Page 29 of Daring the Forbidden Earl
Liam nodded. “Of course she does, which is why she is framing this search as a civilized dinner party.”
Mark listened to his friend’s words with increasing irritation. Since slipping away from Johanna’s apartments yesterday, he had thought of nothing but her. His every waking, and sleeping, moment had been overwhelmed by visions of her shapely silhouette, and dreams of tearing away her nightgown to reveal that silhouette in its full, naked majesty. An image that had been stolen from him by the interruption of that wretched housekeeper.
“I would not have marked her to be that sort of woman,” Kenneth grumbled.
Marked is correct! I wish to be her lover, not this collective of insidious sycophants!
Mark plucked up his glass of red wine and downed half of it in one go, just to keep his hands and his mouth busy. If he did not distract himself, he knew he would say something that would break the promise he had made. And yet, he dearly wanted to stand up and announce to everyone present thatheadored Johanna, and the rest of these cretins could leave.
Liam furrowed his brow. “Do not be too harsh upon her, Denninson. You do not chastise Carlton for taking countless lovers.”
“I most certainly do,” Kenneth shot back. “I chastise him constantly for his philandering.”
Mark narrowed his eyes at his stern friend. “At least I know how to bring pleasure to a woman, and how to put a deliriously happy smile upon her face… even if it is only for one night.”
“It is not a sport, Carlton.” Kenneth did not rise to the remark. “You think of ladies as though you are in the midst of a competition, while I do not even think of them. They are naught but trouble, with very few exceptions.” He nodded to Liam. “Nora is, of course, one of those exceptions.”
“You did not care for her when you first met her,” Mark interjected. “You turned up your proud nose, just as you are doing with Jo—Mrs. Carlton.”
Kenneth raised a curious eyebrow. “Why do you care what I think of her, Carlton? I thought you loathed the woman.”
“Well… I do,” Mark replied, hating the words as they came out of his mouth, “but I find it rather condescending of you to judge a person because they might—heaven forbid—enjoy the pleasures of a bedchamber. I am irked because you insult me by saying such things, not because you insult her.”
In truth, he was wholly resisting the urge to slap Kenneth across the face with an open palm for suggesting Johanna was, “that sort of woman.” Mark was not even sure what that was supposed to mean, but he could guess. And he did not like the allusion one bit.
She is sweet, and sensual, and witty, and seductive, and beautiful, and so kind that she would likely apologize for offending you, Kenneth, even though you are the one offending her!
Kenneth gave a casual shrug. “I am only fearful for your immortal soul, Carlton. There is no insult in that. If anything, it shows caring.”
“Then perhaps it is for the best that you find ladies so abhorrent, Denninson, for I should hate to see how you show love,” Mark said curtly, the dining room suddenly too suffocating. “If you will excuse me, I feel the need to take some air.”
Shaking with suppressed anger, he scraped back his chair and made his excuses to the other diners, before heading out into the hallway. He did not stop until he reached the back door, which led out into the townhouse gardens. Even then, he continued on across the crisp lawns until he reached a sheltered spot at the farthest edge, where he could dampen his ire beneath the shadow of an apple tree.
He braced his palm against the gnarled trunk and sucked in deep breath after deep breath. “I was too curt with my words,” he hissed. “They will surely suspect something now.”
He bashed his hand against the apple tree in frustration. A sharp spike of pain shot through his knuckles, making him think of the prizefighter who had helped him to his feet.
I imagine you would have made a dent in the wood…
“What is the matter with me?” He turned his back to the trunk and leaned against it. “I have never cared what anyone thought of me, but now…”
He rubbed his chest with his palm, trying to massage away the uncomfortable prickle of shame that had set in once again. In all his four-and-thirty years on this Earth, he had never allowed himself to feel shame for his enjoyment of women. It was his medicine, and there could be no shame in healing oneself. And yet, since encountering Johanna again, he had felt it creeping in twice. Three times if he included the mortification of falling into the boxing ring.
Is it this business with the Baron of Dresday? Is that what has sparked this feeling?
He had tried not to think of his unpleasant bout with the Baron, but it kept creeping back in when he least expected it. For though it was Mark’s word against the Baron and his daughter’s, he worried how Johanna would take the news if it spread through London. Wouldshebelieve him, or would she think as Chalke had—that there was no smoke without fire?
Frowning, he stared up at the glittering constellations that sparkled overhead, like diamonds fixed to the dark, sapphire blue of the gown Johanna had worn at Nora’s ball.
“Would it be simpler if I were not an Earl?” he asked the heavens. “If I were like that Snow fellow and his woman, would I be able to love whom I pleased, without fear of judgment or retribution?”
Or was that why he was feeling this way—because he had found someone that he could not just forget when dawn came? He could not deny that Johanna had made him pensive, for he had to wonder if any of his lovers had ever felt this way for him. Perhaps that was why he was beginning to feel shame for the way he had acted all these years.
“Mark?” A soft voice called to him from the darkness of the garden.
His head snapped up. “Johanna? You should not be out here. If we are found, they might susp—”
She appeared out of the gloom like a radiant vision, her hips swaying seductively from side to side as she walked toward him. And when she reached him, she placed a finger gently upon his lips.
