“No.” She tossed the stick into the fire and stood. “My family has a bit of a reputation, and many find us unsuitable to sit in their drawing rooms.”
That he could easily believe given their recent conduct. Simon’s mother was a lady who observed the proprieties and would have found them offensive. What had she called them? Ah yes, the very bad Fairbanks.
“Simon?”
He discarded his stick and also stood. “Yes?”
“Will you tell me what happened to you, please?”
“Shall we take a walk?”
“There is a lake only a few minutes that way,” she said, pointing east. “We used to take long walks there.”
He waved for her to precede him, and with a smile, she walked ahead of him. Simon kept his attention on her, noting the sensual boldness of her walk. She paused at times to pluck a wildflower and bring it to her nose. There was a desperate reaching inside of him to try and recall her, and each time he tried, a dull throbbing started at the base of his skull. He blew out a harsh breath, reminding himself that he had accepted that he might never regain his memories.
Upon nearing the lake, she ran to the edge and toed off her shoes. The damn lady knelt down and removed her stockings so she could dip her toes into the water. The gentle breeze flirted with the skirts of her gown, whipping it about her legs. She took a deep breath of the crisp air, stooping to collect a few stones and pebbles.
Simon stood beside her, taking the few stones she offered to him. She skipped one over the water of the lake, and he was impressed with how far it traveled before it disappeared under the lake’s surface. He curved his thumb over the stones he had until he found one with a flat, smooth surface. Leaning slightly to the side, Simon tossed it at the surface at a low angle, watching it bounce and skip in waves across the length of the lake. Her gasp as he outdistanced her stone was rather dramatic.
“Challenge accepted,” she murmured a bit darkly.
When he glanced down at her, she stared up at him with a very decided glint in her eyes. Simon bit back his laugh, shocked to find himself furiously skipping stones for several minutes.
“I won,” she yelled, twirling with her excitement.
“I believe it was a tie,” he drawled.
Fanny paused, tapping her finger on her chin. Then she smiled, and it was the most radiant thing he’d ever witnessed. “I will accept a tie. In that way, we both win.”
She was endearingly unaware of her own charms, and he glanced away from her delighted expression, aware of the odd plucking at his heartstrings. The tension broke; he started to speak. “I was badly wounded in battle,” he said softly, his fingers instinctively going to the scars on his chest. “I fell into a coma, and many thought I had died. It was reported that I had died. It was only when I woke after several months and could state my name, rank, and regiment that it was known that I lived. My family was notified, but not the rest of the world. For you see, my mother was already dealing with the tragedy of recently losing her husband and oldest son in a boating accident. I was collected from France with haste last year, and we retired to Scotland, seeing some of the best physicians in Edinburgh to help me heal. It was a brutal journey, but here I am.”
Fanny walked over and hugged him. Simon instinctively closed his arms around her. God, she felt right. This felt right. Familiar. As if they had hugged and comforted each other often. Everything inside of him stopped, odd and complex emotions clutching his throat when she snuggled her face into the crook of his neck. “I am very happy that you made it home to your family and those who love you.”
He held her, a hard lump inside his throat. With a sigh, she pulled away from him, putting space between them. He fucking regretted that space. Simon did his best to recall Lady Katherine and the promises he had made.
“What did the doctors say happened to your mind?” Fanny asked.
Simon cleared his throat. “They could not explain my lapse in memory, only knowing it was common among those battle-weary and wounded. I only have snatches of memories from the last three years. At first, I made discreet inquiries about that period of my past, but I uncovered little of import, and I soon learned to move on.”
She looked pale and stricken. “I am so very sorry, Simon. It must have been frightening to lose a part of yourself.”
“It was,” he admitted. “I am sorry I forgot you, Fanny.”
“It was not deliberate, Simon,” she said with a soft smile. “While my heart pains me greatly that you do not have memories of us, I do not resent you for it. How could I?”
They fell into silence, skipping stones on the lake.
“You taught me to skip stones,” he said with sudden insight.
“I did,” she admitted with a smile. “At first, you thought it frivolous and foolish, but many days as I climbed those hills to the cottage, I would see you standing here in your regimentals, practicing.”
A flash of memory struck him then, and he saw it vividly, the rustling of the breeze and the peace he felt skipping stones across the vast lake. Someone laughingly called his name from behind, and he turned, and there she was…a girl, a lovely one with her wild blonde hair whipping around her body. She ran toward him, a book in her hand, her feet bare and muddied. Simon lingered on the fierce happiness he’d felt upon seeing her, shocked that he had once been that way with someone. She looked happy, but as she reached for him, her image wafted away like smoke in the wind, along with the sensations that felt as if they belonged to an utter stranger.
Hell.