For the Earl's Pleasure by Anne Mallory Read Free Book Online

your meaning. The good minister said just the other day—”
    She let Mr. Farnswourth natter on while she carefully observed the changing expressions on Rainewood’s face.
    “Never,” he said dismissively, though his jaw moved as if it took effort to do so. “This is more of your hokey talk.”
    She bit her lip and shook her head woodenly.
    Anger suffused his face. Rainewood channeled all feelings he couldn’t deal with into anger—he always had. “Stop this. Whatever this is. You are mad.”
    She swallowed around the stone columns of her throat. It was as if the hurt would never heal. She heard the echo of a long summer past— You are mad. Never speak to me again .
    She nodded tightly and concentrated on Mr. Farnswourth. Perhaps if she concentrated hard enough, she would wake up to a more pleasant day.
    Mr. Farnswourth’s lips moved as he actively nodded along with whatever he was saying. A life with Mr. Farnswourth—or Mr. Sourting. Thirty long years of comfort and sweet boredom. She could run a home of her own. Start fresh with servants who didn’t think she was eleven shy of a dozen.
    She could evade the constant threat of being sent there .
    Her mother would be pleased. Perhaps she would even embrace her at the wedding. She could banish all of her abnormal qualities with a fresh start.
    All in all, Farnswourth was a decent prospect, not too high on the instep, no one with whom she could taunt Rainewood…she briefly shut her eyes against the thought of him…but a solid husband, and she should be cultivating the opportunity of his suit instead of—
    “This is ridiculous. You will tell me how to get out of this nightmare,” the dark voice said, now with a hint of a bitter whiskey. “Come with me. Now.”
    —instead of thinking of a man who had ridiculed and crushed her and was now far beyond her help.
    “No.”
    “Pardon me?” Mr. Farnswourth gave her a quizzical glance.
    She smiled as brightly as her turmoil would allow. “Would you care to take a walk around the room, Mr. Farnswourth?”
    He puffed out his chest. “Of course, Miss Smart.” He held out an arm and she gratefully took it, keeping her gaze away from Rainewood.
    She kept her fingers loose on his sleeve, fighting the instincts that screamed for skin-to-skin contact, especially now in the face of Rainewood’s demise.
    Although the balls and routs and endless gatherings were tiresome in their consistency, she always had a chance to dance with men on the lower end of the social scale. She could brush by people in the crowd. She could accept the hand of someone new to meet. There was always a chance for physical contact when she went out. It was the only thing that kept her involved in the marriage game.
    Mr. Farnswourth maintained a steady dialogue that allowed her to nod continuously while keeping contact with his sleeve.
    Rainewood shadowed them, striding through people apace, leaving people shaking and shivering in his wake.
    “Come with me, Smart.” That horribly demanding voice was closer, more insistent, just behind her ear, the tenor of it raising the hairs at her neck and sending shivers down her spine. Shivers changed in substance, but that had been ever present companions around him since she had turned thirteen. Since everything had changed.
    Anger suffused her from multiple directions—Rainewood’s behavior, past and present, and her own.
    “For years you have ridiculed me about this exact type of behavior you are demanding,” she said as quietly and scathingly as she could from the side of her mouth while Farnswourth nattered on, oblivious. “Deal with this on your own.”
     

    Valerian fumed as he watched her take another turn about the room, then two. He had always known that she liked to walk with people and touch them. He had used the knowledge too often against her. Just the feel of her skin beneath his fingers, always shivering a bit, as she visibly fought with herself to lean in for more, made him hard. Made him