Remember Me - Regency Brides 03 Read online

  I just miss North. I am clearly hal ucinating.

  ' And this is Josie's companion, Miss Helen Nichols, who has come from England and been with us for three months now," she heard Mrs. Baumgartner say, as she stepped back. For the first time, Helen got a view of the tal man's face.

  For a moment Helen said nothing, frozen by the sheer shock of seeing the man before her. It was North! And he was smiling pleasantly at her without so much as a gleam of recognition shining in his light blue gaze. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Nichols," he responded smoothly with a nod. Helen was horrified that he did not recognize her. She had spent many hours in his presence in the past and thought it humiliating that she didn't seem familiar to him at al . But then she had a second thought: Why is he pretending to be a preacher?

  Confused, she found herself blurting, "North? Do you not remember me?"

  Chapter 2

  An immediate hush fel over the group as every eye turned to stare at Helen, including North. Helen focused only on him as she watched the strange expressions move across his handsome, strong face.

  At first it appeared to be fear, then it went to what looked like confusion, and then it was as though a mask fel across his face, shielding her from his thoughts entirely. He seemed to compose himself as he nervously glanced around the group and then turned his gaze back to Helen.

  His eyes were unreadable as he smiled at her and final y responded. "Of course I do. It's just … I suppose it has been quite awhile, hasn't it?" Helen wasn't sure if he was tel ing or asking. Neither would make a bit of sense to Helen since she'd only seen him four months ago. "It is good to have a friend nearby," he finished cryptical y, perplexing her even more.

  She was about to ask him what he was doing here, but he turned from her suddenly, stopping any further communication between them. Doubts assailed her as she thought maybe the man wasn't North after al . Perhaps he had a cousin who looked like him.

  But then, she amended her thoughts, why did he pretend to know her?

  Oh, it was very vexing on her nerves to reason his behavior al out in her mind.

  "You know him?" Josie exclaimed, startling Helen back to the present. "Why didn't you tel us you knew the preacher?"

  Helen shook her head absently as her eyes stayed on who she was sure was the Duke of Northingshire. "I didn't know his Christian name. I've always cal ed him North," she lied, since she knew very wel that his name was Trevor Kent and certainly not Hamish Campbel !

  Josie frowned. "You addressed a preacher by cal ing him North? That's strange and not at al the civilized thing for a lady to do." She paused for effect.

  ' According to you."

  Helen licked her lips nervously as she tried to answer without too much lying involved. "I knew him when he wasn't a minister." She final y dragged her eyes away from the confusing man and tried to appear nonchalant. "I don't suppose I knew him as wel as I thought." That was an understatement!

  "Wel , you shal have plenty of time to get to know him in the future," Josie reasoned, as she took Helen's hand and pul ed her toward the nice lawn beside the church. "Let's sit over there and wait for my parents." Helen agreed and al owed Josie to pul her to the white wooden benches, which were placed under a great oak shade tree.

  As soon as they sat down, Josie immediately brought their conversation back to the preacher. "Don't you think he is the most handsome man you've ever seen?

  And to think you know him!" she expressed in a lovelorn tone. She sat up and looked at Helen as if she were suddenly hit with an idea. "He is unmarried, and you are unmarried! You would make a great match!"

  If only it could be so, Helen thought longingly. But until she figured out why North was pretending to be someone else, she could not even wish for it. "Josie, he did not even recognize me. How could you think he would want to marry a lady who has made no lasting impression in his mind?" She sighed. "Besides, I am here to work and teach you to be a lady. Wishing that I would fal in love with North just so you will not have to learn your lessons on etiquette will only bring you a headache."

  Josie sat back on the bench and groaned. "Why does being a lady seem so boring?"

  Helen hid a grin. "One day when you become interested in a young man, he'll expect you to act like a lady, and then you will thank God I bored you so!"

  "I will never be interested in boys!" she declared.

  "That is too bad, for I have a feeling you will grow up to be quite a lovely woman one day." A man's voice spoke beside them.

  Startled, Helen turned and looked up to find North standing over her. "North!" she exclaimed automatical y but then quickly amended, "I'm sorry. I mean Reverend."

  He seemed preoccupied as he presented her a smal smile. North quickly stepped closer, whispering in an urgent voice, "I must speak to you alone, Miss Nichols." He nervously glanced around as if to see if anyone was watching him and then looked briefly at Josie. "There is some very important information I need, and I'm positive that only you can help me."

  Helen felt butterflies of excitement fluttering about in her chest, just as she always did when North spoke to her. It didn't matter if he was acting like the craziest man alive or that he was pretending to be a minister, which Helen imagined was a big faux pas in God's book! All that mattered was North, the love of her life, had asked to talk to her. Alone!

  She jumped up with more enthusiasm than was warranted, for she startled both Josie and North. "Of course, you can speak with me!" she said brightly as she reached down to pul Josie up from the bench. "Please be a dear and excuse us, will you, Josie?" She threw the request to her charge without so much as a glance and then latched her arm around North's elbow. "Let's walk, shal we?"

  North looked a little dazed but gave her a tentative smile. "Not too far.

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  I would not want to bring suspicion on your character or mine. I may not remember much, but I do know that talking alone with a young woman out in the open public is considered a social blunder if she is not accompanied by a chaperone."

  Helen stopped suddenly upon hearing his words, let go of his arm, and turned to stand in front of him. "Did you just say that you might not remember much?" She shook her head. "What does that mean?"

  North stood there, staring down at her, looking more handsome than ever before.

  His countenance, however, was not the easygoing and self-assured gentleman she'd known in England. Instead he looked tired, confused, and not at al the confident man he should be.

  He took a deep breath as he stared off to his left for a moment, then slowly brought his gaze back to her. "I do not remember who I am." Helen gasped, but North held out his hand so that he might continue. "I apparently fel off the ship that I had been on during a storm. Two fishermen dragged me out of the water and brought me to shore, where I final y came to my senses. But that is where every one of my memories begins. I wouldn't even know my name except I had a Bible inside my coat that had the name Hamish Campbel etched into the leather."

  Helen could not even speak for being so dumbfounded by his story. She had never heard of a person forgetting his own name and past. "So you don't remember anything? Not your family, friends, or any sort of past memory?"

  He shook his head as he walked past her to lean against the oak. ' And no one knows you've lost your memory?" she asked as she walked over to him.

  "No, I didn't want to make everyone think I'd lost my mind or had become crazed." He took a minute to rub the back of his head, then continued. "To tel you the truth, when the fisherman who I was staying with final y told me he'd found out where I was heading and that I was to be the vicar of a church in Louisiana, I felt even more confused. I pretended, however, that I suddenly remembered." He looked back to Helen. "That is why I am so anxious to talk to you. You know who I am. You and you alone can tel me about myself, what kind of family background I have or anything that might possibly help me to remember.. .something!" His eyes bore into hers as if he were trying to read her thoughts. "You can also confirm I am indeed who they say I am or if it is some sort of mistake." He paused and seemed to try calming himself with a deep breath. "Helen, am I the Reverend Hamish Campbel ?"

  Helen opened her mouth to inform him that he definitely was not the good reverend but stopped before any words could escape. A thought suddenly seized her-a truly wicked thought.

  If North knew he was a duke-a nobleman-sixth in line to the throne of England, then Helen could never hope to win his affections, for he would be social y far above her station.

  But as a reverend ...

  Oh, surely she could not consider it, much less go through with such a deed!

  But she could not help it. If North believed he was a reverend, then he would be in the same class as she. The barrier of position and means would no longer be an obstacle, and the brotherly affection North always showed toward her could change into something more if he believed he was Hamish Campbel .

  "Miss Nichols? Were you indeed tel ing the truth when you said you knew me?

  You suddenly seem confused about ..."

  "You are!" she blurted out before she could think twice about it. "I … I mean...you are ...the reverend ...Hamish Campbel ," she stammered, as she began to already feel the weight of the lie she had just told.

  He let out a breath as he ran a hand through his shimmering blond curls. "I was hoping ..." He paused and began again. "I don't know what I was hoping. It's just that I do not feel like a Hamish Campbel . I cannot imagine choosing to be a vicar, either. I do have a sense I am a fol ower of God and have attended church in my past, but...being a vicar does not seem to ... fit!" He threw his hand in the air with frustration.

  If he only knew! Helen thought guiltily. "What sort of man did you imagine yourself to be?"

  North seemed to think a minute before he answered. "I real y don't know, except I look at my clothes and, though they are faded and worn from being wet and then dried in the sun, I somehow know they are very finely made and that the fabrics are not something a poor man would wear." He held up his long, lean hands. "I look at my palms and see no evidence of cal uses from hard work."

  "Perhaps you spent your time in studying and contemplation," Helen inserted.

  "I suppose you could be right, but it doesn't explain the clothes."

  All the lies were making Helen very nervous, and she wasn't finished tel ing them yet. "Perhaps your family is somewhat wealthy, but as you were the youngest son, you chose the church as your occupation," she improvised.

  He raised a dark blond brow. "Perhaps? You mean you don't know?"

  "Uh..." Helen scrambled to answer him without tel ing another lie. "We were introduced through a mutual acquaintance and saw each other only a few times after that," she answered truthful y.

  His expression fel to a frown. "Then you don't know me wel enough to tel me anything significant?"

  Helen breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that this revelation would stop his questions. "I am sorry, but no." She looked toward the crowd and noticed the Baumgartners were looking her way. "I'd better go. My employers are about to leave."

  She started to walk off, but he stopped her by touching her arm. "Wait! May I ask you one more question?" Seeing the confusion in his beautiful blue eyes, Helen could not turn down his request. "Of course you may." "Everyone keeps tel ing me I have journeyed here from Scotland, yet I clearly do not have a Scottish accent. Do you know anything about this?"

  This question she could answer truthful y. "Actual y, I do. You were raised in England, but later when your family bought an estate in Scotland, you would spend summers there. I suppose you've moved back there recently." She felt compel ed to put her hand over his. "Good-bye, Nor ... er … I mean, Reverend.

  I'm sorry I was not more helpful."

  He gave her a smal , preoccupied smile, nodded, then stepped away from her.

  Helen took one last look back before she ran to where her employers were waiting for her. As she suspected, they were full of questions.

  "You must tel us how you know our new preacher, Helen!" Mrs. Baumgartner ordered immediately as they settled in the carriage. Imogene Baumgartner looked much younger than her forty years. Though she didn't have the style the ladies in England had in the way of clothes or hairstyles, she was always very prettily dressed in her flowered cotton and linen gowns that she so preferred, her dark brown hair knotted low on her neck.

  Robert Baumgartner, on the other hand, sat quietly, as he usual y did whenever his wife was going on about something, preferring the solitude of his thoughts as he looked out of the carriage window. Helen often wondered if he regretted his choice of marrying the daughter of his father's butler. After al , it caused him to be disinherited by his father and, in turn, to renounce his claim to the title of Marquis of Moreland. Josie had told Helen they'd taken his smal inheritance from his mother and moved to America soon after.

  It seemed like such a grand love story, and since Helen was also in love with a man above her station, it gave her a smal hope her own life could have a happy ending with North by her side.

  "Helen, dear?" Mrs. Baumgartner prompted, shaking Helen from her thoughts.

  After remembering her employer had asked how she knew North, Helen answered, "I knew him briefly through a friend." She wished Mrs. Baumgartner would take the hint that she did not want to talk about it, but the woman was very persistent when she wanted to know something.

  Imogene stared at her as if waiting for more, but when Helen remained silent, she tried again. "He certainly was wearing a very fine suit of clothes to be a poor vicar. I almost had the feeling when studying his bearing and regal pose that he might be a nobleman!" She leaned closer to Helen from across the carriage. "Do you know if he is indeed from a noble family?"

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  Helen could feel sweat beading on her forehead, and it wasn't just because of the humidity. "I know he is from a wealthy family."

  That answer seemed to be enough for Imogene. She leaned back and folded her arms as if pleased with herself. "Of course he is. I am quite good at spotting a gentleman of means." She paused and frowned. ' Although he must be quite a younger son and not entitled to the wealth if he has chosen to be a clergyman."

  "Must he?" Helen answered, trying desperately not to lie.

  "Wel , of course he must!" Imogene declared. "But his misfortune is our good luck. I had not looked forward to trying to find another vicar to take his place."

  The questions seemed to be at an end as they rode the rest of the way in silence. But Helen's reprieve was only a brief one.

  "Helen, it just occurred to me he might be a good match for you!" Imogene exclaimed as they exited the carriage. Josie piped up. "I had told her the same thing!"

  Imogene clasped her hands together as if thril ed with her idea. "You are a gentleman's daughter, Helen, and he is a gentleman! If you married him, you could stay right here in Golden Bay with us. Wouldn't that be just the thing?"

  Just thinking about living in the rugged, swampy lands of Louisiana forever made Helen shiver with horror. But on the other hand, if she could spend her life with North by her side ...perhaps it might not be so bad.

  "I barely know him ... " she prevaricated, but Imogene was not one to let anything distract her.

  "We have al the time in the world for that!" she declared as the carriage slowed to a stop in front of the home. "Leave it to me, dear, and you shal see yourself wed by fal !"

  As Helen climbed out of the carriage behind Imogene and Josie, she wished her employer's words could be true, but if North remembered who he was before he could fal in love with her, her hopes of even being his friend would be permanently dashed.

  Chapter 3

  The more North learned of his life, the more confused he became. Many days and long hours since he was rescued, he tried to find just the tiniest of memories"

  just the smal est tidbit to help him feel less lost, less bewildered.

  The only information he'd heard that felt as though it belonged to him was when Helen Nichols had cal ed him North. The more he said it to himself, the more the name seemed to fit him, as though he'd final y had one little piece of his missing life back.

  But saying it did not bring back any more memories or any other sense of familiarity like he hoped and prayed it would. There was nothing in his mind other than a few memories since he'd awakened. The rest was this large, gaping black hole that refused to give up any answers.

  Now as he sat in the tiny house the church leaders had shown him to, with its two rooms divided only by a large piece of cloth, he felt more out of his element than ever.

  Since he had nothing but his deep-down gut feeling to rely on, North assumed he had never lived in such a smal , barren house, nor had he ever known anyone who had. Before they had left him, he'd been shown the barn behind the house, where a cow and a few chickens were kept. He trusted the feeling of dismay that washed over him when they told him the animals would give him al the milk, eggs, and poultry he could eat.

  They actual y expected him to milk the cow and somehow get eggs out from under the chickens. Then, if he actual y wanted to eat chicken, he would have to kil one to have it?

  Appal ing!

  He almost told them so, but when they said that North should be familiar with the animals since he had been raised on a farm, North bit back any retort he had been about to make., .

  Helen Nichols had left out that little piece of news. If his family had been wealthy, why would he be milking his own cows?

  Confusion crowded his mind as he thought about it. Perhaps they'd lost their money, he tried to reason, which is why he never tried to pursue a deeper acquaintance with Helen Nichols.

  Oh, yes, those thoughts had run through his mind when she'd informed him they barely knew one another. The very first thing that popped into his head was he must have been a blind fool to let such a beautiful, delightful woman slip in and out of his life so easily.