Page 18 of Once Upon a Midnight Dream

She considered that for a moment.

“Perhaps, but I cannot make any promises. I shall not lie. However, I shall not offer him information either.” She tilted her head. “It does make me wonder all the more whether you are a blackguard and are faking your memory loss.”

He burst out laughing, immediately regretting it when his head nearly exploded. Cradling his throbbing skull between his hands, he gave her a cocky grin. “Are you always so suspicious, or do you simply have an over-active imagination?”

Crossing her arms, she speared him with a thunderous glare.

“Until I know what manner of man you are, I shall make no apologies for my qualms. And just because I am not handing you over to the sheriff today does not mean I shall not tomorrow. Understood?”

He felt rather like a chastened schoolboy. “Aye.”

Beneath her calm exterior, Miss Lilibet Granger was a spitfire.

Very interesting.

And intriguing.

“Good.” Stiff with disapproval and offense, she strode to the door. “I suggest you concentrate on regaining your memory and pray that you are not a miscreant. Know this: I shall do nothing to endanger the children or my staff.

“Nothing! If that means rendering you into the custody of the sheriff before you are fully recovered, I shall do so.”

With that fierce declaration, she shut the door, and a second later, the key scratched in the lock.

He sank back into the pillows.

That had not gone brilliantly, and he had forgotten to ask for a different nightshirt.

Sighing in self-disgust, he closed his eyes.

Who the bloody hell am I?

Six

Kelston Hall Children’s Home

Lilly’s office

Still the same day—quarter before four in the afternoon

Where is he?

For at least the fifth time in the past forty-five minutes, Lilly nudged aside the lace curtain with her bent forefinger and examined Kelston Hall’s circular paved stone drive.

Sheriff Wrottesley had not come.

Neither had the inconsiderate lawman sent an excuse by messenger.

True, as the county’s high sheriff, Wrottesley’s duties took him to villages, towns, and hamlets all over Northumberland.

That is when he fulfilled his duties.

Most of the time, he simply did as he pleased, and none dared complain for fear of retribution. Only the good Lord knew where the cur was today or why he had not kept his appointment.

“Enough of this.”

She let the age-yellowed panel slide back into place, where the lace swished against the decades-old, faded bronze damask draperies.

How Lilly despised the color and the musty old hangings.