Pleasures of a Notorious Gentleman by Lorraine Heath Read Free Book Online

separate her from John.
    He held her together, kept the nightmares at bay. She knew it wasn’t fair to place such a heavy burden on an innocent, but she couldn’t bear the thought of never again holding him, looking upon his beloved face, caressing his soft cheek.
    If marriage to Stephen Lyons was required to ensure that she remained with John, then she would do all in her power to secure that marriage.
    Even if it meant that she’d never reveal the entire truth about John, even if it required that she spend eternity burning in the fires of hell.
    Nothing was too great a sacrifice. Nothing.
    S tephen felt as though he were perpetually waking up following too much drink the night before. It didn’t matter that he was consuming far less alcohol than he ever had. His head was reacting as though he were drinking gallons.
    Even now, in early evening, a fogginess clouded his thoughts. Sitting in a stuffed leather chair in his brother’s library, he rubbed his temple, grimacing when his fingers skimmed over the scar that began just below it. He did not fool himself into thinking that even if he remembered the battle, he’d have been focused enough on his own welfare to be aware of each wound that he’d received, but at least they’d have made some sense. As it was, the past two years were nothing more than a gaping hole filled with nothingness.
    “Mother is quite relieved that you remember Miss Dawson,” Ainsley said as he took the chair across from Stephen and stretched out his long legs. They’d not had a moment alone since he’d informed his mother and brother that they’d have overnight guests. “Surely, if you can remember her, the rest cannot be far behind.”
    If only it were true.
    “Unfortunately, Mother never has been able to tell when I’ve spoken false words. Why do you think I’ve managed to stay in her good graces for so long?”
    In typical style, Ainsley did not give away his thoughts. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. “I feared that was the case, that you were striving . . .”
    “To hide the truth?”
    Ainsley blatantly ignored the biting retort. Stephen found his tolerance irritating, but then of late he lost patience with everything. He’d come to his brother’s estate to recover, to regain his strength. He thought he was as healed as he would ever be. He was itching to move on—to go to London, lease a house, return to the life he’d known. It would be as though nothing had changed. Yet, somehow, even without his memories, he knew he had—in some fundamental way. He was as much a stranger to himself as Miss Dawson was.
    “If you don’t remember her, then how can you be certain she’s not lying?” Ainsley asked. “Perhaps she’s taking advantage of your . . . situation.”
    Everyone parried so lightly around his affliction, striving not to call it exactly what it was: evidence of some sort of mental deficiency. He supposed he should be grateful that they’d not locked him away. What if this forgetfulness was only the beginning? What if there was more to come?
    With fingers that had once caressed Miss Dawson, he rubbed his brow. “No one knows of it except for my family and the physicians who attended me. I demanded discretion. I must believe it was granted. So she came here fully expecting me to remember her. To lie would have served her no purpose. Her story would have been immediately discredited. Besides, I believe she thought I was dead.”
    “She did seem taken aback to discover you were alive, but that doesn’t prove the child is yours. Perhaps she came here thinking there was no one to disprove her claim.”
    “What a suspicious gent you are. She doesn’t strike me as capable of deception.”
    “You deduced this after a mere half hour in her company? Did you tell her the truth about your circumstance when you took your turn about the garden?”
    He slid his gaze over to his brother. Among his friends and associates, Stephen was the only one to have an older