moment in time, he was falling into them. He shook his head sharply to clear the sensation.
Fanny lowered her stick, slowly chewing. When she had swallowed, she said, “It was the early spring when your regiment passed through Penporth.” A soft flush suffused her cheeks. “I was trekking through the woods, and somehow our paths collided. I believe you wanted a private moment from all the fanfare created by the villagers and the ladies who lined the street to wave their greetings.”
“I see.”
“You introduced yourself as Captain Gracely, offered to carry my basket of books, and I was charmed. I was perhaps bowled over by how handsome you were in your uniform,” she said. “You offered to walk me back home and…I accepted.”
Simon stared at her, hating that nothing tumbled inside his chest at that story or teased at his memories. “And we just became lovers?”
“You courted me, Simon.”
“But not publicly,” he said flatly, wondering at her tale and what kind of dishonorable bounder he had been. Clearly, he had never intended to marry her, but he was not the sort to seduce innocent ladies and abandon them.
Indignation brought a flush to her cheeks, and her eyes shot with a defiant spark. “I…you were on furlough for eight weeks. We were not secretive, but our connection felt new…and private…and something we just wanted to cherish. We met almost daily in the woods around here, and we would come to this cottage. We only became lovers the night before you had to leave.”
She said no more, and they finished the roasted rabbit and berries between them in silence. He almost asked what she hoped to achieve in the days they were here. He did not feel like he owed it to her but to himself an opportunity to reclaim the past that seemed determined to remain hidden from him. A part of Simon did not believe staying here would work, and where would that leave them after a week in each other's presence? Damn frustrated and possibly irritated as hell with each other.
“I hope you did not lose any loved ones in the war.”
He stilled. “Why do you say this?”
“You often spoke of James. A…friend who planned to march with you. I heard nothing about him when the news came of your…passing.”
Her voice broke slightly, and she glanced away, staring into the woodland. Simon sensed his death had profoundly affected her, and he felt deep regret his mother had not been caring enough to make an announcement when it was determined he would live.
What was even more astonishing was that he had spoken to the young lady about James. A young lad who worked on the grounds of his estate who had been tricked into taking the King’s shilling. The poorer class did not have a choice. They had to fight for their country or suffer the consequences. That knowledge had urged Simon to do his part for his family and for his fellow citizens. If the farmworkers and servants could be marched to war, why should he as a viscount’s son exist in safety and leisure while others risked their lives?
“James was wounded and returned home. He has a living being the clerk of my estate here. He is married and has two children, two young girls.”
“That is wonderful!”
Simon smiled, and she returned his smile as if they had shared something neither understood at this moment. A peculiar feeling swept through him and burrowed itself into his heart.
“I am truly sorry for the loss of your…memory and your father and brother. My family did not get to pay the proper respects,” she said. “I am very sorry for that.”
That told Simon his mother had not included the Fairbanks in their affairs. “I gather our families were not close.”