Page 2 of Daring the Forbidden Earl
Mark edged out from behind the drape, careful to keep his back to Johanna’s location. “I could just as easily askyou,” he directed his gaze at Liam, “what Johanna is doing here! She is supposed to be swamped in black, smearing ash on her face, and pulling her hair out in grief. Yet she looks as though she is having a wondrous time. I can hear her laughing from here.”
Is she laughing at me?
It was not an improbable notion, but it was not one that Mark’s pride appreciated. He could throw out jokes and jests with aplomb, but when he became the center of the teasing, he did not fare too well. Especially when the teasing came from Johanna.
“Ah…” Liam at least had the decency to look sheepish.
“Ah?” Mark parroted. “Did you not think it prudent to warn me?”
Kenneth rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “If you had not plunged back into your pursuit of romancing every lady in London, there might have been time. We have not seen you since you returned from Bordeaux last week. How could Westwood possibly have warned you?”
“Youhave spurned the delicious ambrosia of a well-deserved drink for reasons unknown,” Mark accused Kenneth, before turning to Liam. “Andyouare ensconced in your wife and your child. I needed some entertainment, and the charming ladies of Golden Square have lavished me with it. The pair of you are traitors to our bachelor existence.” He paused. “Besides, time has a way of getting away with a person when they spend all day in bed. Many beds.”
Liam chuckled. “Apologies, Dear Carlton, though I am pleased to see that your summer abroad has reinvigorated you.”
“I never lack vigor,” Mark retorted, with a grin. Even though he had inherited his father’s Earldom, old habits die hard, and his friends continued to call him by his surname. He preferred it, in truth, for he had never much wanted the responsibility of being an Earl.
Kenneth sighed. “Perhaps not, but it appears you lack courage in the face of Mrs. Carlton. I have never understood why the two of you cannot be friendly. You once admired her, shortly before she wed your uncle, if memory serves.”
“I did not!” Mark protested. “Nor would I expect you to understand why she and I will never see eye-to-eye. All you have to do is look at her, or hear her speak, to know she is a joyless sow.”
Kenneth stared at him. “Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much.”
“Methinks the gentleman needs to concentrate on his own romantic life, or lack thereof, before casting aspersions on me.” Mark gave Kenneth a friendly nudge in the ribs. “I have plenty of distractions. The trouble is, I will beexpectedto speak with her, because she is my uncle’s widow. That is my gripe, for I would rather not waste precious breath that I could spend upon more pleasant, cheerful maidens. It is rather like staring at a blackbird in an aviary, rather than the beautiful, brightly-feathered parrots.”
“Like the one who is presently trying to mop your champagne off her skirts?” Liam’s wife, Nora, materialized out of nowhere.
Mark groaned. “Is this to become an interrogation?”
“More of an intervention,” Nora replied, with a smirk. “Come, take my arm, and I’ll guide you through making amends with Johanna.”
The Countess of Keswick was, perhaps, the most celebrated and feared woman in all of London. An authoress of a rather incendiary, infamous set of memoirs that had sent many gentlemen of the peerage into hiding, she still maintained the wit and wisdom of her former life as a courtesan. As such, every time she threw a ball like this one, the hallways were packed to the rafters, and ladies were seen fighting over an invitation.
Mark put up his hands in mock surrender. “I have no amends to make. We shall be quite happy if we avoid one another, I assure you.” He eyed Nora curiously. “Since when did you start referring to her as ‘Johanna’? I did not realize you were acquainted.”
Nora forcibly took hold of his arm. “You shouldn’t have gone away, Darling. I have been making many new friends since you scurried off to France to enjoy the local…cuisine, and Johanna has been helping me at the orphanage. She’s a rare delight.”
“She is a rare thorn in my side,” Mark muttered, trying to drag his feet as Nora led him toward the opposite side of the room.
Nora clicked her tongue. “I ought to knock your heads together.”
“Her thick skull would crack mine wide open.” Mark tried to glance back at his two friends with pleading eyes, hoping they would help him. “And I doubt she is helping at the orphanage out of the goodness of her shriveled heart. She is likely preparing them for some wicked ceremony, so she might bathe in their tears and maintain her youth.”
Nora cackled. “I have missed you, my dear friend.”
“I have missed you, too,” he replied, meaning it.
Despite Nora’s past, she was the kind of woman that it was impossible not to adore. She gave selflessly to charity, and rallied funds for orphanages all across London, to better the lives of destitute children. Having been raised with nothing, unlike the company she now kept, she understood the world in a way that wealthy people never could. She saw injustice, and she fought it, instead of pretending it was none of her concern. But Mark would not, for one second, believe that Johanna was acting charitably for the same reasons.
“Have I been gone so long that her mourning period is truly over?” Mark side-eyed Nora.
She nodded. “You have, Dear Boy.” Her expression softened. “I know your uncle’s death was strange for you, and you have had to contend with the death of your father at the same time, but she has lost her husband. She deserves your civility, if not your kindness.”
Mark snorted. “I cannot make any promises.”
“I know you like her.” Nora flashed him a wink. “I saw the way you stopped dead when you saw her. You even risked your reputation by spraying champagne upon, and then abandoning, those other ladies. Men don’t do that for women they don’t like.”
Mark gaped in shock. “It took me by surprise because I thought she’d be locked up in her lodgings, weeping over that cruel, evil bastard—if you will pardon my French. It is not because of any… affection.”
