A Sinful Temptation

by Kelly Boyce

  “Procedure,” the constable had claimed. Though Nick had voiced another name for it. Regardless, Marcus had sent them off. If they stayed, they would have continued to interrupt the constable incessantly and this damnable inquisition would drag on for the better part of the day. Marcus wanted it over. He needed to find Rebecca and get answers of his own, such as why had she sneaked out of his bed in the wee hours without so much as a by your leave? He suspected it had little to do with preserving her reputation and everything to do with saving his.

  A fact that worried him to no end. There was no telling what trouble she would immerse herself in on his behalf. Keeping that woman safe proved a full time endeavor.

  “And after you left Walkerton, who was still lying prone on the ground following your altercation, correct?” The constable paced in front of the desk Marcus sat behind, holding his hand in the air, index finger erect.

  “Correct.”

  “You were on your way to where?”

  “Northill Hall.”

  “The property formerly owned by Lord Franklyn, gifted to you upon saving his wife, if I understand correctly.”

  “You do.”

  “And yet you did not reach your destination. Why is that?”

  Marcus leaned forward on the desk and rested his head against his fisted hand, flicking Constable Hurly a bored look. “I believe we covered this yesterday, or do you not recall our conversation?”

  The constable stopped pacing and turned to glare at Marcus, his jowls swinging slightly, reminiscent of a basset hound. “I recall you provided a cockamamie story about wishing to return a watch to Lord Walkerton, which I find questionable given the circumstances. I do not often find men who pummel another into unconsciousness and then gift them with a gold watch.”

  Marcus did not care for the unspoken accusation. “Lord Walkerton was not unconscious when I left him and I did not intend to gift him a watch. It belonged to him.”

  “If the watch belonged to Lord Walkerton, why was it in your possession? Do we need to add thievery to your list of charges, Mr. Bowen?”

  “I was not aware I had been charged with anything as yet, Constable Hurly. Has this changed? If so, I believe this conversation shall be terminated immediately.” A delightful thought, as the more he listened to the pompous windbag, the more he longed for the sweet tones of Rebecca’s voice—her laughter, her whispers. The fact that she presented a far prettier sight to behold than Constable Hurly only increased his need to wrap this questioning up in short order.

  “I am merely trying to get to the truth of the matter, Mr. Bowen.”

  “I sincerely doubt that. If you had any interest in the truth, you would be looking for the individual responsible for Walkerton’s murder. And when you find them, I hope you will let me know as I would like to shake their hand.”

  Hurly turned on his heel and faced Marcus who had leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out beneath the desk. “I find your smart tongue exceedingly offensive!”

  “No more offensive than I find you in general, Constable, I assure you.” He stood and rolled the tension from his shoulders. “Now, if you have nothing new to ask me, I see no need to prolong this interview.” His need to find Rebecca grew with each passing moment. He needed to find her and ensure she did not do anything foolish. Or dangerous.

  “I am not finished with you, Mr. Bowen.”

  “A shame,” he said. “As I am quite finished with you, Constable Hurly.”

  He ignored the man’s sputtering as he made his way to the door and opened it quickly, only to jump out of the way as Nick and Spence stumbled forward from the other side.

  “Right,” Spence said, straightening and pulling at his cuffs. “Yes. You are quite correct, Nick. The pattern in this wood grain is, in fact, completely different than the one next door. I stand corrected.”

  Nick cleared his throat and nodded. “Perhaps in future you will not think to question my superior knowledge on wood grains and such.”

  “Superior knowledge? I don’t recall saying anything about that,” Spence snorted, apparently forgetting they had not been discussing anything of the sort. Likely they’d been standing on the other side of the door, their ears pressed against it.

  “Gentlemen.” Marcus lifted his eyebrows at the pair of them and glanced at his grandfather who remained standing in the hallway beyond. “Might I be of some assistance?”

  “Oh, Bowen,” Nick said, as if he had not noticed him standing there. The man’s acting skills left much to be desired. “I did not see you there.”

  “Too busy discussing wood grains, as it was,” Spence said, motioning toward the now open door. He inclined his head toward the other man. “Constable Curly.”

  “It is Hurly, my lord,” the constable said, straightening, which made his protruding belly stick out even farther.

  Lord Ellesmere stepped into the room, his commanding presence deflating the constable. “Can I assume this infernal questioning of Mr. Bowen is at an end? Have you finally satisfied yourself that he had nothing to do with Lord Walkerton’s death?”

  “I—I am afraid not, your lordship. Despite Mr. Bowen’s claims that his return was of an innocent nature, I can find no evidence to prove this.”

  “Nor can you find any evidence to prove it was anything but,” Lord Ellesmere stated.

  “N-not necessarily. Lord Blackbourne stated when they returned, Mr. Bowen stood over Lord Walkerton’s body.”

  “The man was already dead,” Spence said, throwing his arms wide. “You can’t kill a man twice!”

  “More’s the pity,” Lord Ellesmere muttered, his jaw tense and anger stamped into every line of his face. Marcus did not blame the man. Walkerton had raped his daughter. Likely if he could resurrect the dead man, he’d do so for nothing more than the pleasure of releasing a torrent of pain on him in recompense for what he had done.

  “I am not accusing Mr. Bowen of murdering the man twice, my lord. I am certain he only did the deed once.”

  “Then I am certain you are a bona fide idiot.” Nick stepped toward the man and lorded his superior height and breadth over the much shorter and stubbier constable.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord, but I am entrusted with the job of ascertaining who is responsible and every circumstance points to Mr. Bowen. They fought and shortly thereafter the man was found dead. What other conclusion can one draw?”

  Spence shook his head. “That someone else did the deed?”

  “I am afraid not, Lord Huntsleigh.”

  “Then you would be quite wrong, sir.”

  Heads swiveled in the direction of the open door where Rebecca stood, her hand wrapped around the wrist of another. A good thing, as her companion appeared ready to flee back down the hallway should she decide to let go.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Rebecca.” Marcus said her name as a warning, but she ignored him and inserted herself into the middle of the men, dragging a reluctant Lady Franklyn with her.

  She had never looked lovelier, though he did not think he had ever seen her dressed more plainly in an unadorned morning dress of white and blue, her hair tossed into a messy concoction at the base of her neck. She stood like a warrior princess of old, chin held high and shoulders back, ready to do battle. His Athena.

  “If you gentlemen would be so kind,” Rebecca said, “Lady Franklyn and I would like to have a word with the constable.”

  Marcus didn’t think Lady Franklyn wanted to have a word with anyone if the firm set of her jaw proved any indication. Nor could he ascertain what the duchess had to do with any of this. “Rebecca, what is this about?”

  “This is about saving our future, Marcus.”

  From the corner of his eye he watched Lord Ellesmere’s eyebrows lift, his gaze moving from Rebecca to land on Marcus. During the confessions of last night, he had not had the opportunity to bring up his plans to his grandfather where Rebecca was concerned. He had not thought it pertinent, given he was no longer certain those plans w
ould come to fruition.

  “Now, gentlemen, if you please?” She glanced at Nick and Spence then gifted with Lord Ellesmere a gentler smile than the firm one given the other two.

  “Lord Ellesmere should stay,” Lady Franklyn said, speaking for the first time. Her voice shook and she avoided meeting the gaze of anyone present. “As should Mr. Bowen.”

  “I think we should stay as well,” Nick said. “I do not know what is going on here, but I am not leaving my sister—”

  “Your sister is in good hands.” Spence prodded Nick in the direction of the door despite his protests. Marcus suspected his cousin had little interest in being in close proximity to his former love if such could be avoided. Nick finally acquiesced and the doors shut behind them.

  It was Lord Ellesmere who spoke first. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Perhaps we should sit?” Rebecca suggested, motioning toward the sitting area on the other side of the room.

  Rebecca and Lady Franklyn sat on the sofa, while the men took the chairs around them. Marcus rested his forearms against his legs and leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him.

  Rebecca turned to the constable. Gone was the impish girl, or the sweet young woman he had fallen in love with, and in her place sat a woman every inch the lady she had been raised to be.

  “Constable Hurly, I understand you are attempting to get to the bottom of how Lord Walkerton met his rather abrupt end.”

  “Indeed, my lady. But you need not fear. I believe I have reached my conclusions and—”

  “I have heard your conclusions and they are wrong.”

  The constable sputtered at her plain speaking. If the man disliked being told he was wrong by a man, being called out by a woman appeared even less to his liking. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but this is a matter for men. A fine lady such as yourself—”

  “Do not deem to condescend to me, Constable Hurly,” Rebecca said, her voice firm and uncompromising. Where had that come from? Marcus watched her in wonder. “I can assure you my astuteness and education far outweigh your own and I will not be treated as if my knowledge is of no value simply because you have determined in your own small mind that my intelligence is based on my gender.”

  The constable’s eyes widened and Lord Ellesmere gave a rare smile beneath his trim beard. “I suggest,” the marquess said. “That you allow the lady to say her piece.”

  “In truth, Lord Ellesmere, it is not my piece that requires a voice. It is Lady Franklyn’s.” She nudged the duchess and gave her a nod of encouragement, a strange sight given the strained relations between Rebecca and Lady Susan.

  Lady Franklyn sat straighter and took a deep breath. Her gaze skimmed past the others and came to rest on Marcus. “I did not thank you for saving my life at your own peril, Mr. Bowen. An oversight on my part, not because I did not feel your actions worthy of praise, but because I did not believe my life worth saving.” The last few words hit Marcus hard, pushing him back into his chair.

  Lady Franklyn cleared her throat and a sheen of moisture glistened in her eyes. Though her admissions caused her obvious pain, Marcus could not fathom what they had to do with the matter at hand. He did not require her thanks. Pulling Rebecca away from Lord Walkerton’s grasp and warning her away from the earl made their accounts paid and cleared.

  Unless…

  His gaze shot to Rebecca whose triumphant expression told him all he needed to know.

  “Stop.” He held out a hand as Lady Franklyn made to continue, cutting her off. “Don’t.” She would be ruined. Not even Lord Franklyn could help her come back from this one. He could not allow her to do this.

  She shook her head. “No. You saved my life at great cost. The least I can do is return the favor.” She turned to the constable. “I killed Lord Walkerton.”

  The constable sucked in a breath and held it until his cheeks turned an unhealthy red.

  She returned her attention to Marcus. “I have wrestled with this all night. I tried to tell myself you would be safe. You were innocent and therefore would not be convicted, but Lady Rebecca came to me this morning and suggested otherwise. She convinced me I could not allow that to happen. She was right. I am not an honorable woman. I know that.” Her voice cracked and she dropped her gaze for a moment to collect herself. “I have done much wrong in my life. Hurt people.” She looked up and this time turned her attention to Lord Ellesmere. “I allowed others to be hurt when I should have known better and tried to stop it.”

  Lord Ellesmere tensed, her reference taken, absorbed and, as his muscles visibly relaxed, forgiven.

  “This is preposterous!” Constable Hurly pushed out of his chair. “I will not allow you to vilify yourself for the sake of this individual. You are a duchess, my lady. You would not inflict harm on anyone, of that I am certain. It is despicable that you should allow her to try and take the guilt on your behalf, Mr. Bowen. Shame on you!”

  “Sit down, you fool.” Lady Franklyn’s voice whipped out, sharp and direct. Surprised, the constable dropped like a stone back into his chair as if her words had taken him out at the knees.

  Rebecca reached over and patted the other woman’s hands. “Continue.”

  “I had become separated from the hunting party,” Lady Franklyn said. “As I tried to find my way back to the group, I came upon Lord Walkerton. He was attempting to mount his horse with little success. I approached him to ask him to point me in the right direction to rejoin the others.” She hesitated and her expression changed, turned unreadable. “When I noted the state he was in, I dismounted and offered him whatever assistance I could.”

  Marcus detected the lie in her tone. Given her vehement warning to Rebecca to stay away from him, he doubted she would have offered Walkerton a bucket of water if he’d been set on fire. But he did not stop her, nor call her on it.

  “Instead of accepting my help, he—” Her breath caught and dropped her gaze back to her lap. “He…” She pressed a hand to her lips and while the affectation rang false, the fear in her eyes did not. The truth became clear. Lady Franklyn had been a victim of Walkerton’s violence, though not on this day.

  “That’s enough,” he said.

  “No!” Lady Franklyn shook her head with force. “It is not enough. People should know what a bastard he was.” She turned to the constable, her eyes filled with a fire that squelched the fear. “He accosted me. He accosted me and I was forced to grab the rifle from his horse and protect myself. Afterward, I panicked. I felt shame and…and…” The fear returned and she dropped her gaze to where her hands rested in her lap.

  Lord Ellesmere stood and addressed the constable. “Do you have what you need to settle this matter, or do you wish to cause the duchess further distress by reliving this horrible ordeal?”

  Marcus rose and joined him. A united front against the enemy. “I believe the duchess has been put through enough. It took great courage for her to come forward with the truth under such deplorable circumstances. A truth I am certain will go no farther than this room.”

  Constable Hurly’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. “People will want to know the outcome.”

  “The only ones who need know the outcome are Lord Walkerton’s family. And I am certain when the hear it, they will wish the matter to remain private. As will the Duke of Franklyn,” Rebecca suggested.

  “But I—that is—” The constable continued to bluster but no one appeared to be listening as Rebecca’s smile of triumph beamed at Marcus.

  Lord Ellesmere stepped away to offer his arm to Lady Franklyn. “My lady, may I escort you back to your room?”

  “If it pleases everyone, I wish a private word with Mr. Bowen,” Lady Franklyn said.

  “Perhaps you could escort Constable Hurly out, Lord Ellesmere,” Rebecca suggested. “I shall come with you.”

  Marcus stared at Rebecca’s back as she and his grandfather book-ended the near apoplectic constable. As she reached the door, she glanced back and smiled at him, her ex
pression filled with such love it robbed him of breath. She had done it. She had saved him.

  He shook his head still trying to understand how she had put all the pieces together. Pieces that had eluded him until Lady Franklyn confessed.

  “I did kill him,” Lady Franklyn said, once they were alone. “And I don’t regret it. He deserved nothing less after all he has done. Would continue to do.”

  “But it was not yesterday that he attacked you, was it?”

  She didn’t answer him and in that silence he heard the truth. When she spoke again, her voice softened and he saw a much different woman than the one he had come to know. How different she might have been had Walkerton not entered her life. He took the seat next to her on the sofa and she reached out and touched his arm.

  “Your mother was like a little sister to me and I failed her. Nor did I take heed when she warned me about him.”

  “She warned you?”

  Lady Franklyn nodded. “She sent me a letter. It arrived two days after her departure from London. She knew I had an interest in Lord Walkerton. I believe she wished to warn me away. At first, I did not believe her. I could not comprehend something so vile had happened to her right beneath our noses. I could not let it stand. I sought out Lord Walkerton and confronted him with her accusations. He admitted to what he had done, and suggested she left because she was with child. He acted as if it meant nothing. I was horrified. I threatened to turn him into the authorities. He grabbed the letter from me and then…” Her jaw tensed.

  “You do not need to continue.”

  She shook her head. “No. I have kept my silence long enough. He did to me what he had done to your mother and left me there in my shame and humiliation. He took with him the only piece of evidence I had against him.” She looked at Marcus and in her expression he saw a sense of relief, vindication. “If I spend an eternity burning in the depths of hell, I will never regret meting out justice on that man. I failed to protect your mother from him and it is a shame that will haunt me for the rest of my life. But I will not fail her now. I will not stand by and allow her son to accept the consequences of my actions.”