The Lady’s Sinful Secret

by Kelly Boyce

  “Are you certain?” The dark-haired man with the sharp features leaned forward in his saddle, his piercing gaze penetrating deep. “You do look quite familiar.”

  Why did everyone keep saying that? It wasn’t as if he favored either of his brothers. They had taken after his father’s side—short and squat, while he resembled his mother’s taller and leaner side of the family.

  “I attended last night’s Assembly briefly. Perhaps you saw me there.” He had not stayed long after his brief rendezvous with Glory. Patience had not been pleased at their early departure, but he’d promised to make it up to his nieces. Unfortunately, that would likely mean taking them to Glory’s birthday ball, thanks to his sister’s machinations.

  God help him.

  “Perhaps that is it.” But the other man did not look convinced.

  “Either way,” Blackbourne said. “It is my pleasure to introduce my two brothers-in-law. Fine gentlemen both, although less accomplished riders, as we have just witnessed. This—” He waved to the dark-haired man. “—is Mr. Marcus Bowen, who has had the great fortune of marrying my lovely sister. His estate resides just over yonder. And my other companion is Benedict Laytham, the Earl of Glenmor, my wife’s brother.”

  Arran nodded at the gentlemen. “Pleased to meet you. I am Sir Arran Sutherland. This young man who has crept up behind me is my son, Callum.”

  Shadow cawed in response.

  “Ah,” Glenmor said, looking over Arran’s shoulder. “The infamous crow-tamer. Lady Blackbourne speaks quite highly of you.”

  The idea Glory spoke of Callum to another, highly or otherwise, surprised him. A part of him wanted to believe she possessed a callous heart, despite all the evidence he had seen and heard in the past two days to the contrary. It left him unsettled. He’d clung to this conviction for so long to explain her sudden change of heart, that he felt somewhat off-center without it. What other explanation could there be for the way she had heartlessly tossed him aside for another, abandoning the promises they had made as if they meant nothing?

  “Did she truly say that?” Callum’s proud smile doing little to ease a sudden, strange anxiety that surged within Arran.

  “She did, indeed,” Blackbourne said. “May I see him up close?”

  The earl dismounted the black thoroughbred he rode and strode toward Callum. Arran watched his movements, tried to find the similarities between the man who approached his son and the woman he had loved all those years ago. Still did. But aside from the pale, silvery eyes, he found nothing. And yet, there was something familiar about him—but the harder he tried to grasp what it was, the more elusive it became.

  “His name is Shadow.”

  “A very appropriate name, I would think. May I pet him, or will he nip my finger off?” Blackbourne leaned in closer to Callum and lifted one dark eyebrow, his expression almost conspiratorial. “I’m rather fond of my fingers. I would hate to lose one.”

  “I think you should be safe. He mostly likes shiny baubles. Oh!” Callum sat upright and dug into the pocket of his jacket. Shadow crowed sharply at the sudden movement and Blackbourne took a quick step back.

  Glenmor laughed. “The great horseman afraid of a small bird.”

  Mr. Bowen shook his head. “Indeed. They shall tell this story for ages to come.”

  Blackbourne shot his two companions a dark look to which they responded with innocent gazes as if they had done nothing wrong. The close bonds between the three was evident, something Arran had missed himself growing up with the gap in ages between he and his brothers. Even while in the military, his position of authority required he maintained a certain distance between himself and his men.

  Callum held out his hand toward Blackbourne, the ring Glory had given him catching the sunlight. “I forgot to give this to Father last night to return to Lady Blackbourne. She allowed me to use it when Shadow refused to come down from a tree. Would you mind?”

  “Not at all.” Blackbourne smiled and reached for the ring.

  Shadow, however, had other ideas about giving up his treasure. He cawed again and plucked the bauble from Callum’s hand.

  “Ah!” Blackbourne jumped back once again, nearly unseating Mr. Bowen and Glenmor, who could not have found the scene more amusing.

  “Oh, uh…” Callum twisted his mouth to one side, a guilty expression clouding his elfish features.

  “You know,” Blackbourne said, straightening his riding coat and, likely his ego as well, given the way he glowered at his two friends. “Mother has more baubles than she wears. In truth, aside from her locket, I rarely see her wear most of them. I’m certain she is in no hurry to have the ring returned.”

  “Especially if it means Nick might return home with one less finger,” Mr. Bowen suggested. “In truth, the purpose of our visit was not jewel retrieval, but, as your neighbors, to introduce ourselves.”

  “Very…neighborly of you,” Arran said, unsure of how to respond to the onslaught of attention. He had grown into a solitary sort, a way of life that had suited his position in the military and his injured heart. And after that, perhaps it had simply become habit. When one held themselves at bay from others, they were less likely to be disappointed. Betrayed. Abandoned.

  Even his marriage had been based on this premise, a truth he loathed to acknowledge, but one he could no longer refute now that he had come face to face with Glory once again. Her arrival back in his life resurrected old fears and made it impossible to ignore the fact that when he’d married Jean, he’d chosen a good woman he would never love. Not truly.

  His heart had been too damaged to open to another. Jean had deserved more from him. Though she never complained, she had to have known his heart belonged to another. That she put up with him and continued to treat him with kindness and friendship was far more than he had deserved from her in return and a testament to her forgiving nature. Thankfully, Callum had inherited his mother’s kind and open nature.

  “Might we ride along with you?” Blackbourne suggested, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “I am most interested to hear about what you have planned for the estate. Perhaps we can help each other. I do love a good collaboration.”

  “Capital idea,” Glenmor agreed and, much as Arran would have preferred to continue on his solitary ride with only the company of his son, he could not find a way to extricate himself from the trio of men who had descended upon them. Besides, should he deny their request, he would then have to suffer through a proper scolding from his sister about manners and such upon her return from London. He preferred to avoid such a rebuke even more than he wished to avoid the company of Blackbourne and his companions.

  And, though he would never admit such a thing aloud, he wanted to learn more about Glory, about what she had done over the past three decades and why, according to her son, the only piece of jewelry she wore with any regularity was the locket he had given her shortly before she destroyed his heart.

  He forced a smile, or a reasonable facsimile of one. “Very well, then. Come along.”

  * * *

  “I do not require a new gown for the party. I have a wardrobe full of gowns created by Mrs. Bell that were made just before your father’s passing, none of which have yet been worn. Any one of them would be adequate.” Gloria let the fine, printed silk slide through her fingers as she addressed her daughter.

  Rebecca threw her arms up as far as her afternoon dress would allow and let her gloved hands slap against her thighs, her pretty features taking on a rather militant slant. “Mother, those gowns are nearly two years out of fashion. This is a party in your honor to celebrate your birthday. I know you are not the extravagant sort, but I do not think this one time it is out of the ordinary to expect you would put a little effort into going above and beyond the everyday.”

  “She does have a point,” Louise said, touching the lovely cornflower blue silk with pinstripes of silver shot through it. “It would not hurt to treat yourself.”

  “It is wasteful,” she s
hrugged. After Blackbourne’s death, the strict dictates of his will brought her and Rebecca to the brink of financial ruin. The threat of being dependent upon Nicholas to support them while the bulk of the late earl’s unentailed fortune went to his mistress hung over their heads like a guillotine with its blade poised to fall. The prospect had left an indelible impression on Gloria. When one came within a hair’s breadth of becoming a poor relation, extravagance lost its appeal. A new dress held no importance.

  “I will agree to having one of Mrs. Bell’s gowns altered for the party, but that is all.”

  “Then what about a new piece of jewelry,” Rebecca suggested. “A lovely choker, perhaps?”

  Gloria lifted a hand to her locket, as if to protect it from Rebecca’s suggestion. Barely a day had passed in the last three decades when she hadn’t worn it and on those few occasions when she hadn’t, she’d felt naked without it. “Perhaps something for my hair, instead,” she suggested, hoping to appease her daughter and Louise.

  “Perfect!” I am going to skip next door to Mr. Bremmer’s shop and pick something out for you. It is the only way I can ensure you will not change your mind.”

  Rebecca dropped a quick kiss on Gloria’s cheek and hurried from the dress shop, likely afraid if she lingered, Gloria would change her mind. Louise’s light laughter trickled around her. “Never get in the way of a well-meaning daughter on a mission, I always say.”

  Gloria smiled and shook her head. “She means well, of that I have no doubt, but I truly do not need more than what I have. I am perfectly content. I shall leave playing lady of the manor and all that entails to Abigail. Your daughter is much more suited to the task. And heaven knows, she has far more support in Nicholas than I ever had with Blackbourne.”

  Louise reached out and gave Gloria’s hand a brief squeeze. “And what shall you do with your time now? Continue to travel?”

  The idea held no appeal. Even less now that Arran had returned to take over the Sutherland estate. His presence somehow rooted her, entangling her in the dream she had clung to all these years. That he would return; that they would have a second chance. Such an irrational notion given his obvious feelings toward her, or lack thereof. “No, I think I shall take up residence in the Dowager House and live a quiet, uneventful life.”

  But she could not work up any enthusiasm for her plans. Something about them felt so…empty. Lonely. Unless…

  She shook her head.

  “What is it?” Louise drew closer. “You have not been yourself these past two days since my return. Abigail and Rebecca have mentioned it as well, and I can see they were right.”

  Gloria took a deep breath and looked around. The shop had quieted with only a few patrons perusing the ready-made dresses and bolts of fabric on the other side of the room. “It is Sir Arran Sutherland.”

  “Your new neighbor?”

  “Old neighbor, actually, though it’s been nigh on thirty years and a bit since I saw him last, at least until the other day.”

  “And your re-introduction did not go well?”

  Oh, how to explain. No one beyond Arran’s family, her own, and Blackbourne had known of their relationship and she had been happy to keep it that way, all things considered. But now, with his return, all the feelings she’d tried so hard to hide raged forward and brought with them a chorus of need and desire she had not experienced since their last time together.

  “It is only that…you see…” She pursed her lips.

  “Gloria Sheridan,” Louise lowered her voice and drew closer still. “Do you have feelings for Sir Arran?”

  “I…I…”

  “You do! Oh, this is so grand!”

  “No! No, it is not grand. It is not grand at all. In fact, it is nothing short of a disaster. He has no interest in me whatsoever. Time has ensured his heart has turned bitter toward me and I suppose I cannot blame him. He thinks I threw him over to marry Blackbourne, and he is right in a sense. Besides, he has a son and is married—”

  “But Abigail mentioned there was no Mrs. Sutherland present or spoken of when she visited.”

  Gloria had also noticed Arran’s reticence to answer her own inquiries in that regard. “Yes, but—”

  The jingle of the bell on the shop door interrupted her and she looked up. Blinked. It could not be.

  “Oh my…” Louise breathed and her hand fluttered at her chest.

  As if sensing her presence, Arran turned and Gloria experienced the full power of his potent gaze as it burned through her from tip to toe. Good Lord above, did the man have any idea the effect he had on her? The way it awakened everything inside of her?

  Arran hesitated at the threshold, indecision stamped across his handsome features as if debating whether to acknowledge her with a nod and walk on, or do the polite thing and stop to offer a greeting. Politeness evidently won out and he moved toward them.

  Louise’s grip on Gloria’s hand tightened, a fact she became aware of only once it hit a painful squeeze.

  Arran executed a brief bow. “Good morning, Lady Blackbourne.”

  “Sir Arran. I trust the day finds you well?” Her heart thudded in her chest and she rushed on. “May I present my dear friend, Mrs. Laytham, the current Lady Blackbourne’s mother.”

  “Ah.” Arran bowed again. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I had the great pleasure of meeting your daughter recently. A delightful lady to be sure.”

  “How thoughtful of you to say. She mentioned her visit with you and your sister, Lady Elmsley. She did not mention meeting Mrs. Sutherland, however. Did she not make the trip from Dumfries with you?”

  Gloria forced herself not to kick her dear friend in the ankle for her blatant inquiry. Leave it to Louise to get straight to the heart of the matter.

  “Mrs. Sutherland passed on two years ago, I’m afraid. It is just Callum and I now.”

  Her heart stuttered first before racing on ahead, awakening the hope she had tried so hard to quash. He was widowed! Her joy over this fact no doubt earning her a rather prominent spot in Hell. She issued a silent apology to the late Mrs. Sutherland. If Callum favored his mother, she must have been a lovely lady and did not deserve to depart this world so early before seeing her only child grow into adulthood.

  Louise put a hand to her heart. “I am most sorry to hear of your loss. Well, look at us. All three widowed and far too young for such a state. In fact, I was just saying to Lady Blackbourne how it seems a shame for her to hole up inside the Dowager House as if she had nothing left to offer the world. Don’t you agree, Sir Arran?”

  Forget kicking her dear friend in the ankle. A gag around her mouth would be a much preferable punishment.

  “I am certain Sir Arran has much better things to do than to comment on the state of my affairs.”

  “As it is,” he said, “I am tasked with the job of picking up the items my nieces have ordered for your birthday fete. They are both looking forward to the event. I’m certain it has been the only thing Patience has spoken of since the invitation was issued.”

  “And you, Sir Arran?” Louise smiled and looped her arm through Gloria’s. Her friend was enjoying this conversation far too much. “Will you be attending as well?”

  “Indeed. My sister has been called back to London and has requested my assistance in offering to chaperone the young ladies.”

  Louise smiled and hugged Gloria’s arm closer to her. “How lovely! We certainly look forward to seeing you there.”

  Arran nodded at Louise before his gaze drifted to Gloria and stayed, piercing through her for the length of several heartbeats before it dropped to her locket then quickly skittered away to the front of the store. “Well, I must make my apologies. If I do not return with all due haste, I fear my nieces will send out a search party for me. I bid you both a good day.”

  It wasn’t until he left for the front of the shop that Gloria pulled Louise outside with great hurry and gulped the cool October air in an attempt to restore herself.

  “Well he is a
fine, fine specimen of—”

  “Louise!”

  “What?” Louise blinked innocently. “I was going to say gentleman. A fine specimen of gentleman. Now,” she took Gloria’s arm once more and led her toward Mr. Bremmer’s shop. “When we return home, I insist you tell me every last detail about your past with Sir Arran.”

  “There is nothing to tell.” There is too much to tell.

  “Nonsense. The heat between the two of you nearly set my hems on fire.”

  “Good heavens, Louise! The things you say.”

  Her friend threw her head back and laughed, drawing the attention of several villagers, though Louise cared little. Gloria wished she had the same sense of self-acceptance, but her past had been too steeped in conforming her behavior to suit others.

  The one time she’d tried to break away from such expectations, she’d paid a terrible price.

  Chapter Six

  Arran pulled up on the reins of his horse and peered over the expanse of land belonging to the Earl of Blackbourne. The new Earl of Blackbourne. How odd to come to the realization the life he had left behind had marched on in his absence. In his mind, it had remained stagnant. Tattered. Broken.

  And yet it wasn’t.

  Glory was no longer the girl who had broken his heart. She had aged with the years just as he had, though instead of fading, her beauty had matured. Deepened. But something else within her had changed. Something that went far deeper than the surface. He could see it in her eyes, a ravaged pain and inherent strength resided there, as if she had survived a war, much as he had.

  Her children were now adults in their own right, older even than he and Glory were when they had fallen in love and promised each other a future that never came to be. How eager they had been back then to take on the world and society and prove to everyone that nothing could destroy their love.

  How wrong they had been.

  Or had they? She still wore his locket. Still looked at him as she had when they were young and believed in love. He saw it whenever she glanced his way, her expression a mix of…of what? Need, desire. Love? How difficult it was to see this and not gather her in his arms and hold her tight, to make promises that this time it would be different. This time, he would not let her go.