Jilted By A Cad (Jilted Brides Trilogy Book 1)

by Cheryl Holt

  He stood. “Now then, let’s return you to the manor so your mother doesn’t have a fit. I’ve had all the excitement I can tolerate for one day. I don’t want to throw her into a rage.”

  “Believe me, I don’t want that either.”

  She stood too and slipped her tiny hand into his. They walked off together, and he couldn’t help recollecting how he often walked the same way with Daisy.

  He was an uncle. He had nieces. And…? Apparently, he liked it.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Evan was stuffing the last of his clothes into a portmanteau when footsteps echoed out in the hall.

  Officially, he was in Peyton’s cabin, but they shared the sleeping space. They weren’t supposed to, but he and Peyton had been close, so no one ever complained.

  He glanced up, enraged to discover that Peyton had arrived too, just at the moment Evan had stopped by to retrieve his belongings. What were the odds? Why would he suddenly strut in? Wasn’t he busy with his grand life? Why would he bother with his paltry ship?

  Since the horrid afternoon when he’d finally spurned Amelia, Evan hadn’t seen him again. Evan had mustered his mother and sister to shut up their house, then they’d traveled to Bath for an extended summer holiday.

  But Evan’s time wasn’t his own. He wasn’t a great lord like Peyton and couldn’t dawdle in England forever. He had to get back to work. He’d requested a transfer away from Peyton, and it had been granted. He was preparing to join the crew on a different vessel.

  “If it isn’t Commander Prescott,” Evan snidely said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I miss my ship. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m packing.”

  Peyton frowned. “I heard you put in for a transfer. How could you?”

  “Believe me, it was an easy decision.”

  “We’ve always sailed together. Always. It’s wrong for us to separate.”

  “Yes, well, all good things must come to an end.”

  He peered around to be positive he hadn’t forgotten anything. Then he buckled the straps on his portmanteau. Peyton lurked in the doorway. Evan tried to ignore him, but it was impossible. Peyton was like an elephant, large, looming. He took up too much space in any room he occupied, and ship cabins were notoriously small.

  He marched over to Evan and attempted to yank the bag away, but Evan held firm.

  “Let go,” Evan demanded as they engaged in a pathetic tug of war.

  “No. You’re acting like a lunatic. How long will this fit of pique continue?”

  “I’m betting forever.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.” Peyton tsked with offense. “Can we discuss this?”

  “No. We’ve said what we need to say.”

  “So…just like that? Twenty years of friendship are over?”

  Peyton looked bewildered, but where personal relationships were concerned, he was usually clueless. Evan was the one who understood people and social situations. Evan had pulled Peyton through the world, tamping down his awkwardness, smoothing over his gaffes.

  Evan was incensed on his sister’s behalf and probably always would be, but Peyton could never comprehend that type of loyalty. He could never comprehend why Evan loved his sister so much.

  He turned to depart, but Peyton blocked him in.

  “Move!” Evan fumed.

  “No. You can’t leave. Not until we resolve this.”

  “It’s resolved, Peyton. I’ve clearly explained my position, and I wish you’d accept it. I won’t listen to you rationalizing your conduct.”

  “You closed your house and left London.” Peyton’s tone was accusing—as if Evan should have checked with him first.

  “We left because we were certain you’d eventually skulk in and pretend all was fine, but it can’t be fine ever again. How can I get you to recognize that fact?”

  “I still haven’t been able to talk to Amelia. She should tell me herself that she’s cutting all ties.”

  Evan rolled his eyes. “Stop being an ass.”

  “I’m not being an ass. I’m trying to mend this.”

  “You can’t. I warned you that there would be consequences if you tossed her over, but you refused to heed me.”

  “I can’t figure out what’s generating all this hostility.”

  “Of course you can’t.”

  “I especially can’t figure out why you’d change ships. We’re partners. You can’t want that to be over. And what about Amelia. She must hate all this upset.”

  Evan swallowed down a wave of fury, not sure why he was wasting his breath.

  “How is Miss Bates?” he inquired.

  “Miss Bates? Jo?” Peyton looked bewildered again. “Why would you ask about her?”

  “It’s all over town, you know.”

  “What is?”

  “How your servants caught you crawling in and out of her bed, how Barbara made you kick her out to hide the scandal. Apparently, you couldn’t bear to part from her, and you’ve rented her a little love nest.”

  Evan might have punched Peyton. He appeared that stunned. He staggered over to a chair and eased down.

  “People are gossiping about me and Jo?”

  “Yes. What did you think would happen? You’re an earl now, an aristocrat. You’re not invisible. How could you suppose people wouldn’t gossip?”

  “I merely rented lodging for her.”

  “Yes, Peyton, we’re all aware of how generous you’ve been—seemingly for no reason at all.”

  “She’s having personal difficulties. I’m simply being kind.”

  “You’re a bachelor, Peyton. Will it ever dawn on you that your behavior is entirely inappropriate?”

  “It is not,” Peyton claimed, but his cheeks flushed bright red, and he glanced away.

  “Amelia visited her,” Evan said.

  “Who? Jo?”

  “Yes.”

  “When? I’ve been in the country. I haven’t heard any news.”

  “Miss Bates was quite convincing as to the innocent nature of your association. Amelia was completely persuaded that there is no immorality occurring.”

  “There isn’t,” Peyton insisted.

  “Nice try, Peyton, but I’m not as gullible as my sister. What if Miss Bates winds up with child? What then?”

  “She won’t,” Peyton firmly stated, a tacit admission that dissipation was in progress.

  Evan felt terrible for Miss Bates and was greatly worried about her, but it wasn’t any of his business. That last afternoon, he’d begged her to be careful, yet she’d jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

  At Barbara’s urging, Peyton had shuttered the town house and sequestered Miss Bates in a spot where he presumed they could carry on unobserved. But in his social circle, London was a very small place. There could be no concealing an illicit affair.

  “Goodbye,” he said. “Don’t pester me. Don’t pester my sister. Just leave us alone.”

  “I won’t say goodbye to you. I can’t.”

  “Good luck with Miss Bates. I hope your amour brings you everything you deserve.”

  Peyton was still seated and not blocking the door. Evan lifted his portmanteau and stomped out.

  * * * *

  Peyton entered Jo’s residence and removed his hat and cape.

  When he arrived during the day, he knocked and pretended he was a visitor. He’d knocked this time too, but it wasn’t answered, so he’d used his key. Usually, Jo and Daisy were in the parlor, sewing or reading, but the room was empty.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and he peered up, expecting it would be Jo, but it was a servant, an older widow who did the cooking. She halted and gaped with astonishment.

  “Lord Benton, my, my, but don’t you look grand?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Or—in light of your clothes—should I address you as Commander Prescott?”

  He smiled. “I will reply to eithe
r.”

  “I love a man in uniform.”

  “I’ve been told it’s the best way to bedazzle a female.”

  “You’re correct. It is.”

  He was wearing the garments a naval officer was meant to wear: blue frock coat, white trousers, black boots. The items had been packed in a trunk for months, and he’d finally retrieved them.

  “I’m sorry no one greeted you,” she said as she descended to the foyer.

  “I didn’t want to bother all of you, so I let myself in. Is my niece at home?”

  He always maintained the ruse that he’d come to see Daisy, but according to Evan, his ploy hadn’t worked, and he’d been publically exposed as a cad.

  “Miss Daisy was feeling housebound. I sent our footman to pick up some meat from the butcher, and she tagged along.”

  “How about Miss Bates? Is she here?”

  “She’s in bed…ah…resting.”

  He was unnerved by how the woman pronounced the word resting. Jo had more energy than anyone he’d ever met. She was never idle.

  “Is she under the weather?”

  “She was a tad nauseous, so I delivered some tea to settle her stomach.”

  “I need to confer with her at once. Is she sufficiently hale to attend me in the parlor?”

  The woman stared at him for an eternity, studying his uniform, the shiny gold buttons, the epaulettes and medals pinned to the front. Her assessment was so meticulous that he could barely keep from fidgeting.

  “May I speak freely, my lord?” she eventually said.

  “Yes, always.”

  “It’s just that I wouldn’t like to anger you.”

  “I’m not a man who angers easily.”

  “I’m glad—for this might be disconcerting.”

  She leaned in and whispered her secret, and his initial instinct was to call her a liar, but he bit down any strident response. She was watching him carefully, and he was positive she’d thoroughly describe his reaction in the kitchen later on.

  “Are you certain?” he inquired.

  “Certain enough. I’ve birthed six children of my own.”

  His mind was awhirl with how the information had thrown a wrench into his plans. Or had it? Would he let it alter his course? Should he let it? Could he allow Fate and circumstance to ambush him? He didn’t think so.

  “I appreciate you confiding in me,” he calmly said. “Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I have to chat with Miss Bates. My own news is dire, and I can’t wait until her condition improves.”

  Clearly, she’d like to retort with, It’s your house. Do what you bloody well want!

  Yet she was very composed. “She’d like that.” He started up the stairs, and she asked, “If my worries turn out to be correct, Lord Benton, will it change things?”

  “It’s too soon to tell, ma’am. I’ll keep you apprised.”

  “I’ve liked my job.”

  “Miss Bates has enjoyed having you. She constantly sings your praises.”

  He continued on to Jo’s room. She was on her bed, a damp towel over her eyes.

  “Daisy, is that you? How was your shopping?” She pulled the cloth away and peeked over. “Oh! It’s you. What a fabulous surprise, and you’re in your uniform! You’re magnificent. If you claim you’re off to be presented to the King, I will absolutely believe you.”

  She rose up on an elbow, and he said, “Don’t get up.”

  He walked over and balanced a hip on the mattress. He clasped her slender hand in his, and a thousand unvoiced comments swirled between them. There was only one reason for him to have donned his uniform, and she recognized what it indicated.

  Was she aware of her cook’s suspicions? If they were true, where did it leave her? Where did it leave him?

  She was the first to speak. She scrutinized his uniform, taking in the fine sewing, the fancy adornments. “You’re going back to the navy?”

  “Yes.”

  “When will you sail?”

  “Thursday night.”

  She inhaled a sharp breath. “Three days.”

  “Yes. There was a posting to the Caribbean—if I could depart immediately.”

  “I’ve been convinced that you’ll be happier this way, so I won’t ask if you’re sure.”

  “I am sure, but I’m not sure too. I’m very confused.”

  She flashed a sad smile. “It’s been your state ever since I met you.”

  “I already feel better.”

  “Good.” She scowled. “It seems very sudden.”

  “It is.”

  “Have I upset you somehow? Is that why? Are you angry with me?”

  “No. I could never be angry with you.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I checked out my ship yesterday, and I talked with my crew.”

  “You’ve missed them.”

  “Yes.”

  “They spurred you to a decision.”

  “Not really. Evan was there.”

  “Well. That’s…interesting.”

  “If I have to cite a motive for what prodded me, I suppose that’s it.”

  “You quarreled?”

  “No. We had…words.”

  “Is he still livid?”

  “Yes. He said Amelia visited you. You didn’t tell me.”

  “I haven’t seen you since she stopped by.”

  He hadn’t sneaked in for several nights, having been determined to exercise some restraint, and it seemed silly now to have erected obstacles. With so little time remaining, why deny himself such a guilty pleasure?

  “Was Amelia awful to you?” he asked. “I apologize if she was.”

  “No, no, she was very sweet.”

  “What did she want?”

  “She’s heard terrible rumors about us.”

  “Yes, Evan too. Apparently, they’re spreading like wildfire.”

  “She was curious if they were true, and I lied and insisted they weren’t.”

  “Why, Miss Bate,” he sarcastically mocked, “you told a lie? I’m shocked.”

  “I am too. I’ve become a sluggard and a deceiver. When I die, I’m probably going straight to Hell.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll be there too, so you’ll have a friend waiting when you arrive.”

  Their banter dwindled, and those unvoiced comments swirled again. He couldn’t delve to the core of the matter, and he definitely needed to. He wouldn’t have many more chances.

  She rested a palm on the center of his chest and asked, “What is it, Peyton? What’s wrong?”

  “After I bumped into Evan, I was so distraught. I’m devastated to learn that people are gossiping about us. I thought we were being so discreet.”

  “These things have a way of leaking out. It’s not easy to hide an illicit amour. It’s why a sane person never engages in one.”

  “I can’t abide that I’ve gotten you into trouble. I won’t have your reputation destroyed because of me.”

  “You should worry more about your own. No one knows me from Adam, but you are quite a prominent fellow. You can’t seduce an innocent maiden without paying a very steep price.”

  She’d offered the remark in a light and teasing manner, but it fell flat because that’s precisely what he’d done. He’d seduced an innocent maiden. He’d understood it was sinful and wicked, but he’d done it anyway.

  In his own defense, he’d never wanted anything as desperately as he’d wanted Josephine Bates. Even now, even after she was ruined and he was disgraced, he wasn’t sorry. He’d do it all over again in a trice.

  “Your cook informs me you’ve been sick,” he said.

  “I must have a touch of the flu. For the past week or two, I’ve been dizzy and nauseous. She had me lie down, and she brought me some tea. I’m much better.”

  So…she doesn’t realize…

  He studied her, thinking she was glowing, but then, she always glowed. He’d like to claim to be ske
ptical, but he wasn’t. From the first night he’d deflowered her, he’d been too overwhelmed to be cautious. He’d dallied as if salacious conduct carried no consequences, as if he were a god who could control the future.

  Wasn’t it typical that this calamitous situation would crop up just when he couldn’t bear to deal with it?

  “You don’t have the flu, Jo.”

  She scowled. “What is it then?”

  “Your cook is afraid you might be increasing.”

  “Increasing…with what?” The naïveté of her query was blatant evidence of how despicably he’d treated her. Comprehension dawned swiftly. “Increasing…with a baby? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Yes. Your cook has had many children herself, so she recognizes all the symptoms.”

  She froze for an eternity, then she murmured, “No, no, no…”

  She drew away from him and slid off the bed. She walked over to stand by the window, and she gaped at him as if she had no idea who he was or how he’d wandered into her bedroom.

  “You said it took a long time for a babe to catch.” Her tone was aghast and accusatory. “You said a woman had to participate in the marital act over and over. You said it could take years.”

  He shrugged. “I guess I was wrong.”

  She stared in horror toward the stairs. “The servants know?”

  “Yes, so here’s how we’ll proceed.”

  He went over to her, but she held out a hand to ward him off. “I can’t listen to this now. I need a few minutes to myself. Could you…ah…come back later?”

  “No. We don’t have a lot of days to arrange everything.”

  “Even with this dreadful news revealed, you’re still planning to depart?”

  “Yes. I have to. I’ve given my word.”

  She scoffed with derision. “I’m in trouble and facing the greatest threat I’ll ever face, and you’ll sail off into the sunset? You’ll abandon me to manage on my own?”

  He wouldn’t squabble over his decision to return to the navy. His conversation with Evan had forced him to acknowledge the extent of his folly with Jo. He couldn’t continue to shame her and shame himself.

  He’d visited his superiors, had signed all the papers, had promised to assume his command on Thursday. An officer had fallen gravely ill, and they’d asked Peyton to step up and replace him. Jo’s predicament couldn’t alter that fact. He was a man who did his duty.