AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Owen clutched his gut, doubling over from the force of his disgust. It was hard to breathe; hard to imagine he had been so cruel to Selena. God, he had been a monster. There were other flashbacks, each more painful than the previous.
He gulped mouthfuls of air, trying to calm the storm inside him. Was the anger the old Owen trying to break free? Would these fresh memories unleash the fiend who had been dwelling just beneath the surface this entire time?
No!
He wouldn’t allow it. After he calmed down, Owen rang for Tom. For now, the goal was to meet Matthew Longfellow and hopefully get some answers. Unfortunately, there were no memories from his time in New Zealand.
“Good morning, your lordship,” Tom cheerfully addressed him.
“Good morning. Is Lady Fernsby awake?”
“Yes, sir. I believe Katie was just going up to her chambers.”
He wanted to see Selena before he left, but he didn’t know if he could face her. Once he dressed, Owen joined Selena in the dining room. During the meal, he couldn’t even look her in the eye. He tried his best to sound normal, but it was difficult. Guilt ate away at his insides.
I’m a coward, he thought. Each time he glanced at Selena, another pang of remorse hit him. Should he tell her about the regained memories? Not yet. He was selfish and wanted to bask in his newfound happiness with his wife before reality came crashing around them. Once Selena knew he remembered their past life, she might not want him anymore, and Owen could not bear being without her.
He bid Selena farewell, with the promise of meeting her for lunch. The carriage carried him through the London streets to the Office of Foreign Affairs. Who knew if Longfellow would even be there, but Owen couldn’t spare the time to send a message and wait for a reply. The matter was too urgent to waste a moment.
The building covered most of the street block it occupied. It was an older structure, constructed near other government offices, no doubt to allow an easier flow of information between branches. Owen alighted from the carriage and climbed the steps to the large double doors. There was a desk to the left with a clerk sitting behind it.
“Excuse me. I was looking to see if Mr. Matthew Longfellow is available,” Owen asked the gentleman.
“Who may I say is calling?”
“Lord Fernsby.”
“Wait here, please.” The young man walked down a long hall and turned a corner.
Owen removed his hat. He fidgeted with his collar. Did they always keep it so warm in here? He paced the width of the room, back and forth, until he spied the clerk coming toward him.
“Mr. Longfellow will see you, your lordship.” He motioned for Owen to follow him.
With each step, the walls felt as if they were closing in on him. Was it some repressed guilt? Over what? Hopefully, Longfellow would help him with that question. They stopped at a nondescript door. Owen’s guide knocked twice, then opened the door, and motioned him inside.
Owen took a deep breath before stepping over the threshold. The door closed behind him, making Owen jump. When he finally looked forward, he saw he was in a simple office. There was a desk with two chairs, a cabinet for files, and a small table in the corner. Sitting behind the desk was a man of almost forty. His dark brown hair was neatly combed back, with a matching beard and mustache. His green eyes, while on the smaller side, seemed to size up Owen with a single glance. This man knew things.
“Lord Fernsby, I am Matthew Longfellow. Pleased to meet you.” The agent extended his hand.
Owen stepped forward and took the proffered hand. “How do you do.” He waited to see if Longfellow would say anything further. An awkward silence fell between them. Owen cleared his throat. “I suppose you are wondering what I am doing here.”
“The thought had crossed my mind since we are not previously acquainted.”
So he didn’t know Longfellow. Owen’s shoulders slumped. Then why did he have the agent’s name written? Then he thought of something.
“Perhaps you know an Owen Atherton?”
The other man perked up at hearing the name. “How do you know him?”
“It’s me.”
Longfellow frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I follow.”
“Atherton is my family name. I inherited the earldom upon my brother’s recent death, but that’s beside the point. What does matter is that I had your name written on a piece of paper I found in my satchel when I returned from New Zealand a few weeks ago. The problem is, I have no memory of you or why I would have written your name.”
“How can you not remember?”
“I was injured in service and have amnesia. It was only by coincidence that I found this scrap of paper.” Owen withdrew the parchment with Longfellow’s name scrawled across it.
