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Jilted By A Cad (Jilted Brides Trilogy Book 1)

Page 42

by Cheryl Holt


  “I’ve traveled from Benton to speak with you,” she told him.

  He simply gaped at her, the name of Benton not registering, which was distressing and depressing.

  “All right,” he said. “You’ve traveled from Benton. I’m not familiar with the spot. Where is it located?”

  “It’s a property outside London. It’s Lord Benton’s family seat.”

  “I don’t know him, and I’ve never heard of him.”

  People snickered, and she squared her shoulders. She might be only twenty, but she was Sir Walford Watson’s daughter. He’d been quite an imposing character, and she’d inherited his more impressive traits. She couldn’t be bullied, and she was never afraid or cowed.

  A paltry veteran—if that’s what Mr. Dunn was—could never intimidate her. Nor could a fake lord in a crumbling, decrepit castle.

  “I must raise a very difficult subject,” she said, “but I shouldn’t reveal it in this crowded forum. Is there somewhere we could confer privately?”

  “No. Get on with it please.”

  “I’m sure you won’t like me address it this way.”

  “And I am sure I’m about to call it a day. Tell me why you’ve come, or I’ll adjourn the proceedings.”

  From how he was studying her, as if she was insignificant and annoying, it was clear he was serious. He would be delighted to put her in her place, but he never could.

  After her recent bouts of enmity at Benton, where she’d constantly battled with the estate agent, Mr. Slater, she was irked and drained. A man couldn’t insult or aggravate her without consequence.

  “I’ve brought your niece, Jane Prescott, to stay with you,” she bluntly proclaimed. “She has nowhere to go, and I beg you to provide shelter to her.”

  Winnie intended to beg for herself and Bobby too, but she didn’t suppose she ought to mention that fact in her opening salvo.

  Her announcement flummoxed everyone. Mr. Dunn glanced at the woman beside him. “Melvina, do I have a niece named Jane Prescott?”

  “No,” the woman—Melvina—curtly responded.

  He turned to Winnie. “I have no idea what you mean or who you mean. Will that be all?”

  Winnie took a deep breath. She’d warned him about the delicate conversation she planned to have, but he was too vain and imperious to listen. Well, a pox on his head!

  She could be just as vain and imperious.

  “Jane is your sister Rebecca’s daughter,” she said. “Her father was Neville Prescott, the prior Lord Benton, and he seduced Rebecca when she was sixteen and away at boarding school. She died in childbirth, and Jane has been living at Benton ever since, but the Prescott family’s circumstances have changed.” Since Neville Prescott was now deceased, that was a massive understatement! “She’s been evicted by them, and she’s requesting sanctuary from you.”

  Her speech had sucked the air out of the room. It had grown so quiet she could have heard a pin drop. Spectators were scowling, nervously peeking at each other and not certain what to think. Up on the dais, Mr. Dunn—the haughty Lord John—was glowering at Winnie as if she were a bug he’d like to squash under his boot.

  “You have some gall, Miss Watson,” he ultimately seethed, his tone threatening.

  “So I’ve always been told, Mr. Dunn.”

  Melvina practically shouted, “It’s Lord John to you, you little harpy.”

  Mr. Dunn raised a hand to silence her. She bristled, but shut up as he’d demanded.

  “Miss Watson,” he said to Winnie, “in a few short sentences, you have denigrated my dead sister, thoroughly besmirched her reputation, and ruin our beloved memory of her that we hold so dear.”

  “I’m sorry if you find the truth to be painful, sir,” Winnie replied. “In my own defense, I warned you that we should discuss this privately.”

  “Yes, you did, and that’s enough from you. Thank you for coming.”

  He waved her off as if she would slither away with the dilemma unresolved. She huffed with offense. “You haven’t answered me.”

  “What was your question again?”

  “Jane needs shelter and support. Will she receive them from you?”

  “No.”

  Winnie valiantly stood her ground. “Her half-brother, Bobby Prescott, has traveled with her, and I am here too.”

  “I see that,” he caustically retorted.

  “I am their guardian.” It was a white lie. She had no official role with regard to either child, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “I ask for shelter and assistance for Bobby and myself as well.”

  “I don’t choose to extend it.”

  “Why not?”

  Apparently, her query was too insolent to abide, and the audience groused and grumbled. Had no one ever argued with Mr. Dunn’s edicts? Was no one ever permitted to disagree with his grand self?

  “Why not?” he spat back at her. “Let me count the reasons. I don’t know you. I don’t believe you. I have no basis to trust you. And my sister, Rebecca, died of the influenza.”

  “No, she didn’t. I regret that the details of her demise were concealed from you, but I’m telling them to you now.”

  “I won’t allow you to spew any further falsehoods about her.”

  “They’re not falsehoods.”

  Winnie gestured for Jane and Bobby to join her. They hesitated, then Bobby—the braver of the pair—took Jane’s arm, and they approached.

  With their Prescott blond hair and very-blue eyes, they were golden and striking: thin, lithe, fetching, and regal in their bearing. No matter what one thought of their disgusting, unscrupulous father, Neville Prescott, he’d been a very handsome man, and he’d produced very handsome children.

  Winnie pointed to them. “This is your niece, Jane, and this is her half-brother, Bobby.”

  Mr. Dunn stared at them for an eternity, as did every person in the room. They were assessed so curiously they might have had three legs or purple skin. Winnie wanted to cluck her tongue and call them all idiots, but she forced herself to remain silent while they endured the odious appraisal.

  Finally, Mr. Dunn relaxed in his chair. “My sister, Rebecca, had black hair and black eyes. All of the Dunns have black hair and black eyes.”

  “You don’t. Your eyes are very blue.”

  The instant she commented she wished she hadn’t. She hated to have him presume she’d paid sufficient attention to notice the color of his eyes.

  “You’re very perceptive, Miss Watson,” he said.

  “Aren’t I just?”

  “I’m told they’re a throwback to some old pirate kin.”

  “I’m not surprised. I’m positive there are many nefarious characters in your family tree.”

  “You’d suppose correctly.” He studied Jane again. “This girl doesn’t resemble my sister in even the smallest way.”

  “Jane resembles her father, Lord Benton,” Winnie insisted. “They both do. It’s his powerful aristocratic blood that’s defined their features.”

  “Why was I never contacted about this situation?” he inquired. “If you’re being truthful, why didn’t you write or send a messenger?”

  “I wrote you several letters. The Benton estate agent, Mr. Slater, wrote too. You can’t tell me you never received any of them.”

  “I can tell you that, Miss Watson, because I’ve never heard of you in my life, and I’ve definitely never corresponded with anyone named Slater.”

  “Then perhaps you should investigate the person who serves as your postal carrier. It appears he’s not very competent at delivering your mail.”

  He narrowed his gaze, looking derisive and bored. “You have a very smart mouth, Miss Watson.”

  “I’ve always been told that too, Lord John.”

  “I like my women—“

  She cut him off. “Your women?”

  “Yes, my women. Everyone and everything on this accursed island belongs to me, and I like to surround m
yself with females who are meek and pleasant.”

  “Then I’m sure you and I would never be cordial.”

  “I’m sure we wouldn’t,” he agreed. “I couldn’t imagine having you underfoot. You’d exhaust me with your superior attitude and fancy manners.”

  “I’d try to control myself,” she sarcastically muttered.

  He snorted out a laugh that sounded odd and unusual—as if his voice was rusty and he was never amused by any topic. He pondered for another eternity, scrutinizing Jane, then Winnie and Bobby. Just when she decided he might exhibit a shred of decency, Melvina leaned in and whispered furiously in his ear.

  Suddenly, he said to Winnie, “No.”

  “No…what?”

  “No, you may not tarry at Dunworthy. Not you or the two children you’ve dragged through my door.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “No, you may not.”

  “Well, I’m asking anyway. We’ve journeyed across England to meet with you, and I’m begging you to have mercy on us. If you can’t muster any mercy, then at the very least, I demand simple courtesy. Allow us to stay until we can make other plans.”

  A muscle ticked in his cheek, his patience clearly at an end. “As I previously mentioned, Miss Watson, I don’t believe your story about my sister, and as the three of you are strangers to me—“

  “Jane is not a stranger! She’s your niece!”

  He ignored her paltry complaint. “I don’t care to have more mouths to feed, and at the moment, I’m fresh out of mercy. You’ll have to seek it elsewhere.”

  Winnie was more incensed than she’d ever been. “Why are you such a fiend? Are you always this awful? Or have we merely caught you on a bad day?”

  “I’m always this awful.” He addressed the crowd in general. “Who let them into the castle? All of you know I don’t appreciate outsiders wandering in unannounced. We have to be cautious, and this one”—he pointed scornfully at Winnie—“couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. She’s a risk we cannot assume.”

  The spectators nodded their concurrence, and he gestured to the man in the back who’d initially greeted them. “Escort them out, would you? And spread the word that they shouldn’t be permitted onto the island again. If they show up, there will have to be consequences for whoever disobeyed my edict.”

  “I’ll tell people what you’ve ordered, Lord John,” the man said. “If you’ll come with me, Miss Watson?”

  Winnie didn’t move, and for a horrifying instant, she worried she might burst into tears.

  Why couldn’t anything ever go right? She’d always been a good person, a kind person, a loyal person. She’d taken charge of Jane and Bobby when no one in the world had volunteered to help them—no one but her.

  She was twenty years old and all alone, without friends or family or money or a job. It had been a mad scheme to head to Dunworthy without having a clue as to whether their arrival would be welcome, but she’d been afraid and desperate and out of ideas.

  For pity’s sake, Mr. Slater at Benton had evicted them! What other option had there been but to travel to Dunworthy where Jane had an uncle?

  Throughout their reckless trek, she’d convinced herself that Mr. Dunn would aid them, but how could she have been so stupid? When she was so intelligent and so highly educated, why did she constantly make such idiotic choices? Why did she pick exactly the wrong path? Would she spend her life in peril and out of luck?

  She opened her mouth to give Mr. Dunn a thorough dressing down, but Bobby prevented her. He stepped in front of Winnie and Jane, as if he could shield them from Mr. Dunn’s wrath.

  “Don’t beg him, Miss Watson,” Bobby heatedly stated, and his livid gaze was locked on Mr. Dunn. “I won’t have you plead on our behalf, and even if you could change this tyrant’s mind, I’d never let you and Jane stay here with him. We’ll figure out a different conclusion, for I am sure any place in the kingdom would be better than this one.”

  He was a striking, courageous, and wonderful boy, possessed of his aristocratic father’s best traits and none of his bad ones. His anger and righteous indignation had carried around the room, and his comments had shamed all of them. Even Mr. Dunn seemed embarrassed.

  Bobby whipped away from the dais, and he pushed Winnie and Jane toward the door.

  Jane was usually polite and quiet, but not always. She peeked over her shoulder at her uncle, imperiously saying, “I was hoping I’d like you. But I don’t. I could never like anyone who was rude to Miss Watson.”

  Their insults caustically hurled, they marched out, people’s eyes slicing into them as they passed, but Winnie didn’t lower herself to look at any of them.

  Who would treat a dog in the ditch as they’d been treated? She was a young woman on her own, with two children to protect, but they hadn’t been offered so much as a bite of food or a drink of water.

  Bobby was correct to demand they depart. Even if Mr. Dunn had leapt off the dais and implored her to remain, she wouldn’t have. She was Sir Walford Watson’s beloved daughter, and Jane and Bobby were Lord Benton’s children. How dare the occupants of Dunworthy disparage them?

  What was so special about any of them anyway? They were simply a bunch of illiterate, rural peasants, and she let her snobbish, city attitude flare into a hot inferno. If a single dolt had been brave enough to speak to her, she’d have ignited him with her vociferous response.

  They tromped out of the hall, across the courtyard, and out the gate. They’d been inside for ages, waiting to address Mr. Dunn, so she’d forgotten the earlier admonition about the tide.

  Evidently, it didn’t change every twelve hours. Clearly, it swept in much quicker than that.

  They were on the promontory where the castle was located, so it was easy to see that the island was surrounded by ocean and cut off from the mainland by surging, turbulent seas. The path on the sand had vanished.

  How long would it continue like this? How long would it be before they could return to the dry ground of England?

  They gaped, disconcerted and dismayed, and ultimately, Jane said, “What now, Miss Watson?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Bobby assessed the water that prevented their escape, and he snorted with disgust. “This is just typical, isn’t it?”

  “I was thinking the very same,” Winnie said.

  “What else can go wrong?” They were silent for a minute, then Bobby muttered, “I’m not sorry for what I said in there.”

  “Neither am I,” Jane added.

  “You stood up for yourselves,” Winnie told them, “and I’m proud of both of you.”

  Bobby bristled with annoyance. “What will they do to us when they discover we couldn’t leave? Might they simply toss us into the waves to drown?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jane fumed. “They were so awful. I couldn’t imagine living here with them.”

  Bobby pointed down the hill to Dunn village, where fishermen’s cottages lined the shore, but it contained no lodging for visitors. “Shall we walk down to it? We might get lucky and encounter a charitable Christian who will help us.”

  Winnie was dubious. “I suppose anything is possible. There might be one kind, generous inhabitant on this accursed rock.”

  “Let’s find out,” Bobby said.

  He took off, leading the way, and Winnie and Jane followed him.

  What choice did they have?

  Praise for New York Times Bestselling Author

  CHERYL HOLT

  “Best storyteller of the year…”

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lassic love story with hot, fiery passion dripping from every page. There’s nothing better than curling up with a great book and this one totally qualifies.”

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  Praise for Cheryl Holt’s “Lord Trent” trilogy

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  Bookworm 2 Bookworm Reviews

  BOOKS BY CHERYL HOLT

  JILTED BY A ROGUE

  JILTED BY A SCOUNDREL

  JILTED BY A CAD

  FOREVER

  FOREVER AFTER

  FOREVER MINE

  FOREVER YOURS

  ONLY MINE

  ONLY YOU

  HEART’S DEBT

  SCOUNDREL

  HEART’S DEMAND

  HEART’S DESIRE

  HEART’S DELIGHT

  WONDERFUL

  WANTON

  WICKED

  SEDUCING THE GROOM

  LOVE’S PERIL

  LOVE’S PRICE

  LOVE’S PROMISE

  SWEET SURRENDER

  THE WEDDING

  MUD CREEK

  MARRY ME

  LOVE ME

  KISS ME

  SEDUCE ME

  KNIGHT OF SEDUCTION

  NICHOLAS

 

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