The Duke's Deceit Read Online Free PDF

somehow he made it the short distance. Supporting himself on flat palms against the oak stand, he stared at his reflection.
    Dark hair tumbled around a strong face, the skin marked with bruises beneath hooded eyes. The nose was straight, and the mouth long. He wasn’t displeased with the reflection; he was simply looking into the face of a stranger.
    He was a stranger! Everything about this place, this room, and these people was unknown to him. Closing his eyes, he tried to capture an elusive shadow shifting back in the utter blankness of his mind.
    It eluded him. Opening his eyes again on the countenance of this strange man, he reviewed what he did know.
    His name was Richard.
    Somehow he knew that was true. It … felt correct.
    And he was engaged.
    He sensed it somehow, back in the emptiness of his mind. Just as he knew he did not love his betrothed.
    Damn, why couldn’t he remember!
    His anger brought such shooting pain through his skull that he gasped and took a long shuddering breath. A wave of weakness washed over him. He had no choice but to stumble back and crawl into the narrow bed.
    The door creaked slowly open a few moments after he’d settled with a deep sigh of relief back upon the pillows. The fey creature entered, moving with unconscious grace even though she carried a tray laden with a bowl of soup, a generous chunk of bread with heat still rising from its brown crust, and a glass of milk.
    He eyed the white obnoxious stuff and lifted his right brow. Instantly he regretted this show of disdain, as a frisson of pain throbbed through his head.
    “I would prefer brandy.” At least his voice held a bit more strength than before.
    Suddenly her thin face was transformed by a smile that brought dancing lights to the cornflower eyes, and a deep dimple appeared beside the sweetly curved cherry lips.
    “I’m quite sure you would,” she laughed, a musical sound that was oddly soothing to his aching head. “However, until the doctor arrives, I fear I cannot offer you spirits.”
    She set the tray on the stand beside the bed and unfolded the napkin to lay beneath his chin. “Uncle Ian has gone for him.”
    “Mary, how long have we been engaged?” His blunt question banished her enchanting smile, and he saw blood flow brightly beneath the fine translucent skin of her face. How could he
not
love such an enchanting creature?
    “Richard, I must tell…”
    Whatever she was about to say was lost as the door creaked open.
    “Mary my girl, met the doctor at the front gate. Comin’ to check on our patient.”
    Pain shot up his neck as he pushed himself higher on the pillows.
    “Jeffries!” The name burst out of him on a wave of acute relief. At last, someone he knew!
    His elation lasted only a moment, receding as quickly as it had come, for the wiry man with the riotous red hair and beard shook his head.
    “No, lad, I’m Ian Masterton, Mary’s uncle.”
    He closed his eyes against the disappointment, racking his foggy brain for answers. He knew someone named Jeffries. A man who greatly resembled Mary’s uncle.
    A sense of great fondness lapped at the edges of his empty mind. Then sorrow pierced the blackness. Jeffries was dead. He didn’t know how or when; he just knew it was true.
    “Well, sir, let us see how you are doing.”
    The doctor’s voice brought him back to this new world populated by a man who tugged at his lost memories and a fiancée who looked frightened to death of him. She cast him one final glance from troubled eyes before she fled the room.
    The doctor, also unknown to him, smiled. “Now, sir, tell me how you are feeling.”
    He met Ian Masterton’s steady eyes before allowing his gaze to rest on the far wall. “It seems whatever accident befell me robbed me of my memory.” His lazy drawl shocked him. The next moment he smiled, settling deeper into the pillows; these slightly sarcastic tones rang true. “I have no recognition of this place nor any idea who I am.”
    “Mary, what are