hand. "Miss Jocelyn Westin. I'm pleased to meet you."
As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized another blunder. I was supposed to have known this man already, and here I was introducing myself again. When would anything go right?
A look of confusion passed over his features before he dismissed it and tentatively took my hand and bowed his head slightly in a gentlemanly fashion. "A pleasure, Miss Westin. I am your servant." His hand felt warm even through my glove sending tingling sensations up my arm. He released me much too soon.
"Please, sit down," I invited, directing him to the chair across from my settee. A moment of silence passed before I remembered basic hospitality. Thankfully it was universal in any culture. "Would you care for tea, sir?" I offered, wondering how I would get the tea short of yelling for Wains.
"No, thank you." His words were sincere and his eyes were warm as he watched me. No wonder Mrs. Trimbleton thought I was trying to gain this man's attention. He was handsome and kind. He had nice teeth—a definite plus in this time period. "I was calling to see how you had fared after yesterday. You gave us all quite a scare there in the park."
"Thank you. I'm much better, only a few lingering ailments." Like losing myself a few hundred years in the past, not knowing anyone I've supposedly known my whole life, and my all-around inability to function in any social setting.
He nodded and then waited. His eyes searched mine. The intensity of his expression led me to believe he was waiting for me to explain further.
What now? I groaned to myself. I didn't want him thinking I was incompetent, but at the same time he'd already seen my inability to greet, meet, and welcome him, so how much worse could it get if he knew the truth? At least it would be coming from me and not a servant who'd heard it through the grapevine. By then I'd have no memory at all, or worse as little embellishments attached themselves to the gossip.
I breathed a frustrated sigh that caused him to raise his eyebrows. Apparently a lady didn't sigh aloud, either. I needed a crash course in etiquette, and quick. First things first, though.
Here goes nothing. "Well… I do seem to have some memory issues." At least the accent was becoming easier and more natural. Unable to force myself into the famous polite aloofness of the British, I decided I needed to be myself—at least the self I remembered being. "Honestly, I can't remember my own butler's name or where the kitchen is located. I have no idea if I've ever met you or if I even like you. It's all quite frustrating." I accentuated my words with my hands as I'd always done, even as a little girl. I'd never been able to detach my words from my actions.
Taking a deep breath, I watched a shocked Morgan Ansley collect himself and settle on a brief smile that crinkled his eyes causing them to twinkle mischievously. The grin matched with his killer baby blues was overwhelming and my heart stuttered with fierce attraction. "Forgive me. I don't mean to find humor in your situation, but your speech was quite… entertaining. I haven't seen a woman of breeding display such pass — er, emotion in such an overt way before."
"I can easily see how I could be entertaining. I often amuse myself, so I took no offense." I waved my hand again slightly, watching his eyes follow my movement. A smile bent his lips, drawing my attention to their fullness once more.
"To answer your questions — or at least the one I can help with — yes, we've met before. His eyes lingered on mine as if willing for me to remember him. After a moment, he glanced down. When he met my scrutiny once more, his expression was guarded. He didn’t elaborate on our acquaintance any further, which made me burn with curiosity. "I was surprised to see you yesterday, but felt I should impose on your company today to appease my conscience by making sure you were well." His voice rang with sincerity as his gaze roamed my face, but the expression of warmth was quickly extinguished. I tilted my head in confusion.
"Well, thank you," I replied graciously. "That was very kind of you. Consider your conscience appeased." Something about him seemed oddly familiar, but it couldn't be possible. Shaking my