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

fortunate for me to have two brothers who sit in the House of Lords.”
    Ainsley studied him with that damned fine mind of his. “Why are you arguing to be shackled when I’m striving to find an argument to prevent it?”
    Stephen dropped his head back and contemplated the fresco painting on the ceiling. Woodland nymphs and enticing beauties with bared arms . . . a peacefulness that eluded him. He was tormented by what he could not dredge up from the farthest recesses of his mind. Would the torment increase if he did recall those two years? From everything he’d read, all that he’d heard, it was a blessing not to remember. Amnesia, the physician had called it. Not unusual to forget unpleasantness. As though Stephen lacked the backbone to face the horror of what he’d experienced. It gnawed at him to think that he would be so cowardly, that he would welcome the comfort of no memories.
    “I don’t know why I’m set on this course,” he finally responded to his brother. “Marriage is not something that ever appealed to me.”
    “Which is the very reason I’m confounded by your willingness to accept it as your fate so readily.”
    “Mother says the child favors me.”
    “I’ve seen numerous babes in my life and they all look the same. Ruddy cheeks and pursed mouths and squinting eyes.”
    “You’re becoming quite the cynic as you grow older.”
    “Taking after my older brothers.”
    “So you excel in the bedchamber?” he asked, with a desperate need to divert the conversation away from him before his skull split in two.
    Ainsley did little more than give him a sly smile. “You’re attempting to change the subject.”
    “Well, yes, I—”
    The door clicked open, and he glanced over his shoulder as his mother and Miss Dawson entered the room. Then he was coming to his feet more swiftly than he should have and the pain shot through his leg, nearly causing him to lose his balance. He caught himself on the back of the chair, hoping to God that Miss Dawson’s attention had been turned toward the books or some trivial piece of artwork and not him. If she had seen his pitiful display of rising she gave no sign of it. His mother, on the other hand, looked as though she wanted to weep, but, thankfully, recovered herself quickly enough. She knew he hated to be smothered by motherly concern.
    To be smothered by a lusty maiden, however, brought no objections from him.
    Although he’d not been with a woman since he woke up in that damnable cesspool that they called a hospital. Of late, he’d had the stirrings again, but what woman would want the scarred creature he’d become?
    “I’m fine,” he muttered to Ainsley, jerking free of the helpful hand he’d been too preoccupied to notice until that moment. “I’m fine.”
    Only he wasn’t. Mercy Dawson was not what he would consider beautiful, and yet there was a radiance to her. As though somehow from the moment he’d left her in the parlor after alerting his family that she’d be remaining and this moment when she’d arrived in the library, she’d found a measure of peace and contentment. He wanted what she seemed to possess so damned easily.
    “Miss Dawson,” Ainsley began, stepping forward and bowing slightly. “Allow me to say that you look lovely. I assume you’ve found everything to your satisfaction.”
    “Quite. Yes. Thank you, Your Grace. I’m not sure how your mother managed the miracle of finding a bassinet on such short notice, but John is quite content there. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him sleep so well.”
    John rolled off her tongue like a sweet lullaby, soft and soothing. Stephen wondered how his own name might have sounded on her lips during the height of passion. It would be easy enough to find out later tonight. He’d had the servants place her in a bedchamber in the same wing as his. Scandalous, but then they were all adults, and her reputation was already ruined. Besides, at his brother’s estate, who was there to know?