A Sinful Temptation Read online

  Marcus glanced up to see Lord Selward standing beneath the arbor. He had almost forgotten the man had indicated his desire to see Lady Rebecca at this event. In the time he’d spent with her, he’d been able to conveniently set aside the future earl’s interest. She had not mentioned Selward’s name once since their arrival at the garden party.

  Lady Rebecca smiled. “Of course not, Lord Selward. Would you care to join us?”

  Selward stepped further into the grotto and issued a greeting to the others before returning his attention to Lady Rebecca. “I can only stay a moment, but I wished to find you. I thought I might convince you to take a ride with me tomorrow in the park.”

  “Oh.” She did not sound enthused. Obviously, Lord Selward did not know of Lady Rebecca’s dislike of riding. Marcus could count on one hand how many times he had seen her atop a horse and none of those instances lasted longer than a minute before she requested someone assist her in setting both her feet on solid ground.

  “I have a new mare. Quite a beauty. I’d love to show her off to you.”

  The edges of her smile stiffened. “Indeed, I think that would be most agreeable.”

  Lord Selward bowed and shot Marcus a look of triumph. Then he straightened and transferred his attention to Miss Caldwell, though when he spoke, his voice did not hold the same soft tone it had when conversing with Lady Rebecca. “Did I hear you mention a Mr. Cosgrove?”

  “I’m sorry, but no,” Miss Caldwell said with a warm smile. “You must have been mistaken.”

  Marcus glanced at Miss Caldwell. She spoke the lie with such conviction, Marcus had to question if he had heard the name correctly in the first place.

  “Ah. Well then.” Lord Selward’s attention skimmed around the small group and an awkward silence descended, as if they searched for something to say to overcome the lie that had been told and came up empty.

  “Mr. Bowen, you should show Lord Selward your watch.”

  Marcus clenched his teeth and shot Lady Rebecca a silencing glare, but it was too late.

  “Watch?” Lord Selward let out a short laugh. “I can’t imagine I would be interested in such an item in Mr. Bowen’s possession.”

  The haughty response delivered its message clearly. Marcus was beneath his station and therefore beneath his interest. The man’s rudeness irritated, but it was hardly the first time he’d received it from a titled lord. Despite his connection to the Kingsley family, most considered him to be well outside the social stratosphere they travelled.

  Lady Rebecca straightened in her seat, a sure sign her back was up. He wanted to tell her to leave it alone, but she spoke up before he could stop her. “On the contrary, this watch bears the Walkerton crest, I believe. Though Marcus claims otherwise. Perhaps you could clear it up and tell us who has the right of it?”

  Selward took a step toward their bench, his earlier claim at not being interested quickly forgotten. “What would you be doing with a watch bearing the Walkerton crest?”

  Marcus maintained a relaxed posture, something he had become adept at doing from his experience dealing with business matters and brokering deals. “As Lady Rebecca has indicated, I do not believe it is the Walkerton crest. In fact, I am quite certain it is not.”

  “It is growing quite warm, is it not?” Lady Huntsleigh waved her fan beneath her chin with a little more fervor. “Perhaps it is time to return to the house.”

  Miss Caldwell stood, bringing Marcus to his feet as well. “Indeed,” she agreed. “Shall we?”

  “I would be most happy to escort you ladies,” Lord Selward said offering both Lady Huntsleigh and Lady Rebecca an arm. As Miss Caldwell and Marcus were of lower station, they were left to take up the rear together.

  After they stepped back onto the pathway, Miss Caldwell pulled on Marcus’s arm, slowing his pace while the other three continued on. “Forgive me for the lie, Mr. Bowen. I understand it put everyone in a rather awkward position.”

  “Quite, though I suspect there was a reason behind it?” Miss Caldwell did not seem the flighty type to tell falsehoods simply for the sake of having something to say.

  She nodded and slowed their pace a little more. “I did not want to say so in front of Lady Rebecca, given her affiliation and hopes with respect to Lord Selward, but Mr. Cosgrove was once in the employ of Lord Selward’s father, the Earl of Walkerton, and I’m afraid it did not end amicably. So much so that Lord Walkerton refused him a reference.”

  The news did not bode well for Mr. Cosgrove or his future employment on the Ellesmere estates. “Did he have grounds to do so?”

  “No, he did not. But I should allow Mr. Cosgrove to answer your questions in this regard so you may decide for yourself. Will you still agree to meet with him?”

  While he had no interest in becoming entangled in anything to do with either Selward or his father, Marcus could not deny the opportunity such a meeting presented.

  “Of course, Miss Caldwell. I would be delighted to meet the man.”

  Perhaps Cosgrove could shed light on the watch’s true origins and refute Lady Rebecca’s disturbing claims.

  Chapter Seven

  August 10th

  I had trusted where I shouldn’t have. Believed myself safe. Had I not always been?

  Such innocence is precious in children, but I am no longer a child, and now I would have one of my own because I allowed my own innocence to override the sense that this man was not to be trusted. This man, this father of my child that would never know the destruction his actions wrought. Nor likely care.

  I will take care that my own child, when he or she comes, is well versed in the vagaries of life once beyond the innocence of childhood. I will ensure they trust their instincts and are true to themselves. I will do what I must so their life is never tainted by my own mistakes.

  * * *

  “I thought you disliked horses?”

  Rebecca glanced over at Caelie who had agreed to accompany her as chaperone, claiming the fresh air—or at least as fresh as one could get during June in London—would do her good. She insisted stretching her legs and viewing the flowers budding in the park was just what the doctor ordered.

  “It isn’t so much that I dislike them,” Rebecca said. “They are gorgeous creatures and when I am on the ground I feel very safe around them. It is just when I sit atop them and look down and realize how high up I am and at the mercy of a beast that does not speak my language—then, perhaps, I get a little nervous.”

  Caelie laughed and the light sound filled the air around them as they walked the path that led to Rotten Row. Lord Selward had offered to escort her himself, but she had declined, taking Marcus’s advice to not seem overly eager and have Lord Selward thinking he had won her over entirely. The harder he had to fight for something, the more he would want it. Marcus claimed it was inherent in men to want what they could not have.

  She refrained from telling him the same could be said for women. Herself in particular.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll do fine. Surely, Lord Selward would not do anything that might cause you harm.”

  “I’m certain you are right.” Though Caelie’s claim did little to quell the nervousness roiling in her belly.

  “I visited with Marcus before I left. I had hoped to convince him to join us, but he indicated he had too much work to do.” Caelie sighed and looped her arm through Rebecca’s. The closeness calmed her. For most of her life, those of the male persuasion had surrounded her, save for her mother. It wasn’t until Abigail and Caelie Laytham entered her life a year ago that she finally had a sense of what it might have been like to have sisters.

  “Poor Marcus,” Rebecca said. “I fear he will work himself to death and never look up long enough to realize life is passing him by.”

  “I had hoped to spark an interest between him and Miss Caldwell, but neither seems interested. Miss Caldwell is too wrapped up in her charity to notice any man beyond what service he can provide her cause, and Marcus, well he’s—” Caelie waved a hand
in the air. “He’s Marcus. Who knows what thoughts go on inside that head of his?”

  Rebecca’s heart plummeted at the idea of Marcus and Miss Caldwell being matched, which was of course completely unfair as she made her way to meet with a man she hoped to coerce a proposal from. What did she expect? That the kiss they had shared would cause Marcus to pine for her? Such foolishness. He had not even been the one to initiate it. Though, granted, he had not stopped it, not at first. Likely she had taken him quite by surprise. He had offered her comfort, and yet, the most comfort she found had not been in the words he offered, but in the solid safety of his arms and the enticing promise of his kiss.

  A promise quickly broken when he ended the kiss and informed her it had been a mistake not to be repeated.

  How unkind of her that she could not wish him good fortune in finding a lady to spend his life with. Her failure in this regard shamed her. He deserved better from her.

  They reached the south side of Hyde Park and Rotten Row where it seemed half of London’s elite had gathered this day to see and be seen as they rode up and down the Row on their horses. Rebecca sought out the meeting place as indicated on a note sent by Lord Selward earlier that day and was somewhat dismayed to find he had a rather large collection of lords and ladies surrounding him. One lady in particular stuck out more than the others, likely due to the hideous bonnet she wore.

  Frustration curdled any enthusiasm she had tried to summon. Had Lord Selward invited Lady Susan to join him as well? She had been certain the invitation had been meant for her alone. To discover she must yet again share his attention with Lady Susan soured whatever hope she’d had for the afternoon. How much longer did he expect her to compete for his affections like some dancing monkey to a vendor’s music box?

  “Would you rather we not join them?” Caelie asked, slowing her pace and forcing Rebecca to do the same.

  Rebecca shook her head. She had come this far and she did not have the luxury of time. The Season would end in a matter of weeks; her birthday loomed in the near future. She did not have time to choose another titled lord and try to curry enough of his favor to elicit a proposal. “No. No, of course not. I have put up with Lady Susan’s presence this long. Surely I can endure one more afternoon.”

  They made their way toward the group of individuals standing around Lord Selward’s beloved mare. It was a beautiful animal, a deep chestnut brown with sooty black socks that matched its mane and tail. It snorted and pawed the ground with its hoof before giving a quick shake of its head.

  Rebecca swallowed.

  Caelie squeezed her arm. “You do not have to—”

  But she did. Lady Susan was an expert horsewoman, after all, and it would not do for her to appear less so, given Lord Selward’s love of all things equestrian. If she did not go through with setting herself upon that horse, her rival would, and likely with far more aplomb than Rebecca could ever manage. For the sake of her plan, she must persevere.

  “No. It is fine. I will be fine.” Perhaps if she repeated those words enough, it would calm the pounding of her heart and the shaking of her hands.

  “Lady Rebecca!” The shrill tone of Lady Susan cut through the air. Truly, how could anyone wish to be married to that, day in and day out? “It is so lovely of you to join us.”

  Us. As if their coupledom was already a foregone conclusion, and Rebecca relegated to nothing more than a guest who had come to call. Lord Selward stepped forward to greet her.

  “Lady Huntsleigh. Lady Rebecca.” He took her hand and bowed over it, continuing to hold it as he stared into her eyes, much as Marcus had done after their waltz, though the results today were far less…well, far less.

  Her insides did not warm, and her skin did not tingle despite the glove’s protective covering. Lord Selward’s eyes were a bluish-green, and while a lovely color, she had to admit they lacked the depth of Marcus’s brown eyes. “I am so happy to see you could make it. Lady Susan indicated you feared horses and I worried you might have changed your mind.”

  “Don’t be silly. I have no idea what Lady Susan referred to. Why, I positively love horses. Such majestic creatures, are they not?” She forced a smile and wished a pox would befall Lady Susan before the day was out.

  “Shall I settle you upon Belle, then? I can lead you down the Row and you can tell me how you like her.”

  Rebecca fixed the forced smile to her face and used her last scrap of will not to glare in Lady Susan’s direction or run in the other to avoid her fate. “That would be splendid.” Her stomach disagreed and somersaulted several times over.

  Lady Susan stepped forward. “But I thought I might like to try Belle first, Lord Selward. I am the better horsewoman, after all. Everyone knows that.” The duke’s daughter lowered her fan and gave a coquettish smile that held all the sickly sweetness of an over-sugared butter tart.

  Lord Selward hesitated, as he always did when faced with any type of confrontation, especially those that placed him solely in the middle. An increasingly irritating trait, in Rebecca’s estimation.

  “Then all the more reason I should be first, Lady Susan, as obviously I need the practice.” Rebecca gave Lord Selward her sweetest smile and ignored his companion as best she could, though it was difficult given Lady Susan’s beady eyes bored into her like a pair of sharpened daggers. Lord Selward, who appeared quite thankful someone had made the decision for him, moved quickly to offer her his hand.

  “Let me assist you up.”

  Rebecca stepped onto the box at her feet and allowed him to lift her into the sidesaddle he had thoughtfully provided. She positioned herself properly, arranging her skirts and wishing vanity hadn’t dictated she wear her favorite afternoon dress instead of the more serviceable riding habit. She had debated, but as she had no plans of actually riding the horse, only sitting upon it, she had opted for the dress. A decision she now regretted as she struggled to keep her ankles covered while still maintaining her seat.

  She glanced down at Caelie—who looked very far away at the moment—only to see her dear friend looking as apprehensive as Rebecca felt.

  The horse shifted beneath her and she quickly forgot Caelie as she grabbed for the pommel. Nearby, Lady Susan snickered. Rebecca gritted her teeth and forced herself not to look down again. It didn’t help. She could sense how far from the ground she was and her insides quaked. The horse snorted. Could it smell her fear? Or was that dogs? Her palms turned sweaty inside her dainty gloves. What fool wears such attire when atop a horse?

  “Are you quite comfortable, Lady Rebecca?”

  She kept her gaze fixed at a point in the distance, afraid to look down at Lord Selward in case the fear rolling through her had stamped itself across her face. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course.”

  “You don’t look so well,” Lady Susan offered, in her nasally, saccharine tone. “Are you feeling ill?”

  Ill would be an understatement as the light lunch she’d eaten two hours previous threatened to make an unwanted reappearance, but she refused to give Lady Susan the satisfaction. “I am perfectly fine, thank you.”

  The horse snorted and shifted again. Sweat beaded Rebecca’s forehead and she gritted her teeth.

  “Would you like down,” Lord Selward asked, stepping closer, the reins held lightly in his hand. “It is quite all right if you do.”

  Except it wasn’t all right. Lord Selward loved horses. If she had any hope of capturing a proposal it would serve her well to share this passion. Heavens knew they were unlikely to share passion in any other areas. Besides, her pride would not allow her to admit public defeat in front of Lady Susan who would use it against her and—

  “She truly is a superior piece of horseflesh,” Lady Susan said.

  From the corner of her eye, Rebecca saw a flash but it wasn’t until the horse lurched forward that she made the connection. Lady Susan’s hand slapped against the animal’s hindquarters. Too late, Rebecca screamed as the horse took off, the reins torn from Lord Selward’s grip. She forgot screami
ng and quickly turned to pleading for God and anyone else who would listen to save her from the equine hell-beast. But apparently God had more important things to attend to, as the hell-beast in question raced down Rotten Row as if the Devil nipped at its hooves, leaving Rebecca little choice but to hang on for dear life.

  A life she suspected wavered on the edge of ending.

  Everything on either side of her blurred and the air filled with shouts and screams, not all of them hers, which did not bode well for a good outcome. The horse stumbled slightly and her heart lodged in her throat. The mare quickly recovered, but the motion had loosened Rebecca’s seat until only sheer force of will kept her atop the horse.

  Something dark flashed in front of her—her life perhaps? If so, she was too busy to pay it much notice. Then, without warning, the horse stopped and she vaulted through the air, weightless. The ground rushed up to meet her and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the end. It came with a splash and bone-jarring jolt that left her gasping for air. When she dared to reopen her eyes, she blinked up at the sky. Puffy white clouds drifted above her as if nothing untoward had just occurred.

  “Rebecca!” A pair of booted legs skidded to a stop in front of her, spraying muck onto her exposed stockings. She looked as Marcus dropped to his knees on the ground next to her, his features tightened with fear and worry.

  She breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes. Not dead. Oh, how wonderful. For surely if she were dead, Marcus would not be with her. Unless he’d tried to avert another band of knife-wielding thieves. Oh dear, had he?

  Her eyes snapped open. “Are you dead?”

  “No.” His hand touched her face then moved to squeeze her arms and legs. Despite his highly inappropriate behavior, she could not recall ever being so happy to see someone.

  “Then I am not dead?”

  “You are alive and well. Are you injured?”

  “I don’t think so.” Unless feeling the fool quantified as injury, in which case her wounds were quite fatal. “It feels cold.”