“I take it you don’t wish me to reveal that I don’t remember who I am?”

“If you don’t mind, it would be best if you’d just pretend to remember that you are indeed the captain.” She clasped her hands together. “Oh, this will solve everything! Now we’ll have time to get the wool to market and—”

“Wool?”

“Oh yes. Harriet bought hundreds of sheep. We’re going to shear them and make the last payment; then Garrett Park will be ours.”

Bloody hell, they’re sheep farmers, the lot of them. That explained why Miss Harriet Ward had such a lovely, aristocratic accent, yet was as tanned as a laundress.

In fact, that explained quite a lot of things. For the first time since he’d awakened, Chase took stock of his surroundings. The chamber was large and square, with two huge windows that allowed sun to stream warmly into the room.

Perhaps it was the largeness of the windows or the warm red colors that decorated the room, but until that moment, he’d thought himself rather sumptuously housed. Now, however, he could see the threadbare spots on the rugs, the lack of decoration on the walls—as if all the pictures had been removed—and the overly soft, worn appearance of the counterpane.

The Wards might be from genteel stock, but it was rather obvious they were not well-off. And now, forced by penury to earn their way, they’d concocted a fictitious fiancé for Miss Harriet to keep the bank at bay.

It was a bold move. Chase eyed his hostess with a new respect. “You had some ill fortune.”

“Oh, my, yes! My husband passed away several years ago. It’s just me, my three daughters and two sons. So far, we’ve managed on our own. But now—” She placed her hand on his arm, a genuine plea in her eyes. “Captain Frakenham, we need your help.”

Chase looked at Mrs. Ward’s hand, resting so innocuously on his sleeve. Good God, it was almost as if she thought him a knight on a white horse.

Unfortunately, Chase knew who and what he was. He was not a knight, and he felt anything but noble. “Mrs. Ward, I am not Captain Frakenham.”

“No? Then who are you?”

Chase opened his mouth to answer. But a split second’s thought made him close it. He was supposed to have no memory of who he was. If he wanted the Wards to believe that and not ask incessant questions, then he couldn’t really argue about who he was not, could he?

Damn it all, perhaps he should just pretend to suddenly recall his name…but no. Word would reach his brothers within the day, if not the hour. Devon’s house was only a short distance from where Chase had been attacked. His brothers would immediately ride out and attempt to talk him out of his decision to leave England.

Still, it was a shame to leave the Wards in such a predicament. Perhaps…he frowned. What if…Good Lord, he couldn’t believe he was even considering this, but…what if he did agree to become Captain Frakenham? For a few days, at least. He could be a great help to the Wards, and he’d have a safe place to convalesce without his brothers being the wiser to his proximity to London.