“No.”

Oh dear. How dreadful. “Not anything at all?”

“Nothing. It’s as if the slate was wiped clean.”

“A very small slate,” Harriet said under her breath, but loudly enough to be heard.

“Harriet!” Elviria said.

“Sorry,” Harriet muttered, though she smirked at the patient in a way that showed anything but remorse.

Elviria was hard-pressed to hide an unexpected grin. The patient, however, did not appear amused. Instead his handsome face had taken on a distinctly predatory appearance, as if he was marking the comment for further retribution.

Elviria wasn’t sure she liked seeing that look directed at her own daughter. Good Lord, the wounded man was turning out to be a problem, indeed. But not for long. Elviria had been on her own since her dear Randall’s death seven long years ago. If there was one thing she’d learned in that time, it was to address problems as efficiently as possible. She wasn’t always successful, but not for lack of trying.

Fortunately, this seemed to be a fairly easy puzzle to solve. She’d just get the man out of her house. Yes, that is exactly what she’d do. Perhaps the Langleys could be convinced to house him until his memory returned. The Langleys had only one child, a son about Stephen’s age. That would be far more appropriate than housing a handsome profligate with three attractive, eligible females.

For some reason, Elviria was certain the stranger was a handsome profligate, whether he remembered his name or not.

As if to prove her point, the man never removed his gaze from Harriet. “Miss Ward, I’m certain your elbow hit the headboard. I heard a decided thump.”

Elviria had to admit that Harriet gave the man her best “I’ll-show-you-a-thump” look. “Was it a very loud, solid thump?” Harriet asked, blinking innocently. “Like a rock on wood?”

His smile froze, and his gaze became more shaded. “Perhaps. Why?”

“If it was rocklike, then it was your head against the board and not my elbow.”

Elviria snatched her kerchief from her pocket and pretended to cough.

The patient’s lips twitched, but he managed to say in an even tone, “No. It was more of an elbow sound.”

“An elbow sound? What does an elbow sound like?”

“If you’ll lend me yours for a moment, I’ll show you what it sounds like,” he retorted easily.

Well, thought Elviria. Now we know that the young man has brothers and sisters. Only a well-teased sibling would have responded so quickly. She wasn’t sure why that information pleased her, but it did.

“Only,” Harriet said, “if you will grant me use of your head for a like experiment—”

“Harriet,” Elviria interjected, tucking her kerchief back into her pocket. “The poor man cannot possibly allow you to thunk his head against the headboard for no other reason than to ascertain what it will sound like. He’s wounded.”

Harriet eyed his bandaged head as if just seeing it. “I suppose you’re right. But once he’s better—”

“I’m certain he’ll heal much quicker without you using his head for a drum.” Elviria went to the bed, careful to place herself between the man and her daughter. “Please forgive Harriet. She has been under a strain lately.”