Page 50 of Daring the Forbidden Earl
Johanna gave a small nod. “Go on…”
“Do you remember me telling you how dearly my mother and father loved one another?” Mark said, though he could not stay in one place. Such a conversation called for some agitated pacing.
Johanna canted her head. “I believe so.”
“Truly, I have never seen two people so fervently in love. There was nothing they would not have done for one another, and they showered their affections upon me, too. As such, I was a blissfully happy child. I knew I was loved, and that I had the rare pleasure of having a mother and father who adored one another,” he continued. “Until all of that was snatched away from us.”
His breath hitched and he dug his fingernails into his palms, forcing himself to carry on. “One day, when I was twelve years old… I was reading poetry in the library, when I found a passage I thought my mother would like. I went to find her, so I might show her.”
He had pieced the memories back together during the last few days, trying to place the parts that he had forgotten.
“I walked upstairs, and was partway across the landing, when I heard a noise—a desperate howl, as though someone were in pain,” he went on, breathing harshly. “Curious as most twelve-year-old boys are, I followed the sound to the upstairs study. My mother’s study. That is when I heard the second howl, though this one was more like a scream.”
“The door was slightly ajar, so I peered inside, worried that I might have to call for help if one of the servants had hurt themselves. I suppose I should have known that the servants would not be in her private study.” He gulped. “And that is when I saw her… It was dark, but I could see my mother, without her clothes, and… my uncle atop her. She was thrashing wildly, but… he was too strong.”
Johanna stared at him in horror, but she said nothing, her silence encouraging him to carry on.
“He wore nothing but an undershirt, and… I cannot put the description into words, but I am certain you understand.” Mark wiped a stray tear from his cheek. “My uncle raped my mother, and I could not do anything to save her.”
“The moment I comprehended what I was seeing, I threw open the door and bellowed at him to get away from her.” His breaths were coming faster now, each word more painful to speak aloud. “My mother screamed with such terror that I will never be able to forget the sound. Meanwhile, my uncle leaped up and raced for the door, where he slammed it in my face. I do not know what he did to her while that door was closed, for I… fainted in the hallway.”
“When I regained consciousness, my mother was crouched over me, tears streaming down her face. And there was no sign of my uncle, who must have fled as soon as he knew he had been seen in his despicable act,” Mark hissed.
Johanna shook her head slowly. “I am so very sorry, my darling.”
“After that, my mother was a shell of her former self. My father discovered what had happened, and though he tried to offer her comfort, she would not accept it. She became quiet and distant and, after a while, she was sent away from the manor—I believe it was to a sanitorium of some kind, so she could get better.” He paused, mopping the sweat from his brow. “But when she returned, she gradually became worse and worse. For over a decade, she declined steadily. I could not help her. My father could not help her. There was nothing anyone could do.”
“And then, some years after she died, my father betrayed her memory by marrying a vicious harpy and demanding that I call that awful woman ‘Mother.’ I am not sure I ever forgave him for that,” he concluded, letting his breaths even out to a steadier rhythm. “In many ways, that is why I have avoided the notions of love and marriage for so long, because I figured it would always end in tragedy. You were the first woman who made me think otherwise.”
Johanna rose from her chair and crossed to where Mark stood. Eyes glittering with tears, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him into a tight embrace. He could hear the sound of her soft sobs as she buried her face in his neck, kissing his skin tenderly.
“I am so very, very sorry,” she murmured. “I cannot imagine the torment you must have suffered, all these years. It is no wonder you hated me for marrying him. If I had known that, I would have hated myself!” She clung tighter to him. “Your mother… your poor, poor mother. My goodness… the anguish she must have lived with, through all that time.”
Mark put his arms around her in return. “I am only sorry that I did not tell you this the other night. That way, I might have stopped you from suffering through misery of your own.”
She shook her head. “I wish I had not asked. I feel utterly rotten for trying to press you into revealing something of that… wretchedness. Goodness, if I were you, I would have run away, too.”
“I will never run again, Sweeting.” He lifted her chin up, so he could look into her charming eyes. “No matter what we may face, I will not step away from your side. From now on, I will share everything with you. There will be no secrets.”
“I will not run from you, either,” she vowed.
He smiled despite his sadness. “Would you like to know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I love you, Johanna.” He dipped his head to kiss her. “And I want to ask if you would consent to be my wife?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Johanna pulled away from Mark, unable to believe what he had just said. “Pardon?”
He smiled and tugged her closer again. “I love you, and I want you to be my wife. As I said, I never thought I would be able to love or even contemplate the idea of marriage, until you appeared seven years ago.” His voice was thick with emotion. “I do not believe in coincidences, Sweeting. You and I were always supposed to find our way to one another, and though we were stubborn, and needed to be shoved together in a waltz, I am glad we sought peace.”
Johanna leaned her weight into him, fearing her legs might buckle. In truth, she could barely concentrate on what he was saying, for she still had so much sorrow and confusion and grief swimming around in her mind. If she was in his position, and had seen such terrible things, she knew she would not only avoid marriage, but she would avoid men, too.
“I cannot think,” she panted, fanning herself furiously. “Are you sure have not taken leave of your senses because of the blood you have lost? Have you forgotten that we cannot marry?”
Mark kissed her forehead. “We can wed, Sweeting, but we must travel northward in order to do so.” He gazed down into her eyes. “We can go to Gretna Green and be married there, my love. That is… if you desire to marry me?” A flicker of doubt crossed his face.
