A Sinful Temptation

by Kelly Boyce

  Lord Selward shifted in his seat, his dislike of confrontations visible in every move he made. Still, the young man pressed on and, Marcus supposed he ought to respect him for that. Ought to, but didn’t.

  “I wish to ask you to step aside.”

  “But he’s sitting,” Spence pointed out.

  Ten seconds, Marcus noted with a slight shake of his head. Such remarkable restraint.

  “I mean—that is to say, step aside with respect to Lady Rebecca.”

  “Had he stepped on her?” Spence looked at Marcus. “Bowen, have you stepped on the lady in question?”

  Perhaps he should have tied Spence to a chair in his study. “I have not, to the best of my knowledge, stepped on Lady Rebecca.”

  “Good to hear. Height of rudeness that would be.”

  Selward cleared his throat, his frustration evident. “Metaphorically speaking.”

  “Ah. I see.” Spence nodded. “Thank you for that clarification. What were we speaking about again?”

  “I believe the young man wishes me to step aside, metaphorically, where Lady Rebecca is concerned to better allow him to have her full attention.”

  “Is that so? And why is that, Selward?” Spence asked. “I mean, unless my addition is incorrect—and Bowen, please correct me if need be as you are the mathematical wizard, not I—but have you not already had Lady Rebecca’s full attention for the better part of two Seasons now?

  “I—yes—but—”

  “And yet you have done nothing about it,” Marcus added. “Why is that?”

  To his credit, Selward had the good sense not to attempt any denial of the charge. Instead, he stared down at his hands where they rested on the table. Marcus’s stomach churned. The idea of Lady Rebecca marrying him, of those hands having providence over her body, sickened him.

  “You do not deserve her.” The words were out before Lord Selward could answer and he looked over at him, shocked. Even Spence’s brow lifted and amusement lit his features.

  “It was never my intention to lead Lady Rebecca on, or to create the impression my interest in her had waned. I care about her, truly I do.”

  The lord’s claims raised Marcus’s ire. He had only begun to show her a true interest once the prospect of losing her attentions to Marcus became evident. “I find that hard to believe. If you cared about her, you would have offered for her well before now. That is how it is done.”

  Selward pursed his lips and glared at Marcus, obviously not caring to be dressed down—yet again—by someone beneath his social standing, but Marcus cared even less for Selward’s thoughts or feelings. The man deserved it for what he’d put Rebecca through.

  “It is not as simple as that, I’m afraid.”

  “It never is,” Spence drawled. “But I doubt such an explanation will satisfy Blackbourne. If you have no intention of offering for Lady Rebecca might I suggest you stop leading her on and raising her expectations. Blackbourne will not hesitate to retaliate if you injure her tender heart. Nor will Bowen for that matter. Have you ever seen Bowen angry?” Spence leaned forward, amplified horror stamped across his features. “Frightening, my dear man. Frightening.”

  “I have every intention of offering for her. That is why I am asking you to step aside, to not muddy the waters. We both know I am better suited to her and that you are—” He stopped and it occurred to Marcus then that if he was indeed the bastard son of Walkerton, Selward may well be cognizant of that fact. Would know of his illegitimacy and how it left him lacking.

  Selward could use the knowledge to publically ruin him. There would be no more hiding from the truth. Lady Ellesmere’s words of warning rolled over in his head and his stomach coiled into knots.

  He reached for the watch that had stopped spinning, leaving Selward’s request unanswered. “Do you recognize this?”

  Selward reached for the watch but Marcus moved it from his reach.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “It was handed down to me through my family.”

  “But it is not yours.”

  Marcus’s heartbeat accelerated. “It is in my possession and therefore it is mine.”

  “I beg to differ. It bears the Walkerton crest.”

  At this proclamation, Spence straightened in his seat and leaned forward. Marcus’s fingers turned icy where they clenched around the gold timepiece, but he forced his voice to remain calm and forceful. “Then perhaps you would care to tell me how my parents came into possession of it.”

  “How should I know? The watch was stolen years ago. Before I was born.”

  “If that is the case, how do you know it is even the same watch?” Spence said, cutting into the conversation.

  “I know because it is the only watch of its kind. My great-great grandfather had it made and it was passed down through each generation until it reached my father. It was stolen while he was serving his country, fighting the French.”

  Hiding like a coward. “Who stole it?”

  “A—a maid, I believe. I cannot say for sure.” But his voice lacked conviction. What did he know? “I demand you return it to me at once.”

  Marcus pulled the watch back and safely pocketed it. “The watch was passed on to me and shall remain in my possession until I determine why that was so.”

  A silent war waged between them. Marcus stood on a precarious edge. If Selward pressed the issue, he could make his life difficult to say the least, but member of the peerage or not, Marcus had come this far, risked this much. He would not turn back now.

  Spence stood, and when he addressed Selward the threat of danger slid around his words and carried the promise of violence should they not be heeded. “I believe you have outstayed your welcome, Selward. This conversation is at an end. I would ask that you leave. Quietly and without incidence.”

  Selward looked from Spence to Marcus, his cheeks burning with heat and his eyes blazing with anger and uncertainty. Confrontation was not his forte; a fact Marcus hoped would work in his favor. It did, but only for the moment.

  Selward stood. “This is not the end of it, Mr. Bowen.”

  Marcus didn’t answer. He knew the truth of it far better than the young lord standing in front of him with clenched fists and an air of uncertainty about him, as if unsure where to take the matter from here.

  But one thing Selward could be sure of. This was, indeed, not the end.

  If anything, it was only the beginning.

  * * *

  Rebecca had enjoyed the past few days immensely. Well, perhaps not immensely. Perhaps somewhat would have been a better term. Although in truth, not much at all would be far more accurate. Despite the attention Lord Selward had paid her since the incident at the park, she could not shake the wrongness that took hold whenever she spent time with him.

  She found herself staring at him, trying to find some resemblance between him and Marcus. Could it be true? They both had brown hair, though Marcus’s held a much darker, richer hue. And where Marcus’s eyes were the shade of dark chocolate, Lord Selward’s bore a greenish-blue cast. They were of a similar build—lean and athletic, but each moved differently than the other and shared no related mannerisms she could discern.

  And yet…

  Marcus possessed the bearing of someone of noble birth. She had always assumed that came from his years spent amongst the aristocracy, an assumed nature absorbed from being surrounded by others who were, in fact, born to it.

  But what if she was wrong? What if he came by his bearing honestly? What if—

  Lord Selward’s barouche hit a small rut in the road and interrupted her thoughts. He had brought her out for a ride in the park. It was a beautiful day, warm and lovely with the summer flowers blooming and more buds waiting in the wings to burst forth once the existing ones died away. Above her, the birds sang in the trees and on the ground squirrels scampered about, zigzagging their way between bushes and trees as they foraged for nuts and seeds. The scene could not be more bucolic if painted by a master.

 
And yet she could not enjoy it.

  She squirmed in her seat.

  “Are you uncomfortable, Lady Rebecca? Would you prefer to stop and walk for a bit?”

  Rebecca glanced over at Lord Selward and his open, eager expression. “Oh no, I’m fine. I’m just—” Just what? Could not stop thinking of another man. A man who could be your brother? She bit back the words and swallowed them whole. “I am fine, my lord.”

  Lord Selward nodded and did not inquire further. Marcus would have. Marcus would have seen through the lie and inquired upon her upset, listening quietly as she spewed out her problem. Then he would offer her a word or two of advice, comfort.

  The only difficulty with that scenario was that Marcus was the problem.

  I am a bastard.

  No matter how far she pushed his claim from her mind, it continued to find its way back, unwelcomed footprints that echoed in her heart like a sullen whisper. She wished she could prove them wrong. Protect him from the hurt they caused.

  But he did not want her comfort. He did not want her involved in his life at all. He had shut her out of it, but not before stirring within her needs and wants and desires that now had nowhere to go.

  “I feel as if I should inform you of something,” Lord Selward said, breaking through her thoughts once again. It likely did not bode well for their future that she kept forgetting he was there.

  “Oh?”

  He cleared his throat and appeared nervous, which made her nervous. She took a quick glance back at Nancy who sat behind them. Her lady’s maid gave a small shrug and half smile which did nothing to dissipate the sudden unease that cropped up at Lord Selward’s proclamation.

  “I have received word that my father is set to arrive back in London any day.”

  She swallowed. Did he mean to propose? Here? Now?

  “Oh, how lovely.” Although she had no idea whether it was lovely or not. She had never met Lord Walkerton. Lord Selward rarely mentioned him and when he did, his words were brief and contained little in the way of warmth. Not an encouraging sign. “You will be glad to see him then? I understand he has been away for quite some time.”

  “Indeed, he has,” Lord Selward said, his gaze fixed on the pathway in front of them. Rebecca studied his profile, the stiff set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders and noted that while he replied to the question of his father being away, he did not respond to the other and, given his demeanor, she could only surmise that he was not happy in the least to see his father.

  “Will he be staying long?” Lord Walkerton rarely spent time in London, or England for that matter. Rumors abounded as to why, though many of those rumors were kept from the ears of proper young ladies, which could only mean the rumors were of a scandalous nature. Perhaps that explained why Lord Selward kept clear of anything that held the hint of scandal.

  “I have been given no indication of the length of his stay.” The tone of his voice gave the impression he hoped it would be short.

  “Will I meet him, your father?”

  Lord Selward skirted around the subject as if she had not spoken. “I understand the Doddington masquerade is to be quite the thing. Do you plan to attend?”

  “Yes, though I have yet to decide what to wear. I thought perhaps the goddess Athena.”

  He smiled at her. “The goddess of love?”

  She made a face. “No, that was Aphrodite. Athena was the goddess of wisdom and reason.” Marcus would have known that. They had kissed behind her, after all. She chased the thought away as soon as it arrived.

  “Oh.” He furrowed his brow. “Perhaps I should have paid more attention during my Greek mythology lessons.”

  “What will you go as?”

  “I do not know. I’m sure Wesley will think of something.” He waved a hand as if the matter was not even worth his consideration.

  Odd, that one would let their valet determine their costume. She thought of the costume as a reflection of who you were, or who you wished to be. She had chosen Athena because she was the goddess of wisdom and reason, both of which she found herself in short supply of. And for other reasons she tried not to think about.

  “Will your father arrive in time to attend the masquerade?”

  The tension in Lord Selward’s jaw returned. “I cannot claim to know what my father will do or when.” He fell silent and said no more on the matter, but a sudden awkwardness left her with the impression.

  Lord Selward looked at her. “May I ask you something personal?”

  She lifted her eyebrows. He had never asked her anything personal during their acquaintance, save for her feelings about the weather. “Yes, of course.”

  “How well do you know Mr. Bowen?”

  “Mar—Mr. Bowen?” His question startled her.

  Nor did she have a ready answer for it.

  If he had asked her that question a few weeks ago, she would have said as well as the back of her hand. But now…now he had thrown her so many surprises, shown aspects of his personality she had been previously unaware of, that she had come to realize there were depths to Marcus that remained unknown to her. Depths she wished desperately to delve into. But that was hardly the type of thing one admitted to the man she needed to marry, was it?

  “I have known him my whole life. Why?”

  Lord Selward’s squirmed in his seat and shifted the reins from one hand to the other. “It is just—and I do not mean to upset you—”

  “Upset me? What about Mr. Bowen could possibly upset me?” What indeed. It seemed everything about Marcus upset her of late, but she doubted this is what Lord Selward referred to.

  He let out a breath and twisted his mouth to one side, then the other. She wished he would spit it out, whatever it was.

  “I discovered the other day he is in possession of a stolen piece of property that belongs to my family. A watch.”

  The watch. Unease rippled through her. How had Lord Selward learned of its existence? She moved her mouth, but no sound came from it, the words had bottlenecked themselves in her throat. She shook her head and waited until her thoughts settled.

  “I see. And did he indicate how he came into possession of this watch?”

  Lord Selward pulled on the reins and brought the barouche to a halt at the side of the path then turned toward her. “He claims it was passed to him from his parents. But either way, it does not belong to him. It belongs to my family, yet he refuses to return it which leaves him in possession of stolen property.”

  She had never seen Lord Selward so heated before. His eyes blazed with agitation. “You must calm yourself, my lord. It is not as if Mr. Bowen stole the watch himself, nor do I believe either of his parents guilty of such a crime. Lord and Lady Ellesmere held the Bowens in very high regard, so much so they took in their only son and raised him as a member of their own family. I cannot believe they would do so if they thought either of them to be of less than respectable character.”

  And yet…somehow they held possession of the watch, and now, as a result, Marcus did. Her mind raced to make sense of what it all meant. How it would have happened.

  “Father claimed a maid had stolen it. He had her sacked, but the watch was never recovered. It was believed she must have pawned it, but—”

  “But now you think to suggest, what? That Mr. Bowen—who was born in Cornwall, I might add—crawled from his crib all the way to London, found the watch and held onto it all these years?”

  “Of course not! I do not know how he came to have the watch, but the fact remains it belongs to my family and it must be returned.”

  My family. Would Lord Selward know if Marcus belonged to his family, albeit from the wrong side of the blanket? Or had he been kept in the dark much in the same manner Marcus had?

  “Did he indicate why he refused to return it to you?” Though she could imagine. The watch and the journal were the only two pieces of evidence Marcus had connecting him to a past that remained shrouded in mystery. Knowing him, he would not release either until he got to th
e root of it, regardless of whether those roots were tangled around the Selward family tree in such a way removing them would cause nothing but pain and ruin.

  “He did not though I must say, I found his demeanor at refusing my demand unsuitable given his station. I believe he has notions of being above himself.”

  “I beg your pardon, but I am quite certain Mr. Bowen thinks no such thing. He is a fine, respectable gentleman and a heroic one at that, if you’ll recall. I cannot abide such slanderous words to be said against him! Your claims are most upsetting.”

  As if sensing her anger, the horse shifted and forced Lord Selward to draw his attention away from her outburst to settle the animal.

  He took a breath and when he spoke again calmness had returned to his voice though it did not sound genuine. “Forgive me. It is not my intention to cause you upset. I had hoped you could shed light on the matter before I take further action.”

  Her heart stuttered.

  “Further action? Do you honestly mean to call the authorities on him?” Her voice peaked and drew the attention of Lord Phillip and Mrs. Pettigrew as they rode by. They slowed somewhat and Lord Phillip tipped his hat, giving them a curious glance. Rebecca forced a pleasant smile, but it dropped immediately once the couple had passed.

  “I have no intention of contacting the authorities if such can be avoided, but with my father’s return, I cannot allow the matter to drop. I intend to pay a visit to Lord Ellesmere—”

  “No!” Her arm shot out and grabbed Lord Selward’s sleeve, heedless of the impropriety of it. If there was a man alive who detested scandal more than Lord Selward, it was Lord Ellesmere and given Lady Ellesmere’s rejection of Marcus’s request for answers, involving them further would do no one any good. “I will speak with Mr. Bowen.”

  “You?”

  She released his sleeve and straightened. Her hands tightened into fists where they rested in her lap. “Yes, who better? We are friends, as I have stated. Please allow me to try and convince him to release the watch to you before you escalate the matter. It would not be fair to jeopardize Mr. Bowen’s position with Lord Ellesmere by suggesting he has done something disreputable.”