by Kelly Boyce
Rebecca nodded and her love for Marcus grew, that he would turn his back on the truth he had so valiantly sought so as not to cause pain to others, regardless the cost to him.
“Did you tell the constable any of this?”
He shook his head. “To what end? It will not change his opinions. If anything, it would only make me appear guiltier in his eyes. He believes I went back and finished what I started.”
“But you didn’t.” She didn’t need to ask. Even though Walkerton deserved nothing less in her estimation, she stood firm in her resolve that Marcus was not the type of many to kill in cold blood.
“No. But the other lords are pressuring him to find the person responsible and if that person is someone other than one of their ilk, all the better. I doubt they’ll look beyond me for the real culprit.”
Fear turned her insides to ice and she held him tighter. She had foolishly assumed that since Marcus hadn’t committed the murder that would be the end of it. How naïve. The situation had become much more dire. What was to stop Constable Hurly from charging Marcus with a heinous crime he had no part in? Unless they could prove otherwise, he could hang. Panic shook her core.
“We must do something then! Prove your innocence.” Desperation clawed at her and her mind worked furiously. “We cannot allow this to happen. We can’t—”
He kissed her, trapping her unspoken words and stealing them away. His lips were soft and the pressure of them light and teasing. “Hush.”
“No!” They had to save him. This wasn’t fair. They were too close to happiness to have it torn away.
“Yes,” he whispered, his mouth at her ear, then the curve of her neck. His hand slid down her side to the dip of her waist then over the rise of her his. His touch seared a path until desire burned hot within her and the need to be with him, fully and completely, overwhelmed her.
“Marcus.” She moved against him, feeling his hardness press into her, knowing he wanted her with equal fervor. She explored him, the muscle and sinew that stretched over bone and created the planes and angles of his body. A body that brought such untold pleasures. Pleasures she had only begun to divine. Pleasures she wasn’t ready to give up.
“We can’t risk it,” he told her, staying her hand as it traveled down the ridges of his stomach. “I will not leave you with child.”
“I will not allow you to leave me at all!” How could he even entertain such a thing? “Why are you so willing to give up?”
His fingertips touched her face, her brow and nose and lips sending rivulets of pleasure to war with the fear and desperation building inside of her. “I am not giving up. But I am not risking your future either.”
Tears choked her and she grabbed his wrist, holding on to him to keep from spiraling into the dark abyss. “I will not leave you. Do not ask me to.”
Marcus said nothing but after a moment his body relaxed. A small victory. He turned and extinguished the light, plunging them into darkness. “Turn around,” he said, settling next to her.
She did as he bade and he pulled her back, fitting her back against his front as if they were two spoons resting in a drawer. His warmth suffused her and the strength of his arms helped settle some of the fear that had invaded her heart and turned the blood in her veins to ice. She rested her hands over his and relished the closeness.
“I love you,” she whispered into the darkness.
He hugged her tight. “I love you more.”
“I do not think such a thing is possible.”
“Nevertheless.”
She heard the smile in his voice and let it wrap around her. “That is poor as far as arguments go.”
He chuckled and the sensation reverberated against her back. “Go to sleep. I will wake you in time to find your way back to your room without being detected.”
She snuggled against him. She had no intentions of going anywhere. When the sun rose, it would find her here, and she would remain at his side until she found a solution to retrieve them from this mess. But for now, her tired mind needed rest. Come morning, it would be refreshed and she would set it to work once again.
Darkness still prevailed when Rebecca jolted awake; the image of Lord Walkerton dragging her into the gardens invaded her dreams and refused to fade upon waking. Someone had called his name, stopped him, the voice sharp, desperate…afraid. She squinted at the memory, searched through the darkness to find its source. Reaching out as if she could touch it. Touch them. And then the mist in her mind cleared.
A swift intake of breath sent a shot of pain through her chest.
Could it be?
She turned slightly to look at Marcus’s sleeping form; thankful exhaustion had taken him deep and still held him in its clutches. The first hint of sunrise crept through a crack in the curtains. She eased out of his arms. He shifted and she held her breath waiting until he resettled before she moved again.
She dressed in a rush then quietly quit the room, stealing one last look at the man she loved before quietly shutting the door. She would not fail him.
She would save him.
Save them.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Rebecca, dear, what are you doing at this ungodly hour?”
“It cannot be that ungodly, Mother. You are awake after all,” Rebecca stated, though she was surprised to see her mother, still in her dressing gown, her new grandson swaddled in her arms while Abigail looked on from the overstuffed chair Nicholas had moved into the nursery for her.
Her sister-in-law gave a light laugh. “I’m afraid that is my fault. Little Roddy has quite a set of lungs. His wailing could wake the dead. I took pity on Nicholas and came to the nursery where your mother found me. I happily handed him over.”
Rebecca leaned over her mother’s shoulder to peer down at the babe. He had lost the wrinkled appearance of a new infant and fattened up until he resembled a cherub with his pink cheeks and blue eyes. Mother claimed both she and Nicholas had both been born with blue eyes as well, so it remained to be seen if he too would inherit the silver of his father and aunt. Either way, he was a handsome boy with his shock of dark hair and an easy smile. When he wasn’t wailing up a storm that was. And best of all, his parents had finally settled on a name—Roderick Henry Alexander Sheridan.
“What has you up this early?” Mother asked, tickling Roddy’s chin until the baby gurgled with pleasure.
Rebecca sat on the ottoman in front of Mother’s rocking chair and glanced over at Abigail who shook her head. “Have no worries, your brother has filled me in on what has been going on. Have you come up with a solution to save dear Marcus? I for one would much prefer to plan a wedding than a trial.”
“I hope so, but first, Mother I need you to answer some questions and I need you to be honest, even if you think it is something I need not know.”
Mother glanced up from Roddy, wariness in her gaze. “What is it you need to know?”
“I need you to tell me about Lady Lilith Kingsley, Lady Franklyn and Lord Walkerton,” Rebecca said, ticking the names off on her fingers.
“Lady Franklyn? Why ever are you asking about her?” The forced levity in her mother’s voice did not match the tight smile she gave.
“Please, Mother. Marcus’s life may depend upon it. Did Lady Franklyn know what happened to Lady Lilith?” Rebecca did not care to reveal Lady Lilith’s secrets, or cause Lord and Lady Ellesmere any undue pain, but she must save Marcus. Surely, if Lady Lilith could speak to her, she would beg her to do whatever necessary, even if it meant giving up long-held secrets.
Her mother’s eyes grew wide and her voice dropped to a whisper. “How do you know of that?”
“Know of what?” Abigail came out of her chair and settled on the corner of the ottoman. Rebecca sidled over to make room.
“Mother?”
Roddy fussed as tension wound around the women surrounding him. Her mother stood and passed the baby to Abigail who took him willingly. Her mother paced to the window where the morning sun filtered thro
ugh and lit her face with its soft golden rays.
“It was a long time ago. Lilith was younger than both Lady Franklyn and myself. We were both quite fond of her. She had a sweet, gentle nature that endeared. We had taken her under our wing, treating her as we would a little sister. Much as I had done with Lady Franklyn upon her debut the year before. Lilith’s first Season approached. I remember how excited and eager she was. Lady Ellesmere had allowed her to attend a few parties, smaller affairs deemed acceptable. Lady Franklyn and I watched over her, kept the gentlemen at arm’s length. She was a remarkable beauty, even at sixteen you could see the promise of who she would become.”
Mother’s voice caught. She pressed a hand against her lips and turned her head away. Rebecca did not move, nor did Abigail or Roddy for that matter. Rebecca wanted to fly across the room and embrace her mother, take on the pain her memories brought, but she remained still, waiting for the rest of the story.
Abigail shook her head. “Do you mean to say you and Lady Franklyn were friends once upon a time? But I thought…doesn’t she claim to be much younger?”
Mother turned back to them, a wry smile playing on her lips. “A myth she likes to perpetrate to lure in younger lovers. And she has maintained her beauty well enough that none of her lovers bothers with the math.” Mother’s expression turned wistful. “But once upon a time she was a different person. Kinder, less angry and bitter.”
“What changed her?” Abigail asked.
But Rebecca already knew. “It wasn’t what changed her. It was who—Lord Walkerton.”
Mother nodded. “He is—was—an awful man, though many of us didn’t see it then. A charming manner and handsome face can cover any number of sins. He would befriend you; make you feel as if you were the most engaging and remarkable creature to ever walk the earth even though he had recently married another. If anything, he used that to appear less threatening. Why would he try anything untoward when he supposedly loved another?” But the deep scowl on her mother’s face told a different story.
“Did you fall for it?” Abigail asked.
“My heart was otherwise engaged by a man who embodied all the traits Lord Walkerton pretended at. I’m afraid he didn’t stand a chance with me. But, even then, Lady Franklyn craved attention.”
“And Lord Walkerton lavished it upon her.”
Mother shook her head. “He had set his sights on Lady Lilith. Lady Franklyn could barely stand it. She was the jewel of the ton that year and to be usurped from anyone’s attentions set her back. But it also opened her eyes, for what kind of gentleman—married or otherwise, put his attentions on an innocent young girl not yet presented?”
“How did Lady Lilith react to the attention?” Marcus had revealed some of what he knew of his mother, painting a picture of a young woman faced with the worst kind of circumstance. Somehow, she had found the strength and courage to rise above, to overcome.
“Until then, Lilith had led a fairly sheltered life. Lord and Lady Ellesmere kept a strict eye on her and the men in her life treated her with kindness and respect, but it led her to believe all men shared the same character. This trust made it easier for Lord Walkerton to get close. Closer than was proper.” Her voice dropped and guilt laced through it. “Closer than we should have allowed had we not been so wrapped up in our own lives.”
Rebecca stood and walked over to her mother, taking her cold hands. Long buried memories had robbed them of warmth. “What he did was not your fault.”
Abigail rose from the ottoman and joined them. “What did he do?”
“He forced himself on her,” Rebecca said.
Tears glittered in her mother’s pale grey eyes and she pursed her lips. “He must have. She had no interest in him beyond friendship. He was years older than she. She would not have gone with him willingly. She had an uncanny intelligence and a sensible nature.”
The description sounded eerily familiar.
Abigail pressed Roddy closer to her. “How awful. Oh, how awful. Is that why Lady Lilith left to travel the continent?”
“She did not go to the continent,” Rebecca said. “She went to Cornwall. To Braemore.”
Abigail pulled back. “That is where Marcus lived…” The words trailed away as realization dawned in the same way it had with Rebecca. Slowly. Strangely, as if the colors around you had suddenly taken on a different hue. Her sister-in-law took in a deep breath and looked from one of them to the other. “Did you know?”
Rebecca’s mother shook her head. “No. But I thought her sudden departure odd. She said nothing about going on such a trip and I am sure she would have. While away, she never wrote, which I found odd and quite unlike her. It made me wonder, but then she passed and…” Mother stopped and a tear slid from the corner of her eye. She brushed it away and took a deep breath. “Years after, when Lady Ellesmere returned with Marcus, I couldn’t help but speculate. He was born in January; Lilith left London in late June and she had passed away in January. That, coupled with his age, made me suspect. But it was as I watched him grow and become the man he is, that I grew more certain. I could see his mother in him so clearly. His steadiness, his quiet warmth. He smiles and it’s her smile I see. It breaks my heart and fills it all at the same time.”
Abigail jostled Roddy in her arms. “But why was Walkerton not punished? Why did someone not ensure he—”
“I suspect she never told her parents what transpired. She loved them dearly and would have done anything to protect them from further pain. You’ll remember, Spencer’s father and uncles had caused no end of scandal for Lord Ellesmere to deal with at the time. Lilith possessed a gentle soul, but a strong spirit. She would not have added to their burden by telling them the worst. While she’d have had no choice but to reveal her pregnancy to them, she would have carried the weight of how it occurred on her own.”
“Good heavens. I can’t imagine. But—” Abigail turned to Rebecca. “How does Lady Franklyn factor into this?”
“I think she knew,” Rebecca answered and looked at her mother. “Did she?”
Her mother sighed. “I cannot say. Shortly after Lilith left London, Lord Walkerton turned his attentions to Lady Franklyn, but she spurned him. A fact he did not take with any grace.”
“Do you think—” Abigail didn’t say it, but the question hung in the air around them.
“He did to her what he did to Lilith? Perhaps. Though at the time, I had my own troubles and did not pay close attention. Maybe I should have.” Mother bowed her head as she spoke of the man in her past. The man who had captured her mother’s heart and held it still, though it had been thirty years since she’d seen or heard from him. Rebecca did not know how her mother endured. Was this what awaited her if she could not save Marcus from the fate Constable Hurly seemed determined to deliver?
“It was around this time when Lady Franklyn began to change,” Mother continued, turning back to the window, leaning her hip against the frame and staring at the gardens that stretched out to meet the horizon. “She became bitter and pushed everyone away; those of us who used to be friends somehow became enemies. Perhaps she thought if we got too close we would see what he had done to her. I do not know.”
“What happened to Lord Walkerton?” Abigail asked. “Did he simply walk away untouched?”
Mother took a deep breath. “If you mean was he ever held accountable, then no. No woman ever came forward and made accusations. It would have meant ruining themselves to do so. But…” A look crossed her face as if seeing the events of thirty years ago with new eyes. “It was around that time Lord Franklyn showed an interest in Lady Franklyn. There was a significant age difference between them, but for the daughter of a viscount, garnering a duke’s attention was quite a boon.”
“Do you think Lord Franklyn knows what happened to her?” Abigail asked.
Mother tilted her head to one side and lifted a hand to twist a wayward blonde curl around her finger. “It is difficult to say, though Lord Walkerton’s presence in London ended abru
ptly after the wedding of Lord and Lady Franklyn. Since then, Lord Walkerton has spent a limited amount of time in London and when he returns, he rarely shows his face in polite society, as if he had been banished and was afraid of being seen.”
“Only a man with the power and clout Lord Franklyn wields could manage such a feat,” Rebecca suggested. “Do you think that was his way of protecting his new wife?”
“I wonder,” Mother said. “Lord Franklyn is a good man, and he has been good to Lady Franklyn, though she seems intent on destroying any decency that once lived within her.” She gave Rebecca a sad, telling smile. “I lost many of those dear to me that Season. Had it not been for Nicholas to care for, I do not know how I would have made my way through it.”
“I, for one, am most glad you did.” Abigail reached out and gave her mother-in-law a hug, a gesture that made Roddy giggle as he became sandwiched between two women who understood the travesties of life and its rewards.
“As am I,” Rebecca said.
Mother smiled. “Have I given you what you needed?”
Rebecca kissed her mother’s cheek; damp from the few tears she’d allowed to fall. “I believe so. Thank you.”
Her mother touched her face with a gentle, knowing hand. “And now you will try and save Marcus, will you not?”
“Yes.”
Her mother nodded. “Good. Be careful, my dear. And if you need me, I am always here for you. Please know that. I could not help his mother, but I hope I can at least help Marcus now.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“And I will do my best to keep Nicholas from playing the part of the great protector,” Abigail offered.
Rebecca looked at the two women. Both had stood in her shoes and understood the stakes of saving someone you loved beyond all measure, no matter the cost.
The same stakes she now faced and vowed to overcome.
* * *
Marcus did not care for waking up alone. In fact, he liked it even less than sitting in Nicholas’s study being interrogated by the bloated Constable Hurly, who had puffed himself up even further with an overfed sense of self-importance, oblivious to the enemies he made in a certain marquess, future marquess, and very irate earl, especially when they were dismissed from the room, leaving the two men alone.