A Sinful Temptation

by Kelly Boyce

  “Northill? But I thought you—”

  He shook his head. “Nick and Spence suggested my claim might be given more credence if I hold the status of landowner, successful in my own right and not someone simply trying to jump above their station. I signed the papers and dispatched them to Lord Franklyn this night and delivered a note to Mr. Cosgrove hiring him to care for the property. He and his daughter will leave tomorrow as well.”

  “His daughter?”

  “Yes. Madalene.”

  A disgruntled look settled upon her lovely face. “Is there even a remote chance she is old and covered in warts?”

  He smiled. He should not be so thrilled at this show of possessiveness but he could not help himself. “I’m afraid not. She’s about your age. Quite pretty, actually.” He had yet to actually meet the young lady in question and only had her father’s word to go on, but he didn’t bother mentioning that.

  “I do not like the idea of you living with another woman.”

  He pulled her back into his arms and planted a quick kiss on her lips then tucked her beneath his chin. “If all goes as I wish it to, we will be together soon enough.”

  She lifted her head, refusing to be mollified. “And if all does not as you wish it?”

  He held her gaze, wishing platitudes would hold her fears at bay. His fingers traced the line of her cheekbone, jaw, his thumb brushed over her plump bottom lip.

  “Then I will let you go.”

  Her expression stilled, anger lighting her eyes. “I find I do not care much for your solution in that regard.”

  “No, I didn’t suspect you would.”

  She fisted her fingers into his shirt. “Then you had best be successful. I am not inclined to have another man do to me what you did this night.”

  A wave of jealousy flamed his insides. He wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly against his chest.

  You are mine!

  But he held the words inside. If he failed, he would have no other choice but to let her go.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Marcus!”

  The sound of Lord Ellesmere’s tone ricocheted down the hallway like a shot. Marcus stopped and turned to find the older man striding purposefully toward him. His walking stick assaulted the hardwood with a violence that sent a tremor of unease through him.

  He dreaded the confrontation ahead. It had been late when he arrived home last night, the taste of Rebecca still on his tongue, the need for her still raging through his body. He hadn’t wanted to wake Lord and Lady Ellesmere at such an hour to tell them he was leaving, but nor could he linger and wait. He’d arranged to have his belongings packed, with instructions to be loaded onto one of two hired carriages first thing in the morning. The second would convey Mr. Cosgrove and his daughter and both would carry on to Northill Hall. For himself, Hawksmoor had given him use of one of his carriages and drivers. If the weather held, he should be able to make the trip to Cornwall in four days, the return to Hampshire and Northill Hall in a little less.

  At least a week before he could see her again. The separation pained him. He despised the idea of leaving her anywhere near the vicinity of Lord Walkerton, or Lord Selward, even with Nick there to keep her safe.

  The sooner he made this trip, the sooner he could come home. To her. And hopefully with enough proof to be able to keep her in his life forever.

  “I was just on my way to see you,” he said as Lord Ellesmere drew closer.

  “To inform me as to why your belongings are being loaded onto an awaiting carriage, no doubt?”

  “Lord Ellesmere—” Marcus took a few steps forward, his steps were slow, reluctant. He had hoped to sit down with the marquess over breakfast and explain the situation to him—or as much of it as he could without compromising Rebecca’s reputation.

  “The footman indicated you were going to Cornwall. Is this true?” Agitation bit into the lines of the marquess’s face.

  “Yes.”

  “Because of this?” He thrust an opened letter at Marcus’s chest. “It arrived with the morning post.”

  “What is it?” Marcus pulled the letter away from his chest and unfolded it, taking note of the fact it was addressed to Lord Ellesmere. As he read the words, acid burned in his gut.

  “Would you care to tell me what this is about? What vileness brings this man’s letter—his accusations—into my home? My family?”

  Marcus refolded the letter and handed it back to Lord Ellesmere, but the other man refused to take it, backing away from the missive as if it were tainted. Finally Marcus let his hand, and the letter, fall to his side.

  “It is nothing. I am dealing with the matter.” He kept his voice steady though his insides quaked as if the earth shook and crumbled beneath him. In a sense, he supposed it did.

  “Matter? Walkerton—” He spit the name out like poison. “—has accused you of theft. From every indication he plans on taking the matter to the authorities. Lady Ellesmere has told me of your questions to her. Why do you refuse to heed her counsel and let this matter be?”

  Marcus took a deep breath and forced his mind to remain clear despite the thoughts clamoring to get in.

  “Because I need to know the truth. And I need Lord Walkerton to claim me as his son.”

  A vein near Lord Ellesmere’s temple throbbed. “You need to let the matter be. The past is best left buried. Walkerton will never claim you and you are better off for it.”

  That Lord and Lady Ellesmere continued to keep their secrets about his parentage to themselves incensed him. His fists clenched at his sides until the letter crinkled and twisted in his grip.

  “How dare you keep this from me,” he whispered, an unfamiliar sensation growing in the center of his chest. It took him a moment to identify it. Betrayal. Both Lord and Lady Ellesmere had known all along Walkerton had fathered him. They could have told him, at any point in time they could have revealed the secrets of his past, but they hadn’t.

  They still wouldn’t.

  Had they made the same promises as Mary? Promises they would take to the grave as she had?

  “It is better this way,” Lord Ellesmere said.

  “Better for whom?” The word shot out in anger.

  Lord Ellesmere winced at the sharpness in Marcus’s tone, but he made no effort to disguise it. What right did they have to keep the truth of his past a secret? To keep from him the history of whom he was? “I deserve to know!”

  “You do not understand what is at stake.”

  “I understand all too well,” Marcus said. His future, his love. “Everything is at stake.”

  “Marcus, please.” Lord Ellesmere reached and gripped the wrist of the hand that held the letter. “I implore you.”

  But Marcus shook his head before the marquess could finish and his words fell away.

  He took a deep breath. It had come to this. “I am indebted to you for everything you have done for me. You gave me a home, an education, a livelihood. You’ve changed my life. But I must do this. I must see it through to the end. I will go to Northill upon my return and keep you out of whatever happens with respect to Walkerton.”

  Lord Ellesmere’s grip on his arm released and Marcus experienced the sense of being left adrift. He wanted to pull the older man back but he couldn’t. If he rode toward ruin, he would take the trip alone.

  “Please tell Lady Ellesmere good-bye for me. And tell her…” A lump lodged in his throat forcing him to push the words past it. “Give her my love and tell her I’m sorry for any pain and disappointment I have caused.”

  They stood facing each other. Lord Ellesmere’s imposing presence filled the hallway, wrapped around him until every ounce of his being wished to be ten years old again so he could run to Lord Ellesmere for safety and solace. But he was not a child any longer.

  “What you seek will bring you no comfort.”

  The fight left Lord Ellesmere’s. Marcus had gone numb. Cold. In a matter of minutes he would leave this house—likely for the last time�
�and the life he’d known, the one he’d built for himself with careful thought and deliberation, would be gone.

  He had spent years telling himself not to grow comfortable; that fate could change like the wind. Yet, he found himself wholly unprepared for the sense of loss that swept through him now that it had come.

  * * *

  Despite the protests of Nicholas, Mother, Caelie, Abigail, Huntsleigh and, she was quite certain, little Lord Roxton, who had oddly taken to crying whenever the name Selward was mentioned—a fact Rebecca determined must be a coincidence as the baby had yet to meet the man—she had accepted Lord Selward’s request to visit Sheridan Park when he arrived a few days prior to the annual summer party.

  Thankfully, Mother had determined early on, when Rebecca had hoped to marry Lord Selward, that it would be inappropriate for them to stay under the same roof, and therefore Lord Selward and his parents were to stay with relatives a short distance away.

  It wasn’t that she entertained any thought of marrying the man—how could she after what she and Marcus had shared? Heavens, she had never known a body could reach such heights. That wickedness could be so delightful.

  But with Marcus gone on his quest to find answers, she needed to do something. Something more constructive than twiddling her thumbs or, God forbid, doing needlepoint. Idleness did not suit her.

  Protecting the man she loved, however, did.

  She refused to stand by while Marcus threw himself into the current of his past to batter himself against its walls and demand the truth be revealed. She loathed the idea he had taken the trip to Cornwall alone, with no one to provide him with support and comfort should he need it. What if the news was bad? Or if there was no news to find? Marcus was not a man familiar with failure. Likely he would not take well to it.

  But as she’d had no choice but to stay behind, she determined it best to remain in Lord Selward’s good graces. Guilt pricked her conscience at the thought of leading him on with no intentions of seeing it through, but given he had done the same to her for the past two seasons, she did not let it bother her for long. Besides, if it meant she could exert some influence with respect to Lord Walkerton’s decision to destroy Marcus, the ruse would be worth it.

  Perhaps if she could establish whether Lord Selward was aware of the relationship between he and Marcus it would assist them in proving he was, indeed, Walkerton’s eldest son.

  “I hope your trip to Lady Dorman’s went well,” she said, as she and Lord Selward walked along the edge of the pond. Lily pads blanketed its surface until barely any water could be seen beneath. The bullfrogs hidden around the reeds croaked in the heat of the lazy summer afternoon. Once upon a time she had jumped into that pond and been dragged out by a pirate king.

  How long ago that seemed today and yet it still put a smile on her face all these years later.

  “Indeed, the trip was reasonably well made, thank you. Mother sends her best and Walkerton looks forward to meeting you.”

  “Does he? How kind of him to say.” She wondered if such an event would come to pass. Nicholas and Marcus both gave her strict orders to stay away from Walkerton once the party got underway. Given his reputation, she would be wise to comply, but what if she could wheedle a confession from him? Would it not be worth the risk? Besides, the party would be filled with people. What could he possibly do to her? “I look forward to meeting him as well.”

  Lord Selward nodded, distracted. He stared off into the distance where several guests who had arrived a few days in advance of the party, rested on blankets and nibbled at the treats filling their picnic baskets. She had been too restless to sit and suggested she and Lord Selward take a walk. Though her companion had not held up his end of the conversation, not even to comment on the weather.

  “My father was quite incensed at Mr. Bowen’s sudden departure from London,” he blurted out, surprising Rebecca.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Instead of repeating his previous statement, he rushed on. “I have attempted to counsel him to use caution in his actions, but—” Lord Selward pursed his lips for a moment and a shadow crossed his face. It was strange to see him so upset. All she had known of him had been his even, somewhat bland, personality. But since his father’s arrival, there had been a different side to him. Lord Walkerton’s presence had left him troubled.

  “But what?”

  Lord Selward shook his head. “Caution and forethought are not things Walkerton excels at.”

  Fear bled through Rebecca like poison. “Do you think he will make good on his claim to contact the authorities?”

  He nodded. “I have asked him to at least wait until the party has run its course. I do not wish to bring a pall over it. It would be the height of bad manners and likely not do us well when it comes time to sit down with Lord Blackbourne.”

  This was not the first reference he’d made to meeting with her brother at some point during the party, though he had yet to speak to her of any kind of a proposal. Just as well. She would have to tell him no and she did not want to turn him away just yet. Not until she had more information.

  “Why does your father seem intent on ruining a man over something as silly as a watch? It is almost as if he holds ill feelings for Mr. Bowen that go far deeper than the issue at hand. Is there some aspect of their association I am missing, my lord?”

  She held her breath. Waited.

  Lord Selward stopped walking and turned to face the pond. In the silence, the croaking of the bullfrogs echoed. He glanced toward the other guests who were now a safe distance away.

  “It is a family matter.”

  Her heart thrummed against her breast. “But Mr. Bowen is not family.”

  Silence.

  Lord Selward bent to pick up a daisy near his boot and proceeded to pick at its petals, disbursing them one by one, his movements a study in agitation. He knows!

  “Lord Selward?”

  He glanced down at her and turmoil turned his eyes stormy, the green aspects a turbulent sea; the blue darkened to thundering skies. “I do not wish to speak of it. It is a tiresome subject, is it not?” He forced a smile and blinked away the storm as if it was nothing more than a breeze. The mutilated flower dropped from his hand and fell to the ground.

  “Not if it is one that bothers you,” she said, pushing him, refusing to let go of the hope he could be an ally in their cause. He was a good man overall, nothing like his father. He stood to lose nothing in admitting Marcus was his brother. “Please. You can tell me. We are friends, are we not?”

  “More than friends, I would hope. I have developed quite an affection for you, I am not ashamed to say. I had hoped—” He stopped. Smiled then dropped his gaze, and her heart went out to him. He was as much an innocent bystander in this madness as she, perhaps more so. To see him hurt bothered her more than she’d expected it would. “Should we return to the picnic?”

  “Lord Selward, as you know, Mr. Bowen is a dear friend. It would grieve me to no end to see any malice inflicted upon him by your father.” She took a deep breath, then added, “His father.”

  Lord Selward’s head shot up. “What did you say?” She did not answer, did not have to. He had heard her perfectly well. In the silence that grew between them a strange understanding drifted in to fill the space. He knew. She knew. And now he knew she knew.

  “Your brother—”

  He shook his head. “Don’t call him that.”

  She took a calming breath. “Whether I refer to him as such or not does not change the truth.” She reached out and touched one of Lord Selward’s fisted hands. “Would you honestly stand by and let your father ruin him? It is such a petty matter, this watch.”

  “Walkerton has no interest in my opinions on the matter. He blames Mr. Bowen for the state of his life, such as it is.”

  “But why?”

  Another shake of the head as he continued to avoid her gaze. “I cannot say. He does not take me into his confidence. I had no knowledge of an—association w
ith Mr. Bowen until I sent word to my father informing him I planned on courting you with a view to making you my wife.”

  Her breath caught. She had never heard Lord Selward speak so plainly. So honestly. “And what did he say?”

  “Due to your brother’s friendship with Mr. Bowen, he counseled me to drop my suit. I sent a letter back—he was in Italy at the time—requesting an answer as to why that would matter. His response came while you were in mourning for your father. He stated Mr. Bowen was his by-blow and he didn’t care for me to have an association with a family so closely connected to him.”

  Rebecca’s skin tingled. “Do you still have this correspondence?”

  “Perhaps. I do not know.” He picked a small stone out of the grass and whipped it into the water. It skipped twice and sank.

  “Is that why you turned your attentions to Lady Susan?”

  Color tinged his cheeks and he nodded. “I did not want her. Father insisted I look elsewhere for a bride, but I had settled my mind on you and as much as I tried to be the dutiful son, I could not forget you.”

  His explanation vindicated her and made it easier to forgive his fickle heart, not that it mattered any longer. In truth, she was thankful for his lackluster pursuit of her. Had he not turned his attentions elsewhere, she would not have had the opportunity to pursue her feelings for Marcus. Likely she and Lord Selward would have married and that would have been that. Her first kiss with Marcus may have never happened, the daydreams of her youth would have grown fallow and been put away.

  What a sad state of affairs that would have been.

  “My lord, I understand you feel a loyalty to your father, but in this regard he is wrong. Mr. Bowen is a good man, and I believe he will return the watch in good time. It would cause me no small amount of distress should anything happen to him in the meantime.”

  “Do you have feelings for him? It appeared over the past few weeks that he attempted to court you, though I could not ascertain your level of interest in the man.”