Page 25 of My Duke, The Stranger
But the thought of doing that stung in ways she refused to consider. Despite it all, Isolde was seeing a new side of the duke, a side that was not what she expected, and a side that she rather liked.
This brought her no comfort, of course. If anything, it only made things worse… as if things could be any worse than they were.
Nine
“On a scale of one to ten, how painful are these headaches?” the physician asked. His name was Doctor Monroe, and despite his professionalism and clear concern for Cassian’s well-being, Cassian could not find it in himself to like the man.
“I am not…” Cassian huffed as he concentrated on the dull throbbing in the back of his skull.
The fact that he had to concentrate at all should have been good news. When he woke up just yesterday, he had barely been able to open his eyes, such was the pain he felt. In fact, were it not for Isolde’s beauty before him, he might have assumed that he had died and gone to hell.
Now, however, the pain was minimal. Certainly, it was less than it had been earlier today. Still there, a dull ache, but nothing to cause alarm.
“Perhaps a three?” Cassian ventured. “Although how one is meant to measure pain…” He scoffed.
“Three is good, yes?” Mr. Pemberton looked at Doctor Monroe.
“It is not a zero,” the physician said with a click of his tongue as he studied Cassian. “But it is not a five either.”
“Well said,” Cassian laughed.
“The point is, he is clearly improving. No doubt within a day or two, the headaches will be gone completely.” He nodded his head as if to finalize the point.
“And what of…” Mr. Pemberton glanced at Cassian as if he were afraid to finish his thought.
“I am not made of glass,” Cassian said. “There is no need to treat me as if I might break at the faintest touch.” He looked pointedly at the physician. “What Mr. Pemberton would like to know is when my memory will return.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mr. Pemberton agreed. “That is where I was going.”
The physician sighed. “I am afraid that is one question I cannot possibly answer. I spent much of last evening reading on the subject, and most of today.”
“Ah, so you are well versed then,” Cassian joked, which received not so much as a chuckle.
“Head trauma is a most delicate and imprecise topic,” the physician continued. “And that is where memory loss is not concerned. There is still so much we do not know about the human brain, and the more we learn, the more questions?—”
“Will you quit speaking around the topic?” Mr. Pemberton snapped.
“Easy, Mr. Pemberton,” Cassian said. “He is only doing his job. Or the best that he can do, all things considered. No sense scaring an answer out of him.”
Mr. Pemberton frowned at Cassian in a way that was becoming all too familiar. It happened whenever Cassian said something that Mr. Pemberton clearly found odd. Usually, after a joke was made, or a kind word was given.
Is it so strange that I am being nice? Is that why he looks at me that way?
“I have no clear answer for you,” Doctor Monroe said with some hesitancy. “I read every case study I could find on memory loss, and they all agree on one thing.”
“Which is…” Mr. Pemberton led the man.
“That we do not know anything. Most agree that following a traumatic head injury, the memories lost will return in time. It is like…” He clicked his tongue. “It is like a painting damaged by water. Beneath the stains, the picture is still intact. But getting to that picture, finding a way to reveal it…” He shrugged. “There is no answer.”
“Wonderful,” Mr. Pemberton sighed and folded his arms. “Just wonderful.”
“But they will return?” Cassian asked. Not with hope, though. As strange as it was, there was a part of him that almost hoped his memories would never return. Although why that was, he could not say.
“With time, I am sure,” Doctor Monroe said. “For now, all we can do is our best to make you comfortable. Living your life as normal will surely help. Friends, family, anyone that might spark something…” He nodded to himself. “Yes, it is best not to sit in a room and hope they come back. Better to try and force them, if that makes sense?”
“As we will continue to do.” Mr. Pemberton rested his hand on Cassian’s shoulder and squeezed it. “I promise you, Your Grace, your memories will return. They must.”
Cassian smiled warmly at Mr. Pemberton.
