Page 62 of An Earl to Remember
Creswick’s eyes gleamed, and Moncrieff glared at Daniel.
“Surely you jest,” the marquess said. “Shoveling cow shite?Where?”
“In a little town called Crandell.”
Beswick shook his head. “Never heard of it. How the hell did that happen?”
“Johanna shoved me overboard, and I lost my memory and washed up ashore there. A scheming little hellion contrived to pretend that we were married and set me to work about her manor.”
His three friends stared at him with varying degrees of shock and amusement. Then laughter rumbled from the duke.
“Yet you do not seem angry,” Moncrieff said, a smile hovering about his mouth. “A great beauty, is she?”
Daniel frowned, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and walking over to the windows. “She is lovely.”
He could feel his friends stare upon his shoulders, yet no one said anything else.
Finally, Moncrieff drawled, “We are visiting a pleasure party in Soho. Care to join us for a night of wenching?”
An illicit pursuit a month ago, he would have been the one to suggest it. “Aye,” he said, turning around. “I will see you in the Commons, Creswick.”
His friend nodded, his gaze unfathomable as they left the townhouse. Instructing one of the footmen to see his horse delivered to his house, he boarded Beswick’s palatial carriage, curious at his lack of eagerness for a night about town.
“You’ve inspired me to host my own midnight yacht soiree,” Moncrieff drawled. “Yours was all anyone spoke about for several days. It was decadent.”
The duke hummed his agreement. “Those rumblings almost overshadowed that you were missing.”
Moncrieff smiled. “Say you will attend, Stannis, and that your mishap overboard has not scarred you from sailing.”
“Nonsense,” Daniel drawled. “I will be there.”
“You should get the same chef he had,” Beswick said. “The food was divine.”
A knot tightened inside his chest and yearning stirred. Daniel ruthlessly pushed Georgianna from his thoughts, falling into the easy banter and camaraderie he shared with his closest friends.
Several minutes later, they entered the illicit party, greeted by beautiful ladies scantily dressed in silk peignoirs, wearing blue-and-gold half masks. Many of these ladies were women of high society with reputations to lose. However, Lady Helen, a marchioness who had been made a widow far too young, routinely hosted these scandalous parties where her guests were free to act on their baser and more decadent desires without fear of rebuke or discovery.
Moncrieff laughed as a lady rushed toward him and leaped into his arms. They kissed rather salaciously, and he murmured something in her ear that provoked a most startling blush.
Daniel chuckled, wending through the crowd, dipping his head to a few cronies who bowed in curtsy.
“Daniel,” a voice gasped.
He leaned against the balustrade, shifting to face Lady Johanna. She peered up at him, her limpid gaze pooling with tears, her lush mouth trembling.
She came over, lifting a hand to his jaw. He caught it before her touch landed.
“My wife would not appreciate it,” he murmured, dark amusement flowing through him.
She blanched. “Yourwife? What do you mean? There has been no announcement.”
“A rather risible situation only I would understand, I’m afraid.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “I am terribly sorry, Stannis. I…I was inexcusably reckless, and I never intended for you to fall overboard. Please forgive me.”
If not for your action, would I have not missed Georgianna?That thought struck him most forcibly. “Done.”
She gasped at his easy capitulation, for it was evident she had not expected it.
