Someone to Watch Over Me (Bow Street Runners #1)(8)

Linley's gray eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Yes, of course. Memory loss is more common than you think. It's often caused by aging, or excessive amounts of alcohol--"

"What about a blow to the head and a near drowning?"

The doctor's lips puckered in a silent whistle. "Poor lady," he murmured. "Yes, I once saw a case of amnesia that was caused by a head injury. The man had been wounded in a shipyard accident--a falling beam struck him on the crown, and he was unconscious for three days. When he awoke, he was beset by extreme confusion. The habits of walking, writing, and reading were easy for him, but he didn't recognize a single member of his family, and could recall nothing of his past."

"Did his memory return?"

"In five or six months. But I've heard of another case in which the memory came back in a matter of days. There's no way of predicting how long it might take. Or if it will happen at all." Brushing past Grant, Linley approached the bed and set his doctors case on the chair. As he bent over the sleeping patient, the doctor gave a startled murmur that barely reached Grant's ears. "Miss Duvall!"

"You've attended her before?"

Linley nodded, looking troubled. Something about the doctor's expression alerted Grant to the fact that Vivien's visit had been for an ailment far more serious than a headache.

"What for?" Grant asked.

"You know I can't divulge that."

"She can't remember anything--it won't make a damned bit of difference to her if you tell me or not."

Linley wasn't swayed by the argument. "Would you care to leave the room, Morgan, while I examine my patient?"

Before Grant could reply, Vivien stirred and moaned. She rubbed her eyes, squinting at the doctor's unfamiliar face. Strangely attuned to her moods, Grant sensed the exact moment she began to panic. He reached the bedside in three strides and took her trembling hand. The strength of his grip seemed to calm her. "Grant," she croaked, her gaze lifting to his face. "The doctor's here," he murmured. "I'm going to wait outside the door while he has a look at you. Is that all right?"

A long moment passed before she gave a tiny nod and released his hand.

"Good girl." Grant gently tucked a lock of her hair behind her small ear.

"You two seem to have become fast friends," Linley remarked.

"It's my way with women," Grant said. "They can't resist my charm."

Linley's mouth quirked. "Charm? I've never suspected you of having any."

They were both surprised to hear Vivien's feeble scratch of voice join in the conversation. "That's because...you're not a woman."

Grant stared at her with an unwilling smile. Half dead, she might be, but the instinct to flirt had not left her. And God help him, he was far from immune. "Rallying to my defense, are you?" He reached down to stroke the curve of her cheek with his fingertip. "I'll have to thank you later." A slow tide of pink crept over Vivien's face. Grant didn't realize his tone was unconsciously seductive until the doctor shot him a speculative glance.

Abruptly Grant left the room. Scowling, he wedged his back against the papered wall of the hallway. "Damn you, Vivien," he muttered beneath his breath.

He had found it so easy to reject Vivien before, when he'd viewed her as shallow, vain, manipulative. And he wouldn't have spared her a thought since then had it not been for the pride-stinging lies she had sprinkled all over London. Grant would have hated her if she had been worth such expenditure of emotion.

But there were times in every man or woman's life when circumstances made one vulnerable, and Vivien's time had come. Could she really have lost her memory, or was she shamming? And if her memory, really was gone...then she had been stripped of all defenses, all the grievances and pretensions that kept adult human beings from revealing their true selves to each other. How many men had been given the chance to know the real Vivien? Not one. He would bet his life on it.

A gentleman would not take advantage of the situation. But he was no gentleman.

He had once promised himself that Vivien would pay for her petty little game--and she would, with interest. Now that she was in his possession, she wasn't going to leave until his pride had been assuaged. He was going to amuse himself with her for as long as he wanted, or until her memory had returned. Whichever came first.

He smiled in satisfaction, the hot wistful ache in his chest seeming to ease.

After what seemed an unaccountably long time, Linley opened the door and welcomed him into the room. Vivien appeared calm but exhausted, her face as pale as the white linen pillow behind her head. An uncertain smile touched her lips as she saw Grant.

"Well?" Grant asked, while Linley bent over his medical case and latched it shut. Linley glanced up from his task. "It appears Miss Duvall has suffered a concussion, though not a severe one."

Grant's eyes narrowed at the unfamiliar term.

"A blow to the cranium," Linley proceeded to explain, "resulting in distress to the brain. The aftereffects usually last for a few weeks, perhaps a month, and may include confusion, nausea, and physical weakness. And also, in this particular case, amnesia."

"How will you treat it?" Grant asked tersely.

"Unfortunately, the symptoms of concussion, including amnesia, must run their course. There's nothing I can do except prescribe rest. I don't think Miss Duvall will have any lasting problems from her experience tonight, although the next few days will be uncomfortable. I've left a few digestive powders to counteract the effects of the salt water she ingested, and a salve for the bruises and abrasions. I can't find evidence of fractured bones or internal injuries, just a mild sprain in one ankle." He went to Vivien's side and patted her hand. "Sleep," he advised kindly. "That's the best advice I can give."