the duke’s hothouses as well.”
He rubbed her bottom. “We will put you in a virginal white gown, even though you have been more plucked than a guitar.”
She flicked his shoulder. “How rude. I was going to deck you out in pearls and diamonds, but now I must reconsider.”
“No!” he cried. “Please don’t reconsider. I never look as stunning as when I’m in pearls and diamonds.”
She chortled and fluffed his hair. “So vain.”
“I only want to look good for you.”
She sighed, a happy sound that made his heart swell to twice its normal size. “I think for our honeymoon we will go to Lake Sahara, sleep in tents, and hunt like nomads.”
It touched him that she remembered Lake Sahara. “And stand on the shores and watch the sunrise together.”
“Yes,” she said softly, “when birds in flocks of thousands fly over the lake, their wings white as sails.”
She fell asleep in his arms. He stayed awake for a long time, wondering whether what they had built together would be enough to withstand the return of her memory in full.
CHAPTER 16
Someone adjusted Helena’s bedcover. She tended to move about a great deal in her sleep and did not always manage to hold on to her blanket. Often in the morning, her feet and ankles would be quite cold—and in this instance, her calves, too, since she’d disrobed thoroughly the night before.
Warm hands rubbed her feet, then her entire lower half was enveloped in a nice, heavy quilt. She sighed in contentment. The same person came nearer and kissed her on her forehead.
“So beautiful,” he murmured.
She smiled and sank back into sleep—only to reawaken what seemed but a few seconds later with a violent start.
The room was dim and empty, the shutters still drawn. She closed her eyes again, her head feeling woolly, as if she’d grossly overslept. She lay still for a few more minutes, then slowly pushed to a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
On the nightstand was a photograph of Fitz and her David, standing in the middle of the vast expanse of Tom Quad, the largest college quadrangle at Oxford. Helena had taken the photograph with David’s factory-loaded Kodak camera during one of Fitz’s visits to the university. Shortly afterward, her friend and classmate Mary Dilhorne had passed by. They’d spent a minute chatting together before Miss Dilhorne went on to her next class and David and Helena saw Fitz off at the rail station.
As soon as Fitz had settled into his compartment, before the train had even started, David was already whispering into her ear, “Was that one of your lesbian friends? When are you going to invite me to watch?”
“After you first invite me to watch you as a catamite,” she’d said as she waved at Fitz, “taking it in every orifice.”
The present-day Helena smiled. They’d gone at it like Rome and Carthage, hadn’t they? And she’d fired off a number of excellent retorts she was proud to recall.
At some point during the night, David had gone to her room, collected her dressing robe, and put it on the back of a chair near the bed. She shrugged into the robe, walked to the window, and threw back the shutters. The sun had risen. Bea’s pond reflected brilliantly in the distance. Helena breathed in deeply, filled with a sweet contentment.
Which was disturbed a moment later by a sensation that she’d forgotten something. She chortled to herself. Of course she’d forgotten something—as much as half of her life at one point. But the sensation, as if something had burrowed inside her brain, would not go away.
She shook her head, trying to clear it. Oh, right, the pages of David’s manuscript. She’d better put them away before the servants came through. But when she glanced toward the foot of the bed, the music stand, as well as the manuscript pages, had already been removed—again a demonstration of David’s consideration.
Still the strange and increasingly disconcerting sensation remained. Was it something to do with Fitzhugh and Company? Had she forgotten to return a set of corrections to the printer? Or neglected to arrange advertising a particular title?
The sensation receded somewhat when it dawned on Helena that she’d at last remembered Millie. A feeling of tremendous fondness suffused her—dear, dear Millie. How they’d all grown to love her, and how she always kept surprising them. Together she and Fitz had proved to be remarkable hosts, presiding over many a joyful gathering of family and friends.
And, of course, Helena