9781618858467ASinfulEducationPimentel (14 page)

“Who do you
think signed the warrant for your arrest as well, your grace? Richard Waite, Duke
of Downsbury, you are hereby arrested for crimes against women and slavery. You
are to stand trial for the illegal sale of women to foreigners. We have two
witnesses who are prepared to speak against you. Do you have anything to say to
your almost duchess?”

The duke
spit in the man’s face with contempt. “I have nothing to say other than two witnesses
mean nothing. You do not have any other evidence.”

“Ah! But
that is where you are wrong, your grace. We have searched the dock masters’
records, and we have searched your home already. Fortunately for us, you did
not lock up the most important detail. Your correspondence between the chief
prosecutor and the Italian.

“I have to
say, for a smart gentleman such as yourself to invest in business prospects
overseas, you have proven to all of London how stupid you are. It is just as
well your duchess is no longer with us, or is she? We shall look into the
circumstances of her death, considering how much we have already discovered.”

The duke
attempted to run, but the stranger apprehended him before he made it mere feet.
“Evading arrest, sir? I do believe that has its own charge, as well.”

“None of you
will get away with this. I will come back, and when I do, the lot of you will
be sorry for crossing me.” The duke hissed, trying to point at Charles.

“Is that a
threat, your grace? I am certain we can add an additional charge to your
ever-expanding list. Have you no idea how much pain and suffering your actions
have caused? I do not expect you to care, but the women who did not survive
your cruelty deserved a better life, than to perish alone.

“You sir,
will not only suffer in purgatory, but I will ensure that your stay at
Newgate
is anything but comfortable. You will never see the
light of day again, unless it is the day they hang you from the gallows. I hope
you will enjoy your new home.”

Downsbury
kicked and screamed, and some guests started to exit the church while others
stood and watched with curiosity. Her mother tried to run, but a uniformed man
kept her at bay. The bishop could not even form an understandable word in English.
“Sinners, the lot of you. Barging into a house of God. May he strike you
down.
”

“Enough!” Avonlea
said, running toward her. “She is already married.
We
were married a fortnight ago in Scotland, but she was still
forced into this marriage. Now, what do you have to say for yourself, bishop?”

Emily threw
herself into his arms while her mother cried out before swooning.

“Come, my
love. I have an estate and staff I am sure you will want to familiarize
yourself with.”

* * * *

Charles woke
with his arms still wrapped around his bride. Not even the light streaming into
their bedchamber could do her beauty any justice. Her pale and creamy skin
looked ethereal, her red wavy locks splayed across the pillow. He had married a
goddess, and he counted his blessings many times over for this second coming of
life. Of love.

He kissed
her shoulder, squeezing her a little tighter. Home had never felt so complete.
He wished his parents could see how happy he was now. They would approve of
Emily and, most of all, they would be ecstatic at the prospect that a lady had
finally captured his heart.

Who would
have ever thought he would see the day where he would marry, a proper lady at
that? Ignoring the fact that he had the dowager countess as a mother-in-law. He
made sure she was not permitted to come to their house.

His
brother-in-law—being the brilliant man he is—gave the crone the option to go on
an extended holiday to either the continent or the Americas, and he did not
leave much room for disagreement. Charles found it rather amusing. He would be
glad, knowing she would never set foot in London again.

No one had
ever expected to see the day where Downsbury was stripped of his title. His
holdings had been sold to pay as restitution for the women’s lives that would
never be normal again. Charles was surprised neither he nor Nathaniel had tried
to kill the duke, after how the wretched man had destroyed their dignity.

The last
anyone had heard on the subject was that Richard Waite had been transferred to
Newgate
, and Charles hoped very much that the man would
think upon his sins, while he lived happily with his bride.

Would the
duke ever think back upon all his wrongs? Most likely not. Though, after
hearing that the runners would investigate further into the duchess’ accident,
one wondered if there was more to the story.

The only
thing that had been reported was of the
delapitaded
carriage being found without a body. One would have expected the riverbanks to
be searched. Her body should have washed up or been discovered by now.
Nevertheless, even if they did find her corpse, nothing would bring her back.

But for
whatever odd reason, he could not stop thinking of her. What if the duchess
wasn’t dead?
I suppose anything would be
better than to learn that her husband was a monster.

Perhaps,
once Wycliffe had settled down, Charles could convince him to go on a ride. He
would never disclose his real reason for the trip, but if there was ever a
chance for Wycliffe to be happy again, he wanted to be able to help the man in
any way he could. Avonlea owed him as much for his own part in the couple’s
current happiness.

Emily
stirred and mumbled something. “Charles…”

“Yes, my
dear.”

“How
glorious is it to wake up in such a state of total bliss?”

“I could not
agree with you more. How do you fare this morn, Lady Avonlea?”

She moaned
then stretched her arms out. After yawning, she turned to face him. “I am a
little sore. Considering my insatiable husband kept me up all night, I am
surprised I woke up so early.”

“Well my
dear, we did have some catching up to do. All I can say is that I am relieved
it is over. With the center of our melodrama out of the country, I daresay we
will have some semblance of peace.”

The way most marriages should start out
.
He had a wife that he loved, and her affections were returned. Life was indeed
glorious, and he couldn’t wait for the day their family would grow. His mother
and aunt would instantly get over his choice of a bride, and from that moment
on, they would quite swiftly take over Emily’s personal space. He was even sure
that they would niggle their way into their family home.

Such is the
life, though.

“Charles.”

“Yes, my
love.”

“
Mmm
… Say it again, please.”

“Say what,
my dear? I love you?”

Emily closed
her eyes and smile. “Those were the words. I love you, Charles. May nothing
ever come between
us.
”

“Here, here.
Enough of this chatter, you appear as if you are ready to be loved again. I
wonder,
who
exactly is the insatiable
one now, dear?”

Epilogue

Blast my head. Here I was doing so well, and
I had to stop at Madame Martine’s,
Wycliffe thought to himself, climbing
off his horse and entering the staging inn. Between the galloping of his horse
and the thunder rolling above him, his head throbbed. He should have waited
until the monsters in his head ceased their roaring.

He sat at
small table in the far corner of the inn and rested his weary, wet head against
the window. He was close to resting his eyes when a gruff voice rustled his
consciousness. “What will it be for today, sir?
”

“Aside from
something to quench my thirst, your country fare to fill my belly with, and a
bed, that will be all.”

The man
grunted something foreign, or at least it sounded not from these parts, and
walked away, disappearing to a side room where dishes clattered. The hunting
trip should have waited, but seeing his friend so happy and blessed these last
few days renewed the loss he felt for Cordelia.

No one could
fill those slippers. She had stolen his heart the first time she had submitted
to his rather deviant needs. Were it not for his idiotic notion, sending a
message to her through Brimley, the duchess might still be alive, though he was
sure he would not have been.

Downsbury
would have shot him on the spot, knowing it was truly him carrying on the
affair with his wife. But then again, Brimley had lost a great sum of money to
the man, so who was to say how things would have ended. All he knew was that he
was alone, without the love of his life, and without a single person he could
turn to that would not think to toss him out on his
arse
.
With how he liked his women, he would likely spend the rest of his days alone.

In fact, he
was rather surprised he had not been sent to jail after the dealings at
Martine’s establishment. She was happy to serve him in the ways he needed, but
offered little in the way of true submission. Martine, in the end, was only
hired help, and what he required was a woman who was not afraid to be bound,
spanked, or gagged. He enjoyed using the riding crop on occasion, but there was
only one person he had used it on.

Wycliffe shook
his head.
Get a grip of yourself, man. She’s not coming back.
Ever.

The gent
brought him a tankard of ale and a trencher of what the man must have thought
to be nourishment. “When you are ready, I will have the boy show you up to your
room. How long do you expect to stay?”

“I will only
be stopping for the night, sir. Has my horse been tended to?”

“’e has. The
boy will ready him for you in the morning, after you have eaten.”

“Very well.
Much thanks for the food and drink.”

The man walked
away, and the moment Wycliffe popped a piece of dry bread into his mouth, a woman’s
laugh across room nearly made him choke.
It cannot be…
He shook his
head.
No. Now I am hearing things. Hell, I think I need
more sleep than food.

Wycliffe drank
his ale in one sitting, took another bite of bread, and pushed the trencher
away. He was half way across the room when he saw the woman. Her smile,
laughter, and posture had him convinced. The way she tossed her hair over her
shoulder—an action the duchess did all too often when they were alone, especially
after lovemaking. His body vibrated and hummed with need.

He could not
believe in a million years he would have found her. In the middle of the
country at that. And in a tavern. She would have never set foot in an
establishment such as this previously, so why now?

All
this time… Where has she been? Why hasn’t she made an attempt to send word? So
many questions…I cannot even begin to fathom…

The earl’s
heart hammered violently in his chest, and his breath hitched. He did not know
whether to laugh, be angry, or cry.
Does Downsbury even know
she is still alive?

Time seemed to
stop. He stood there until she glanced up from the conversation she was having
with a patron. Her head tipped to the side, and when her eyes widened, he knew
that she knew.

Christ
,
it
is
her.

*TO
BE CONTINUED*

About the Author

Born and raised in Toronto,
Ontario, Layna discovered her love of reading at an early age. When she isn’t
devouring salacious romance novels or writing, she enjoys losing herself in
researching ancient history and mythology, weaponry, and hiking. She lives in
Northern Ontario, with her husband and two daughters.

Other Books by Layna

A Gift from Fate

Hardened Desire

A Scandal at Vauxhall

Secret Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com