Page 44 of Daring the Forbidden Earl
Mark turned his face away, trying to remember such a time, when he had not abhorred his uncle. He supposed all of the warmer memories of his uncle had been washed away after the horror he had witnessed through the gap in the study door, silhouetted by hellish firelight.
“Leave it be,” he whispered, his chest clenched in a vise of anguish.
Do not make me think of all of that here, in this place of peace and sanctuary. Do not remind me of such things, when I want nothing more than to drown myself in you.
Johanna turned his face back toward her. “Who do you think I was married to? I know only what I know. He was distant, but never unkind. He left me everything he possessed when he died. He agreed to wed me and promised to raise another man’s child as his own. And when I lost that child, he did not annul the marriage. Was he paying penance for something? You see, there is not only a gap in my knowledge of you, but I feel there is now a gap in my knowledge of my own experiences.”
“My mother died because of him.” The words hissed out of Mark’s mouth with a stilted reluctance, as though he could not hold the words in any longer, a pressed bellows wheezing out a dusty breath.
Johanna reeled back. “What?”
“I believe you heard me.” Mark hung his head, trying to fight off the dark, shadowy images that crawled into his skull.
I should have protected you, Mother.
He saw her pale and ghostly face in his mind, the hollowed-out eye sockets and the grayish skin, pulled too taut across her sunken cheeks. He heard her death rattle, coming at the bitter end of a slow, painful depression that had caused her to literally waste away to nothing but a husk of her former self.
“What did he do to her?” Johanna urged, her face transforming into a mask of horror.
Mark shook his head. “I will not talk of it. I… cannot, so do not ask me anymore.” He got up and walked for the door. “I am sorry, but I think I ought to leave.”
He did not want to, not really, but he could not taint this sacred place with the ghosts of his past. For if their shadows managed to slink into these apartments, and slither into the darkened corners and gaps in the floorboards, he knew he would never sleep easily in Johanna’s bed again. It was better to remove himself now, until he had wrangled his mind back into submission.
Johanna jumped up and ran after him. “No, do not go. I will not speak of it again, I promise.”
“I am not leavingyou,Sweeting, but I must clear my head.” Mark paused in the hallway beyond her bedchamber and bent to kiss the top of her hair. “You have not chased me away, if that is your fear. But I cannot stay here tonight.”
“Please,” Johanna whispered, her eyes wet with tears.
He shook his head. “Truly, we would both regret if I did.” He kissed her lips this time, hoping it would put her at ease. “Sleep well, Sweeting. I will visit again soon, once I am in better spirits.”
“But… I love you, Mark.” She stood shaking in the hall. “I do not want you to go. And… and… and there is something I ought to tell you, which you will want to hear.”
Desperate not to let her see him cry, he whirled around and raced for the door, running out into the corridor and down the staircase before he could even think about the repercussions. After all, he had promised not to hurt her or break her heart, and now he had just fled her apartments after she had confessed her love. Worse still, he had not paused to say it back.
It was seven years ago, all over again, and he had just walked away from her for the second time with his own love once more unspoken.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Alone in her silent apartments, with the sound of the door slamming shut ringing in her ears, Johanna stared into the gloom of the entrance annex. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the darkness engulfed her and, very slowly, she sank to her knees as though meaning to pray.
“Why did I press him like that?” she whispered to the deafening quiet. “He asked me to leave it be, and I did not. I did not even get to tell him of my visit with Miss Steele.”
Her heart seized in her chest, as her hand flew up to clasp at the spot. But the pain she felt was of her own doing. She knew that, and that made her heart hurt all the more. If she had just bided her time, and waited until he felt more comfortable, this could have been avoided. And, maybe, she would have heard the words from his lips that she had been hoping for.
“He will not come back, will he?” she asked the oppressive hallway. “I have ruined everything with my prying.”
He said he was not leaving me, but how can I believe him when he has fled my home? How can I believe him, when he did not return my confession of love?
Above her misery, she felt a tug of embarrassment. It had not been easy for her to say that she loved him. In all her life, she had made that confession only once, only to find out that it had not been real. Had she been too rash, this time? They had not long begun their romance, so it was not improbable.
“What have I done?” she murmured, holding her head in her hands.
I applied too much pressure, not knowing he would break…
She cursed herself silently for doing so, especially after he had told her that Peter had some part in his mother’s death. That should have been enough. She should have stopped there, and taken that as a sign that, one day, he might tell her the entire story. Now, she doubted she would ever get to hear another word from him, unless it was a civil remark in mutual company.
Johanna’s eyes sought out the carriage clock, which read half-past eleven. She wondered if it was too late to go and visit Nora. Her friend would know how to remedy this and, even if she had no advice, Nora would have comfort to offer.
