Cetiosaurus?” enthused Lexington, placing his hand over his wife’s. “Excellent. That’s what? Six months later than what she could previously recall?”
“At least seven,” Venetia corrected him.
Fitz and Hastings now joined Lexington at the door, which was becoming quite crowded. “What is all the commotion about?” asked Fitz.
“I remember Venetia’s dinosaur,” Helena announced, feeling as proud as the first time she read a book all by herself.
“Thank goodness!” cried Fitz. “That is wonderful news.”
Helena’s attention turned to Hastings, whose hair was still damp from his bath. He smiled, too, but there was a hollowness to the smile. “Venetia found the dinosaur only weeks before I visited Hampton House for the first time. Do you also remember that?”
Helena’s glee deflated some. “No, not that. At least, not yet.”
Hastings exhaled. “I suppose it will happen some other time, then.”
His reaction puzzled her. Taken together with his relief the night before at her continued state of nonremembrance, and his general nonchalance over their years of shared history wiped clean, one might be tempted to say that he didn’t particularly long for the return of her memory.
“My lady,” said Nurse Gardner, “we should have your new bandages on.”
Helena belatedly remembered her bald head. “Gentlemen, would you mind?”
They murmured their apologies and left. Hastings glanced back at her, his gaze fearful, as if she were not getting better, but worse, and any moment could be their last together.
It was only a matter of time.
Hastings sat by her bedside, his head in his hands. He knew this. He knew this all along. But he’d hoped for a little more time, a little more of this miracle.
“I see you’ve wisely decided not to hide your curls from my ravenous sight,” she said, startling him.
He straightened in his chair. “You are awake.”
“And have been for several minutes.”
He helped her sit up higher and rang for her luncheon. “Admiring my cross-between-golden-retriever-and-French-poodle hair?”
One side of her mouth lifted. “I am ravished by the beauty of those curls.”
She probably wouldn’t speak so flirtatiously had they not been alone. But the day nurse had gone to use the water closet. He retook his seat. “Ravished, eh?”
“Indeed. But I would have been even more ravished if I weren’t wondering at the same time why you look so dejected.”
Of course she’d notice. Hadn’t he himself told her, only hours ago, that she was wily, discerning, and clever? And he hadn’t been exactly subtle in his reactions, ricocheting from dread to hope and back again in dizzying succession.
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to distract you from the pure joy that is my beauty.”
She studied him for a moment. The bruises on her face were fading more rapidly now; in a few more days they would be only faint smudges of discoloration. And her eyes—her gaze was at once intense and sympathetic. He’d seen her look at others this way, but never him.
“Why don’t you want me to regain my memory?”
The bluntness of her question made him perspire. But he met her eyes and answered truthfully, “I do want you to regain your memory. You’ve made many friends and lived an interesting and accomplished life. It would be a crying shame if you can’t look back and see this path you’ve blazed for yourself.”
She considered his answer for a moment. “But?”
Was she ready for the whole truth? Was he?
“Do you remember what I told you about melting into a puddle at my first sight of you?”
She smiled just perceptibly. “Yes.”
“My sentiments were not reciprocated. You took a look at me and went back to your books. You were not one of those girls who fell in love easily, not to mention I was five inches shorter than you. I, on the other hand…”
He’d declared his love again and again when she’d been comatose. But if he uttered those words now, with her perfectly awake and lucid, he’d never be able to repudiate that sentiment. And she would always know.
He played with the edge of her bedding, not quite meeting her eyes. “I, on the other hand, fell madly in love. And when I realized that I was invisible to you, I resorted to gaining your attention by any means possible.”
“What did you do?” Her tone was amused, fond even.
“The better question would have been, what didn’t I do?” He raised his face. “A week after we first met I tried to pinch your bottom.”
She stared at him, halfway between outrage and laughter. “Truly?”
“My only defense is that I knew I wouldn’t be