Intertwine (13 page)

Emme nodded with some relief. That rang true somehow. At least there wasn’t a small child somewhere sobbing for her lost mother. She most definitely couldn’t fathom being a parent.

Amen, sista,
Alter Emme agreed.

“We have deduced quite a bit about you from your clothing, to be honest,” Georgiana admitted, giving a faintly proud smile.

“Truly?” Emme asked. “What have you learned?”

Georgiana leaned forward and recounted everything she had told her brothers over breakfast, though she omitted the worst of Arthur’s suspicions. Emme added it all to her mental list. She was probably a lady, someone with money and a place in society. Somewhere out there, someone had to care about her. They would come. Knowing that eased her anxiety. Well, somewhat. She might be a genteel lady, but she had no memory of how to act like one.

“Thank you,” Emme said sincerely. “Though it seems like so little, each small piece of information helps.”

A firm rap sounded at the door, causing her to jump slightly.

“Come,” Georgiana called.

Emme looked up as Mr. James Knight walked into the room.

Chapter 11

T
he air whooshed out of Emme’s lungs at the sight of him, all wind-blown hair and lively blue eyes.

Again, his presence felt important. Significant.

As if her life had been focused down to this one, singular moment.

She had that odd sense of recognition—that she should know him somehow.

He was dressed in a form-fitting dark blue coat, a white cravat loosely tied around his neck. Tan buckskins disappeared into the top of knee high boots.

He looked . . . looked . . .

Yummy,
Alter Emme noted with satisfaction.

Emme took a steadying breath, the room suddenly too warm.

“I was informed that our guest has awakened,” he said with a broad grin. “I can see that was correct.”

He had a crinkly smile. The kind of smile that took over the entire face, broad creases and wrinkled eyes. Emme immediately liked his smile. She found herself echoing it back.

Yep. Definitely yummy,
Alter Emme approved.

Yes, indeed.

“Welcome, James,” Georgiana said. Then turning to Emme, “This is my eldest brother, Mr. James Knight. Though you most likely remember him a little.”

“Indeed. I believe I most likely owe you my life, Mr. Knight. Thank you.”

His smile deepened as he made her a small bow. “It was my pleasure, madam.”

Emme instantly liked his voice, low and rumbly.

“Please sit with us, brother. I was just telling our mysterious guest everything we have deduced about her.”

“Excellent,” James said, coming forward. He casually picked up a chair from the fireplace and swung it around to rest next to his sister’s. He sank into it, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles, clasping his hands behind his head.

Emme noted his restless energy. How it bounced off the walls in the small room. Some part of him always in motion. A foot bouncing. A hand twitching.

“So what have you already told our guest?” he asked Georgiana. “What does she make of the locket?”

“Locket?” Emme asked, senses instantly on alert. “What locket?”

“James,” Georgiana scolded. “We have not reached that part of the conversation yet.”

“Does this locket belong to me?”

“I’m so sorry. I really should have shown you this first thing.” Georgiana reached into a hidden pocket in her skirt and pulled out a golden locket. “We found it around your neck.”

“It’s most extraordinary, to be sure,” James said with an enigmatic smile.

“Extraordinary?” Emme asked. She took the locket from Georgiana’s outstretched hand and studied it.

“Is it familiar to you?” he asked.

A memory stirred, brief and fluttering. Her hand reaching into brittle cloth, the smell of moth balls. And then nothing else. Chasing the elusive thoughts through her brain, Emme tried to hold them, but the memories refused to be caught. Nothing more came.

“It seems somewhat familiar,” she said tentatively. Holding the locket, she examined it closely, noting the interwoven hair and gilded initials on the back. The initials felt significant. She briefly saw them, as if looking down a dark tunnel, larger and etched into something.

But as soon as the image came, it flitted away, dancing just out of reach. Shaking her head, Emme opened the locket and then stared in puzzlement.

Mr. Knight’s kind face stared back at her.

Blinking, she raised her head to the flesh and blood Mr. Knight. And then back to the portrait in the locket. Their expressions were mirror images of each other.

“Is this some kind of joke?” she asked, raising her eyes back to his, cocking an eyebrow in confusion. “I thought Georgiana said we had never met. Is there an explanation for this? Do I know you after all?”

“No, we had never met before this week,” Mr. Knight replied with a slight sigh, shifting his weight forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Though it appears you know someone who greatly resembles me.”

“Truly? This locket is just a tremendous coincidence then?” Emme tried to keep the disbelief from her voice but didn’t completely succeed.

Mr. Knight shrugged and scrubbed a hand through his golden hair, turning it from tastefully disheveled to deliciously mussed.

“I know it seems terribly suspicious. I’ve had a devil of a time convincing Georgiana and Arthur that this portrait is not of me. It does seem an almost impossible occurrence, but I assure you we have never met before.”

“Are you certain? Perhaps we have met and you have merely forgotten.”

Mr. Knight laughed, an enigmatic expression on his face. He gave her a long, measured look. “I assure you, madam, I would most certainly remember if we had met before.”

Emme blinked.

Indeed.

She swallowed. “What a remarkable coincidence. I guess that explains the sense of recognition. You do seem vaguely familiar to me. But not exactly like a memory.” She paused trying to catch onto the feeling, but it darted away.

“Does the inscription mean anything to you?” Georgiana asked, gesturing toward the locket case.

Inscription?
Emme paused and, with a quizzical glance, looked down and quietly read the engraved words.

To E

throughout all time

heart of my soul

your F

A visceral reaction robbed her of breath. This was familiar, painfully and achingly so. Was this her? Was she E? And who was F? Did he love her as the locket implied? She searched her mind, trying to find something, anything that might offer an explanation. But again, nothing. Her confusion and surprise must have shown on her face.

“Are you well?” Mr. Knight asked. “The inscription means something to you?”

“Yes . . . ,” Emme replied, and then instantly following, “no. . . . I mean it feels so familiar, but I have no concrete memories of it. I don’t know who E or F are. What do you think the inscription means? Aside from the obvious, of course.”

“It would imply that you have someone who cares deeply for you,” Georgiana said. “Someone who is probably not a brother or father, as the gentleman in the portrait is too young to be your father and most likely too fair-headed to be your brother.”

“Besides,” Mr. Knight interjected, raising his eyebrows, “that inscription is hardly fraternal in tone.”

“Indeed not, Mr. Knight,” Emme agreed, matching his smile with one of her own.

Oh yes, she definitely loved how he welcomed smiles and laughter easily. Like they were old friends.

Their eyes met and held for a moment.

And then another.

Emme found it slightly harder to breath.

Are you sparking on him?
Alter Emme asked.
Cause I’m definitely feeling a spark right now.

Emme ignored her. A spark was the last thing she needed right now. Mr. Knight was clearly the wrong man, despite his laughing eyes and delectable mussed hair.

She looked back down at the inscription and the portrait of F. Was he the right man? With a slight shake of her head, Emme hunted for some scrap of memory, anything that would bring her to herself.

James watched emotions skitter across their guest’s face as she looked at the locket in her hand. He hadn’t lied when he said he would most definitely remember a face such as hers. Truly. All pale skin contrasting with dark chocolate hair, short and curling around her face. A smile making her eyes dance.

And those eyes. Large and expressive. He had imagined them to be dark like her hair. But instead, he found himself at a loss to describe their surprising color. Green and gold all at once. Startlingly unexpected.

James wondered if there might even be a little bit of whimsy deviltry behind that smile. Beauty and good-natured wit?

Ah, that would be delightful.

Of course, Georgiana immediately brought his thoughts back to reality.

“It must be a comfort to realize that whoever gave you this locket must love you,” she said. “Do you suppose he is your betrothed?”

The locket. Of course. There was that small fact. Their lovely guest most likely was attached to someone else, emotionally if not legally. He needed to keep that thought front and center.

Their guest sighed and gazed at the portrait for a moment. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “I feel a tug of recognition when I look at it. But then I felt the same sense of familiarity when Mr. Knight walked in the room. And as you both insist that we have never met, then everything just becomes cloudy and confusing.”

Georgiana looked at James, exchanging a meaningful look. “We feel that it might be best to avoid mentioning or showing the locket to others,” she said turning back to their guest. “We know that James is not the man in the portrait, but others might not be so understanding. And gossip can be malicious.”

“Of course,” their guest said, nodding her head in agreement. “I completely understand.”

Georgiana pursed her mouth. “Do you think that your name starts with an E?” she asked. Georgiana was drifting into detective mode, James realized. No mystery would remain unsolved on her watch.

“I couldn’t say. Is that likely?”

“It is a definite possibility,” James replied.

“My thoughts exactly, brother,” Georgiana agreed, her voice business-like. “To that end, I made a list of possible ladies’ names that start with the letter E. I figured it would give us a place to start.”

James chuckled, “Ah, Georgie, you and your endless lists.”

“There is nothing wrong with the making of a good list, brother dear,” Georgiana said primly as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, smoothing it open.

“Indeed there is not,” James agreed. “Though you must admit your penchant for list-making borders on the absurd at times. Remember when you listed—and named, I might add—all your freckles?”

“Oh, James! Don’t be horrid.” Georgiana exclaimed, swatting him good-naturedly on the shoulder and then said, turning to their guest. “You must understand, I was only nine-years-old at the time. Obviously, a novice at list making.”

James merely laughed again, ignoring the mock-scowl Georgiana gave him.

“List making is not to be taken lightly,” agreed their guest. “Had I pen and paper, I think I should like to make a few lists of my own.” Her face showed not an ounce of irony. Just honest sincerity.

Perhaps he had been mistaken about the trace of wit.

“Truly?” Georgiana asked, looking up from her paper, happily eyeing the woman in the bed. “Oh, I knew that we should be friends from the moment I first saw you! How delightful!”

Their guest smiled warmly. She had the straightest, whitest teeth he had ever seen. Nearly unnaturally so.

“Truly. List making is probably the first thing today that has felt absolutely right,” she laughed.

Again, no irony.

“List-making?” James asked with an arched eyebrow. “Am I really sitting here watching you two bosom-friending over lists? Shouldn’t you be bonding over bonnets or embroidery circles?”