Page 60 of Daring the Forbidden Earl
“Miss Steele? I think it would be best coming from you,” Mark prompted, taking Kenneth’s lead.
Perhaps, if he could just get Miss Steele to tell the truth, Lord Dresday might reveal something of Johanna’s whereabouts. Foolish as it might have been, Mark was still clinging to the faint hope that the Baron knew more than he was letting on and was staying silent only because he thought Mark was his enemy.
Miss Steele looked as though she might faint. “I… cannot. I d-dare not.”
“Then I will have to,” Mark replied, with a pointed sigh. “Lord Dresday, the truth is, your daughter has—”
“It was not Lord Sinclair!” Miss Steele interrupted, blurting out the words. “I panicked when you demanded to know the name of the fellow you saw me with. Lord Sinclair’s was the only name I could think of that you might believe. But… in truth, I do not even know the name of the gentleman I encountered that night.”
She was lying through her teeth with regards to the last part, but Mark no longer cared. It was only the first part of her admission that he was interested in, praying it would loosen the chains that held the Baron’s lips locked.
Lord Dresday paled and pushed himself away from Kenneth. “Is this true?”
“It is.” Miss Steele nodded. “I did not mean to cause any trouble. I thought you would choose to ignore it or forget about it. I did not know you would try to pursue him, to make him wed me. If I had, I would never have lied.”
The Baron marched across the well-furnished reception room, his cheeks turning a darker shade of livid red with every step he took. And though Mark had no love for Miss Steele, he had a feeling that the Baron intended to do his daughter some harm. As such, he stepped in front of Miss Steele and put his arms wide, preventing Lord Dresday from accessing her.
“She is young, Lord Dresday. She made a mistake, and now all is well,” Mark said, hoping to calm the situation. “Now, if we may turn to my predicament, for I feel you owe me a certain debt.”
Lord Dresday halted sharply. “Whatever do you mean? I owe you nothing!”
“You have harassed and insulted me. All I ask in return for my forgiveness is for you to tell me who has taken my beloved Johanna. You must know something, for it occurred in this building, not long after she had been in these apartments. And I do not believe in coincidences, Lord Dresday.” Mark held his ground, desperate for some kind of clue. “And this wretchmustbe known to you, for reasons I have already stated.”
Against the odds, Mark’s sharp, commanding tone appeared to have the desired effect upon Lord Dresday. The older man’s demeanor shifted to one of contemplation, as his shoulders relaxed, and the scarlet patches faded from his cheeks. Deep in thought, he scratched his chin, and Mark could tell he was truly trying to figure it out.
After several agonizing minutes, the Baron finally spoke. “I am afraid I cannot help you. I can think of no one.” He took a breath. “Truly, I am sorry. You ought to start believing in coincidence, for that appears to be the situation here.”
“Then I cannot waste another moment in this place.” Mark clenched his jaw, as he turned back to Miss Steele. “I apologize, but I cannot protect you any longer. My beloved’s life may be in peril.”
Without another word, he walked away from Miss Steele and breezed past Lord Dresday, breaking into a sprint as he reached the front door. And yet, he could not shake the creeping feeling that Lord Dresdaydidknow more than he was letting on, but Mark was not about to waste more time and energy trying to squeeze blood from that particular stone.
It is up to you, now, Nora. If you do not awaken soon, then I fear I shall never see Johanna again.
As he ran down the stairs, hearing the thud of Kenneth’s footsteps charging behind him, one nagging question lingered in his mind:Why me? Who have I crossed, who would go to these lengths to see me suffer?
He was now beginning to wish he had allowed Kenneth to pursue the rogue last night, in the park. For if he had, perhaps they might have discovered the identity of this mysterious shadow, who bore the initials “HS.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Afetid, rotten-fish stench wafted into Johanna’s nostrils, making her stomach heave. Though it worked far better than any smelling salts, jolting her out of her woozy stupor, and making her lurch forward so she would not be sick upon herself.
It was only as the bile rose up her throat that she realized there was some kind of thick fabric in her mouth, held in place by another strip of fabric which was fastened at the back of her head. Panic surged through her, taking the place of the acidic bile, as she tried to bring her hands up to untie the bindings. But her hands would not move, her wrists also tied together.
Where am I? What happened? Why am I tied up in such a manner?
In the gloom that surrounded her, she struggled to make out any defining shapes. A large shadow loomed nearby, prompting her to shriek into her gag, terrified that a man was standing there. But as her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, she realized she was looking at a stack of crates with a huge sheet of canvas thrown over the top.
However, that did nothing to calm her terror, for she could not remember being brought here. Her head felt as though it had been stuffed with the same fabric that crowded her mouth, and though she tried her very hardest, she could not get the memories to form. Indeed, it was almost as though her mind was protecting her from remembering.
“Are ye awake?” a small, frightened voice whispered in the darkness.
Johanna twisted her head this way and that, trying to figure out where the sound had come from. Was there another prisoner here in the gloom with her? The voice certainly sounded feminine, and she was fairly sure that no woman would have been able to carry her to this place. Wherever this place was.
A muffled mumble garbled out of Johanna’s mouth, for she could not form the words to properly reply.
She froze as she heard the sound of footsteps scuffing on the hard, cold floor. A moment later, a moving shadow made its way through the towering stacks of crates, headed straight for Johanna. Evidently, whoever this woman was, she was not the same kind of prisoner as Johanna.
“Are ye cold?” The shadow stopped. “Shall I fetch blankets for ye?”
