Page 33 of His Unforgettable Bride
When he glanced up, all three women stared back at him. “Perhaps it would help if I heard more specifics regarding your brother and his wife.”
Livy had settled into the chair next to Juliet. Between them sat an oval table and a unique lamp, designed with a cut glass chimney, a pink reservoir for the oil, and a brass base. A vague memory resurrected, and the lamp seemed familiar. Had he been in this room at least once before amnesia addled his brain, confirming he was Alex Sherwood?
Livy leaned forward. “Your father’s middle name is Alfred, and your mother’s is Louise.”
Not beneficial.
“Oh.” Livy raised her finger and stood. “I’ve thought of something else that may awaken your memories. Please excuse me while I collect it.”
“Of course.” He tried to keep his tone pleasant, though he remained doubtful.
Livy left the drawing room, humming to herself.
Tabitha moved to take Livy’s vacated seat, but before she perched on the cushion, she tapped Juliet’s knee. “Young ladies never sit with their legs apart. It’s grossly unbecoming.”
“Thank you.” Juliet slapped her legs together, the fun from the earlier lesson gone and now frustration written on her face.
His jaw tightened, and he strongly suspected he had also failed to meet someone’s rigid standards once or twice before. But whose? Did he have a stern taskmaster in his life?
He knew the sisters only meant well, but a kinder way to point out someone’s error would be to pull them aside and provide the instruction one-on-one, not in front of others. Was that not common courtesy, or was he mistaken? “Would you care to view the photograph, Juliet?”
She squared her shoulders before reaching for the image he handed her. “Do you recognize even the slightest kinship toward the people in the picture?”
“Not yet, I fear. Tabitha, what else have you not disclosed about your brother and his wife? Anything substantial?”
“Katherine is French.”
French? Could he speak the language?Oui. A litany of French words rattled inside his head, not enough to fill a dictionary, but several pages, at least. Was he raised in France? No, he primarily spoke English. Perhaps he had visited his maternal relatives there. “Are Katherine Sherwood’s parents still living, and what was her name before marriage?”
“Last I knew, her family still resided in France. If I correctly recall, the name was Moreau.”
Gray waited for the name to stoke a memory, but none sparked inside him. Was he expecting too much progress too soon? Putting his life back together would take time. Therefore, maybe he should temper his expectations instead of losing what remained of his mind.
Still, what if he traveled north to where Alex Sherwood had served his sentence? Yet how could he leave town and simultaneously assist the sisters? He had an obligation to help them with their tearoom, did he not? They had fed, sheltered, and saved his life, for mercy’s sake.
Yet he could not stop wondering if he possessed the know-how for the project.
Juliet passed him back the frame. “They’re a fine-looking couple.”
“Indeed. That could help explain my good looks, could it not?”
A delightful laugh burst from her lips, bringing life to her face and a light to her eyes. To see and hear her happy again removed a weight from his shoulders.
Tabitha shook her head. “A lady never guffaws. It’s…vulgar.”
Juliet squeezed her chair’s doily-ridden armrests and clamped her mouth shut. Never mind that she had merely expressed joy. Never mind that calling laughter vulgar was absurd. And never mind that loud guffaws were inappropriate in certain circumstances, but not always.
Was Tabitha incapable of softening her many criticisms?
It was clear he needed to come to her rescue again. “Your charming laughter reminds me of music, Juliet. Bach, perhaps.”
Smiling, she waved off his praise. “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”
Tabitha was watching his face. Did she see his disapproval of her criticism there? He hoped so.
“Joviality has its place, I suppose.” The sister seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “But I have read the etiquette manual Livy carries around from cover to cover. It clearly states that speaking loudly, talking out of turn, and laughing boisterously are ill-bred and…vulgar.”
Juliet’s brows knitted. “I mean no disrespect, but I was raised believing laughter was happy and joyful.”
