Chapter 30

The next day dawned hot and humid. After making love once more as the sky grew light, Antonio and Caroline arose. They hurried their sketchy ablutions knowing if they lingered in a bath, they’d lose track of time. Eating breakfast, James and Lorena were already seated in one of the inn’s private dining rooms.

“You’re early risers, cousins,” Antonio greeted them, smiling.

“It’s something we both became accustomed to while working at the White Whale,” James responded.

“Oh my, yes,” Lorena agreed. “It was heaven to sleep on a soft mattress last night instead of lying on scratchy hay in the pub’s stable. I’m surprised we awakened when we did after experiencing such pure pleasure.”

She smiled at her husband.

“You’ll soon get used to your former luxuries, Lorena,” Caroline told her. “After all, you’re the Duke and Duchess of Weston.”

“I understand…but…you and Antonio…”

Antonio interrupted. “We’re going directly to London from here. James must meet with Doctor Swinton, and I shall see our…the family’s…solicitors and hear what is to be done to restore the rightful title and lands to you both—the rightful duke and duchess. In the meantime, let’s enjoy our breakfast so that we can begin your journey home.”

The rescued Thorndykes nodded in agreement.

Just as they were finishing, the innkeeper announced Harold Coachman. “Come in, coachman,” Antonio called to him. “Is all in readiness for our departure?”

“Aye, 'tis, Yer Grace.” Glancing toward James and Lorena, the servant stammered. “I be mighty glad to see ye…er, Yer Graces. We all thought…”

“It’s good to see you again, Harold Coachman,” Lorena answered him quickly. “And to return home.”

“Speaking of that,” Antonio turned to the grizzled driver. “Give this message to your best outrider on the fastest horse. He’s to ride to Westhaven and take it to my Uncle Carlos. My uncle and aunt will notify staff at Weston House of our London arrival. We should be there within the week. The town house is to be opened but the knocker is to remain off the door. Is that understood, Harold Coachman?”

“Aye, Yer Grace.”

“Then get your man on his way. As soon as you’ve done so, bring the carriage round front. We’ll depart immediately.”

The first part of the Thorndykes’ journey took them back across Holy Island and onto the mainland where the hills again gradually rose onto the rougher terrain of the Cambrian Mountains. The coachman set a faster pace but not so fast as to render the horses lame or unable to go on.

Slowed by several days of rainy weather, Antonio sent another of Westhaven’s outriders to alert his grandmother’s servants to be prepared for the four Thorndykes’ unexpected stopover at Stanton House. Harold Coachman had estimated they’d reach Wantage in time for a late supper. The Thorndykes opted to remain overnight, preferring a fresh start before proceeding to London the following day.

* * * *

Antonio had considered stopping at Stanton House with Caroline on their outward trip to Ireland but decided against it. They had connections to make with Terence Kilburn's ship. It was the first time Antonio had returned to his father’s former estate since he was at university. His grandmother now made her home there.

“Ah, we are here at last, Antonio,” James remarked as the laden coach turned into the entrance and headed up the long drive that curved slightly uphill to a modest manor house.

“You remember it, James? I stayed here during classes when I was at university. But, alas, I haven‘t visited since my return to Spain.” It’s a good sign that James remembered, Antonio thought. Perhaps a return to England would be enough to spur his cousin’s full memory.

“Yes, the countryside seems quite familiar. I believe things are coming back sporadically, Antonio.” James had plied the younger Thorndykes with question after question during the coach trip. Caroline knew more of his recent past than Antonio did, and she tried to give vivid descriptions of what went on at Westhaven and Crestwood before the sailboat accident. Lorena, too, filled in where Caroline left off. Much time was taken up by anecdotes meant to help James recall his former life.

“Oh James,” Caroline said with a wide grin. “I remember one day Demon and I met you at the stream. I can still see the trout jumping out of the water and on to Joshua’s fishhook…”

She stopped short, smothering the rest of her story. “I mean…er…I still recall that you loved to fish. And shoot, too, isn’t that true?” she mumbled, trying to correct her faux pas.

The three had purposely not mentioned Joshua’s name on the way to London.

Caroline met Antonio’s eyes. When she saw his expression, she knew what he was thinking—it was their first real intimate meeting at the same stream.

He winked at her, watching waves of pink rising toward her cheeks. He loved it when she blushed.

“You know, James,” Antonio jumped in to salvage the awkward pause after mention of Joshua’s name. “It was five months ago that I returned to England. Dios, so much has transpired since then.”

James glanced over at Antonio. “Marriage has changed you, Tony. I think so. Am I correct?”

“Si, I’m happy and content. Something I never thought to happen. Caroline and I are to leave for Spain soon. I’ll again be Antonio de las Torres Thorndyke, of Sevilla, Spain, in reality, and not an English duke.”

“I seem to recall that my uncle still holds a powerful title.”

“Yes,” Antonio answered. “If you recall, Sebastian became Earl of Bradford when your father assumed the title of duke.”

James nodded, if a little vaguely.

“My father’s only remaining property in England is the one we’re approaching,” Antonio explained. “Stanton House came to him from his grandmother’s family. The tenant farmers keep it self-sustaining.”

“Your father never had any intention of returning to England permanently?”

“No. It’s seems strange that my father never thought to return to England after Waterloo. But he did not, or he would never have wooed and married my mother. I suppose Sebastian kept Stanton House for its sentimental reasons. When he purchased his colors and left for the Continent, there was a falling out with his mother and our Grandmama. I’m told the estate will remain in the Thorndyke family should we ever need it. Of course, that’s Grandmama dower house, but right now she’s staying at Westhaven to keep an eye on my sister, Briella.”

“Ah, yes. I seem to recall you had a sister. A youngster, an unbridled hoyden.”

“Briella. Yes, she made her come out this past spring,” Antonio replied with a chuckle.

The messenger who was sent ahead by Antonio had reached Stanton House, so all was in readiness for the Thorndykes' expected arrival. The young relatives ate supper in a relaxed mood, slept well then arose early the following morning for the last leg of their journey toward London.

* * * *

As was the usual case, servants at Weston House already knew that James and Lorena, the former duke and duchess, had been found alive in Ireland and were on their way to London with the newest duke and duchess. The staff was agog, flustered, and in somewhat of a quandary as to how to address the two aristocratic couples when they arrived.

After reviewing their predicament, Morris, the Weston House butler advised, “Best we address them all as 'Your Grace' until we’re told otherwise,” he said, pursing his lips. “Now, all of you stop this lollygagging about and get on with your duties. We don’t wish anything amiss when their Graces arrive.”

The clatter of wheels and hooves on the cobblestones outside Weston House announced the arrival of the ducal coach. Harold Coachman pulled the tired horses to an easy halt. Morris threw open the front portal and sent four footmen scurrying down the wide stairs to unlatch the carriage door and pull down the steps. The butler remained austere and dignified at the mansion’s entrance, vowing to keep his composure at all costs when James and Lorena came up the stairs.

Baggage was already being unloaded as the four Thorndykes mounted the stone staircase. Lorena and James preceded Caroline and Antonio. James looked about him as they neared the top step, taking in his surroundings with a sharp eye.

“Good afternoon, Your Graces,” Morris intoned in his most dignified manner, his look resting first on James. “I’m extremely happy you’ve come home to Weston House. I welcome you on behalf of your staff.”

Lorena visibly jumped when James replied, “Good afternoon, Morris. Thank you. It’s good to be back.”

Caroline and Antonio hadn’t overheard the exchange or they, too, would have been surprised that James called the butler by name.

If either James or Lorena turned back after entering the mansion, they would have seen Morris's face, his eyes flooded with glad tears in danger of overflowing. He blinked rapidly to keep the salty fluid from escaping. Such an overwhelming circumstance would have disgraced his butler-like countenance. Morris greeted Antonio and Caroline, his eyes boring straight ahead, so as not to show any emotional response to the safe return of his former master and mistress.

James and Lorena halted and looked around as if they couldn’t believe their good fortune to be really home. Lorena looked up at her husband and saw his eyes taking in the reality of it. Unmoving, they paused at the foot of the stairs to the second story.

“Thank God,” James murmured a fervent prayer as he squeezed his wife’s gloved fingers.

Speaking up quickly, Caroline requested, “Morris, please have tea ready in a half hour. I think we’d like to freshen up before that.” Morris seemed to hesitate, and Antonio perceived his dilemma.

“Show their Graces to the duke's suite, Morris. You may put Lady Caroline and my baggage in the Rose Suite.”

“Has Daisy arrived?” Caroline asked.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” Morris replied. “I’ll see that she’s summoned immediately.”

“Thank you. Please arrange for one or two servants to assist Your Graces.” Antonio nodded to the butler.

Lorena and James mounted the elegant staircase to the upper floor. At Morris' direction, a footman hurried ahead to the duke's bedchamber and swung open the door. Meanwhile, James had strolled slowly along the corridor, observing family portraits, sculptures, and artifacts—everything that should be familiar to him. Lorena watched her husband closely, but said nothing. The footman holding the door couldn’t resist saying, “Welcome home, Your Graces.”

“Thank you, Standish,” James replied to the footman, adding a smile. James closed the door behind him and Lorena.

“James!” Lorena almost shrieked. “You remembered our servants’ names, dearest! What else do you remember? Tell me…tell me now,” she exclaimed, her fingers gripping his sleeve as she gazed up at her smiling husband.

“Lorena…Oh, God, Lorena, it’s coming back. I don't know how or why, but it's coming back. I simply knew that Morris was our butler and that one of our footman was named Standish.”

“Oh, thank the Lord, James!” Tears coursed down her cheeks as she sobbed in happiness. James put his comforting arms around his wife to calm her. “It will be all right, my dear. Please don't cry.”

“But…but…James, you remember!”

He stepped away from her and meandered around the room touching objects here and there. “Not everything, Lorena, not yet. But I feel much more like James Thorndyke now that we're back in England. We must still go slowly, dearest. Just keep telling me things I should know. I don’t want you to say anything yet to Antonio and Caroline. Not until I’m sure.”

“And do you remember Joshua?” she asked hesitantly.

James's face clouded, wiping away his happy smile. “I told you, wife,” he declared firmly. “I know nothing of anyone named Joshua.” His annoyance was evident. “Do not persist in that folly for you only anger me, Lorrie,” he replied harshly. He snapped around and strode through the dressing room that separated the duchess’s bedchamber and that of the duke’s.

Lorena slumped into a nearby chair with head bowed. She was upset anew at her husband’s volatile reaction to Joshua's name. Everything was still not right with him. They must see Doctor Swinton as soon as possible.

* * * *

Early the next morning Antonio sent a messenger to one of Weston’s aging solicitors, Phineas Marble. He arrived shortly after ten o’clock and was quickly closeted with Antonio in the Weston House library.

Lorena and James awaited the arrival of Doctor Swinton in their chambers. The physician was flabbergasted upon learning of their rescue, and assured the messenger who arrived from Weston House that he would attend the aristocrats forthwith. True to his word, he was on their doorstep within the hour and was ushered up to the duke's chambers with all due haste.

Only Caroline had no pressing plans. She bathed leisurely while everyone else was busy. It gave her something to do while waiting to learn what happened behind those two important doors—the duke’s study and the duke's bedchamber.

Daisy helped her mistress. “'Tis all of a miracle, my lady,” she began. “Imagine, the duke and duchess in Ireland all this time, and we thought them drowned.”

Caroline was submerged up to her shoulders in delightfully hot water while Daisy proceeded to wash her abundant tresses with rose scented soap. Caroline relaxed, but there was still the unknown to face.

As if she were reading her mistress's mind, Daisy asked, “And what happened to Their Graces' son, Joshua, milady? Wasn’t he with them? Is he following behind?”

“Oh, Daisy, we don’t know what happened to him. We just don’t know,” Caroline repeated. “Lorena thinks Joshua was still in the boat and wasn’t dumped overboard like she and James were, but James doesn’t acknowledge there is anyone belonging to the family named Joshua.”

She met her maid’s eyes, and Caroline’s sad expression showed her concern. “Oh, it’s so sad, Daisy, and so awful for poor Lorena, not knowing.”

Daisy’s face mirrored Caroline’s. “’Tis a terrible shame, milady.”

“I only hope Doctor Swinton can cure James’s problem.”

* * * *

Doctor Swinton made a physical examination of both Lorena and James. He declared them both underweight, but other than the time spent in Ireland, they seemed to have suffered no serious ill effects.

It was Lorena that brought up the problem of James's memory loss and seemingly, its partial recovery.

“A blow to the head such as you describe, Your Grace,” the physician said, his comments directed to James, “could bring on your inability to remember the past. But I’m curious, however. When were you aware that things were coming back to you?”

“Not too long after Caroline and Antonio rescued us,” James answered. “It seems as soon as I was away from the White Whale pub and treated as I was used to being, I began to feel like myself again. I can’t tell you the overwhelming satisfaction I had while remembering things. I can only describe it as being locked behind a thick door that suddenly closed and wouldn’t open. Everything that went before, everything I knew, was suddenly wiped from my mind. Those few hours in Scotland’s chill waters were all I remembered clearly. Sometimes I thought I’d found a key to unlock the door, but then it would slam shut again. I remembered the present, but nothing of my past. It's been holy hell to live like that, I can tell you, Doctor Swinton.”

“You both are otherwise home safe…ahem…I take it? Just the two of you?” the good doctor asked, eyeing Lorena.

Looking guardedly at James and back at the physician, Lorena replied. “Yes, just us, Doctor Swinton.” She closed her mouth, fearing to excite James's angry reaction another time, while she demonstrated an almost invisible negative shake of the head.

The physician noticed the look Lorena directed at her husband after hearing his inquiry. The duchess hadn’t elaborated, however, and he wondered at the significance of that, but said nothing further. The physician thought it best not to question the duke about the boy’s drowning. Anything might upset the duke’s fragile memory.

“Well, Your Graces, I see no further need of my services at the moment. I’ll want to check on you both that everything progresses nicely in the future. Naturally, you may call on me whenever you have a need.”

“Indeed, Doctor,” James replied. “We plan to spend a few days at Westhaven.”

“That should be no problem, Your Grace. I hope I may schedule another visit soon, however.”

Lorena trailed after the physician as he took his leave from the duke’s bedchamber. “I’ll show you out, Doctor Swinton. I’d like you to recommend something to hurry the cure for my unsightly, chapped hands.”

Swinton turned and said, “Good day, then, Your Grace.”

James nodded.

The physician left with Lorena at his side, shutting the door behind them. She hurried him farther down the hallway.

“Oh, Doctor Swinton, there’s more that isn’t right with James,” she explained anxiously.

“Whatever do you mean, Your Grace? The duke has lost weight, and there is still the problem of memory loss, but…”

“But that's not all of it,” she added in a hushed whisper. “James won’t acknowledge that we have a son—Joshua! He denies having heard of such a person. Oh, Doctor Swinton, why is he doing this?” she whispered frantically, trying not to cry, pressing a balled handkerchief to her mouth to smother her fright.

“So, that's it. I wondered why he… But tell me first. Where is Joshua?”

“I don't know. He wasn’t in the water with us when we were rescued. I think…I hope…he wasn’t cast overboard as we were. Caroline, who read the story in the London Times, told me that our small boat was found days later a short distance up the coast from Ayr. But the sailboat was empty. I feel that Joshua is out there somewhere, Doctor, still alive. Perhaps, in Scotland. I want to begin a search for him, but I can’t do so if James refuses to acknowledge he even exists.”

“There, there, Your Grace, your husband can’t deny Joshua forever. There are too many people who’ve seen the boy and know that he’s your son.”

James had been heavily involved in the House of Lords. He and Lorena spent much of their year in the Metropolis and removed to Westhaven only on holidays. The doctor had treated Joshua when the boy suffered from a childhood illness while they lived in London.

“James will come to that realization in due time. It’s best we don’t press him about it. He’s just beginning to adjust to his memory recovery. I wouldn’t want to do anything to hinder that. Perhaps, as he regains those lost memories, he’ll acknowledge Joshua is part of them.”

“Oh, Doctor, do you really think so? Do you?”

“We can only wait and see, Your Grace. The mind plays strange games sometimes.”

Lorena wasn’t happy about his remarks. “I suppose I’ll have to abide by your advice, Doctor Swinton,” she agreed half-heartedly. “In no way do I wish to upset James's recovery. But I’m so worried…and anxious to find Joshua.”

“I understand, Your Grace. Perhaps we’ll see a change the next time I examine your husband.” He paused briefly. “Oh, Your Grace?” He wrote something on a small pad. “Send this to your apothecary. The potion will treat the red, inflamed skin of your hands.” He smiled. “I’ll be in touch in a week or so. Contact me immediately should something new occur.” He bowed and said, “I bid you good day, Your Grace.”

Putting on his hat, the doctor descended the stairs to the street and climbed into his carriage. “Thank you,” Lorena murmured, watching his departure with worried eyes.

* * * *

Antonio's conference with Phineas Marble proceeded as he anticipated. The title and everything else would revert to James since he was the true duke. It would take time for verification and paperwork to reestablish James’s claim, but Marble had no doubt that James would be reinstated quickly. Especially since Antonio wanted none of it and wouldn’t contest his cousin’s claim.

Antonio yanked the bell pull and summoned Morris to ask James to join them. When James entered the study, Phineas Marble jumped to his feet. “Your Grace,” he exclaimed. “I’m so glad to see you back.”

“Marble,” James greeted him with an austere nod.

Antonio said nothing, realizing James either had recovered his memory or was rapidly doing so. He hadn’t mentioned Marble’s name, and his cousin knew it. After the meeting he would question James how he knew the solicitor’s name.

The three men took seats. Marble and Antonio reviewed the import of their earlier meeting with James, who had several questions. They were answered in an affirmative by Weston’s solicitor. Acknowledging that he, himself, could attest to James’s identity, Marble left, promising to get things moving rapidly.

Antonio sat behind the large desk while James strode to the windows and gazed out over the side garden. Antonio appraised his cousin's revitalized appearance. The Weston servants had found clothing in the mansion's storage rooms. Dressed in the attire of a gentleman again, James looked every bit the duke. His hair had been barbered and he had been given a close shave, and although his clothing hung somewhat loosely on his frame, James’s carriage and demeanor now reflected his rank.

“James,” Antonio addressed him. “If I don’t mistake it, you’re remembering things.” It was a statement instead of a question.

The nobleman turned from the windows and faced his younger cousin. He sighed with satisfaction. “Yes, it seems so, Antonio. I question the reason why, but…yes. I knew Marble immediately. And there are more things, too. I remember this house…you’ve made very few changes, Antonio. Why is that?”

“That’s quite true. Nor have I changed anything at the hall except adding to the stables. I'm not certain why, exactly, either. Perhaps, if Caroline and I were to move in there…” He halted. “But we won’t be living there.”

“Nonsense, Tony. You and Caroline are welcome to stay with Lorena and me as long as you wish. In fact, I want you to stay. There’s still much I need to remember.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Antonio replied.

“Enough of that, Tony. I’m James, your cousin. There’ll never be formality between us,” he insisted. “My God, man, you saved our lives. I’m more than deep in your debt.”

James sought the decanter of brandy and poured two fingers of liquid into crystal snifters, one for Antonio and one for himself. “Now, shall we drink to that?”

They drank in silence until James spoke again.

“Doctor Swinton gave Lorena and me a satisfactory bill of health. His sage advice is that we fill our stomachs as often as possible.” James chuckled. “He wants to see us in a week or so. In the meantime, Tony, I expect our business with Marble is finished unless you have other matters with which to attend here in London.”

“No, nothing more.”

“Can we go to Westhaven? I’m anxious to see what additional memories the hall may bring back to mind.”

“As you say, James. When would you like to leave?”

“It’s not yet that late in the day. We could be there for tea if we ask the ladies to comply quickly. What do you say?”

“Yes, I'm anxious to get ho…” Antonio paused, realizing the hall in Kent was no longer his home. “Er, to Westhaven. We can be on our way after luncheon. I’ll alert Caroline.”

* * * *

Approaching Westhaven, both Lorena and Caroline were happily astonished as James pointed out landmarks and made note of the small hamlets through which they passed. Much was coming back and so rapidly, it seemed as if he’d never drawn a blank about his past.

James heaved a sigh as the carriage turned through the great stone entrance pillars to his ancestral home. Four lathered horses trotted smartly up the long drive and were reined in before the impressive doorway of the mansion. A messenger had been sent ahead from London to announce the Thorndykes’ arrival.

Almost as soon as the coach drew up, the front door opened and several footmen descended the steps to assist the Thorndykes. Belmont stood as rigidly formal at the door as he had ever been.

James left the carriage first, helping Lorena down. They mounted the stone steps. To salve his dignity, Belmont didn’t allow any tears to fall. Living at Westhaven all his life, it was difficult for the butler to contain his feelings, seeing again the man he’d known since birth and who was thought to be dead.

“Your Graces,” he rasped, emotion clogging his throat so that he could scarcely speak. Taking a hold of his composure, he harumphed and tried again. “W-Welcome to W-Westhaven Hall, Your Graces,” he stammered which was not like him at all. “We are, indeed, most happy to see you both back with us.”

“Thank you, old friend,” James greeted him. “We’re very glad to be back.” Lorena favored Belmont with a radiant smile, patted his arm beneath his black sleeve and stopped in the center of the large foyer. Antonio and Caroline had brought up the rear. The Thorndykes stood in silence as James swiveled on his heels in full circle, slowly inhaling the familiar scents of his childhood home as wave after wave of recollection flooded through his consciousness.

“Yes…I remember,” he murmured softly. Lorena squeezed his arm.

Surreptitiously wiping his wet cheeks, Belmont, who had already received his instructions from Antonio's messenger, ordered the laden footmen where to deposit the baggage.

Turning to the aging butler, Antonio asked, “Where is the rest of the family, Belmont? My sister and grandmother?

“Awaiting you in the blue salon, Your Grace,” he addressed Antonio by habit.

“Grandmother will be anxious to see you again, James,” Antonio commented as he led the way to the large drawing room. “We’d better not keep her waiting, or we won’t hear the end of it.” He chuckled, remembering his feisty grandmother’s scolds.

A footman stationed outside the salon rushed to open the double doors and stood aside. The Dowager Duchess, Elizabeth, was seated on an ornate settee facing the door with one hand propped on her cane. She gasped audibly and eagerly reached out bejeweled fingers, letting go of the cane as James entered the room followed by Lorena, Caroline, and Antonio. James hurried to his grandmother, clasping her hands into his and kissing them fervently.

“Oh, James, my darling boy,” Elizabeth cried, her voice filled with emotion. “I simply can’t believe it’s truly you. And, Lorena,” she reached another hand towards her grandson's wife, holding onto James with the first one. “Come here, my dearest, while I welcome you back, too.”

The old duchess’s eyes filled with tears, her lips trembled with feeling. Lorena bent down and embraced Elizabeth. Meanwhile, the dowager fought to control her emotions, smiling somewhat wet-eyed around at all of her grandchildren.

“Let me look at you.” Elizabeth frowned slightly. “You’re too thin, James. And you, too, Lorena.” Regaining her aristocratic composure, she snorted softly. “Well, we’ll soon take care of that.” Motioning to Briella, who stood to one side, she commanded, “Ring for tea, Briella.” Elizabeth sniffed again noisily and drew a lacey handkerchief from a hidden pocket in her gown. “We must feed these two often to bring them up to snuff.” She blew her nose with a loud squeak, not caring whether it was proper do so in front of anyone or not.

Hanging back for the major reunion, Caroline and Antonio greeted the dowager. Caroline hugged Elizabeth quickly, and Antonio bent to kiss his grandmother’s outstretched hand as she turned her attention to them.

“Ah, Antonio…Caroline. And how are the newly marrieds?” Not waiting for a reply, she went on. “I can see by looking that all is well. But, my! What excitement! You must sit and tell us all about it.”

“Indeed, Grandmother,” Antonio replied, but before he could add anything further, Briella rushed over to embrace first her brother and then Caroline.

“Oh, it’s wonderful to see you both again. We couldn’t believe the news when your messenger arrived. We can hardly wait to hear…”

Antonio stopped her. “Briella. Wait, chica, you’ve not greeted your returned cousins as yet.”

“Caramba! Tonio, I am so unhinged, I forgot my manners. You’re right to scold me.”

She turned to Lorena and James who had been watching her embrace Antonio and Caroline. “Both of you—my cousins—please, forgive me…”

“Lorena and James, may I present my sister, Briella Constanza Maria de las Torres Thorndyke, your other cousin,” Antonio finished with a grin.

Remembering her grandmother’s deportment lessons, Briella executed a deep curtsy.

“Briella, meet your English cousins, the Duke and Duchess of Weston.”

Briella's eyes jumped quickly to Antonio’s face, his dark eyebrows arched against his broad forehead. “Caroline and I are no longer the duke and duchess now that Lorena and James have returned home safely, Briella.”

James glanced toward his male cousin. “Tony, are you telling me that this lovely lady is that wild young chit your father brought to England with him? When was that? Eight years ago? You know, the young hoyden we couldn’t keep out of the stables?”

Antonio glanced over at Caroline, telling her with a look that James was regaining his memory by leaps and bounds.

Not waiting for a reply, James turned to Briella and continued. “Briella, dear, you have your mother's exotic beauty. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

Briella smiled then blushed at James’s unexpected compliment, already sensing she would like her English cousin.

Lorena echoed her husband’s sentiments as she kissed Briella’s cheek warmly.

A tap on the salon’s door announced the arrival of tea. Lorena and James spoke to the footmen by name as the large silver trays were brought in and set down on a low table in front of the dowager.

After pouring tea for all, Elizabeth sat back and demanded to be told the story of the sailing accident, the whereabouts of James and Lorena’s missing months, and their subsequent rescue. In his first message to Westhaven, Antonio had warned Elizabeth and Briella that Joshua was not with his parents when they were found in Ireland. He also let it be known that James was having difficulties remembering his past, and that he refused to acknowledge the existence of his son.

As Lorena began to tell the long, tragic story, Belmont knocked again. He stepped into the room and paused inside, raising his bristling eyebrows toward Antonio, a signal that he asked to speak with him privately.

“Do go on with the telling.” Antonio arose and excused himself, exiting into the hall with the butler.

“Excuse me, Your Grace,” Belmont began.

“Belmont, I’m no longer duke now that James is back. You need not address me as such,” Antonio told him.

“Of course, your lordship,” he replied.

“That’s fine. Now, is something amiss, Belmont?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, my lord, but a foreign post came for you while you were gone. I thought it might be of some urgency. I left it on your desk.”

“A foreign post?” Antonio’s forehead puckered. “From Spain, you mean? Never mind. I’ll take a look at it right now.” Antonio strode quickly towards the book room.

A letter lay on top of the thick pile of correspondence. But it was not from Spain. It was from India. Wondering what it could be, Antonio quickly broke the seal and began to read.

* * * *

Lorena was almost finished recounting the story of their travail, how she’d realized it was Sebastian's son to whom the captain of the Killarney referred, and how she’d planned to stop the coach and throw herself onto Antonio’s mercy. There she paused for breath.

Lady Elizabeth couldn’t contain herself. “But what’s become of Joshua, Lorena? Where is your son?”

“We have no son, Grandmother. You’re mistaken,” James interrupted. “I know of no one with that name.”

Antonio burst into the salon again, startling the occupants. All heads swung in his direction. “James, excuse me everyone, but I must show you something.” Antonio’s tone and manner displayed a fierce, demanding urgency. He carried in his hand what appeared to be a letter and quickly shoved it toward James who took it with a puzzled expression.

“I thought this was meant for me, but instead, it’s for you.”

James looked askance at Antonio but took the letter and excused himself, strolling toward the double windows to read it in privacy. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on Antonio.

“What is it, Antonio?” Lorena asked with an urgent whisper.

“Is something wrong, Tonio?” queried Caroline, rising from where she’d been sitting and going to lay a hand upon his sleeve.

Antonio eyed James with intense watchfulness, ignoring both women’s questions.

James released a shuddering groan as if he were in dire pain. All eyes swiveled quickly toward him. The women were horrified when they heard a grown man sobbing aloud. James bowed his head and covered his eyes with one hand, his shoulders shaking violently. A hand fell to his side as he crushed the letter in his fist.

Leaping out of her seat, Lorena rushed to her husband and clutched his arm. “James, James, what’s wrong? What happened, my dear? Oh, James, tell me.”

He brought up the hand holding the wrinkled letter and handed it to his wife without looking at her. She was terribly frightened, seeing James crying, but she was quick to grab the letter from him. As everyone watched, disbelief and joy passed over Lorena’s features as she read the note. She dropped the letter, leaving it to flutter slowly toward the carpet. She threw her arms around her husband, sobbing with him and laughing at the same time. She held him tight as he turned to wrap his arms around her.

“He’s alive, James! Thank the good Lord, Joshua is alive!” Those were the only words the other astonished occupants could distinguish through the laughter and tears of the Duke and Duchess of Weston.