The Prince's Bewildered Bride (The Blushing Brides Book 5) Page 2

  He smiled, appearing pleased. “Good. It hasn’t affected all of your memory. Who are your parents?”

  I frowned. “I told you…I’m not sure.”

  “That’s okay.” He turned to Edward. “I’ve scheduled an MRI. Once I know more, I’ll update you.”

  “Thank you, doctor. What about her aunt? How is she doing?”

  “She’s in surgery now to remove the bullet, and she has a concussion from her fall. She hit her head pretty hard when she fell on that rock. Her condition is serious, but we’re hopeful for a good outcome.”

  Edward nodded and glanced at Dr. Bisset uncertainly. “Annette’s family will want to know what happened. Considering the amnesia, should I ask them to come? Will that upset her more?”

  “They should be here. Seeing them might trigger her memory.”

  When Edward stepped out to the hallway to talk to Dr. Bisset, a nurse walked in.

  “How are you doing?”

  “I have to use the restroom.”

  “You have an IV, so you’ll need to take it with you. You were dehydrated and needed the fluids.”

  She helped me out of bed and dragged the IV behind us as she assisted me to the bathroom. I told her I was fine on my own, so she waited behind the door. I rested my hands on the counter next to the sink and peered into the mirror. A face I didn’t recognize stared back at me. Long auburn hair, fair complexion, hazel eyes. Who am I?

  An image flashed before me so quickly I had to fight to catch it before it was gone. I was outside, and an older woman with reddish hair fell to the ground. Someone screamed and then I was falling.

  A dizzy, lightheaded sensation came over me, and my heart began to pound. My breathing grew ragged, and I fought to stay calm. Just use the restroom and get back to bed.

  A few minutes later, I was crawling into the hospital bed, feeling weak and frightened and completely out of sorts.

  The nurse hovered around me, adjusting the pillow behind my back. “Don’t worry, Ma’am. We’ll take good care of you.” She patted my hand and smiled to herself. “I have to say, Prince Edward is much more handsome in person. You’re a lucky woman.”

  “Prince Edward?” I gaped at her, and then what that woman had said earlier came back to me. We’ve informed the prince, and he will meet us at the hospital.

  “Yes. Your husband,” she said. “Prince Edward.”

  “I married a prince.” It was halfway between a statement and a question.

  My voice must have sounded disbelieving because she looked at me with pity in her eyes. “Yes, and it was a beautiful wedding, televised for all of Calais to see. You were such a stunning bride.”

  My mouth fell open, and a nauseous feeling came over me. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  I jumped up from the bed, but she motioned for me to stay where I was while she searched for a pan. She quickly found one and handed it to me. I vomited, my chest heaving, moisture clouding my vision. She held my hair back and once I finished, she wet a small towel and wiped my face. “You poor thing. It’s been quite a day.”

  “Yes, it has.” A tear ran down my cheek. “And I have a feeling it’s only begun.”

  ***

  The police came by to question me, but I wasn’t able to answer any of their questions. Apparently, someone had shot my aunt and taken off before my security team found us. The thought was distressing, especially since I couldn’t remember who my aunt even was—unless she was the woman in the image that had flashed before me while I was in the restroom.

  All afternoon I completed medical tests, including an MRI, CT scan, and a lot of blood work. I was given other kinds of tests to check out my semantic and procedural memory. I found out that semantic referred to general facts about the world, language, things I would have learned at school. One of the doctors I met with had me draw a clock to show different times, and he recited numbers to me and asked me to repeat them back from memory. I had to list the months of the year in order, and the questions didn’t stop there. I learned that even though I didn’t remember my life in Calais, I identified the spelling of the word and understood the pronunciation sounded like Cal-lay. Somehow, I knew I was twenty-eight years old, but someone had to inform me that Edward was also twenty-eight.

  When it came to procedural memory, I was asked to demonstrate different motor skills. I found I could type, braid my hair, put my own clothes on, and do easy stretches.

  Many things were intuitive, meaning, my body just responded in the right way. I met with a neurologist and a psychiatrist and after hours of this stuff, I ended up back in my room with Edward beside me. Dr. Bisset joined us to give an update on all my test results.

  “The good news is we didn’t find any damage to your brain.”

  “What about tumors?” Edward asked, eyes filled with worry.

  “There were no tumors or growths,” Dr. Bisset said. He turned to me. “After consulting with all the doctors on your case, we believe you have what’s called psychogenic amnesia, also known as dissociative amnesia.” He paused. “It is quite possible emotional trauma of some kind at Dover Lookout combined with the psychological stress of some kind, triggered the amnesia and precipitated the memory loss.”

  Emotional trauma? That didn’t sound good. “When will I get my memory back?” I asked, not wanting to delve too deep into what he’d just said.

  “These types of cases are rare and unpredictable. Some recover their memory within a few days, while others don’t remember for years.”

  “Years?” I asked, practically choking on the word.

  “That’s a long time,” Edward said.

  “The best thing right now is to return to your daily routine. People…activities…they all have the potential to trigger your memory.” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “The brain has a way of protecting itself. A lot of times, someone is capable of remembering but prefers not to.”

  “Does she need to see a psychiatrist?” Edward asked.

  I lifted a hand in the air. “No. No psychiatrist. I don’t want that.” I didn’t know why, but it was more of a gut reaction.

  Dr. Bisset tightened his lips. “It’s something to consider if your memories don’t return. For now, if you don’t want to see anyone, I suggest you come back in a week so we can check on your progress and needs.”

  Edward crossed his arms. “What about her Aunt Sophie? Can you tell us how she’s doing?”

  “The surgery went well, but she’s in a coma due to the head injury. She’s stable for now. Her husband is sitting with her.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Bisset,” Edward said, reaching forward to shake his hand.

  “You’re welcome. There are no other physical concerns, so you’re free to go.”

  There was a knock on the door, and my nurse peeked her head in. “Annette’s father and sister are here.”

  “Sure, let them in,” Dr. Bisset said. He glanced at us. “Take your time and leave when you’re ready.”

  He left, and a handsome, slender man with sandy blond hair walked in with a woman who appeared around my age with shoulder-length brown hair and bright green eyes. They both eyed me cautiously as if I had an infectious disease.

  “Annette, I’m so sorry,” the woman said. She walked over and pulled me into an awkward hug. She began to cry a little, and I wasn’t sure how to respond since it was like hugging a stranger.

  “You’re my sister?”

  “Yes, I’m Georgina,” she said loudly, apparently thinking I had a hearing deficiency. She patted her chest in a cavewoman fashion. “Georgina Monroe. Does that ring a bell?”

  I shook my head. “No, it doesn’t. Sorry.” I glanced at the gentleman and searched his face as if he had answers. He spared me the hug, preferring to pat me on the shoulder instead. I was thankful for that. Maybe I’d had a close relationship with him, but since I couldn’t remember, it felt weird to respond intimately. “So…you’re my father?”

  “Yes. I adopted you when you were a child. Your Au
nt Sophie is your biological father’s sister.” He studied me with a concerned expression on his face. “You really don’t remember us?”

  “No. I’m sorry.”

  “We’re so glad you’re okay,” Georgina said, wiping one eye, though I didn’t see any tears.

  “Where’s my mother?” I asked.

  They both winced. John cleared his throat nervously. “Your biological father died when you were a baby and your mother…” He trailed off.

  A wave of something hit me at the mention of “mother”—a feeling of panic and extreme sadness. I didn’t know what it was about, but I felt the need to hold on to Edward’s arm to steady myself.

  “My mother?” My voice trembled.

  Edward put his arm around me and drew me to his side, and even though it felt weird to touch people I wasn’t familiar with, I didn’t resist because I found his warmth and closeness comforting, and I really needed that right now.

  “Your mother was declared legally dead a long time ago,” Edward said in a low voice.

  “What happened?”

  “She was in a boating accident,” John said. “They never recovered her body, but we’re certain she fell overboard and didn’t make it.”

  “I see.”

  Another wave of pain washed through me, and this one was more acute than the last one. Edward seemed to sense my distress because he pulled me even closer and kissed the top of my head. “I’m so sorry. It must feel like you’re hearing it for the first time.”

  “It does.” I was so overwhelmed that tears slid down my face, and I began to sob. I didn’t remember my mother, but I knew I wanted her on some level, and the feeling was nearly unbearable.

  “She’s had a long day. I need to get her home,” Edward said.

  John nodded. “Of course. We’ll visit another time.”

  A security team escorted Edward and me to a vehicle and then we were off. Once we were on the road, I reached over and took Edward’s hand, squeezing it. “Thank you for what you did back there. I couldn’t handle anything else, and you sensed that. You must know me better than anyone.”

  His forehead creased, and he looked at me as if trying to make sense of what I’d just said. As if I were behaving like someone he didn’t know.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He hesitated. “You’re just… not yourself.”

  “I wouldn’t normally say thank you?” I released a nervous laugh and let go of his hand. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Of course, you say thank you. That’s not what I meant.” But he didn’t sound as if he believed that statement.

  I smoothed a piece of hair behind my ear and turned to look out the window, preferring to remain lost in my thoughts the rest of the way.

  About fifteen minutes later, Edward nudged me. “We’re nearly there. As soon as we turn around the bend up ahead, you’ll see the castle on the hill. It’s our home.”

  Castle? We actually lived in a castle? I didn’t voice my incredulity, considering everything was news and would most likely surprise me anyway. But still…finding out I had married a prince seemed over the top. Like…unbelievably crazy. I had retained much of my semantic memory, so I knew what a prince was. I just didn’t ever expect to marry one.

  Or had I expected it at some point? That part was fuzzy.

  Edward winked, and my insides melted. I smiled at him and glanced away, feeling my face flush. He certainly was a dreamboat. That was something Marilyn Monroe would’ve said. Somehow, I knew I liked old movie classics, and that made me feel a little better, like my memories were still there and I would eventually access them.

  “There it is.” Edward pointed to a structure a short distance away, and I stilled.

  “It’s incredible,” I said, a little breathless.

  And it was. On top of a green, jagged hill sat an alabaster castle shining under the sun like an expensive pearl, like something from a fantasy world or storybook. There were tall columns and towers and look-out points. It was picturesque and serene, beautiful and terrifying all at once, displaying a great history I would have to learn about all over again.

  I felt Edward’s gaze on me, and when I turned to him, I saw pride in his eyes. “It’s been in my family for many generations,” he said. “My grandfather sacrificed much to keep it up and running. One day it will be up to us.”

  I had no idea what he meant by that, but I didn’t feel like going into it at the moment. All I wanted was to stare at the exquisite castle that was my home. My home. It was so hard to believe, but it was real. I wasn’t dreaming.

  We parked, and the driver opened the door for each of us to get out. As we approached the entrance, Edward put a hand on my arm to stop me. “There’s something I need to tell you before we go inside.”

  “Okay.”

  “My parents will be there to greet you, and I don’t want you to be blind-sided by…” He hesitated.

  “Go on. I’m listening.”

  “You and my mother were never…friends. What I mean to say is…you didn’t like each other.”

  I reared back. “Why not?”

  “Mother wanted me to marry someone with royal blood, but that wasn’t possible.”

  “Because we were in love?”

  The question appeared to startle him, and he glanced away, frowning. “We had an arrangement.”

  I didn’t miss his clear avoidance of the matter of love. How could I not be in love with a man like him? Trying to piece together what was true and what wasn’t was like trying to work on an elaborate puzzle and realizing some of the pieces were missing.

  “You don’t need to worry. She’ll be civil to you. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it, but I didn’t want you to be taken off guard by any tension in her manner.”

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  He nodded. “Ready?”

  “Yes. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 3

  Edward

  I escorted Annette through the main entrance of the castle where my family was waiting in the foyer, having already been alerted to our arrival.

  “Annette my darling,” my mother said, rushing up to greet us. She had on the plastic expression she used with everyone she disliked. “We were so worried. I’m glad nothing serious happened.”

  “Mother,” I said, holding myself in a stiff, respectable manner befitting someone in my station, “it was very serious.”

  “You know what I meant,” she said. “She’s not injured, and we are grateful for that.”

  I cleared my throat. “Yes, we are, but her memory has been seriously impaired, and Sophie is in a coma.”

  Mother had a look of surprise on her face even though I’d already informed her of all the details while we were at the hospital. Maybe she hadn’t believed me, or perhaps it hadn’t fully registered yet. She studied Annette closely as if trying to come to her own conclusion. “You don’t remember your husband? How truly distressing that must be.”

  “Yes, it is. I don’t remember any of you.”

  There was a look of triumph in my mother’s eyes. She had the upper hand right now, and that made her happy. “That is unfortunate. We must all remain positive and hope the memories come back. Since we’re all perfect strangers to you, let me reintroduce you to the family. I’m Queen Anne and this is King George.”

  Mother’s title was technically Duchess of Somme, but most referred to her as Queen Anne based on the tradition of our Calais ancestors.

  She glanced at my younger brother. “That’s Prince Arthur and—”

  “I am Princess Helena.” My sister stepped forward, giving Annette a sympathetic smile. “But please, just call me Helena. I am at your service if you need me.”

  I smiled. My sister had always made the effort to be kind to Annette. It wasn’t in her nature to snub anyone based on their lineage or lack thereof.

  “Thank you,” Annette said in an appreciative voice. “That is very generous of you.”

  Surprise re
gistered on everyone’s faces at Annette’s humble tone. Gone was the poised, confident woman I had married, the one who never let anyone make her feel less-than. Now, she looked vulnerable and bewildered, and it gave me a sense of unease.

  My father held his head high and smiled grimly. “The ball is in two weeks. We’ll have to cancel it. There’s no way Annette will know how to handle herself—”

  “Oh, please don’t do that,” Annette said. “I’ve never been to a ball before, and it would be so lovely to attend one.” Then she seemed to realize that might not be true. “Wait…have I attended a ball?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Many times.”

  For a moment, the revelation appeared to trouble her, but then she smoothed out her expression and put on a happy face. “Then maybe it will trigger something…a memory or feeling. Please don’t cancel the plans because of me.”

  “I think it’s wonderful you want to go through with it,” Mother said, delighted.

  I had to wonder if she reveled in the idea of Annette making a fool of herself in an unfamiliar situation. “She’s not ready. Father is right. We need to cancel.”

  Annette placed her hand on my arm and looked at me with beseeching eyes. “Please, Edward. There is nothing I would like more than to go to this ball. I have a lot to learn, but I believe this is something I will enjoy.”

  She was still in there. My Annette was still there—the woman who relished in endless parties and attention from admirers. Of course she wanted to attend the ball.

  I nodded. “All right. If that’s how you feel about it.”

  “I’ll help you,” Helena said, eyes brightening. “I’ll give you a full update on royal protocol and the who’s who of Calais.”

  “Thank you,” Annette said. “I can tell we must have been very close.”

  My family averted their eyes because the statement was so…out there. Helena had always extended her friendship to Annette, but they had very different personalities and had never spent much time together outside of family activities. Annette had liked Helena, but then again, everyone liked my sister and she had never given Annette a reason to dislike her. Still, I wouldn’t have called them close, and I doubted anyone else would either.