Miss Wonderful: Number 1 in Series by Loretta Chase

Author:Loretta Chase [Chase, Loretta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Historical
ISBN: 9780349411798
Google: DjA9CgAAQBAJ
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2015-09-03T10:02:07+00:00

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Chapter 11

ALISTAIR might have withstood the other arguments, though they sent his conscience into spasms.

What demolished his resistance was the You don't know the half of it, and the captain's tone, hinting at revelations to come.

Alistair wished he could pretend his motive was practical: The more he knew about Miss Oldridge, the better equipped he would be to either win her support for the canal or weaken her influence over others.

But that was a monstrous lie. The truth was, he wanted to know more about her in the same way he wanted more of her on every other count—because he was thoroughly, fatally, besotted.

His case being fatal, he yielded to the captain and moved next door.

Though not built on the grand scale of Oldridge Hall, Bramblehurst was not the country cottage one might envision as the residence of a half-pay captain. It was not, furthermore, a typically untidy bachelor abode. The place was scrubbed and polished to within an inch of its life. Captain Hughes obviously believed naval discipline applied as well on land as at sea.

He adhered as strictly to Dr. Woodfrey's rules as if they came direct from the Admiralty.

He rigorously enforced the "no visitors" and "no mental exertion" rules, and made certain Alistair had the proper amount of exercise. He shared his guest's restricted diet, much as he would have shared his officers' privations during extended periods between ports. He was a congenial and thoughtful host, who neither intruded too much upon his guest's solitude nor left Alistair too much on his own.

Nonetheless, the nightmares worsened, night by night, revealing more of what had previously remained hidden in a dark corner of Alistair's mind. Now he wasn't sure which was worse: the gaping hole in his memory and the nagging anxiety that something was irreparably wrong there, or the moments of painfully vivid recollection that revealed a man he hardly recognized, one who was antithesis of all he'd supposed himself to be.

He didn't know how much to believe. Were these true memories, as they seemed? Or were they distortions, as dreams so often were?

He kept these worries to himself, however, as he'd kept the missing piece of memory secret—with one exception—along with the uncertainty it produced about the health and wholeness of his mind.

Every morning at breakfast, when the captain asked if he'd slept well, Alistair claimed he'd slept like a top.

But on Friday when he gave the usual answer, Hughes shook his head. "I wonder how you can sleep so soundly with such dismal results," he said. "Your eyes are sunk halfway into your skull, and it appears someone has blacked both your eyes. You're not lying awake fretting about your canal, I hope."

"Certainly not," Alistair said. "That accomplishes nothing."

"You shouldn't weary your mind with trying to guess what Miss Oldridge will do, either," said the captain. "You'll imagine she'll act according to rational rules of engagement, when in fact she'll do nothing of the kind."

"Ah, well, women's and men's minds are different," Alistair said.

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