"Come, sit down," Aurora said solicitously. Leading the countess back to the settee, she sat beside the distraught woman and put a comforting arm around her shoulder.
"I am unclear about what happened," Aurora said, wanting to distract Lady March from her grief. "How did he even survive?"
Her ladyship drew an unsteady breath, struggling for composure. "When his yacht sank off the coast of France, Geoffrey washed ashore, badly injured and with no memory of his past or even his identity. He was taken in by a French family, where he remained in hiding from Napoleon's army, recovering his health. But his arm grew putrid and had to be…" She shuddered. "It is a miracle that he is even alive, and I am very grateful, truly, but… my poor son…" Her voice broke on a sob and she buried her face in her hands.
For a long moment she sat quietly weeping, while Aurora murmured consoling reassurances. Finally the countess's tears stopped and she recovered enough to use her kerchief to blot her eyes.
"Oh, Aurora, I am so glad you have come," she said, her voice muffled by lace. "You are just what Geoffrey needs. I know you will stand by him – " Abruptly the countess raised her tear-streaked face in consternation. "You would not be put off by a missing arm… would you? That would not change your feelings for him?"
"No," Aurora said soothingly. "Of course not. My feelings for Geoffrey will never change."
Lady March nodded gratefully. "He seems despondent, Aurora. His memory still is not fully restored, and he is so very thin. I fear for him. But now that you are here…" She forced a smile. "Everything can return to the way it was. You can be married this summer, and become my daughter in truth."
Aurora's heart twisted, both at the hope she saw in her friend's eyes and the hurt she knew she would bring when she confessed that she couldn't marry Geoffrey. She started to reply, but then realized it would be fairer to tell Geoffrey first.
"I would like to see him, if I may," she said quietly.
"Yes, yes, of course… I believe he is in the library. I will have Starks show you there."
Aurora knew the way, for she'd spent many a pleasant hour in the March library. But it was better for her to be announced, to allow Geoffrey time to prepare himself – and time for herself to bring her own emotions under control.
Several minutes passed before she found herself at the library door, her heart beating painfully. Geoffrey stood at the window, his back to her. The right sleeve of his jacket was pinned up nearly to the shoulder.
"Geoffre
y?" she said quietly.
He turned slowly to meet her gaze. Her first reaction was one of shock as they stared at each other across the room. His beloved face was lined with pain, and he was far thinner than before. But he gave her the same gentle smile.
It was all Aurora could do to hold back the ache of tears in her throat. She managed a smile, however, as she crossed to him. Needing to touch him, to feel that he was truly alive, she reached up to put her arms around him. "Welcome home," she said simply, pressing her face into his shoulder.
She held him that way in an embrace that was comforting rather than carnal. Hesitantly his one good arm slid around her shoulders to draw her closer.
After a moment, Geoffrey gave a soft laugh. "I should have realized you would know precisely the right thing to say."
Aurora drew back, searching his face. "I am so very glad to see you. I've missed you unbelievably."
His handsome mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "I fear I cannot express the same sentiment… About missing you, I mean. Until a few weeks ago, I had no memory of my past life. Only images…" He reached up to touch her cheek. "I saw your beautiful face, Aurora, but I never knew why. It was only when Wycliff found me that the images became stronger. I think he must have jogged something loose in my mind, for I've slowly been regaining my memory since then."
"Wycliff? The Earl of Wycliff found you in France?"
"Yes, Lucian rescued me. In truth, I owe you both a debt of gratitude. It's because of you that he spent the last two months scouring the French countryside, searching for me."
Aurora frowned, wondering what the earl would be doing in France when the two countries had been at war for years. "How is that possible? How could Wycliff avoid capture by Napoleon's forces for that long a period?"
"He was in disguise, actually."
"Disguise?"
Geoffrey looked ill at ease. "Aurora, I will tell you something in confidence. Wycliff is actually a spy. A damned good one, I understand."
"Spy?" She stared, suddenly remembering the wild tales his younger brother had told her about Geoffrey. "Harry claimed you were engaged in spying," she said slowly, "but I thought he was simply fabricating a fantasy."
Geoffrey hesitated a long moment. "I was on a mission for England when my ship went down."
Startled, she eyed him with disbelief. "I never understood why you were sailing so near the French coast. You were spying?"
"Not precisely. Nothing like what Wycliff's agents do. I had only to break the secret codes of various dispatches. I've always been good with ciphers and puzzles, you know."