The younger woman stared into the silvered glass, seeing there the countenance of a stranger. Though the bruises that marked the brow and cheek were familiar to her, at least by feel, the visage was not recognizable. Critically she perused the pale, oval face with its high delicate cheekbones and fine features. The light auburn hair, highlighted with gold, tumbled over her shoulders in wildly tossed disarray. The darkly translucent eyes were wide with curious wonder as they turned to consider the portrait. The painting offered substantial evidence that she was among people who had known her before the accident, for she saw a definite likeness in the thickly lashed green eyes, the slender nose, and the gently curving mouth. The resemblance was there, and although not perfected, it presented her with bold, irrefutable evidence of the man’s claim.

“This is going too quickly,” she complained in a frail whisper. A deep fatigue seized her, and she leaned back into the feathery softness of the pillows, heaving a trembling sigh.

“Rest yourself, my dear,” Dr. Page bade. “You are safe here and will be well cared for.”

A cool, moist cloth was laid again upon her brow, half covering her hot and aching eyes, then the doctor pushed himself to his feet.

“And now, Amanda, I believe you offered me some breakfast.” The three women followed as he made his way to the door. There he paused to look back at Ashton and, seeing the worry in the younger man’s face, had no heart to bid him leave. “Don’t be too long, Ashton.”

The door closed behind them, and in the ensuing silence the two who remained stared at each other. There was more than a shade of uncertainty in the woman’s wary gaze. As he drew near, Ashton looked into the face that had haunted his dreams for so long and was struck by a strong desire to take her in his arms and crush her close against him. With remarkable restraint he lowered his weight to the edge of the bed and only took her hand.

“My darling Lierin, I will await your recovery with a most eager heart. I know you are the one I have loved, and God willing, you will soon know it too.”

Slowly, as if fearful of disturbing him, she withdrew her hand from his and pulled the bedcovers up close beneath her chin. “You call me Lierin, but the name stirs no memory. I do not recall beyond a few moments ago when I heard a voice calling to me. I must think on this….” Her finely arched brows came together. “But I have nothing to think about. I’m tired…my head hurts. The doctor said I should rest…and so I shall.” She could not interpret his fleeting frown and lightly touched the back of his hand with her fingertips. “I don’t know you, Ashton.” An unsteady smile wavered on her lips. “Perhaps this is my home”-her voice rose slightly to make the sentence a question as she glanced about-“…and what you say may be the truth. In my present state I cannot protest overmuch. If it would satisfy you, I will accept the name Lierin…until such a moment when I might realize it is not my own.” Deliberately she lowered her eyelids until the detail faded to a muted, indistinct background against which only his face could be seen. “I shall rest now, Ashton.”

His hungering gaze fed upon her beauty and eased the yearnings of the past years when he had thought he would never look upon her again. Bending low, he brushed the lightest of kisses across her lips, then took himself across the room. He did not see the emerald eyes slip open and follow his departing back. When the chamber door was safely closed behind him, he braced an elbow high upon the passage wall and, pressing his brow against his forearm, struggled to subdue the trip-hammer beating of his heart. After a long moment he could breathe evenly again, and with slow and thoughtful tread he went to join the others in the dining room below.

His grandmother glanced up as he entered the room, but waited until he had settled at the head of the table before broaching the subject that plagued her: “I’ve seen the portrait for myself and agree that you have good reason to believe the girl is Lierin, but do you have any misgivings whatsoever about her? Is there the slightest doubt in your mind that she is not Lierin?”

“I cannot imagine how she can be another,” he sighed. “When I look at her, I see Lierin.”

“Dear, what do you know about Lierin’s sister?” Aunt Jennifer asked.

Ashton paused as Willis presented a silver platter filled with ham and selected a slice. “Lenore is probably living on a plantation in the Caribbean by now. She was making plans for her wedding when I met Lierin, but I really can’t say what happened to her after they went back to England. I never heard of them again.”

Amanda took a sip of coffee from her porcelain cup. “You must recognize that your haste to marry Lierin caused us all some distress, Ashton. I’m sure that it was a terrible shock for Robert Somerton to receive news of his daughter’s marriage and death in the very same moment.”

“Proper amends were intended, Grand-mere,” Ashton replied, “but as you know disaster struck before they could be carried through.”

“That leads me to a puzzling matter, Ashton: Lierin’s death. Why has it taken you so long to learn that she is alive? Why didn’t she try to find you? Where has she been all this time?”

“Marelda has asked me those same questions.”

“Well, you must admit they should be cleared up,” his grandmother replied. “Is this amnesia a recurring illness? Is that why she made no attempt to find you?” She turned to Dr. Page for an answer. “What do you say, Franklin?”

“It seems doubtful.” The aging man dropped a lump of sugar into his coffee, then cleared his throat, as if embarrassed by what he was about to say. “All of you know that the madhouse burned, but are you aware that the authorities have yet to find some of the inmates?”

Ashton lifted his gaze to the older man. “Latham mentioned that last night. What has that to do with Lierin?”

The doctor leaned his arms on the edge of the table and pressed his hands together almost in a prayerful pose. He knew how deeply Ashton had mourned the loss of his young wife and hoped he could express himself without causing resentment. “When you consider the facts surrounding the accident, such as where it happened, the proximity to the madhouse, and Lierin’s state of undress, have you given thought to the possibility that she might have been fleeing from the asylum?”

Ashton’s manner turned crisp. “Are you suggesting that my wife is mad?”

Franklin felt helpless as he met the stony gaze of his host. “Who knows what happened three years ago, Ashton? Lierin might have suffered severely from shock.” Dr. Page saw the tensing muscles in Ashton’s jaw and knew he trod on treacherous ground. He rushed on, hoping to allay the storm. “Ashton, listen to me. Sometimes people are condemned to a madhouse for the simplest cause or even when they shouldn’t be. It’s very much like being buried alive. They can rot in that hellish place without relatives knowing they’re even there.”

The click of heels sounded in the hall, and Ashton waved a hand, cautioning the doctor to silence. “It’s Marelda. I don’t want her to hear of this.”

“You needn’t worry, Ashton,” Dr. Page assured him. “I brought that girl into the world, and I know her well enough to be cautious of what weapons I lay in her hands.”

“Then we understand each other,” Ashton responded.

The dark-haired woman swept into the room with a rustle of silk and paused in the doorway to allow the others to admire the results of her careful toilette. When all eyes came to rest upon her, she went around the table and placed a light kiss on the cheeks of the older women, then greeted her host with a smile as she slid into a chair close on his right.

“How are you this morning, Ashton?” She rushed on, giving him no time to answer: “I assume, since Dr. Page is here, that you’ve been with your guest upstairs.” She bestowed her consideration on the doctor. “How is your patient anyway, Dr. Page? Has she come to her senses yet?”

Franklin was slow to reply. “She is still suffering some trauma.”

“Not anything too serious, I’d wager,” Marelda remarked with as much sarcasm as she dared.

“Only time will tell.”

Marelda was not appeased by the physician’s taciturn reply and glanced about the table at her companions, playing her longest stares on the women.

Aunt Jennifer grew uncomfortable with the silence and attempted to explain. “What Franklin means is that Lierin is having some trouble remembering right now, and it might be a while before she regains her memory.”

Marelda’s eyes grew cold and hard. “Lierin?” She managed a hint of a smile, but it held no more warmth than the frozen jet orbs. “I suppose she remembers just enough to identify herself as Ashton’s wife, but has conveniently forgotten everything else.”

Ashton lifted his cup to the waiting servant and pointedly ignored Marelda until Willis had filled it with the steaming black brew; then he reluctantly lent his attention to the woman. “Lierin couldn’t even remember that much,” he stated. “I had to tell her what her name was.”

The green monster of jealousy stabbed Marelda to the quick, and it was difficult for her to feign any kind of caring reply. “You mean she can’t even remember her name? Why, I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Amanda’s thin lips curved into a smile. “Don’t feel bad, Marelda. Franklin never had a patient with those particular symptoms before today.”

“They’re so farfetched I can understand why. The idea of forgetting one’s own name. Why, the very thought is ridiculous.”

“Not as farfetched as you might think, Marelda,” Dr. Page said. “At least we have a name for it in the medical field. Amnesia may not be very common, but we do know that the condition exists.”