Shadowed by Sin

Layna Pimentel

Published 2015

ISBN: 978-1-62210-245-7

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2015, Layna Pimentel. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books

http://LSbooks.com

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Every man has a price…

As Lord Benedict St. John and his fiancée prepare to marry, his family is blackmailed by a former acquaintance. Hoping to set things straight, he accepts an invitation to dine at the blackmailer’s family estate.

But how many should die…

Estelle agrees to accompany Benedict, but nothing prepares her for the mysteries and bodies she stumbles across during her time at Hawthorne Hall.

Before the shocking truth is exposed?

Hawthorne Hall holds many secrets, but will Estelle and Benedict escape to see the day their union is blessed, or will they succumb to an untimely end?

Dedication

Felicity and Savannah, I love you more than words can describe. Your dreams are always within reach. Just remember to never give up.

Acknowledgements

This book couldn’t have been possible without my amazing and patient critique partners Natascha and Jessica. Ginny and Beverly, thank you kindly for your time in helping me iron out many details in the early stages. To my fellow PACT ladies: you girls really don’t know how much it means to me, to have you in my life. Every author could use clones of you, but I’ll never give you up. Last but not least, my street team. You, my girls, are a force to be reckoned with.

― CHARLES DICKENS, Great Expectations

Benedict St. John glared ice-cold daggers at his father. The marquess paced behind his desk, muttering oaths and, within his meaty grip, he held a crumpled piece of paper. Benedict didn’t know what had the patriarch so vexed, however, whatever it was, had to have been infuriating enough to radiate contempt. To have pulled him away from making arrangements for his and Estelle’s wedding had to have been of great importance.

Exhaling, Benedict took a seat by the fireplace, but not before reaching for the brandy his father left out on the sideboard. He swirled the amber liquid and inhaled the sweet scent of the indulgence; the liquor his father preferred to drink when something went awry.

“Dare I ask what has you in such a state, Father?”

“I’m not sure if you want to be privy to such information. It’s a bloody scandal. Your mother is going to be surly when she finds out. Not to mention how the rest of our family will be dragged through the mud. No, it is crucial we put a stop to this madness.”

Benedict winced, knowing all too well his mother would only give her scathing disapproval if the situation were related to their finances. They had led a comfortable lifestyle up until now and, while taking up a smaller residence wouldn’t bother him that much, his mother would certainly object. He imagined his mother’s words spewing and sputtering,
society this, and society that
. They would be ruined, and she would be too embarrassed to face society. She would insist that they leave town, and God would only know to where.

In fact, while he maintained a small income and the inheritance he received from his grandfather, the time had arrived for him to consider moving into his own residence. Something he should have done some time ago, but his resolve in ensuring him and Estelle had enough income without relying heavily on his parents had weighed on him greatly.

With his nuptials to Lady Estelle Humphrey pending, he really should have established their family residence by now. He had no excuse to not have it completed already. Their wedding being more than a month away certainly didn’t leave him more time to piss about and squander time he didn’t have.

“Father, come and sit down with me. I am certain we can discern how much trouble the family is in. If there is an opportunity to consolidate properties—”

The earl guffawed at the suggestion. “My dear boy; let me ascertain that none of the servants are nearby and I will confide in you. What I have to say impacts on everyone and I want to make sure this information stays between you and me.”

Benedict raised a brow at his father’s comment. What on earth, could the man be hiding?

His father joined him seconds later after locking the library door behind him, and poured himself a dram of brandy. He dropped into his seat after downing the alcohol and closed his eyes.

“A few months ago, during one of Cuthbert’s famous games he hosted at Crockford’s, he won a most exclusive prize. I was present for the game but nothing more. I left shortly after the win and headed home. I will not name names, but the possessions that were to be turned over never happened. One night I stumbled across a most unsettling scene at the Seven Dials.”

Benedict sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose and winced. “Just what in the world were you doing at the Seven Dials, Father?”

“My presence there is not of your concern, however, this bleeding demand is.”

His father tossed the crumpled missive into his lap. Benedict inspected the parchment, immediately recognizing the insignia at the bottom of the velum. The Earl of Hawthorne’s seal couldn’t be ignored. But what could the man have written to gain his father’s disdain? Benedict unraveled the mess and read on.

Lord St. John,

It should come as no surprise that you are receiving this note. After all, you will be considered an accomplice should the inspector come sniffing at your heels. It would be in your best interest to never remember the events of last midsummer’s eve. Furthermore, I also would like to ask that you look into taking care of a particular problem for me. Consider this your last act of loyalty to me and my family. Should that not be enough, ponder what will happen if you don’t.

I have it on good authority that French investigators will be landing any day now. I would like for you to secure information as to the nature of their visit. I know of your connections to certain inspectors, and I know that they’ve come to you in the past. Collect as much information as you can, and I will send word for when we shall meet in private in a fortnight.

Regards,

Lord Cuthbert, 5th Earl of Hawthorne

Benedict relaxed back in his seat, searching his soul for the right words and praying to the good Lord for patience. The note implied his father witnessed a crime he should not have, but precisely what exactly eluded him.

After a few silent moments, Benedict rose from his seat, crossing the floor to stand next to a bookcase. He leaned his shoulder against the hardwood casing, fingered the intricate etchings and inhaled sharply. None of the scenarios playing in his mind ended well. If his father could solve an unsolved mystery, he should do the honorable thing by contacting the authorities. However, the threat of their family being in danger certainly put them at risk.

“What exactly could the Earl of Hawthorne hold against you, Father?”

“I might have had a hand in some cheating at cards; or I might have some information on fugitives from the law.”

Benedict groaned loudly. He didn’t think his father was capable of retaining such knowledge, let alone being an accessory to unlawful mischief.

“Father, I need a full account of what exactly you saw, and how much you know. I will not allow our family to be dragged through the gossip rags because of some infidelity or illegal gambling.”

The earl sighed. “If only it were that simple, my son.”

“Then simplify the situation. I want to help you, but I cannot if I do not understand the severity of the situation. I need names, and our associations. If Lord Cuthbert is keeping poor company, I forbid you from any further contact with him.”

His father, bereft of speech, stared at him with an empty gaze.

“I ask you again, Father. What does he hold over you? What did you witness that you shouldn’t have?”

“I stumbled across his henchmen executing the man who failed to pay up his debt from the card game. He was found in the Thames a week later but the Met haven’t been able to solve the murder. They’ve apparently launched a full-fledged investigation led by their head inspector. Is it any wonder he has not been discovered yet?”

His father paused with a notable sigh, poured himself another drink and continued. “With George returning to the continent early, one can only surmise he has found himself in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble do you suppose? I shudder to think he’s done worse than his father; however, if the French are on their way to possibly apprehend a criminal, well now, that certainly makes things even more interesting. If I don’t help him, I’ll be an accessory to the murder I witnessed and goodness only knows what atrocity he will set up against me. Don’t you see?” He exhaled heavily. “I have to do this for him. If I don’t, think of what this will do to you and your mother.”

Now it was Benedict’s turn to pace the library.
There has to be a way to gain more information about how deep Lord Cuthbert’s affiliation with the criminal activity went
, he pondered silently. Nerves racked his core, leaving his throat dry and his temples throbbing. He certainly didn’t need this kind of trouble before his wedding. Perhaps a few hours searching for a home would provide him with the silence he needed to contemplate their next actions.

He glared at the crumpled paper and began to fold it as neatly as possible.

“What are you doing with that, Benedict?”

“I am keeping this paper before you do anything more foolish. Do not say or do anything else. I will ascertain how much the man could frame you for, and will decide how we proceed. There’s too much at stake and I will not risk dragging Estelle’s family into this either.”

They were interrupted when a quick knock at the door distracted them. Benedict strode to the door in three giant strides and unlocked it.

A servant bowed and stepped in. “Pardon the intrusion, my lords. This just arrived for Master Benedict.”

The butler passed him an envelope with the identical wax seal from the note his father received earlier. Only this time, the letter was decorated with intricate designs.

“Thank you, Horace.”

“What is it? Who is it from?” his father asked quizzically.

“I don’t know, Father. I’ll have a look at it later. I’m rather late for a few appointments now. I will check in on you later this afternoon. Do tell Mother I will be asking Estelle to join us for dinner tonight.”

His father groaned yet again. While his parents approved of his desire to marry, they simply did not care for his selection of a wife. The aristocratic snobs that they were, they had expected him to marry an equal, or a lady that came with an extremely large dowry. Estelle was Baron Humphrey’s daughter, and while her dowry wasn’t that of an earl’s or viscount’s daughter, her purse strings and entitlements didn’t bother him in the least.

From the moment he saw her for the first time at the market, he’d been smitten with the petite and exotic beauty. He’d lifted her from the muddy street, and as her deep dark eyes settled on his, she’d bewitched him. Mind, it took several weeks for him to dissuade another potential suitor, not that the lad stood a chance. Estelle was one catch he would never give up, and now he had to find the perfect home for them, but where? She lived in town with her father and widowed aunt in a modest townhouse during the season, and after that, they resided in a country home with a full set of staff and several tenants to oversee. All of which he could match with his inheritance; but for Estelle everything had to be perfect. She deserved nothing but the world, and if he could give it to her, he would.

“Horace,” Benedict called out, reaching for his hat. “See that my carriage is ready post haste. I have to go to town and begin looking at properties.”

“Yes, my lord. Right away.” The butler disappeared around the corner, leaving Benedict alone in the foyer.

He desperately wanted to open the envelope but refused to do it so close to home. He didn’t want his father to worry, nor did he want the servants to speculate on what was the matter. He’d open the blasted thing and read it in the privacy of his carriage.