by Kelly Boyce
“But I think I do.” She wished he’d look at her. “I’ve hurt you, that is clear, and it was not my intent. It is just that, if what you suggested is true, then…then it means you are Lord Selward’s brother. And if you are, then—”
“It is of no consequence.”
She stopped. Of no consequence? She would hardly call it of no consequence. It was very much filled with all kinds of consequence. Deep, meaningful, disturbing consequence that left her stomach tied up in knots, sent her mind into a whirling turmoil and made her heart ache for all the things she wanted and could not have.
“You don’t understand,” she told him. Because if he understood there was no way he could make such a claim.
“On the contrary. I understand perfectly. I am a bastard. If not Walkerton’s then someone else’s. And you…well, you are a daughter of an earl and must marry someone of equal social standing. Of which I am not. You were right to leave as you did. We have allowed whatever it is between us to lead us into temptation, but that temptation is best avoided now that we know who I am. What I am. Nothing can ever come of it.”
His words punched into her and left her stunned. Is that what he believed she thought? That he was nothing but a bastard?
“What you are is the best of men.” Please look at me! But he continued to gaze at some point in the darkness, as if she had said nothing at all.
“If anything,” he continued, “I should seek your forgiveness. I had no right to take such liberties. I allowed my— Well. It matters not why, only that I should not have allowed it.”
But she did not want him to apologize for the liberties he took. He had not been the only one. She’d accepted his kisses and given back with equal measure. She’d reveled in his touch, basked in the heat of her desire and lost herself to the passion. None of which she regretted.
“Perhaps,” he said. “We should simply chalk both incidences up to the heightened emotions of the moment and leave it at that. We shall not speak of it again. It will be as if it never happened.”
Except that it had happened.
And, God help her, she wanted it to happen again.
She wanted to know the feel of his body against hers, his mouth devouring hers. She wanted to once again experience such passion that burned through her like a fire set upon dry brush, burning hot and fast until it consumed everything in its path.
“Is that what you want?” Please say no.
“I think it best. We are wholly unsuited after all. You must marry a lord and I am but a bastard.”
“Stop saying that!”
He shrugged. “It is the truth. I need to accept it, as do you.”
He glanced down at her then and smiled, but it was void of emotion, the kind one gave when they made polite conversation with a stranger and discussed nothing of more import than the weather.
“Have you made any more progress other than Mr. Cosgrove’s confirmation?”
He shook his head. “I tried to speak with Lady Ellesmere, but she would have nothing of it. She indicated I should leave the matter alone, that there was nothing good that could come of my digging into the past.”
“Then she must know something. Perhaps if you give her time, she will—”
“No. She made it clear she wants no part of this. She’s barely spoken to me since the matter was brought up. Whatever she knows, she will take it to the grave.”
Rebecca stared up at him. Weak moonlight filtered through the thin cloud cover and bathed his dark hair until it matched the midnight sky. A breeze teased its ends giving him a wild, almost elemental appearance. She tried to imagine what it would be like to discover your past was a lie and that people you loved knew the truth yet refused to share it with you. She could not. That he must suffer through such a thing made her heart give a painful twist.
For a long moment they stayed that way, each looking at the other until she wanted to scream. To beat against his chest and make him understand he was so much more than the circumstances of his birth. That if her own circumstances were different, she would choose him in a heartbeat. With every heartbeat. But she could not. And, as it turned out, he did not want her to.
“We shall be friends then,” he suggested. “That is not such a bad thing.”
She nodded. “Of course.” But the words scraped across her throat, barbed with regret. It was better than losing him forever, yet the idea left her bereft.
They turned back to the garden and stood side by side in silence. Rebecca wanted to say more—so much more, to set things back on an even footing. She grasped the only thing she could think of, the first thing that came to mind.
“Glenmor told me Lord Franklyn offered you Northill Hall.”
“He did.”
“And that you are refusing to take it.”
“I am.”
“You shouldn’t, you know—give it up. You should accept it. It’s a wonderful property.” And close enough to Sheridan Park he would not be so very far away from her. Then again, after she married Lord Selward her time at Sheridan Park would be minimized as the Walkerton seat was in the next county over.
“What does it matter to you?” Though the words were not spoken harshly, they stung nonetheless.
“I only wish to see you happy.”
“And you think Northill Hall is what will make me happy?” He turned to face her and this time he truly looked at her. No. Not at her—into her. Deep inside to where all the things he’d stirred in her heart were laid bare. It frightened her, the things he would see, the truth of her feelings. The depth of them.
She struggled to find a distraction, to cover up the sudden vulnerability this knowledge created. “Yes.”
When had he stepped closer? No. He had not moved. She had.
His hand reached up and touched her cheek. His warmth seeped through her, invaded her blood and rushed through her veins to spread heat throughout her body. She turned into his touch with a sigh, closed her eyes and basked in it. His lips pressed against her forehead and she held her breath as wondrous sensations rolled and tumbled through her so quickly she could not make sense of any of them save for one. Hope. Hope that he would kiss her as he had before. And need. The need to be lost in that moment one last time.
“Then you know nothing of happiness,” he whispered.
She opened her mouth to protest, but his lips halted whatever she had meant to say as he dropped an all too brief kiss upon them. It held nothing of the passion of the previous kiss but bestowed instead something else. Loss. Regret. Farewell.
“Good-bye, Lady Rebecca.”
And then he was gone and the cool night air rushed in to herald his absence, but it was his words that left her cold.
You know nothing of happiness.
The chaste kiss burned against her lips and fear wrapped around her like a cloak as the insidious truth soaked into her pores.
In her heart, she recognized the truth. He was right. She did not know happiness. And now she never would.
Chapter Fourteen
November 18th
My belly protrudes and I feel somewhat awkward with the changes. They are so horribly obvious and when I pass by the servants in the hall, there is no longer any hope of disguising my situation. Still, their kindness and understanding remains and Mrs. Bowen, who has remained steadfast in her kindness and her loyalties, visits regularly, though I am certain it takes her away from more important duties.
Mother has said little since our argument of two days ago. She brought up the subject of what would happen at the end of this journey, as she calls it. I can think of no other option than the one Mother has suggested and yet I balk. How can I? It would be as if my own heart were ripped out of my chest and cast aside. Have I not suffered enough? Must this be taken from me as well?
* * *
“I’ve heard if you stare at it long enough, the big hand will move.”
Marcus snapped the watch shut and set it onto the desk as Spence walked into the room. “Is that right?”
Spence d
ropped his lean frame into one of the chairs facing Marcus’s desk. One leg dangled over the arm. “It is a true and established fact. Tell me, did you finally buy yourself a proper watch? Have you actually made a purchase? Loosened your purse strings, allowed a few pence to fall through and showered yourself with a gift?” Spence reached out and picked up the watch. Marcus leaned across the desk and snatched it back, startling his friend.
“It is none of your business. Good heavens, you’re like a small child looking for entertainment. Do you not have anything better to do?”
Spence shrugged. “I do not. Caelie has decided to retire early this evening. Apparently carrying another human inside of you can leave one quite exhausted. I shall be sure to scold the little scamp for it when he arrives.”
“That he could be a she.”
“Bite your tongue.” A look of abject horror crossed Spence’s face. “Good lord.”
Marcus took pity on his friend. “I would not worry about it. Who better to save her from men like you than, well, you.”
“That’s hardly encouraging.” Spence bounded out of his chair. “What say we take my mind off this and go find ourselves some entertainment?”
“I cannot. I have an appointment.”
Spence glanced at the clock over Marcus’s shoulder. “At this hour? Surely Grandfather does not have you working this late.”
“It is a personal matter.”
Spence’s eyes widened and Marcus suddenly wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “Why Bowen, do you have an assignation this evening?”
“It is nothing of the sort.”
“Pity. When exactly was the last time you had carnal knowledge of a woman?”
Marcus choked on his next breath. “I beg your pardon?”
“Carnal knowledge. Of a woman. Last time. When?”
An unwanted image conjured in his mind of a certain raven-haired beauty laid back against lily-white sheets, her porcelain skin begging to be touched. Marcus rubbed the bridge of his nose in an effort to remove the image.
“Honestly, Spence. Do you have no sense of decency? Just because you and Nick preferred to live out your bachelorhood in the scandal sheets with everyone knowing your business, doesn’t mean I choose to. It is none of your business.”
Not that the scandal sheets would have much interest in what Lord Ellesmere’s man of business did. Although they might, had they been aware that on two occasions of late he’d found himself kissing a certain lady. A lady whose brother would likely murder him where he stood if he had any idea his trusted friend had wished to do far more than just kiss said lady. Still wished it.
Spence nodded. “A long time, then. That’s what I thought.”
Too long. “Shut up.”
“You know,” Spence said, twirling a finger in Marcus’s direction. “They say that if you don’t use it, it will rot and fall off.”
“Who, pray tell, is they?”
Spence gave a sly smile. “I shall never reveal my sources, but you should heed my warning just in case. Find yourself a mistress or get yourself a wife. I highly recommend the latter.”
“I am in need of neither,” he bit out.
“Suit yourself, but if you are not off to an assignation then you are in a fine position to keep me entertained, which my darling wife has indicated she wishes you to do this evening.”
“Did she now?” Somehow Marcus doubted that.
“Something to that effect. I believe her exact words were more like, ‘Spencer, your incessant talking is interrupting my attempts at sleep. Please leave.’ Though she said it with such a sweet smile I find it hard to know if she was serious or not.”
“Likely she was. You can be quite annoying.”
“Can I?”
“Completely. Many people have said so. Take now for instance.”
“Nobody says so. I am the soul of charm.”
“I say so.”
“Yes, but you have been a positive bear this past week so I take that with a grain of salt. Now, where are you off to if not a secret rendezvous with a lady of ill repute?”
“Would it matter if I told you it was none of your business?”
“Doubtful. Likely I’d just follow you for the fun of it and find out that way.”
Marcus let out a slow breath knowing full well that is exactly what Spence would do. “Fine. If you must know, I am going to White’s. I have requested a meeting with Lord Selward and he has accepted.”
“Selward? Why the devil do you want to speak with him? Sweet Judas, Bowen, do you mean to read him the riot act over the park incident in the middle of White’s?”
“I believe I have already made my feelings on that matter very clear to him. This is of a more personal nature.” His attempt at discovering information less overtly had come to naught. The time had come to take the questions to the Walkerton clan itself.
“Well, I shall tag along either way.”
“I do not require a chaperone.” He did not want Spence involved in this. He had spoken of his secret to Rebecca and her reaction left him rattled. To watch Spence, whom he thought of as a brother, share the same reaction, look at him differently…he could not do it. Not yet.
“Do not think of me as a chaperone. Think of me as a comrade in arms. After all, if you do decide to kill the young lord for his shoddy treatment of Lady Rebecca, then you will require my assistance in disposing of the body.”
“No one is going to die. You will have to find other amusements this evening.”
Spence shook his head. “Afraid not, old chap. I have made up my mind.”
“Have I ever mentioned what a colossal pain in my ass you can be?”
“Yes, but I’m certain it was said with much affection and therefore I did not take it to heart. Shall we go?”
Marcus sighed. The man was like a bulldog with a juicy bone. There would be no dissuading him. That much was clear.
“Very well. But I would request you not butt into the conversation nor hound me with questions afterward over anything you may hear.”
Spence’s eyebrows rose and he leaned forward in his chair. “Indeed? Well, now I am intrigued. Come, let’s be off!”
Allowing Spence to join him would narrow the line of questioning he had planned, but perhaps having him come would help prevent any disaster should Marcus’s anger get the best of him. Not that it usually did. He’d always kept a tight rein on his emotions. Until recently.
They arrived at the club and took a seat near the fireplace, then ordered a drink while they waited for young Selward to arrive.
“How do I become a good father?” Spence asked as their drinks arrived.
Marcus shook his head. “How should I know? In case you haven’t noticed, I do not have children, nor have I spent any time around them. My memory of my own parents—” He stuttered slightly over the word, the knowledge he’d come into leaving him unsure how to refer to Mary and Edmore Bowen. “—is limited.”
“I thought you knew everything.”
“I’m flattered, but I’m afraid on this matter you are on your own. Perhaps you can interrogate Nick, now that his firstborn has arrived.”
“Good idea. Perhaps he would allow me to borrow the lad for a bit so I might practice.”
“Highly unlikely. Even if Nick was willing, Abigail might think it less than a good idea.”
“Bollocks.” Spence slumped in his chair and swirled the brandy in his glass. “By the way, you never did tell me what was in the package from Cornwall?”
Marcus hesitated. Once Selward arrived, the truth would be out. Perhaps he should give Spence a heads up now. Not the whole truth, but enough to keep him from interrupting once Marcus began questioning the young lord.
“The package contained old papers from a solicitor my parents had hired years before. And a watch.”
“The watch you grabbed out of my hand? I knew there was something up with that. And you say I’m not observant.” Spence grinned and leaned forward and held out his hand. “Come, come. Let
me see it. I know you have it with you. You dropped it in your pocket after you rudely snatched it away from me.”
Marcus sighed. Refusal would only result in Spence hounding him relentlessly until he gave in and handed over the watch. Better to save himself the aggravation. He reached into his pocket and retrieved it.
Spence’s eyebrows lifted as he took it from him and turned the watch over in his hands a few times before flipping the top of it open. “It’s broken.”
“Yes. I know.”
“Is it a family heirloom then?”
“I do not know.” But before he could elaborate, they were interrupted.
“Good day, gentlemen.”
“Selward,” Marcus waved to the empty chair between him and Spence.
He gave a nervous smile and took the offered seat, glancing first at Spence, then at Marcus. His chin tilted at a haughty angle and his back stiffened. “And what is the meaning of this meeting, Mr. Bowen?”
“We thought you would be up for a night of debauchery before you chose your bride. You do intend on choosing a bride this Season, do you not?” Spence maintained his smile, but his words held an edge to them.
Selward’s stiff posture weakened somewhat. “Uh, yes. T-to the bride, not the night of debauchery.”
“How unfortunate.” Spence twirled the watch on the table, setting it to spin. “To the debauchery, not the bride.”
Marcus watched the watch twirl. “Ignore him. He is drunk.”
“I am at least four drinks away from being drunk, I’ll have you know. Should we begin to remedy that situation? What say you, Selward?”
Selward’s gaze bounced between the two of them as if he wasn’t sure what to say or do. Not an uncommon condition for him, from what Marcus had seen thus far. “I—no, that is—I came here only to speak with Mr. Bowen.” He turned to Marcus. “You indicated it was in regards to a personal matter. As it turns out, I too, wish to have words with you.”
Spence left the watch alone and leaned back in his chair. “Ah, well then, carry on. Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit here, quietly, and enjoy my drink.”
Marcus doubted that would last long. “What is it you wished to speak to me about?”