Page 18 of Daring the Forbidden Earl
She smiled in a manner that she hoped looked seductive. “There is greater pleasure in the anticipation.” Or so Nora had told her. “Let us call that a beginning.”
“A beginning… I rather like the sound of that,” he replied, grinning.
She nodded to his waistcoat. “I shall leave now, but you will have to give my letter back sooner or later, if you ever want me to study the contents.”
“We shall see about that.” He laughed, all of the concern fading away from his handsome face. “Perhaps, learning first-hand might be more educational than reading about it.”
She walked to the drawing room door and tossed a last remark over her shoulder—a thought to leave him with. “Now, that is the kind of rude comment I can appreciate.”
Just as Nora had said she would, if she followed her advice, it appeared Johanna had Mark entirely on the hook.
Chapter Ten
Still able to taste the sweetness of Johanna’s lips and smell the intoxicating scent of her perfume, Mark wandered through his townhouse in a daze. Her letter, too, was still burning a delicious hole in his pocket. For now, rather than something dangerous, it felt like a promise. A promise that she would return to resume the exploits he had discovered within.
Unless this is the dangerous part? Am I beginning something that may end in disaster?
He often got himself into predicaments when it came to beautiful women, but he had never truly cared for his former lovers… not in the sense of wanting anything lasting from such encounters, at least. He had sought to give and receive pleasure, but there was no love in his carnal performance. It was merely an ephemeral enjoyment, a spark of mutual lust that sputtered out once satisfied.
“Does it become dangerous when feelings are involved?” he asked the question aloud to no one at all, as he ventured through the hallways to find Chalke.
Love rarely ends well, in my limited experience. Unless I have merely had tragic examples?
He thought of his mother and father, not sure of which category they fell under. They had always had such an enviable marriage, doting on one another and never raising their voices, even in minor conflict. Perhaps they would have continued to be a happy exception, like Nora and Liam, had it not been for the night that changed everything.
In his mind’s eye, he saw the bodies thrashing, his mother desperately trying to free herself, as she unleashed a pained scream that he would never forget for as long as he lived. He remembered trying to run to help her, only to have a door slammed in his face.
And that man… that wretched man, keeping me away from my mother when she needed me the most.
Mark shrugged the memory of that fateful evening away, not wanting to dwell on it. He was too exquisitely delirious with residual joy from his kiss with Johanna to taint it with such nightmarish scenes.
“Chalke!” he called, finding his way into the kitchens.
His manservant looked up from a cup of tea. “My Lord, were you shouting for me? I do apologize, I did not hear you. Was there something you required?”
“Might you go to Westwood and Denninson’s residences for me?” Mark replied, as he plucked a jam tart from a cooling tray and nibbled on the buttery pastry.
Chalke got to his feet. “By Westwood, you mean the Earl of Keswick?”
“Oh, not you, too.” Mark rolled his eyes. “He has always been Westwood to me and will continue to be so. It is the same for Denninson. It would not feel right to call them Keswick and Hudson.”
Chalke dipped his head. “Apologies, My Lord. What message would you like me to relay?”
Mark smiled. “Inform them that I shall be collecting them at ten o’clock this evening… No, best make it eleven o’clock.”
“And where shall I tell them you are going? Will it be the Assembly Rooms, or one of your favorite haunts in Soho?” Chalke dusted crumbs from his legs.
Mark shook his head. “Neither. I do not plan to tell them where we are going until we are there, for they will only protest.” He grinned mischievously. “Merely inform them that I have had a trying day, after a particularly brutal argument with Mrs. Carlton, and that I am in need of my dearest friends. The rest shall be a surprise.”
Chalke looked nervous. “And if they refuse?”
“Do not return here until you have agreements from the both of them,” Mark instructed. “Really make it sound as though I am in a dire condition, and I am certain they will humor me.”
Knowing Chalke was very gifted in the art of persuasion, Mark took his jam tart and headed back out of the kitchens. He walked happily along the hallways, wondering what he ought to do until the evening, when he came to the oil painting of his father and stepmother. Grimacing, he turned it around, so he would not have to look at that witch’s face.
There are no portraits of my mother. I ought to remedy that.
He was certain there were some at the country estate, but that would involve venturing there to find them. And, now that London had become somewhat more interesting due to Johanna and her sultry, heart-thumping sensuality, he was loath to leave before he had seen where it might lead.
