Jilted by a Scoundrel

by Cheryl Holt

  They were in John’s suite in the castle. Although much of the building was very rustic and outdated, some areas had been remodeled and refurbished. His bedchamber was one of them. He had a suite to himself, complete with a sitting room, dressing room, and bedroom.

  They were sharing a private breakfast.

  “This food is awful,” Freddie complained.

  “It always is.”

  “Some things never change around here.”

  “No, they don’t,” John agreed.

  “Why don’t you knock some heads together down in the kitchen?”

  “Would it do any good? You’re aware of how lazy all my cousins are.”

  “There must be someone in this accursed edifice who can crack a whip. It’s definitely not you. How about Melvina? Have you talked to her?”

  “Melvina?” John scoffed. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I guess I am.”

  Melvina was a thorn in John’s side that he couldn’t pluck out, but while she thoroughly vexed John, Freddie often thought he might like to have a go at her. If he could wheedle himself into a marriage, he’d be linked to Dunworthy, so he could stay on—no matter if he and John fought.

  If he could wed pretty, vivacious Ellen, he wouldn’t protest either. He was slender and handsome, blond haired and blue-eyed, with a pleasant face and pleasing demeanor. He’d be a great catch—well, if a person ignored his less savory traits.

  He’d once broached the notion to Melvina, of a match between him and Ellen, and she’d nearly fainted. She’d claimed Ellen was destined for a more elevated spouse, and he hadn’t necessarily been insulted. He was poor and dreadful, but then, Ellen was no prize herself. Yes, she was fetching, but she didn’t have a dowry, and she had a very sharp tongue.

  But Freddie was always trying to better himself, and if he could marry Melvina or Ellen Dunn, he’d be delighted.

  “Honestly, though, John,” he said, “you shouldn’t tolerate Melvina’s mismanagement another minute. She seems to be growing more apathetic, and the servants are more slothful than ever.”

  “I know.”

  “You should put your foot down. If she wants to continue to hold the title of Mistress Dunn, she has to take control. It’s only fair. Speak to her.”

  “I’m a little busy at the moment, Freddie.”

  Freddie flushed with shame.

  John was busy because he was focused on restarting his smuggling enterprise. It was a Cornwall activity that law-abiding citizens couldn’t understand, but the coast was a desolate, hardscrabble place, and a man had to feed his family. In John’s case, that family included way too many people.

  Freddie was the reason John was smuggling again, and he couldn’t bear to ignite his friend’s notorious temper. He switched subjects.

  “Was there any excitement while I was away? I suppose it’s a silly question, but I decided to ask anyway. Someday, you might surprise me.”

  “Yes, there actually was some excitement,” John said. “Were you ever acquainted with Neville Prescott?”

  “Are you referring to the late Lord Benton? Is that who you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t believe I ever met him, but Charles might have attended school with him for a year or two. Why?”

  “Were there ever any rumors about him?”

  “There were some salacious stories of him being a rutting dog. Apparently, he chased any female in a skirt.”

  “I hate to hear that.” John winced. “A woman showed up a few days ago. She had a girl and boy with her. Bobby and Jane Prescott? She claims they’re Neville Prescott’s bastards and that Jane is my sister Rebecca’s daughter, sired by Neville.”

  “No!”

  “Yes. According to Miss Watson, he seduced Rebecca, and she died in childbirth.”

  “Who is Miss Watson?”

  “The woman who brought them to Dunworthy.”

  Freddie scowled. “I thought Rebecca died of the flu.”

  John shrugged. “It’s what we were all told.”

  “What’s the girl’s name? Jane? Where has she been all these years?”

  “She was raised at Benton, but the Prescott family has decided it’s our turn to support her.”

  Freddie was stunned. It was an astounding tale. “What is your opinion about it? Might it be true about Rebecca and the Earl?”

  “I have no idea. Melvina thinks it’s a lie, but I’ve written to Benton to inquire. While we wait for a reply, Miss Watson and her two charges are staying here—and get this. She insists her father was Sir Walford Watson.”

  Freddie blanched, then masked his expression of astonishment. “Sir Walford, the glorious hero of the India Fighting Forty-Second?”

  “The very one.”

  “My, my, aren’t we in exalted company—if she’s really who she says she is.”

  “She’s a bossy, dictatorial harpy, so it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that she’s his daughter.”

  “Why is she traveling with the Prescott children?”

  John froze, then chuckled. “I haven’t put that question to her, but I probably should.” He rose from his chair and tossed his napkin on the table. “Are we finished? I have chores.”

  “Yes, we’re finished.” Freddie waved him away. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll drink the last of the tea in the pot. I can entertain myself.”

  John started out, then paused and glanced back. Much too casually, he asked, “Any news from Holden?”

  “No, not a peep.”

  “Don’t forget, Freddie. I should never discover that he’s within a thousand miles of Dunworthy.”

  “He’s not, John. I swear.”

  “I’m serious. Please don’t think I’m not.”

  “I would never think that. I can’t imagine where Holden is, and if he slithered to Dunworthy, I’d inform you immediately.” He was a great actor, and he stared at John, looking morose and sincere.

  “You’d better mean it, Freddie,” John said.

  “I mean it. Would I lie to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I might lie occasionally, but I’m being candid about this. I can’t guess where he is.”

  John was dubious—where Freddie was concerned, he was always dubious—but ultimately, he nodded. “I’ll believe you. For now.”

  Then he left, and Freddie breathed a sigh of relief.

  John was the only ethical person Freddie knew. Every other acquaintance was a blackguard and a fraud, so Holden Cartwright was Freddie’s friend, and Holden was the worst of all of them.

  Freddie had lured Holden into John’s life, and of course, Freddie and Holden were both criminals at heart, so they’d been in the middle of a swindle. John had been sucked in without understanding what was happening, and as he’d been the only one with a reputation worth preserving, he’d born the full weight of the cost when it had all collapsed.

  He’d ended up in a duel that Holden’s actions had precipitated, but it had gone awry, so he’d been wounded and nearly killed. Since dueling was illegal, he’d been kicked out of the army with his name and character destroyed. After that, there’d been no place for him except Dunworthy—the lone spot on the globe he loathed above all others.

  He blamed Freddie for the debacle, and even though he was used to Freddie’s calamities, he was growing tired of rescuing Freddie. And he remained lethally angry over Holden’s participation.

  What was Winifred Watson doing at Dunworthy?

  Freddie had never met her, but he’d certainly heard plenty about her. Holden had previously engaged himself to her when the annoying bastard, Sir Walford, was still alive. Holden was an amoral fiend, a handsome, cunning devil whose sole motivating impulse was money.

  He’d stumbled on Sir Walford at a gambling club in London, and when he’d discovered Sir Walford had a daughter, he’d glommed onto her like a leech on a thigh. But without warning, Sir Walford had dropped dead, and
it had turned out he was completely bankrupt. When Winifred had announced her penury, Holden had bolted, never to be seen again.

  It was his typical mode of carrying on. He dawdled long enough to get his hands on a woman’s money. Once he had it, or once he found out there wasn’t any, he vanished.

  Freddie viewed himself as the most corrupt man in the world, but he couldn’t compare to Holden Cartwright, and he’d fibbed to John. Holden was in Dunworthy town, over on the mainland. He was renting a room over a tavern and hiding out after a recent swindle in London had soured. He’d sought out Freddie to collect funds Freddie owed him, but as usual, Freddie was broke.

  Holden shouldn’t bump into Winifred Watson, so he had to move on. John wasn’t joking about Holden staying out of Cornwall, and with Miss Watson in the vicinity, any sort of disaster might arise.

  Freddie needed to flit over to Dunworthy and apprise Holden, then Holden had to hit the road. He wouldn’t want to depart, and he’d have a dozen excuses as to why he should continue to tarry, but Freddie was afraid—if Holden and John crossed paths—John would murder him. John was still that incensed, and Miss Watson was a catalyst that could bring it all crashing down.

  He gulped the rest of his tea and grabbed his coat. When did the tide turn? If he snuck over, would he avert catastrophe?

  He could only hope.

  * * * *

  “You’ll never guess who’s at Dunworthy Castle.”

  “Who?”

  “None other than your old flame, Winifred Watson.”

  Holden Cartwright stared over at Freddie, not positive he’d heard correctly. “Winnie is here? Why?”

  “She’s mixed up in some business involving Lord Benton and two of his bastard children. I’m not sure of the details, but she delivered them to Dunworthy. She’s John’s guest.”

  “Interesting,” Holden mused.

  They were in his room above the tavern, having a whiskey, and it was a pleasant way to pass the afternoon. The window looked out at the harbor, and he could watch the boats bobbing at anchor. He had a private stairway that led in and out, so he didn’t have to walk through the taproom to go to bed.

  He wasn’t hiding precisely. He was a stranger in the town, but because it was a seafaring community, as well as a crossroads, there were many sailors and others traveling through. No one had wondered about his arrival or his purpose.

  He wasn’t concerned about meeting John unexpectedly. John rarely left Dunworthy Island, and he never drank in taverns, but even so, Holden didn’t take chances.

  The last time they’d spoken, John had threatened to kill Holden if he ever saw him again, and Holden believed him. He wouldn’t push his luck, but he couldn’t forget or forgive Freddie’s debt either.

  Normally, he pursued his various schemes alone, and he had no illusions about Freddie’s character. The idiot wasn’t trustworthy, so why had Holden trusted him? It was a nagging question.

  Not only was Freddie unreliable, but he’d dragged John Dunn into their quagmire. Holden couldn’t figure out why he was still associating with Freddie, but he never cut ties unless he had to. And of course, he was determined to poke a stick at haughty, arrogant John Dunn. He wouldn’t sneak away until he had.

  “I thought you should know about Miss Watson,” Freddie said.

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  “You should leave Dunworthy immediately.”

  “Why would I?”

  “What if you run into her? She’s not the type who would slink away silently. I’m terrified she’d cause a fuss, and John would learn of it. He can’t find out that you’re nearby.”

  “Would he really murder me?” Holden asked.

  “Yes!” Freddie fervidly replied, and Holden chuckled.

  “I will take your warning under advisement.”

  “You can’t just take it. You have to act on it. You have to depart.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Well, think fast and hard.”

  “I will.”

  Freddie downed the remnants of his liquor. “I have to return before the tide sweeps in.”

  “I don’t understand why you let a bit of water prevent you from going back and forth.”

  “It’s not that. I’m trying not to be a nuisance.”

  “How could using a boat make you a nuisance?”

  “I don’t have my own vessel, do I? I could beg someone to transport me or I could hire someone to ferry me, but I don’t have any money. It’s simpler to get back before it’s too late.”

  “Isn’t it always too late for men like you and me?”

  Freddie went to the door and opened it, but he paused to say, “So will you leave the area? Promise me you will.”

  “I have a plan in the works that I need to resolve first, then I’ll consider it.”

  Freddie blanched. “What plan? Please don’t tell me you’re seducing a woman in Dunworthy. It would be madness—with John so close.”

  “All right, I won’t tell you it’s a woman in Dunworthy. You may delude yourself and rest easy.”

  “What about Miss Watson?” Freddie asked.

  “Don’t worry about her. I certainly don’t intend to.”

  “You can’t stay!”

  “I told you, Freddie. If you’d give me what you owe me, I would go at once. Have you managed to accumulate any funds?”

  “You know I haven’t.”

  “Then I guess I’ll tarry.”

  Freddie blew out a heavy breath. “I have no idea why I let you come here.”

  “You didn’t let me come.”

  “You’re like a viper concealed in the grass.”

  “Only to my enemies. You’re not my enemy, are you?”

  “Not yet,” Freddie said. “I’ll befriend Miss Watson for you. I’ll unravel her motives and schedule. If I dig out any relevant information, I’ll apprise you, but for God’s sake, stay out of sight! She can’t stumble on you.”

  “I shall be an invisible shadow.”

  Freddie scoffed and stomped out, and Holden relaxed in his chair, gazing out at the wharf.

  He pondered dear, foolish Winnie. She’d been quite a catch, but he’d glommed onto many marvelous catches. Females were so gullible, and he’d been engaged to be married too many times to count.

  He’d met Sir Walford at a club in London, and at his sudden demise, people had expressed surprise, but Holden hadn’t been surprised at all. The man had been a sot and a deviant, an obese glutton who’d overindulged at every activity. His dropping dead hadn’t stirred a ripple of distress in Holden. In fact, he’d been ecstatic over the situation.

  He’d convinced Winnie to wed immediately, assuming all of Sir Walford’s riches would soon be his. But when the truth about her finances was revealed, there had been no question of his proceeding with her. He’d moved on to greener pastures and had already wandered through several.

  A soft knock sounded on his door. He glanced over and murmured, “Come in.”

  His visitor slipped inside. She was wearing a cloak, her hood shielding her face so she wouldn’t be recognized. She pulled it off, and she was smiling, pretty as a picture and full of herself at being able to sneak away to be with him.

  He was delighted by her arrival. He’d invited her, but at the beginning of an amour, he was never sure if a girl would risk it or not.

  “I wasn’t positive you’d be here,” she breathlessly said.

  “Me? Not be here? I would never miss a chance to see you again.”

  “I was hoping you’d think that.”

  He patted his thigh. “Sit down and tell me how your day has been so far.”

  Ellen Dunn sauntered over and plopped down. “It was awful earlier, when I was quarreling with my mother, but since I escaped the island without too much difficulty, things are looking up.”

  “Are they?”

  “Yes. I have a few hours to kill before I have to be back. How shall
we entertain ourselves?”

  “I know many intriguing ways.”

  He stood her on her feet, then he walked over and locked the door so they wouldn’t be interrupted.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I won’t have it, John! I absolutely won’t!”

  John turned to a very livid Melvina and asked, “What won’t you have?”

  “Miss Watson is down in the kitchen, giving orders and taking charge. A scullery maid just informed me. I went down and commanded her to stop, but she refused to obey.”

  “Really? That’s rather brash of her.”

  “Short of wrestling her out, I have no idea how to force her to desist.”

  “She’s a little wisp of a female, Melvina, and you outweigh her by forty or fifty pounds. I’m sure you could have manhandled her with no problem.”

  “As if I’d lower myself!” Melvina huffed.

  “Did she explain what she’s about?”

  Melvina’s cheeks reddened. “She said…ah…she said the place is disgusting, and she’s tired of horrible food and slothful conditions.”

  “My goodness.”

  “It’s outside of enough! How long will you allow her to tarry? I don’t mind the girl, Jane. She’s quiet and polite, and she might be a relative, but I’ve had all I can stand of Miss Watson and that boy, Bobby.”

  “How has Bobby offended you?”

  “He’s…popular.” She spat the word as if it was a bad thing. “He’s usurped Huntly’s role as leader of the other children.”

  “And Huntly couldn’t prevent him?”

  “No. Bobby pushes himself in where he’s not wanted. Just like Miss Watson. They need to go at once.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Don’t think!” she fumed. “Act! You can start by chasing her off—before we’re facing a full mutiny.”

  “Who is about to mutiny?”

  “The servants! She’s putting them to…to…work! She’s making them scrub pots and pans! They’re incensed.”

  He chuckled, amused and a tad in awe over Miss Watson’s audacity.

  Since he’d arrived home from the army, he’d yearned to march down to the kitchen himself and bang a few heads together, but he was a very traditional fellow. He viewed household problems as being a woman’s responsibility—particularly Melvina’s—and he was busy with a man’s chores: building, repairing, planning, earning an income.