“Do you love Henri?”
She narrowed her eyes on Mark. “You ask if I love him, not if I’vemadelove to him?”
“That’s a question and I’m the one asking at the moment.” His voice had an edge to it.
“Fine. No, I don’t love Henri. Not that way.”
He lifted his head to look at her. Their gazes met. “And have you made love to him?”
She wagged a finger at him. “Ah, ah, ah, my turn to ask.”
“I already know what you’re going to ask… why did I make that promise to my father?”
“Yes, please answer,” she replied, feeling smug.
Mark took a long deep breath. “My father was dying. I was fifteen.”
“He asked you on his deathbed?” Her eyes filled with unexpected tears.
Mark clenched his jaw and looked out the window into the darkness. “Yes. My mother’s family detested my father. They never accepted him and they barely accepted me.”
Nicole gasped. “That can’t be true.” She covered her mouth with her hand, tears still burning her eyes.
“It’s entirely true, I assure you. It’s one of many reasons I have little use for the aristocracy. They’re a lot of vultures who have no regard for the true meaning of love and family.”
She took a deep, fortifying breath.Merde. She’d given him another opportunity to take a dig at her. “But why? Why did he ask it of you?”
Mark’s eyes lost their focus. He was obviously remembering. “My father was proud. He believed a man should make his own way in the world, forge his own path. He disliked most Englishmen because they rely too heavily on their family names and fortunes. He warned me against it my entire childhood.”
She cleared her throat. “And your promise to your father is worth more to you than your promotion?”
Mark’s teeth flashed in his smile. “I have every intention of getting my promotion. I’ve got all of them to date without mentioning the Duke of Colchester once, and I intend to get this one the same way. On my own merit.”
She ground her teeth. “But why don’t you—”
This time he wagged a finger at her. “It’smyturn to ask a question.”
She sighed and nodded. “Very well. You want to know if I’ve been with Henri. But before I answer, think long and hard about whether you’re going to be willing to tell me whomyou’vebeen with. What if that’smythird question?”
He cocked his head to the side and gave her a look of sheer disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, quite. Think about it. Do you still want to know?”
“Are you planning to ask me whom I’ve been with?” he asked, still blinking in disbelief.
“I might. Be warned.” She nodded vigorously, but her heart was pounding out of her chest. She didn’t at all want to ask him whom he’d been with.
“Very well. Yes, I still want to know,” he barked.
“Fine, but I’ve already told you, so you’re wasting a question. No, I’ve never gone to bed with Henri.” Was it her imagination or did Mark’s shoulders relax a bit?
He propped one arm against the coach wall and regarded her down the length of his nose. “You want to know whom I’ve been with?” His tone was lazy.
“No,” she said too quickly, lifting her chin and averting her eyes.
“No?” His voice held a note of surprise.
“That’s right. That’s not my question.” She leaned to deposit the rest of the bread and cheese back into the basket.
