The Wicked Heir (Blackhaven Brides Book 12)

by Mary Lancaster

  “We can talk when there is more…space.”

  She swallowed and took comfort from the fact that at least he did not appear to be angry. It was not a long walk to the beach. The tide was only partially in, so it was pleasant to walk down to the water’s edge and along the damp sand, watching the waves roll gently closer to their feet.

  “I don’t know what came over me,” Jess said. “I just blurted it out to Claud, but I never dreamed it would go further.”

  “This is Blackhaven. Everyone will know.”

  “Oh dear.” She glanced at him. “I hope you don’t think I did this to entrap you just so that I could inherit my uncle’s fortune.”

  “Actually, I’m flattered to be considered preferable to the hat shop at last.”

  “Sadly, you’re not,” Jess said with a choke of rueful laughter. “But Claud can’t lend me the money, and he has engaged himself to Mary Francis, besides.”

  “Ah.” His eyes bored into the side of her face. “I see.”

  “I instantly saw how foolish I had been to rely on so old a promise, and I didn’t want him to know, or think me so…clinging.” She cast him a flickering glance. “But don’t worry. I shall invent a quarrel and cast you off, only I have to think of a way of doing it so that it won’t upset his lordship.”

  Instead of the blistering comment she expected, Jonathan merely nodded. “We’ll come up with something. Were you upset by his faithlessness?”

  She was about to deny it. But it was her pride which had landed them in this mess in the first place. “I suppose I was. I suppose I expected everything to stay the same as it was, even though I wasn’t there.”

  “Well, I don’t suppose you are the same either. For what it’s worth, I don’t believe Claud would have made you happy.”

  “Don’t you like him?” she asked in surprise.

  Jonathan shrugged. “I like him well enough. But he’s too young to marry anyone. In my opinion.”

  She gazed at him curiously. “You can’t be much older.”

  “I’m four and twenty.”

  “And you’d have us believe you were married four years ago?”

  “Some people are born old.”

  “I don’t think you’re one of them,” she retorted. “Besides, should we only marry when we’re old?”

  “I understood we were not to be married at all.”

  She gave his arm an annoyed push, and he laughed.

  “Very well,” he said. “Let us think of a way to become unengaged without sending my father into an apoplexy, while simultaneously giving you a London season that might introduce you to an agreeable and honorable husband.”

  Jess blinked. “A London season?” she repeated in awe, then shook her head. “No, no, that would be far too expensive, and my uncle would never countenance it. Besides, if I were engaged to you, I doubt many honorable men would court me. If they did, I probably wouldn’t like them.”

  “How fastidious,” Jonathan said sardonically. “But I see your problem. On the other hand, if I were sailing to South America and you let it out to just one or two of your very closest friends that you were beginning to think your engagement was a mistake…”

  “It seems so dishonest,” she said, depressed. “My one lie is growing arms and legs and will soon be a monster I can’t control… Oh!” She stared at him. “I believe I have a better plan, now that we are friends! You said you were wealthy—although I’m not sure you weren’t just trying to annoy your father—but if you truly are, you could lend me the money for the hat shop!”

  “I could,” he said cautiously. “But my father wouldn’t like it.”

  “Would he need to know?”

  He was silent for a few moments. “Here’s the thing, Jess. I might not have literally run away when I was seventeen. I told him I was going. But having gone, I think I wrote him two very short letters in seven years, informing him only that I was alive and well. I was full only of my own self-righteousness, not even considering how my absence affected him. I’m not sure I want anyone else to do that to him.”

  “And yet, you’ll keep doing it.”

  His lips curled. “I didn’t say I was perfect.” He glanced at her. “You’re fond of him. I can see that. And I believe he dotes on you.”

  “Not to the extent of a London season!”

  “Or a hat shop.” He let out another of his infectious laughs. “Well, we can mull it over during the next few days. I suggest you at least have a Blackhaven “season” and see where that leads. Lady Bella will take you to call on Mrs. Winslow and the vicar’s wife and then you will be set up.”

  In Jess’s experience, the approval of a local vicar’s wife hardly added to one’s social success, but she smiled gratefully. After all, she only had one evening gown, which would hardly support a riot of parties.

  “Do you still love him?” Jonathan asked unexpectedly.

  “Claud?” She dragged her gaze free, looking out over the sea instead. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “It’s become such a habit to assume that I do… But I didn’t really miss him until this nonsense about marrying you came up. I should have missed him.” She sighed. “I think perhaps I am not a very kind or constant person.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You told me off when I would have walked away from my father.”

  She glanced at him. “Would you have come back? If I hadn’t spoken?”

  “Once my point was won. Would you believe I am a quite different man at sea? Just, equitable, efficient. There, it seems I have no need to play games to assert my authority. And yet as soon as I come home to family, I revert to angry, manipulative adolescence.”

  “You need time,” she said gently. “With him.”

  “I know. I came to talk to him today, to try for a little more honesty and sense.”

  “And I ruined it by pretending our engagement,” she said guiltily. She swallowed. “I shall confess the whole to him and—”

  “Not yet,” Jonathan interrupted. “He is not innocent in all this, remember? His attempt to force you to marry a stranger for such reasons is infamous from every angle. You should at least have some fun out of it.”

  “But where is the fun for you?” she demanded. “You will have to escort me to all sorts of events you don’t wish to be at—”

  “And then I shall sail away and leave you to extricate yourself from our engagement… Although I could write you a letter confessing my infidelity, and you could throw me over.”

  “Or I could discover that your first wife is real after all!”

  He glanced at her. For an instant, his expression was unguarded, and she glimpsed the echo of unbearable pain, of desperation. And then his eyelashes swooped down. “No. We won’t talk of Izlan. It seems a betrayal to mention her.”

  Impulsively, she opened her mouth to ask and then closed it again. He had said he wouldn’t talk of her. The rising tide had driven them further up the beach, and Jess paused, leaning against a rock to gaze out over the gray, unquiet sea. Ships bobbed in the distance, but beyond them was nothing but water.

  “I like the sea,” she said abruptly. “It has this sense of vastness that make you realize the unimportance of your own trivial life, your own silly little problems.”

  He nodded.

  “Is that what draws you?” she asked.

  “Partly,” he admitted. “For me, the sea is a force I can’t fight, a goddess I both love and fear, and yet it’s the only place I’ve ever found peace. Even on a crowded ship.”

  For a moment, they gazed at each other in silence. Then she touched his fingers. “You should tell your father that.”

  “I will.” He looked at her pale fingers on his brown ones, but made no effort to be free. Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers. For no obvious reason, her heart gave a funny little flutter. She didn’t know whether to snatch her hand away or curl her fingers around his.

  In the end, it was he who moved, drawing her back the way they had come. “About that betrothal gift.”
>
  She laughed, and hurried along beside him.

  *

  Toward the end of the high street was a rather smart shop called Madame Monique, where an exquisite gown of sprig muslin and silver net adorned the window. Inevitably, Jess paused to admire it.

  “Shall we go in?” Jonathan suggested.

  “You can’t mean to buy me a betrothal gift from here!” Jess exclaimed, for somehow clothing seemed too intimate.

  “Well, there’s not much point in giving you jewels until you have something to wear them with.”

  She flushed. “Jon, this pretense is all my fault. I won’t have you wasting—”

  “It’s not wasted. I’m not a poor man. Besides, it’s not nearly as expensive as you think.”

  “How do you know?” she challenged.

  “The vicar’s wife told me,” Jonathan said blandly and opened the door.

  Inside, Jess was amazed to discover Lady Arabella and another very beautiful lady of similar age. They both rose to meet her, and once she had greeted Arabella, John introduced her to the other lady. “My cousin, Miss Fordyce. Jess, this is Mrs. Grant. I’m going to leave you in their capable hands and step across to the hotel.”

  Jess almost stopped him in panic, for she seemed to be losing all the control on her life she had ever had. But in truth, quite aside from her own worries, she wanted him to spend time with his father. He obviously sensed her emotions, for he gave her a flickering smile and one eye closed just before he bowed to the other ladies and vanished.

  “Don’t worry,” Lady Arabella said. “You won’t miss him! This is Madame Monique…”

  Madame Monique appeared delighted to meet her, and to show her a bewildering array of gowns designed for every conceivable occasion. Lady Bella contented herself with smiling when she liked something particularly, though it struck Jess she wasn’t terribly interested in fashion. Her own gown was well made and becoming, but her hair was styled rather casually. She didn’t seem terribly concerned when a shawl slipped, or a lock of hair loosened from its haphazard pins. It was her friend, Mrs. Grant, who entered into the game with enthusiasm. She had an excellent eye for color and style, and once she had helped Jess choose a charming day dress of turquoise-trimmed muslin, she turned her attention to ball gowns.

  “Oh, no,” Jess said hastily. “I already have an evening gown, and I doubt I will be going to any balls…”

  “Of course, you will,” Mrs. Grant said in surprise. She delved inside her reticule. “In fact, I have brought you vouchers for the assembly room ball next week. Now.” Having thrust the vouchers into Jess’s numb hand, she looked her up and down critically. “Madame, what of that dusky pink silk you showed me last week?”

  “Of course!” Madame Monique exclaimed. “It will be just ravishing on Mademoiselle!”

  In the end, she emerged with two day dresses, the pink ballgown, and the evening gown with the silver net. And not only those, but a smart blue velvet spencer, a beautiful evening cloak, and dancing slippers. But finally, she refused to consider hats and other accessories.

  “I have a huge collection of reticules and shawls,” Mrs. Grant said. “You must come and rifle through them for whatever you want.”

  “You’ve been so kind to me already,” Jess said, torn between awe and anxiety. “I never meant to choose half so many gowns.”

  “Barnaby was quite specific,” Lady Bella said vaguely. “I should give him his head. He’s quite determined in his own way.”

  “Oh, I know that!” Jess muttered.

  “I’m no judge myself,” Bella said apologetically. “But you may rely on Kate here. She is our arbiter of fashion.”

  Jess turned to Kate Grant with curiosity. “Is your estate very close to Blackhaven, then?”

  Kate blinked. “My estate?” She laughed. “Round the corner, there. My husband is the vicar.”

  Jess’s mouth fell open, remembering something Jonathan had said. “You are the vicar’s wife?”

  “Shocking, isn’t it? Come, ladies—to the hotel! Captain Tallon promised us tea, and there’s nothing like spending other people’s money to whip up an appetite.”

  *

  Jon found his father glaring out of his sitting room window. He spun around at the sound of Jon’s voice greeting Holmes, but said almost immediately, “Where is Jess?”

  “With Lady Arabella and the vicar’s wife. Respectable young matrons of noble birth.”

  His father’s eyes narrowed. “Are you mocking me? For caring about her reputation and her future?”

  “No,” Jon said peaceably. “She’s had no one else to care, I gather. You took her in, gave her a home, and education. You’ve cared for all her material needs. I would never dream of mocking that.”

  A hint of humor pierced the ferocity of his father’s eyes. He walked away from the window and took his favorite chair by the fire. “I sense a but. Now that you’re engaged to the girl, you want to lay down the law about how she’s treated, is that it?”

  Jon sighed. “No, not exactly.”

  “Good, because I want a word with you about how you will treat her!”

  Jon stared at him. “And how is that?”

  “With courtesy, respect, and kindness!”

  “Damnation,” Jon said mildly. “How can you make demands like these when you must know I particularly wish to insult her, beat her, and lock her in the coal cellar?”

  His lordship snorted. “Yes, yes, you’re very amusing. But the truth is, I don’t know what rough habits you got into at sea. I don’t know how you treated your heathen wife. I don’t know anything about you—except that you don’t want to be pushed into marrying Jess.”

  “No, I don’t,” Jon said frankly. “I came home with no intention of marrying anyone. But even you must acknowledge your proposal to cut her off without a penny unless she marries me is infamous.”

  Hs lordship flushed. “I had good reasons. This way, you both inherit. The estate stays intact, and I know someone’s looking out for her. I won’t have Hector bamboozling her.”

  “I think one would have to get up considerably earlier in the morning than Hector if one wished to bamboozle Jess.”

  “That’s all you know. I’ve kept her too sheltered, I admit it. She isn’t fit to go on the town, look after herself amidst all the pitfalls of society.”

  “Then you should let her learn,” Jon snapped before taking a deep breath and deliberately softening his expression. “While we are both here with her. She is choosing a couple of new gowns…”

  “I gave her one for coming here!” the old man interrupted.

  “Yes, I know. But she will need more. Since it’s my idea, I’m more than happy to make her a gift of them. I would just like your permission to take her to the assembly room ball and a few other parties.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll probably take her anyway. But I can see no reason why you would say no. You can even come too if you wish.”

  “How very generous of you!”

  “I thought so. In fact, I’ve arranged to meet Jess with Lady Bella and Mrs. Grant for tea downstairs. I think we’d all like it if you came.”

  His lordship stared at him and then, to his surprise, looked away. “You’re not staying, are you? You’re making the most of me—and Jess—before you leave again.”

  “Something like that,” Jon said steadily. “Maybe you should do the same.”

  “The world does not revolve around Jonnie Tallon!”

  “Nor around Viscount Viscral.”

  The old man met his gaze again, his eyes fiery. “You can’t take responsibility for the girl and not for the estates you will inherit! They go together.”

  Jon shifted in his seat. “You must let me do things in my own way.”

  “No,” his lordship said in a hard voice. “You must let me do them in mine.”

  “To the detriment of both Jess and me?”

  His father let out a half-bitter, half-triumphant laugh. �
�You engaged yourself to her fast enough! Are you telling me that was pity?”

  “Common humanity.”

  The old man sat back in his seat. “So that’s it. You want to show her off, and hope she sets her sights on someone else. Neither of you will get the money in such circumstances.”

  Jon shrugged. “Hopefully neither of us will need it. And I’m sure the orphanage will be grateful.”

  “Hmm. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Jonnie.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  His father laughed, with just a trace of malice. “You will when she gets under your skin, and you’ve thrown her to the wolves.”

  “I never knew you to be so dramatic,” Jon said mildly. “A hand of piquet before tea?”

  *

  To Jess’s surprise, not only Jonathan but his father awaited them in the hotel dining room, where a very fine spread was served, including tea, bread and butter, savory pastries, scones, and cakes. Jess, after greeting Lord Viscral with pleasure, and Jon with a little more shyness, immediately sat down beside the latter and whispered.

  “Jon, I have spent so much money! I don’t know what came over me, but I’m sure I can cancel at least two of the gowns!”

  “Why, how many did you choose?”

  “Four,” she whispered.

  His lips twitched. “My dear girl, you may have four-and-twenty before I look askance at the bill. If you like them, I am happy.”

  “Are you so very wealthy, then?”

  He shrugged, “It’s accumulated over the years. I’ve never had much to spend it on. Don’t spoil the fun with guilt. This is all new to me, and I expect to enjoy it thoroughly.”

  Jess certainly enjoyed their little tea party. Lord Viscral revealed a new side to himself with his exquisitely old-fashioned gallantry as he entertained Lady Arabella and Mrs. Grant, with whom he quickly discovered common acquaintance, including Lady Bella’s father, the Duke of Kelburn. Jon told some amusing stories of places he had visited, and managed not to rise to his lordship’s occasional bait.

  After about half an hour, a tall, harsh-faced gentleman walked up to the table and bowed to the party in general before placing a gentle hand on Lady Arabella’s shoulder. Although she hadn’t seen him approach, she immediately smiled, before glancing up at him with a murmur of welcome.