Carnal Transgression

Winter

Dalbeg, Queensland, Australia

1885

Constance Dunbar’s gaze drifted to the stars in the moonlit sky, the cool breeze of the night brushing against her skin as she walked down the street.

“It’s supposed to be winter,” her companion grumbled. “Why in devil’s name is it still so hot?”

She glanced across as her older sister, Agnes Shultz, lifted her long, fair hair off her neck, sighing in respite.

“We should go for a swim,” Agnes continued. “Surely this godforsaken country has some lakes somewhere.”

Constance smiled. She accompanied her sister most nights, and the conversation varied little.

“It’s torture making us wear these tents in this weather,” Agnes moaned, lifting her black, cotton skirt slightly, fanning it against her legs. “Surely they can invent an outfit for us to wear that’s far more suitable in this horrendous climate.”

“The queen made these mourning gowns fashionable though, remember?” Constance teased.

“Yes, but she didn’t have to deal with the hellish environment inflicted upon those of us living in the arsehole of the world,” Agnes argued. “If she did, I guarantee you we women would be encouraged to wear shorter skirts.”

“Or we could shun etiquette entirely and take to sauntering around in the nude?” Constance laughed.

“It would be more practical.” Agnes giggled, letting go of her skirt. “It would also most certainly cure any troubles we have for attracting a future husband.”

“At thirty-three, I doubt any man will find me a catch,” Constance remarked. “Besides, after what happened to the last man who was forced into my life, I think I could do without another bout of matrimony.”

Agnes reached for her hand, squeezing it affectionately. “Have they told you anything about James’s case yet?”

“It’s as if his death has been forgotten about. It certainly isn’t how I thought things would go considering he was the senior constable,” Constance complained. “After James’s body was found on Lynch’s Beach, I assumed Robert Strivelyn would be falling over himself to find who was responsible. He didn’t even bat an eyelid when I informed him I would be going back to my maiden name for fear of James’s killer coming after me next. I understand there are only two local officers, but surely that’s enough to initiate an investigation.”

“That’s how he’s treated Father’s case too, like finding a man’s body washed up on the beach with a bullet in his head is a common occurrence not even worth his time to investigate. So I’ve taken measures into my own hands. I’ve contacted the police commissioner about Robert. I’ve told him that his new senior constable is turning a blind eye to his duties by not investigating these murder cases. He’s eager to see any proof I can send to him regarding Father’s case...and Robert’s negligence.” Agnes squeezed Constance’s hand. “You should go speak to him too. Between the two of us, we might be able to convince him Robert isn’t doing what’s expected of a senior constable.”

Reaching into the bodice of her black mourning gown, Constance retrieved the note hidden there and handed it to her sister. “Do you think the commissioner would look at this for me?”

Agnes took the piece of paper and began to read. “Am I reading this right? It states that should you delve into James’s death on your own, the ghosts of your past will find you.” Agnes folded the note and handed it back to her sister. “Have you shown this to Robert?”

Constance shook her head. “Not after the way he carried on the last time I mentioned these messages.”

“Isn’t there a constable working for him?” Agnes asked. “He might be able to help you.”

“I know nothing about him,” Constance replied, shoving the folded paper back in her bodice. “For all I know, he’s another of Robert’s lackeys, rushing back to that bastard’s side with every word I say.”

“Or he could be a gung-ho officer, eager to make a difference by rescuing an Irish lass from the cloud that keeps following her.”

“If you mean my apparent imminent wedding, I doubt there’s anyone who can help me.” Constance sighed heavily. “I’m trapped, and try as I do, I can’t see a way to be free of that brut.”

“Which brut is that, my dear?” the familiar voice of the current senior constable enquired as he fell into stride beside Constance.

Her steps faltered to a stop. “Robert? I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Obviously.” His tone was stern, like he was scolding a child. “Shouldn’t you be at home planning our wedding instead of skulking out here with her?”

Constance glanced at her sister for strength before turning back to him. He was a menacing sight in his police uniform. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me since the death of my husband, but I don’t think marrying again is the best thing for me at the moment. My sister and I still have much to deal with after the loss of our father, and sorting through his affairs must be a priority.”

His look turned dark. “Are you refusing me? Are you so naïve to think a woman in your position will be able to fend for yourself in this harsh town?”

Agnes stepped toward her sister. “The town is less harsh than a life with you would be. Besides, Constance has enough money left from our father and her husband to live quite well. She’s managed to survive these past months without a man in her life, and I doubt a cold-hearted bastard such as you will be of any further benefit.”

The back of Robert’s hand connected sharply with Agnes’s cheek. “One day you’ll pay for your interference, and I’ll be there when you’re reminded that you are no better than the Irish whores in the brothel.” Grabbing Constance, he pulled her away from Agnes. “Our engagement has already been announced in the paper. Have you any idea the embarrassment it would cause a man in my position if you were to refuse me now?”

Constance tried to pull free from his hold. “My reputation in this town is of little concern to me.”

His grip tightened. “Your corrupt husband was killed because of what he was involved in. Your father was his partner. Without me, you’ll meet the same end as both of them. Do you really want the sins of your past hunting you down?”

His choice of words made her think of the most recent threatening letter she’d received.

Agnes went to Constance’s side, struggling to free her sister. “And what end will she meet being married to a git who treats her worse than the dirt on the bottom of his shoe all because of where she was born?”

He pushed Agnes away, his hands gripping Constance’s upper arms tightly as he shook her. “This marriage will go ahead, even if I have to drag you to the altar.”

Her heart racing, Constance gathered the last of her fading strength and spat in his face. “Go to hell!”

Robert slapped her again. “I’ve already been there, you Irish bint. Now it is time you joined me.”

Agnes lunged at him, her fists wildly punching at his back until he let go of Constance. He spun around, searching for Agnes, but she’d promptly stepped out of his reach. She grabbed Constance’s wrist and pulled her sister behind her as they ran down the street.

Looking at her surroundings, Constance realized they were heading toward the Valley Hotel. “Where are we going?”

Hastily making their way down the alley beside the small building and around to the back, Agnes slowed to a fast canter and entered.

“What are we doing in the hotel?” Constance asked, more insistent this time as she pulled away from her sister.

“Do you remember Molly O’Larin?” Agnes asked.

Constance nodded.

“Well, she works here,” Agnes said.

“What is a school teacher doing in a place such as this?” Constance asked, confused.

“We Irish have been paying our way here to escape war and poverty for nearly eighteen years,” Agnes reminded her. “Some of us just had to pay more.”

“This is wrong,” Constance said. “A woman like her shouldn’t be in a place like this.”

“I’m doing what I can to get her out of here,” Agnes assured her sister. “And there are more women here from our village back home that I’m hoping to help.”

Constance frowned doubtfully. “We tried this before when Father was still alive, but it didn’t work. The more women we freed, the more that were shipped in and brought here to work.”

“I know, but it’s different this time,” Agnes argued. “When my husband died last year, he left me every penny he had. It’s enough to help these women and will still allow me to live a comfortable life.”

Constance’s brow furrowed as she contemplated everything her sister was risking.

“Do you not approve?” Agnes asked. “Do you think I should leave these poor wretches to their fate?”

“Of course not,” Constance exclaimed. “I just wish I could be of some help to you, but with Robert constantly watching over me like some devil, I fear I’d bring more danger than help to these poor women.”

“I could help you too. I have that secluded estate you could move into until we can find a way to free you from that man.”

Constance smiled at her sister’s generosity. “You’re sweet to offer, but there’s nowhere I can go where that bastard won’t find me.”

“He won’t find you there,” Agnes confidently said.

“You sound certain of that,” Constance commented doubtfully.

“I am,” Agnes assured her.

“Did you buy it from a recluse?”

Agnes shook her head. “Not exactly. He was a stranger passing through town who was eager to be rid of a property he’d recently acquired.”

Constance studied her sister suspiciously. “A stranger? And he approached you out of the blue to buy his property?”

“We met here in the hotel,” Agnes explained. “He was visiting the area on business and decided to ask around to see if anyone would be interested in relieving him of some deed papers. When I realized where it was, I couldn’t refuse.”

“What business was he involved in that would allow him to acquire an unwanted, secluded estate? Was he a debt collector?”

“Not quite,” Agnes replied, averting her gaze. “He was more in the business of taking care of people.”

Studying her sister’s composed expression, Constance gasped. “He was a hired killer?”

“Shh,” Agnes hushed her. “I didn’t ask him details. All I know is he acquired the estate from one of the people he chased down, but he didn’t want to keep it in case it attracted attention. He was looking for someone who would never be associated with his business to take the deed off his hands.”

“And you offered to help him out?” Constance hissed. “Are you crazy? Do you know what could happen to you by getting involved with people like that?”

“I spoke to him for a few hours over a couple of glasses of whiskey. That was all.” Agnes grinned sheepishly. “Besides, don’t you think it’s hypocritical to chastise me about my associations when it was you who jumped in bed with the rebel leaders back in Ireland?”

“I didn’t end up in Connor’s bed,” Constance corrected her. “Nor was he any prodigious leader. He was a lackey, like the rest of us, willing to do whatever was necessary to fuel the uprising and keep Father faithful to the cause. I was just a means to an end for him.”

Reaching for her sister’s hand, Agnes maneuvered them over to a table. “Do you think Robert knows about your life back in Ireland? Is that his excuse for the way he treats you?”

“I doubt he cares about my past. His only interest in me is to have me as a bride.” Her brow furrowed quizzically as she sat down. “Which is strange considering we barely know each other. I mean, we spoke a few times with regards to James’s case, but it was only business. Definitely nothing personal that would ignite any heartfelt emotions.”

Agnes studied her sister. “Has he shown any lustful interest in you?”

“No, and though I’m grateful for that, it doesn’t make any sense why he’d be so persistent about wanting to marry me. If he doesn’t want to love me or fuck me, what reason could there be for his obsession with me?”

Silence fell between the sisters, each lost in their thoughts. Catching sight of a barmaid approaching the table, Constance shook her head, dismissing her.

“Those threatening notes you’ve been getting since James was killed, do they all mention the ghosts of your past?” Agnes suddenly asked, drawing her sister’s attention again.

Constance nodded. “Some might say sins of my past, but I take it to mean the same thing. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just...” Agnes’s words trailed off, her expression thoughtful. “Why would anyone here in Australia care if you delve into what happened to your husband, or our father? It makes no sense. It makes less sense to threaten you with your past...unless they knew you back in Ireland.”

Constance tilted her head, unsettled by such a possibility. “That was years ago though.”

“I know, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. Other than being married to a policeman twice your age who spent more time at the brothel than he did in your bed, your life here in Dalbeg has been mundane. Father made sure of that.”

Constance’s brow furrowed. “But the only ones who know what happened back home—about what I did—were those who were as involved in the uprising as we were.”

“Are you certain?” Agnes asked. When Constance nodded, her sister grimaced. “The English soldier who attacked you ended up painfully aware of exactly what kind of sins you were involved in.”

Constance’s gaze widened. “It can’t be him though. It just can’t.”

“Why not?” Agnes asked. “That soldier was tall and blond, just like Robert. And he’d be in his mid-forties now, just like Robert.”

“They can’t be the same man. Father and the Tynedales captured him and tied him up,” Constance reminded her sister. “And in case you’ve forgotten, the warehouse he was in went up in flames.”

“What if he escaped the fire?” Agnes asked. “Think about it, Stanzie. You stabbed that soldier and left him for dead. I’d say he’d have more reasons than most to want revenge, and Robert seems determined to make you suffer.”

Agnes couldn’t be right...could she?

“For all we know, Robert could also be behind the boats coming into the beach,” Agnes persisted. “Perhaps James found out about it and was killed before he could tell anyone what Robert was up to. It would explain why you’re being threatened not to delve into your husband’s death.”

Constance contemplated what her sister was suggesting, struggling to remember what the English soldier had looked like, searching for any resemblance to Robert. So many years had passed, and her memory wasn’t as clear about what happened back in Ireland as it once was.

“Even if you’re right that the soldier is sending me those threats, that’s no link to the senior constable, or the boats coming in on Lynch’s Beach. After all, Robert isn’t trying to make me pay for what happened back home,” Constance said. “He’s trying to marry me.”

Agnes raised her brow. “Forcing you into matrimony would be the perfect revenge.”

Constance’s stomach tightened. “I remember the soldier yelling at me as I ran away from him. He swore he wouldn’t stop until every one of us were returned to the filth from whence we came.”

Agnes leaned closer to her sister. “And he swore he’d find our family and take back whatever Father took from him as he was being tied up...no matter the cost.”

“Robert can’t be the soldier,” Constance muttered. “Those ships have been bringing our people into Lynch’s Beach for almost fifteen years, and he’s only been living here in Dalbeg since before Father died.”

“He’s involved somehow though,” Agnes insisted. “I’ve seen him taking women to the brothel where only Irish women work. Some he sells to the madam. Others he sells privately to the highest bidder.”

Constance’s gaze narrowed. “If you’ve seen him, can you expose him for being involved in those boats coming in?”

“I need proof,” Agnes explained. “Once I have it, the commissioner said he’ll come and take care of matters.”

“I can help you,” Constance offered. “If I can get close enough to Robert, maybe I can find some evidence linking him to those boats.”

“And what if he is the soldier from Ireland?” Agnes asked. “If you want to help, come to the estate I was telling you about. What little information I’ve managed to gather is already there, as well as the crates of papers and trinkets Father left. If we both search through them, surely we’ll be able to find something about this man from your past and what Father took from him. Only then will we know if he’s Robert or not.”

Considering her sister’s suggestion, Constance admitted she didn’t fancy the idea of being forced to live as a recluse. Her current life didn’t leave her many other options though. Glancing around at the crowd filling the hotel, she recognized so many faces from her hometown. Surely one of them would have recognized if the soldier tied up in that warehouse was Robert.

Her gaze stopping on the commanding, blond-haired man walking through the patrons, her breath caught in her throat. It was Robert!

“He’s here,” Constance hissed. Turning to her sister, she motioned her eyes in the direction she’d seen the senior constable. “We need to get out of here before he sees us.”

The two women got up from the table steadily, desperate not to draw any unwanted attention. Their steps were measured as they made their way to the back door. As soon as they exited the building, they lifted their skirts to just below their knees and begin to run down the street.

They were about a block away from the hotel when Constance collided with a firm figure. She let go of her skirt and reached out to try to steady herself, realizing immediately what she hit was the lean, muscular body of a man. Looking up, she started to apologize, but all words were lost as she met his emerald stare.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his hands resting on her hips in the most familiar of ways.

Constance couldn’t think of a coherent word to say to him.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he remarked. He raised a curious brow. “Or maybe you’re on the run from some fella you’ve just pickpocketed?”

His firm, melodic accent made her smile. Dragging herself back to some sense of reality, she forced her gaze away from his and up to his short, fiery-hued hair. “You’re Irish?”

He smiled, a slight glint in his eyes. “It seems you are too.”

Her fingers unconsciously stroked his cotton shirt, her heart thudding at the feel of his solid chest beneath the fabric. Who is he? Her gaze drifting across his slender stature, she immediately noticed he was only a few inches taller than her.

Feeling his fingers slightly squeeze her hips, her gaze returned to his, silently questioning his actions. Constance should have reminded him that such familiarities were inappropriate, but try as she did, she remained silent, hypnotized by the chiseled features of this man. All sense of reality left her, and she couldn’t ignore the need building inside her to be consumed by this stranger.

A tugging on her arm made her look around to see Agnes standing beside her, a single, questioning brow raised.

“Thank you, sir,” Agnes said calmly, as if she wasn’t even aware of this man’s allure. “My sister and I were hurrying home and didn’t see you. I do hope we haven’t caused you any inconvenience.”

His hands finally fell away from Constance, and he took a step back, his stare still glued to hers. “How could it be a hindrance to be in a position to meet a breathtaking woman?” He reached for Constance’s hand, and bringing it to his lips, he lightly kissed the back of it. “I wish you both a pleasant evening.”

Constance’s breath caught in her throat. After what felt like hours, but were barely seconds, he let go of her hand and turned, marching down the street. Her hand still tingling from his touch, she forgot for that brief moment what she was doing in this part of town, and why she was in such a hurry to leave the hotel far behind her.

“If you want, we could ask that fella if he needs some work, and he could return with us,” Agnes teased a few inches from her ear.

Snapping out of her spell-like state, Constance turned to face her sister. “What?”

Agnes giggled. “Such a handsome man could get into places we can’t and get the information we need. And for the right price, he’d probably stay for as long as we want him to.”

Agnes winked, and Constance realized the underlying connotation her sister was hinting at. “Agnes!”

Her giggling growing out of control, Agnes grabbed Constance’s arm and led her down the street. As they neared the small house Constance once shared with her husband, the laughter of the two women faded.

“So when should I pick you up and take you out to the estate?” Agnes asked abruptly.

“I can’t just leave,” Constance insisted. “I have to pack and get my affairs in order.”

“Michael will help you. When he was Father’s servant I saw him pack an entire house in less than a day. And if you tell him why you’re in a hurry, I dare say he will go above and beyond. After all, he did promise Father that he would take care of you.”

Studying her sister, Constance tried to make herself see sense. Agnes meant well, and the sooner Constance was out of Robert’s reach, the better, but the notion of leaving so hastily... It made her feel like she was running away like a coward.

“Excuse me, Miss Agnes,” a young street boy said, stopping beside them to hand her a folded piece of paper before scampering off down the street.

Her sister’s expression changed as she unfolded the note and read what was written on it.

All of a sudden, Agnes folded the paper and placed it in the bodice of her gown, looking up at her sister. “Do you think you can be ready to leave by tomorrow?”

If Constance told Michael what was happening, and they both worked all night, it could happen. Hesitantly, she nodded.

Agnes leaned into her and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you then.”

When she went to step away, Constance reached for her. “Wait, where are you going?”

“It appears I too have affairs that need to be looked into before we both go into hiding.”

Worried about what Agnes could be meaning, Constance kissed her on the cheek. “Be careful.”

Watching as her sister hurried away, Constance wondered about what was to become of their life. They had already been through so much together. Would they be forced into hiding for their safety now too?

Remembering the handsome man she’d run into, a slight smile spread across her lips. Agnes was teasing when she suggested asking him for help, but Constance couldn’t ignore how much the idea appealed. If nothing else, his slender figure outlined by his jeans would be a welcome distraction from the threat of danger that seemed ever-present to her at the moment.

Constance’s smile quickly disappeared. A man like that would have enough commitments already, certainly enough females begging for his attention. It was foolish to contemplate that he’d even give her a second thought.