She took a small sip of brandy. “Not at all. I feel as though I’ve done nothing but speak about Cornwall.”
“I didn’t mean the mission.”
“I know what you meant. My memory is clear. In fact, more and more of it has been returning since that last night.”
He nodded. That was as it should be. He wouldn’t wish permanent memory loss on her even if that was the only way he’d ever have her.
She set her snifter on the drinks cart beside him. “I owe you an apology,” she said.
Simon blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t like to apologize, Simon, so it would help if you were quiet during this.”
“Of course.”
She gave him an impatient look, and he put a finger to his lips. Then he downed the rest of his brandy. He was afraid he’d need it.
“As I said, my memory has been returning. A few years are still fuzzy and even some details of specific events are muddy. Melbourne had me see Farrar about the bump on my head.”
Simon was relieved to hear it. Farrar was one of the best surgeons they had.
“He can’t promise all my memory will return. He also said that a blow to the head wouldn’t account for the change in my personality. He commented several times that I seemed far more amiable of late.”
“Did you throttle him?”
“No. I apologized to him as I am about to apologize to you because it doesn’t matter if I was the greatest spy in British history, I didn’t have the right to treat you as I did.”
“Agent Clawson—”
“Won’t you call me Marjorie?”
Yes, yes he would.
“If you’ll permit me.”
“Then I’ll call you Simon, if you’ll permit me.”
“Of course.”
“Good.” She took a breath. “Simon, I did not treat you well. I didn’t treat most people well, and what I realized as my memory came back to me was that I was a rude, cold person. Don’t try and deny it. I remember much of it perfectly, and I’m ashamed of how I behaved. I’m deeply sorry for how I treated you, and there’s no excuse.” She blinked and Simon wondered if she was holding back tears. Marjorie Clawson crying? He did not want to be the cause of that.
He grasped her hand. “Clearly, you have changed. I forgive you, and I only hope we can be friends.”
She looked up at him. “I was hoping we might be more than friends.”
He didn’t dare take a breath. He didn’t dare move a fraction of an inch lest this dream would diffuse, and he’d wake.
“I remembered something else, Simon. I remembered why I behaved as I did. I always felt left out because I was a woman and almost every other agent was a man. I felt I had to act aloof and arrogant to be respected.”
“I can’t argue with that logic. Most of the male agents only grudgingly respect you, and even they would say the Foreign Office is no place for a woman.”
“I’ve heard all of that, and it made me defensive and angry. And then I met you.” She squeezed his hand. “You were so young and so handsome, and I liked you right away. At first, I was simply smitten by your good looks. Yes, even I can be smitten. But as I came to know you and work with you, I liked you even more. You’re not like the others. You’re patient and kind and completely ruthless when you need to be. You’re an excellent agent, but you’re an even better man.”
His head was spinning, and he wanted—needed—to sit, but he feared any slight change might break this spell.
She took a breath. “I knew you had a tendre for me. As you said, you weren’t very good at hiding it. Unfortunately, the fact that you reciprocated my feelings scared me. I was afraid if you knew I felt the same—well, I don’t know what I thought might happen. But for so many years I’d trained myself not to show any vulnerability to the other agents, so I refused to show you any. I think I believed the only way to hide my feelings was to behave as though I couldn’t stand you.”
“You’d make a good actress,” he whispered.
