Chase touched his forehead gingerly. It felt curiously tight, almost as if—his fingers found the bandage. He closed his eyes and let the thoughts flood over him. The attack. The robbery. The sight of Mother’s ring falling to the ground…

He opened his eyes and found his companion watching him narrowly. What was her name? Ah yes. Harriet. Harriet Ward. Miss Harriet Ward.

Her voice broke his musings. “Do you remember?” she asked again, softly insistent.

Chase opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. If he told this woman who he was, considering that his brother Devon owned a house somewhere around here, word was bound to leak out. And the last thing he wanted was the sight of his brothers, all four of them, arriving to bundle him back to London. He’d made his decision and he was not about to waver, even with this little setback.

He glanced from under his lashes at the woman who stood beside the bed. She gripped her hands together, her body erect, her shoulders set. She looked as if she was ready for the firing squad, though he detected the faintest tremble to her soft lips. A smile tickled the corner of his mouth at the sight. Inexperienced she might be, but she possessed her own passions.

“Well?” asked Miss Harriet Ward, her silken voice edged with a shred of prickly lace. “What is your name? I gave you mine.”

Chase leaned back against the pillows, aware that besides a great ache in his head and a general overall weariness, he really didn’t feel all that unwell. “Miss Ward, I would tell you my name if I could, but I cannot.”

A flicker of disbelief crossed her face. “You don’t know your name?”

“I don’t remember it.”

“Oh. Do you…do you know where you came from?”

He paused a moment, as if thinking, then said, “No, I don’t know that, either.”

Her gaze narrowed. She was a tough one, he realized with a faint sense of appreciation.

“Do you remember where you were going?”

Chase pursed his lips as if he could almost remember that. But then, after a moment, he shook his head. “No.”

“Are you married?”

“No! I mean,” he added hastily, “I don’t think so.” Damn, I have to be careful or she’ll figure me out.

She muttered something that sounded to his fuzzy ears like “piffle,” if that was indeed a word.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

“Nothing. I was just thinking.” She crossed her arms, staring at him as if he were a particularly nasty bug to be pinned to a display. “Do you remember being attacked?”

Chase frowned. Should he pretend to remember that? Or not? Perhaps the best answer was a nonanswer. “I suppose…I think…you said you found me in a forest?”

“Yes. Not far from here. By the way, your horse is fine.”

He brightened, then caught her eye and realized his error. He forced himself to frown. “A horse? I must have been riding, then.”