Jilted By A Cad (Jilted Brides Trilogy Book 1)

by Cheryl Holt

  The three children hesitated, then stepped into a circle, their arms around each other. They whispered comments, nodded, and whispered some more.

  “Bobby, you have to take care of Rex,” Daisy murmured.

  He replied, “I will.”

  “Don’t leave him behind.”

  Poor Jane cried harder, and Daisy dried her cheeks and soothed her. “Hush now. I can’t bear for you to be so sad.”

  “Jane, you must calm yourself,” Bobby said, the man of the group, “or you’ll have me blubbering too. I can’t be all sentimental. I’m not a girl.”

  His remark had them chuckling, but despondently, then Daisy said, “We have to always write letters. The second you’re in Cornwall, you have to let me know.”

  “I have an address for Miss Watson,” Jo told them.

  “We’ll never forget each other,” Daisy added. “Never! You’re my sister and my brother, and we’ll see each other again before too much time has passed.”

  “Yes, we will,” Bobby agreed, but Jane was too overwhelmed to speak.

  Jo was about to burst into tears herself. The entire encounter was hideous.

  Daisy’s portmanteau was by the sofa, and she picked it up and came over to Jo.

  “I’m ready, Aunt Jo,” she said.

  “We’ll be fine, Daisy—you and I together. Don’t you worry.”

  “I’m not worried.” Daisy spun to Miss Watson. “Goodbye, Miss Watson.”

  “Goodbye, Daisy.”

  “Thank you for everything.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Daisy threw herself against Miss Watson, and as they hugged each other, Jo was at her limit. Tears dripped down her cheeks, and she swiped them away.

  “Goodbye, Bobby,” Jo said. “Goodbye, Jane. Be strong. Be tough. You’ll get through this.”

  “I’m certain we will,” Bobby concurred, but Jane was still incapable of a retort.

  Miss Watson went to the door and pulled it open. Jo and Daisy walked over to her.

  “I’m so relieved you came,” Miss Watson said to Jo.

  “I couldn’t do anything else, could I?”

  “No, I guess you couldn’t.”

  Jo reached out and squeezed Miss Watson’s hand. Then Jo and Daisy exited, and Miss Watson closed the door, saving them the repugnant spectacle of further weeping in the driveway.

  The dog, Rex, was sitting there, and he seemed to realize a tragedy was in progress. Daisy knelt down and buried her face in his soft coat. For a lengthy interval, she held onto him, then she drew away and stood. He sensed her misery, and he whined in commiseration.

  Jo hovered with Daisy for a minute, feeling shocked and disoriented, then Daisy asked, “Will I ever see Bobby or Jane again?”

  Jo should have lied, but she was too distraught. “I have no idea if you will, Daisy. I truly don’t know.”

  * * * *

  “How was London?”

  Jo stared at Maud and tried to act nonchalant.

  “London was the same as always,” Maud said. “Noisy, filthy, crowded. I hope Mr. Townsend doesn’t expect me to travel there very often.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Jo forced a smile. “You’d love it if you had reasons to stay in town on a regular basis.”

  “You constantly assume you’re aware of my preferences, Jo, but you aren’t.”

  Maud had just arrived, her bags still in the front foyer. They only had one footman, and he was running errands and would have to carry them up to her bedchamber once he was back. Maud would never do it herself, and Jo wasn’t inclined to pitch in.

  Besides, she couldn’t let Maud go upstairs yet. They had too many important matters to hash out.

  “I’m starving,” Maud said. “Is there anything to eat?”

  “Of course, but could we chat first?”

  “No. I’m hungry.”

  Maud huffed into the dining room where there was a tea pot and scones on the table from Jo having a snack earlier with Daisy. They’d been hunkered down for four days, bracing for the moment Maud strolled in.

  That moment was finally upon them, and Jo felt as if she was out of her body and watching some other foolish woman ruin her life.

  Maud sat and poured herself a cup of tea while Jo slathered butter and jam on a scone. She shoved it across to her sister, observing as Maud dug into her food.

  “I have to talk to you,” Jo mentioned after a bit.

  “So you said. What is it this time? You’re practically trembling with nerves.”

  “I have to confess an action I took without your permission. You won’t like it, but it was an emergency, and I’m not sorry. We simply have to decide how to proceed.”

  Maud smacked down her teacup with a sharp crack! “What have you done? Tell me quickly—before I get angry.”

  “It’s about Daisy,” Jo bluntly stated.

  Maud blanched, then leaned toward Jo and hissed, “You would speak that girl’s name aloud in my home? What is wrong with you?”

  Jo ignored Maud’s spurt of temper and pressed on. “She had to leave Benton by the fifteenth. I’ve been trying to find a spot for her, but I couldn’t.”

  “Why would you suppose I’d be interested in this?”

  “I thought I had received a reprieve from Lord Benton—that is Peyton Prescott who is the new earl.”

  “I don’t care if he’s the bloody king of England,” Maud crudely spat. “I told you to forget about this.”

  “I didn’t listen. He promised to wave the deadline until I could arrange a solution, but he changed his mind. A few days ago, he wrote to apprise me that I had to fetch her or she’d be sent to an orphanage.”

  “And…?”

  “I traveled to Benton, and I brought her to Telford.”

  A dangerous silence festered, and Maud cocked her head as if Jo had babbled in a foreign language she didn’t understand.

  “You what?”

  “I brought her here.”

  “She’s here now? In my home?”

  “Yes, and it’s my home too. I want her to live with us, and I demand to have a say.”

  “Not in your wildest dreams is any of this house yours.”

  “You may have inherited it from your grandmother, but all the furnishings are from father’s estate. It should give me some rights.”

  Maud laughed in an eerie way that raised the hair on Jo’s neck, then she pushed herself to her feet and pointed a condemning finger at Jo.

  “Get out.”

  “No.”

  “Get! Out!”

  “No. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I won’t provide shelter to you another second!”

  “Calm down this instant,” Jo scolded, “or the servants will hear you shouting.”

  “I haven’t begun to shout at you.”

  Jo stood and, projecting a feigned serenity, went to the foyer and called, “Daisy, would you come down please? My sister has arrived, and I’d like to introduce you.”

  She and Daisy had rehearsed this scene a dozen times. Jo had been very candid with Daisy, and Daisy wasn’t expecting any miracles. She appeared on the landing, then marched down. She was very stoic, very brave, and as she neared, Jo led her to the dining room. Maud was still next to her chair.

  “Maud, this is my cousin’s daughter.” Jo uttered the lie with a straight face. They’d already told it to the servants, and it had been accepted without a blink of curiosity. “I mentioned her to you. She was recently orphaned, and I’ve invited her to stay with us.”

  “How dare you!” was Maud’s reply.

  She didn’t acknowledge Daisy, but stormed out and tromped up the stairs as Jo and Daisy huddled together, staring up and wondering what to do. Suddenly, Maud started throwing clothes over the banister.

  Jo’s portmanteau soon followed, then Daisy’s, and they jumped out of the way to keep from being hit by the heavy bags as they crashed to the floor.

&
nbsp; “Wait here,” she whispered to Daisy. “I’ll talk to her.”

  Daisy looked as if she’d like to respond, then thought better of it. She flashed a wan smile at Jo. Jo smiled too, then headed up the stairs.

  Maud was in Jo’s bedchamber, and as Jo entered, her sister was holding Jo’s cloak and bonnet. Maud shoved them at her, but when Jo refused to take them, Maud tossed them over the rail too.

  Jo continued to watch, stunned, as Maud hastily searched the room. She grabbed some of Jo’s personal items—a brush and a picture of Jo’s mother—and she walked over and hurled them down to the floor too. Then she whipped away and raced down to the foyer.

  She stuffed what she could into the two portmanteaux. Once they were packed full, she carried them over to the door and pitched them outside.

  Jo and Daisy gaped at the spectacle—Jo from the landing and Daisy from the dining room. Daisy peered up at her, her expression grim and tragic.

  Maud didn’t provide an opening for discussion. She pounded back up the stairs and advanced on Jo in a menacing manner that had her cringing. She seized Jo by the arm, dragged her to the stairs, and started down.

  “I warned you about this,” Maud seethed.

  “Maud, stop it!”

  Jo pried at Maud’s fingers, but she couldn’t escape. Maud was taller and bigger and angrier than Jo, and she couldn’t halt their descent. Their housemaids had heard the commotion, and they dawdled in the corner, gawking in shock. They looked as if they yearned to intervene, but were too afraid.

  Maud kept on out the door and into the drive. Jo struggled to maintain her dignity, but with her sister behaving like a lunatic, it was incredibly difficult.

  “For heaven’s sake, Maud!” Jo chided as Maud released her. “Are you happy now? Do you feel better?”

  Maud glared with what could only be described as a great deal of hatred. “You are no longer welcome in my home. You are no longer welcome in Telford. Take your urchin and go. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Jo protested. “You can’t kick me out.”

  “If you don’t depart—at once!—I’ll call for the law and claim you stole jewelry from me. I’ll have you prosecuted, and you’ll be transported to the penal colonies as a felon. What will happen to your precious Daisy then?”

  Jo scoffed. “You would never have me arrested.”

  “Wouldn’t I? Then I’ll visit the vicar and inform him that I’ve learned you were consorting with a boy in London, and you’ve disgraced yourself. I’ll insist I evicted you because of it. There’s not a person in the neighborhood who will condemn me. Not with your mother’s history.”

  “Maud, would you relax? There’s no need for all this drama.”

  “Isn’t there?”

  “I’ve fixed everything,” Jo attempted to explain. “The servants believe she’s my cousin’s daughter.”

  “I warned you,” Maud said as she had in the house. “I will be married to Mr. Townsend in September, and I will not allow you to jeopardize that event.”

  “Let me take her back to Benton.” Jo tried to sound reasonable, even though she was certain Lord Benton and Mr. Slater would never permit it.

  “No!”

  “How about if I inquire in the village? Perhaps there’s a family who would be willing to have her.”

  “No!” Maud repeated more vehemently. “Her presence is a danger to me.”

  “She’s poses no danger!”

  “You have five minutes to get off my property, then I will look out the window. If you are still standing in my driveway, I will summon the law.”

  “Maud!”

  “I’ve always hated you, Josephine. Always.”

  At the terrible admission, Jo gasped. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Yes, I do. You—with your lowborn mother—are so far beneath me. Father and I often discussed how we could be shed of you.”

  Jo ignored the wound Maud had inflicted. “He loved my mother.”

  “No, he lusted after her—like the rutting dog all men are—and I have suffered egregiously due to his blunder, but I won’t suffer in the future. You’re not wanted here, Miss Bates.”

  “I’m your sister, Maud. I’m your only sister in the entire world. How can you hurt me like this?”

  “It’s easy, Josephine.” Maud laughed her eerie laugh. “When father was dying, I was obligated by his final wish that I serve as your guardian, but those days are over. Your actions have guaranteed that my obligation to you—and him—has ended.”

  “But where will I go? How will I support myself?”

  “It’s none of my concern.”

  “Isn’t that convenient for you? You are the one who gave my dowry to Mr. Cartwright so I have no money of my own.”

  “It wasn’t my fault!” Maud fumed. “If he tricked anyone, he tricked me. I was simply trying to help you wed which is what you were so desperate to have occur. Don’t rewrite your memory of the incident.”

  “You let him steal from me, and now, you are stealing all of what father left us. It’s not all yours. Half of it is mine.”

  “What a child you are, Jo. Father could have bequeathed items or funds to you, but he didn’t because he didn’t care about you!”

  “After all these years—where I’ve been your only friend!—I’ve never wavered in my affection. You’re my sister, and this is how you repay me? You toss me out? Shame on you, Maud!”

  “Sticks and stones, Jo. Sticks and stones. You brought that girl home in spite of my specific order that you not. You’ve proved that I can’t trust you. Ever! Now go. I’ll be watching the clock, and I swear—if you are here in five minutes—I will call for the law as I’ve threatened. Don’t force my hand.”

  Maud whirled away and stormed inside. Daisy had been observing from the stoop, the two maids nervously hovering behind her. Maud grabbed Daisy and pushed her out, then she slammed the door and spun the key in the lock.

  Daisy came over to Jo, and they tarried, staring at the house, as Maud went from room to room, yanking the drapes closed so she wouldn’t have to peer out at Jo loitering in the driveway.

  Jo had never been more incensed. She marched up to the door and began to knock, and she continued knocking until her knuckles were bruised from rapping on the wood. Ultimately, a maid opened it just a crack, her body blocking any attempt to enter—unless Jo felt like wrestling which she didn’t.

  “You need to leave, Miss Josephine,” she whispered. “Please? Miss Maud sent the other maid out the back to fetch the magistrate. I truly believe she intends to have you arrested.”

  “I see,” Jo murmured.

  “Perhaps you could talk to her in a few days—after she’s calmed down.”

  She shut the door and the key was spun again.

  Jo turned to Daisy, and a thousand comments were unspoken between them. It was late in the afternoon, and soon it would be evening.

  Maud’s vicious words rang in her ears, her genuine opinion of Jo voiced aloud once and for all. Clearly, Maud had tamped down an enormous amount of loathing, and Jo had suffered her sister’s mistreatment for much too long.

  She peeked into her portmanteau, relieved to note that Maud had stuffed in her reticule. The money Mr. Slater had provided was in it, unspent and unused. It wasn’t a lot, but they wouldn’t starve.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said. “If we don’t, she’ll devise other ways to humiliate me, and I’m too furious to dawdle.”

  “Maybe we should wait though. People say things when they’re angry that they don’t mean. She might change her mind after a bit.”

  Jo remembered all the years she’d been denigrated and maligned by Maud, all the years she’d been scoffed at and ridiculed. Maud was cruel and awful, and Jo had had enough.

  “She won’t change her mind,” Jo said, “and even if I thought she might, I would never force you to live with such a horrid person.”

  “She
didn’t seem to like me at all.”

  “Well, she’s never liked me, and I’m weary of her disdain. We should find some help before it’s dark.”

  They picked up their bags and walked away.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Happy birthday, Lord Benton!”

  “Happy birthday, Commander Prescott!”

  Peyton’s guests raised their glasses in a toast, and as they cheered him, he rolled his eyes in exasperation. He’d never been keen on being the center of attention, and it had always seemed silly to him to be lauded for having a birthday. It wasn’t as if he’d caused it to happen. He’d simply been born.

  Another year had slid by, and he was thirty. It sounded very old, much older than twenty-nine.

  “Speech, speech,” Evan called merely to needle him.

  He wasn’t certain why he’d agreed to host the party, or to host it at the town house, just as he couldn’t figure out why he was loafing in London. Now that he was an earl, his superior officers were showing him incredible deference. They kept telling him to take all the time he required to get matters squared away at Benton.

  The navy, apparently, would still be there if and when he decided to return to it.

  Their lenience was allowing him to be idle and was preventing him from moving forward. Tendrils from Benton were worming their way into his mind, and he was starting to recognize that a pride of ownership was sneaking in. Previously, he hadn’t thought he was concerned about any of it, but had he been wrong?

  An independent accountant had reviewed the estate ledgers, and the fiscal situation was as dire as Richard had explained. Peyton would catch himself devising plans he could implement, and he loved a challenge. If he was really a Prescott—and according to rumor, he probably wasn’t—the property had been in the family for three centuries. There was history there, his history. Maybe. Shouldn’t he build on what his ancestors had created?

  When he’d notice how he was obsessing, he’d shove away any sense of connection. He’d never cared about Benton. It was a bedrock principle shaping his life. Was he ready to change that attitude?

  “You must have a comment,” Evan goaded. “It’s not every day you turn thirty and become an earl. For example, has your good fortune bestowed any wisdom?”