Page 24 of A Marquess' Season of Secrets
“I’m so glad to see you awake! You have such pretty eyes and skin. May I touch your hair? I promise not to hurt you.”
The woman appeared harmless, so Juliana nodded. The maid lifted a lock of hair and rubbed it between her fingers.
“So soft and luxurious. How do you take care of it? My yellow curls refuse to grow past my shoulders, but I think I manipulate them too much.”
“I do not recall how I take care of my hair,” Juliana replied, “but I’m sure your yellow curls are just as pretty.”
The woman removed her cap and undid her hair, shaking out her curls. They fell about her face and gave her an angelic air.
“You look like you have a halo about your head,” Juliana told her.
“Indeed? That’s the best compliment I have ever received!” she said, securing her hair under the cap. “I would love to brush your hair.”
For some reason, the woman’s request triggered a memory of someone doing a similar thing.
“Are you well?” the maid asked. “You’re frowning.”
“It’s nothing. I would love you to brush my hair, but I am worried about my head injury.”
“I will be so gentle that you’ll hardly feel the brush,” the maid promised.
Juliana nodded. “Very well.”
The woman grinned and disappeared for a moment or two, returning with a brush that had seen better days.
“It’s my own personal brush,” the woman explained. “It used to be my grandmother’s, and she had beautiful, dark hair. I always wished my own would darken and be just as lovely, but it seems I am stuck with this mop on my head.”
“It’s a lovely mop.”
The maid smiled her pleasure and scooted closer with her chair. She lifted a handful of hair and gently began to brush it using long strokes.
The rhythmic sound of the brush and light stimulation along her scalp put Juliana in a tranquil state. This felt so familiar, but there was no clue to explain why. Juliana could only assume that someone had once brushed her hair like this.
Her eyes drifted closed, but she didn’t fall asleep. It just felt good to have someone touching her hair and giving her comfort with every stroke.
Juliana heard the deep voices of two men outside the room, immediately recognising one of them as the duke. The other man was probably the physician. She opened her eyes as they entered the room, suddenly nervous about the examination.
“That will be all, Kitty,” the duke told the maid. “I’ll call for you soon.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the woman replied, curtsying.
So, that was her name. Juliana would have guessed something like Anne or Mary, but Kitty suited her better.
“How are you feeling?” the physician asked. “His Grace has explained that you appear to have lost your memory.”
Juliana nodded. “Is it permanent?”
“There is no way of knowing that, but I do need to do a few more examinations now that you are awake. Just remain calm, and I’ll be done soon.”
Juliana looked behind the physician to the very concerned-looking duke. Why was he so worried? Juliana was confident the physician would do something to help her. That was his job, after all, was it not?
The physician asked her many questions while examining her physical responses to different stimuli. Finally, he stood back.
“You have responded well, young lady. Only some parts of your memory seem to be gone, but unfortunately, they are the parts you need for your identity. However, I am not too concerned about that. I believe your memory will return, but it will take time and patience.”
Juliana didn’t really have time, not when she needed to find her family and return to them. Once she left the duke’s estate, where would she go if she couldn’t recall any significant details about her life?
“How long?” she asked him.
