Shadowed by Sin

by Layna Pimentel

  “Please, do not trouble her. She is up in her years and does require her rest. I will stay here, but if it is not too much trouble, I would like to know more about the family.”

  Mary placed her rag down and dragged a chair from the corner to her bedside. She folded her hands in her lap, licked her lips, and quietly whispered, “Where do you want me to begin?”

  “From the beginning, or what you know of it.”

  “Hmm, I can only go back to what I have been told. The Marquess of Haverford, the earl’s late father, inherited this estate shortly after the chapel burnt to a crisp. That is all I know, Lady Humphrey.”

  “How about just a short and quick tour of where Helen’s things are kept, and I will never speak again on the subject?”

  “Lord St. John might not be too pleased if you leave your room, but I suppose he won’t be too angry if you are not alone. Let me see if I can arrange for one of the footmen to escort us.”

  The eager maid stuck her head out and whispered to the man guarding the door. He replied with a harshness to his voice, but Estelle could only make out his vow to source another footman to mind his post while he took them.

  A knock on the door strayed her from her idle reflection. The bold footman popped his head into the room. “We best be going now, before someone gets suspicious.”

  Estelle jumped out of bed, no longer feeling the effects of the drugged haze, and wrapped her shawl around her tightly. They made their way through the house. Murmurs of conversations floated from within the rooms off the passages. Tension coiled up in her muscles, and yet excitement threatened to burst from her veins over their exploration. They reached another door when the footman turned to face her.

  “Miss Humphrey, from this point on, we’ll be using the service stairs to access the attic. Mind your Ps and Qs, and no one will think to question why you are travelling this way.”

  Estelle followed the footman with the maid continuing on from behind her. The dimly-lit corridor, combined with the sounds of servants climbing into their creaking beds, besieged her with an unsettling feeling of the calm before the storm. Since their arrival to Hawthorne Hall, this had been the first time she noticed the floorboards squeaking. Their instability mixed with the noisy sound of their footsteps sent shivers up her spine. It was not as if she weighed terribly heavy either. In truth, she weighed maybe a slight over seven stones. This part of the house must have been a part of the old estate before it was rebuilt, she speculated.

  Estelle tugged on her maid’s sleeve, leaned over and whispered, “Just how many service halls are there, Mary?”

  “One for each wing, Miss. While we’re permitted to use the main hallways, our mistress would prefer that we use those passages when transporting laundry or cleaning.”

  “One would think that’s an awful lot of unused space for mischief.”

  “Indeed, Miss. Although most of the mischief lately has been committed in the openness of the manor.”

  “You’ll have to show me which window Mr. Templeton fell from. I heard Ben telling one of his friends that he was not even in his room when the accident occurred.”

  The maid gasped loud enough for the footman to hear and he whispered back tersely, “Quiet, you two. We have another hall to follow and one last flight of stairs.”

  Their procession continued at the bottom of the next staircase. The footman reached for a candlestick and then began the ascent to a part of the house where, from the exterior, one would note a slight tower.

  Two steps into her climb, Estelle heard a faint grunt and the sound of something being slid or scratched against a wall.

  “Did you hear that, Mary?” she asked the maid.

  Mary shrugged. “Hear what, Miss?”

  “Someone is scratching the wall, but from the other side. How odd.”

  “I told you earlier, Miss. The house is haunted.”

  Estelle’s heart hammered in her chest and her shoulders tensed. Too preoccupied by the notion of the manor being haunted, she ran into the back of the footman, who turned around and glared at the maid. “For the hundredth time, Mary, quit this haunted nonsense, or I will be telling the housekeeper about this unscheduled trip. I might also feel inclined to include, Miss Humphrey, that proper decorum would dictate one should ask their host for a tour of the premises during the day.”

  The footman scowled, and she knew it was her fault after all, but there was too much to be explained, and at the rate things were going, no one was going to keep her informed. Besides, staying in her room would have been dreadfully dull and after her swoon, she did not care be in there alone.

  The footman reached into his coat and pulled out a key. He pushed the door open, and the musty smell was so strong, she was forced to turn away, and missed that first glance into the empty room.

  Estelle swatted the air, clearing the cloud of dust around her, and stepped into the attic. Dark places like these made adventure stories all the more surreal. What kind of secrets would she find in here? Would she uncover a murderous plot? Knowing that she wouldn’t have too much time to explore, she walked around the small room, looking for a trunk or anything that appeared feminine.

  “Over there, Miss, by the window. That is where the mistress wanted Helen’s belongings moved to.”

  Estelle quickly made her way and opened the trunk. The top had been cluttered with articles of clothing and personal effects. Shifting the items to the side, she found some books and a bag. When she opened the bag, its contents felt like folded up pieces of paper, but the lack of light hindered any possibility to verify what they were. She pulled them out, and a book to hide them in. Estelle got up and closed the trunk, returning to the door where the maid and footman waited for her.

  “What are you doing with that book, Miss?”

  “I thought I should like to read it.”

  “The master has a well-stocked library. Why not choose something from there?”

  “If Helen had a book stowed away, it is likely deemed more suitable for the female populace. I am sure nothing in your master’s library is romantic.”

  The footman snorted and showed her the way out, ensuring he locked the door behind him.

  “Come along now, you two. I think we have tarried long enough.”

  And that we have, I cannot wait to see what’s in those letters. Estelle tugged on the maid’s arm to pull her closer. “Do you think there is any chance my room can be changed?”

  “I’m certain, but I will ask the housekeeper in the morning if it’s possible.”

  Estelle couldn’t possibly wait that long to see Ben. She’d have to wait until the maid left her, and would sneak into his room before anyone noticed.

  How she hoped Ben would allow her to stay and keep him company. She wanted to be held, consoled, and she wanted to hear his sweet, deep voice until it lulled her to sleep. No longer was she satisfied with his soft fingers cradling her face while he kissed her gently; Estelle needed him in an unfamiliar, yet warm way.

  These sentiments flooded her with a foreign desire. They had shared light intimate moments when her father left the room; Ben stepped closer to her one day, as she looked out of the window in the morning room, his arousal pressing against her bottom when he wrapped his arms around her, whispering of the delights in which they would both indulge. Behaving with decorum ceased to exist when he stood so close to her. Ben shared with her a deep connection she did not realize had ever existed before now. Why on earth did she feel so confused by these complex emotions?

  Estelle supposed people married for less, but to truly be married to a person who loved and idolized her…If only her mama was here to see how content he made her.

  Chapter 7

  Edwin paced the length of the passageway. Frantic and concerned that if someone were to closely examine where the gentleman had fallen from, his secret would be exposed. Seeing Estelle with her fiancé earlier did nothing for the anxiety and loneliness rising beneath his surface. How he longed to feel the soft touch of a
woman, Estelle’s in particular. No one understood that since Helen died.

  His uncle and the countess were useless, too stuck on society and its niceties. They were too self-absorbed to even comprehend the menace living behind these walls. Sure, his past did not help, and if Edwin had an opportunity to turn back time, perhaps things would have been different. Yet, time could not be undone, and he would suffer eternally as would the rest of his bloody family.

  “Quit your muttering, you fool. Someone is bound to hear us,” his cousin growled quietly.

  “Why are you even here, George? Should you not be chasing one of the married women or maids into a broom closet? Or has your cock suddenly disappeared?”

  His cousin snorted. “Well now, at least you know what a cock is, but the question remains. Do you know how to use yours? I bet you are still a virgin.” George began to pace as well and muttered, “You do realize that nosy bitch is going to expose everything. Something has to be done. If you had not gone to Gabriel Templeton’s room, there would have been no issue. But no, you just had to interfere in matters that no longer concerned you.”

  “Helen was with child, you ignorant fool, of course something had to be done.”

  “And what makes you think he fathered the child?” his cousin asked wryly.

  “Why else would she have been engaged to him? I overheard her tell Mary one morning before she came down for breakfast.”

  “You and your spying. One of these days you are going to witness something that will throw you over the edge, and how I look forward to seeing your usual frantic and uncontrolled self, slip from all reality. Even better, that time will likely occur in front of the others, and much to your chagrin, it will be too late. Father will cart you away and have you locked up at Bedlam. Come to think of it, I fancy that thought.”

  Bedlam. Is that where they were thinking of putting me? The words stung; however, anywhere had to be better than living this lie.

  “Is there any reason why you are here with me?” Edwin asked.

  “As a matter of fact, there is. There’s damning evidence in that attic, and that wench is manipulating her way to discovering what should never be found out.”

  Edwin pondered for a moment. What in the world could his cousin be hiding now?

  “If you are so concerned that you are going to be found out, why don’t you question Evan? If he has permitted something devious to occur and didn’t report back to the earl, then mention it to the countess. I am sure your mother would do anything to protect her idiot son.”

  His cousin punched him in the gut, but before he slipped out into the hall, George cautioned him. “Make no mistake, cousin. If I am an idiot, then you are the simpleton. Do not underestimate my influence in this home.”

  The panel closed and Edwin once again stood in the shadows. Alone.

  He winced at the pain. His constitution was deteriorating by the day, and he knew not of what ailed him. Edwin did his best to hide the lesions appearing on his chest, and discoloration on his arms he noticed some days ago. Part of him racked his brain as to why he was suddenly plagued with markings. What had he done to deserve such punishment? Yes, he’d done some horrible things, for which he’d answer for in his afterlife. But what brought on this illness?

  Edwin gasped, cupping himself, remembering the tavern wench he caught up with weeks ago. It had to have been her. What else could it possibly be?

  None of it really mattered at this point. By the time he was done ruining the remainder of his family, they would likely shoot him anyway. All he had to do was wait a few more days for correspondence from the Met in the village.

  * * * *

  Benedict had paced his room with worry and anger until his head could bear no more. He lay in bed and the loneliness swallowed him whole. In one month, he would share his bed with the love of his life and he’d never let her go. The frustration of wanting her so badly left him near on the edge of madness.

  Hard with need, the only way he could seek relief had to be by his own volition. Benedict held himself and closed his eyes, imagining her taking him into her mouth, but the second he began to feel lost, he flung his eyes open at the sound of his door being opened and then closed.

  Damn it! Did I not lock it?

  Even more, Benedict could not hide his shock to see his fiancée standing there. “You should not be here, Estelle.”

  Oh, yes, you should, his body contradicted, betraying his own moral code.

  “I do not want to be in my room. I want to spend the night with you.”

  “And what will your aunt do when she discovers you spent the night here?”

  She grinned. “With any luck, she will disclose the scandalous behavior to my papa, and the wedding will be moved up.”

  Clever girl.

  He sat up and raised a brow. The girl had the worst timing. He was stiff—no—throbbing. He’d need divine intervention to not take her innocence tonight. Benedict waved her over and then patted the bed.

  As she slid up next to him her eyes widened with surprise. “Ben, you are not wearing anything underneath your bed linens, are you?”

  Benedict shook his head and found the blush sweeping across her face immensely pleasing. Evidently, his betrothed’s virginity embarrassed her, even though he could not have been more relieved. He looked forward to corrupting her and turning her into a pleasure fiend.

  “Does it bother you that I’m not?”

  She nodded again, her blush now spreading to her neck. “But I…”

  “I suppose, in order for you to get over your shyness, there would be no harm if you wanted to see my shaft.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no. I could not…we cannot.”

  Benedict chuckled and pulled the sheets away and laughed as she slapped one hand over her mouth and the other over her eyes. The bed shook from his laughter. He could not contain himself any longer.

  “Do not be afraid,” he murmured as he placed a gentle kiss on the back of each of her hands before removing them. “While I had intended to wait until we were married, I shall like to show you how you can pleasure me, and I you, and still leave your hymen intact. That is, unless, you are eager to discover such pleasures beforehand?”

  Benedict placed one of her hands on his chest and the other over his member. Her warm hand blissfully teased him. How he looked forward to sinking himself between those thighs and thrusting into her sweet, tight hole. “That’s not so bad, is it?”

  She shook her head and smiled. Her breathing had even relaxed. For tonight he’d spare her any further embarrassment and wait until she fell asleep before he took care of himself. Right now though, he’d pleasure her until he’d exhausted her. He wanted her head reeling from his ministrations, and ready to move to the next level of pleasure.

  “Sweetheart, I would like you to remove your gown. But if you’d prefer, you may leave it on, but know that I will lift up your gown.”

  She gasped at the suggestion, but slowly complied with his request. Estelle was not very large. In fact, her petite stature made her appear as delicate as a glass doll from the Orient. Benedict straddled her. He reveled under her touch as she brushed her fingers over his nipples and the patch of hair trailing down his chest toward his shaft.

  “Have you ever touched yourself, Estelle? Like here.” Benedict caressed her breasts and then squeezed them. “Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to have someone touch, lick, bite, or pinch?”

  He silenced her with a deep, passionate kiss, intent on dulling her mind with need. As his tongue rolled with hers, Benedict pinched the rosy bud of nipple and she groaned into his mouth. Lord, loving her would be the death of him.

  Benedict pulled away and slid down her lithe body until his mouth reached her breast. This time he licked and suckled her breast as a man would, and then nipped at her nipple. Her bottom was raised sufficiently that his cock came close to make entrance, and he could not let that happen unless she permitted him.

  He forced himself off
and slid even further down, prying her thighs apart. Tonight promised to be a long night, but how he looked forward to delighting her.

  Benedict continued with his ministrations, bringing his lips to the crest of her moist curls. The scent of her arousal drove him mad, to the point he desired nothing more than to ruin her, but he could not. Their time alone this evening, and her willingness to go this far, was a gift far greater than anything else. Besides, in no time they would be married and he would demonstrate his superior skills of lovemaking then. Now was the time to give her a sampling much like French chocolate drizzled over a sweet summer strawberry, served with the finest champagne to be had. His beloved deserved nothing but the best and he was going to give it to her.

  He pressed his lips to her sex, suckling, and then moved downward and began lapping at her juices. Benedict smiled at the sensation of his fiancée cradling his head as he licked to his heart’s content. Her moans of pleasure echoed around him, his own need bursting at the seams.

  Benedict continued building up the pressure by dipping a finger into her dampness with a rhythm to match his licking. He picked up the speed without considering she’d release so soon. Her hands fell to his shoulders and her moans soon turned to whimpers. Benedict braced himself for her undoing. As she released, he suckled harder and fingered her wetness with greater expediency until her body went limp and her legs collapsed at his sides. He moved up her body, hovering, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips and whispered, “And that, my dear, is what you have to look forward to.”

  Benedict rose to his knees to take care of his own need, which evidently would not take much time. He palmed his sac and then took his shaft, pumping it hard and fast. His fiancée lay there, watching him with a smile so large that one would think she wasn’t an innocent.