Jilted by a Scoundrel

by Cheryl Holt

  Winnie nodded a greeting. “Hello, Miss Dunn.”

  “Lord John is my uncle, and the woman on the dais with him, Melvina, is my mother.”

  “How awful for you.” Winnie couldn’t bite down the horrid words, and she blanched with dismay. “Oh, Miss Dunn, I most humbly apologize.”

  Miss Dunn laughed in a merry way. “You haven’t told me anything I hadn’t figured out on my own. They can both be very offensive. It’s not news to me.”

  “It may be the truth, but there’s never a reason to be rude.”

  “It’s not easy to live with all my Dunn relatives. They’re a surly bunch.”

  “That was my view exactly. What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve talked to Lord John about you, and he’d like you to come back to the castle.”

  Bobby snidely asked, “Why? Will he lock us in the dungeon?”

  “No, silly.” Miss Dunn waved away his comment. “He’s embarrassed by how he acted, and I’ve reminded him that he needs to offer you our hospitality. We’re a seafaring family here on Dunworthy. It’s our custom to be kind to strangers.”

  “Kind!” Bobby sneered.

  “Bobby!” Winnie cautioned. “Miss Dunn is trying to help us. Let’s be a little more gracious, shall we?”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, his aristocratic temper bubbling just below the surface.

  “My uncle’s not himself lately,” Miss Dunn said.

  “Why isn’t he?” Winnie inquired. “It’s not ever difficult to be courteous.”

  “He’s only recently home from the army. He was wounded, and usually, he doesn’t feel very well. He’s really quite grand when you get to know him.”

  “I won’t reply to that remark,” Winnie said. “I wouldn’t want to upset you with candor as to my genuine sentiment.”

  Miss Dunn gestured to the ocean surrounding them. “The tide has turned, Miss Watson, so you’re trapped with us. Won’t you let us give you bed and board for the night? I can’t have you wandering Dunn village and begging for aid.”

  Winnie hadn’t yet thrown off her indignation, so her initial inclination was to be haughty and boorish, to mock the assistance being extended. If she’d been by herself, she might have behaved that foolishly, but she had to think of Bobby and Jane.

  They were children, and they couldn’t fend for themselves. She had stepped forward to take charge of them, and she had to always conduct herself in a manner that would keep them safe.

  “Lord John asked us to stay?” Winnie said. “You’re certain?”

  “I won’t lie to you, Miss Watson. He wasn’t too keen on the idea, but yes, he agreed.”

  “It’s simply that we’ve traveled such a long distance, and we’re weary and worn down. We weren’t anticipating such a cool reception.”

  “I was,” Jane claimed.

  “You were not,” Winnie scoffed. “We were all hoping your uncle would be happy to see you.”

  “I was hoping,” Jane said, “but I wasn’t expecting good treatment. I’m never that lucky.”

  “Don’t you dare be despondent,” Winnie told her. “Not now. Not when we’re finally here, and Miss Dunn is being so friendly.”

  Jane’s cheeks flushed. “I apologize, Miss Dunn.”

  “It’s all right, Jane,” Miss Dunn said, “and just so you know, I completely believe Miss Watson when she insists you’re my Aunt Rebecca’s daughter.”

  Jane looked stunned. “You do?”

  “Yes, so that would make us cousins, wouldn’t it? First cousins. I’d like you to sit with me at supper so you can tell me all about your life at Benton. I’m eager to learn every detail about you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I’ve never been more than two towns away from Dunworthy. My mother would never let me leave. So I haven’t been to London or anywhere, and you’ve journeyed clear across the country! I’m so jealous.”

  “Of who? Of me?”

  “Yes. You’ve done things I can only dream of doing.” Miss Dunn peered over at Winnie. “Will you come back with me, Miss Watson? Please don’t refuse. Lord John is having a bedroom opened for you. Don’t force me to admit it wasn’t necessary.”

  There were a thousand responses Winnie could have offered, but the one that emerged was, “Why is he called Lord John? The Dunns aren’t aristocrats, are they?”

  “No, but it’s a sign of respect. Dunworthy seems like our own little country, and the oldest male family member is our lord and master. We address him accordingly.”

  “I understand.”

  Winnie blew out a heavy breath. She studied the swirling ocean, the mainland that was so far away it might have been on the other side of the moon. Then she glanced over her shoulder at the looming castle up on the edge of the cliffs.

  It was such a sinister place that she actually shivered, and she suffered a terrible sense of foreboding, which was ridiculous. It was merely a building, a dark, decrepit building. It couldn’t hurt her, could it?

  “What do you think, Miss Watson?” Bobby asked. “Should we risk it?”

  “I suppose we should. It’s not as if we have any other viable option.”

  Bobby turned to Miss Dunn. “We’ll accompany you, Miss Dunn, but if Lord John is rude to Miss Watson a single time, we’ll depart again immediately.”

  “I’ll make him behave,” Miss Dunn said. “I promise.”

  She grinned such an impish grin that Winnie grinned too.

  Perhaps it would be fine. Perhaps everything would work out for the best. It hadn’t yet, but maybe their fortunes were about to change.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Winnie stood on the walkway that rimmed the interior walls of Dunworthy Castle. The sun had set, but it was July, so dusk was lingering. The sky was a deep purple, slowly fading to indigo and black. Lamps were being lit, fires ignited in hearths.

  It was a chilly evening, the brisk breeze adding to the sense of windswept isolation. She tugged on her cloak, wishing she had one sewn from a sturdier fabric.

  She couldn’t stop staring at the scenery. There was a stark, unrivaled beauty to the barren spot, and she comprehended why a person would live on the island, why a person might never leave. It would be a good place, a safe place to wile away the years.

  Considering how life and Fate had battered her out in the greater world beyond, it was mesmerizing to imagine herself hunkering down at Dunworthy, how she could hide and think and regroup. When she caught herself yearning to stay and let it become her haven, she shook her head with disgust.

  Their return had been uneventful—thanks to Ellen Dunn. As they’d entered the castle with her, Winnie had braced, figuring they’d end up bickering with Mr. Dunn or Melvina Dunn, but neither of them had been present to make the encounter awkward.

  Miss Dunn had escorted them to bedchambers in a deserted wing of the building, and they’d been able to wash and rest. They hadn’t had clean clothes to change into though, which had been embarrassing, but they’d left their bags at a coaching inn in Dunworthy, the town across the water on the mainland.

  Winnie had mentioned the problem to Miss Dunn, and she’d offered to send a man to fetch them. Their bags hadn’t arrived yet, but she supposed they would soon.

  A maid had brought them down to supper, and it had passed without incident. They’d eaten at the long tables in the main hall where Mr. Dunn had heard the court cases. Dozens of people had shown up for the meal—but not John Dunn. He’d been conspicuously absent.

  From listening to the conversation around her, it sounded as if everyone was kin, as if no centuries had ticked by to alter their ingrained habits. It was a fascinating situation, and it intrigued and charmed her in equal measure. Who still carried on that way? Who could afford to?

  Once the meal was over, the crowd had lingered, being in no hurry to depart, and she wondered how many of them resided in the castle and how many in the houses down in Dunn village. How did John Dunn support so many
relatives? There had been a definite undercurrent of entitlement, as if a free supper was expected, so the likely expense boggled the mind.

  Activities had been starting. There was to be card playing and storytelling, and a trio of musicians had been tuning their instruments, so there would probably be dancing too.

  There were many children among the diners, and Bobby was a natural leader, so they were a bit in awe of him. They were fascinated by Jane too. The pair had begun to make friends, so Winnie had snuck away from the gathering. Since she’d fled Benton with them, there hadn’t been much of an opportunity for solitude, and she was heartily enjoying it.

  Out on the cliffs, she noticed a man waving a lantern—as if he was signaling to someone. Then out on the water, a lantern was signaled back. She watched with a detached sort of curiosity as a boat neared the island, as it slipped out of sight.

  She continued to study the vista, to cherish the seclusion. It was growing darker, and the man on the cliffs turned and marched toward the castle. As he approached, she could see it was John Dunn. He reached the gates, and he glanced up at her. For a charged interval, they stared each other down.

  He was the first to pull away, and he vanished into the shadows.

  His appearance shattered the private moment. She tried to focus again on the scenery, but couldn’t. He wasn’t the type who could be ignored, and her thoughts were full of him.

  Shortly, there were footsteps behind her on the walkway, then a man said, “Hello, Miss Watson.”

  His voice was already incredibly familiar to her, and she spun to face him. “Hello, Mr. Dunn. Or should I call you Lord John? Which do you prefer?”

  “I don’t care. You can choose the one you like best.”

  He came over and stood next to her. During their quarrel earlier in the afternoon, he’d been sitting down, so she hadn’t been able to gauge his height. But he was very tall, six feet at least, and she was only five-foot-four in her slippers. He towered over her in a manner she didn’t like.

  Her initial instinct was to move away from him, to put some space between them, but she forced herself to remain where she was. She suspected he’d be amused by any display of weakness.

  “When you peered up at me a few minutes ago,” she said, “it looked as if you couldn’t figure out why I was in your castle. Did you forget you invited me to spend the night?”

  “No, I didn’t forget.” He shrugged. “The whole world seems to live here. One more person won’t make much of a difference.”

  She scowled. “It was you, wasn’t it, who decided we could stay? Miss Dunn claimed you had relented.”

  “I didn’t relent. She badgered me until she wore me down.”

  “Are you easily badgered by females?”

  “Not usually.”

  “I could have guessed that about you.” She gestured to the horizon, although the sky had pretty much faded to black. “I love your home. It’s very…interesting.”

  “That’s not exactly the word I would use to describe it.”

  “What word would you use?”

  “Decrepit. Crumbling. Cold. Drafty. Inconvenient. Expensive.”

  “You don’t sound very fond.”

  He shrugged again. “I’m fond enough.”

  He leaned his elbows on the gray stones and gazed out at the ocean. They were lost in thought, and the interval should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. They dawdled in a companionable silence.

  “I don’t come up here very often,” he ultimately said.

  “You should. It’s quiet. It’s a marvelous spot to ponder and plan.”

  “Is that what you’re doing? Pondering and planning?”

  “Yes. But I’m relishing the solitude too. It’s too loud in the main hall.”

  “You can say that again.” He balanced his hips on the wall. “How are you settling in? Is your bedchamber acceptable? Have the servants been accommodating?”

  “The bedchamber is…fine.” It was tricky to select a suitable adjective. “The servants are…ah…competent.”

  “You’re not being very effusive.”

  “Should I be candid? Or should I be polite?”

  “I’m predicting you’re always candid, so let me have it. I’ll try to bear up.”

  “You should speak with your housekeeper.”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Maybe you should get one.”

  “Ha! You’re hilarious, Miss Watson. Next time I’m in London, I’ll buy a magic wand, so I can wave it and conjure up some money and a proficient employee to hire with it.”

  “Supper was awful too.”

  “Yes, the food is horrid.”

  “Since you realize it is, I imagine it’s pointless to suggest you hire a new cook.”

  “Yes, it’s pointless.”

  “Who is in charge here?” she inquired. “You’re not married, are you?”

  “Gad, no.”

  “Gad, no? Your reply was dreadfully strident. Are you a confirmed bachelor?”

  “Definitely.”

  “So you won’t be rushing to London to find a bride either.”

  “No.”

  “How can you be content to have matters in such disarray?”

  “Miss Watson”—his tone was exasperated—“you’re a guest in my home. Stop being so picky.”

  “You asked for candor.”

  “Perhaps I wasn’t serious.”

  “Oh. I retract all my comments. Supper was delicious, and my room is miraculously tidy.”

  “Liar. I have two eyes in my head, and I can see the conditions.”

  “Why don’t you fix them? You don’t have a housekeeper, but someone must run the household for you. Who is it?”

  “My sister-in-law, Melvina.”

  “Miss Dunn’s mother?” Winnie snorted with disgust. “That explains all your problems.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Don’t mind me. I’m merely spouting off.”

  “You have a sharp tongue and an even sharper attitude. Is that why you’ve never married? Have you scared off all your suitors?”

  “Yes. I’m such a terror that men tremble when they meet me.”

  “I can understand why. I’m already trembling myself.”

  The remark had her smiling, and it surprised her. He was much more charming than he’d been earlier. He seemed likable, but she didn’t intend to ever like him.

  “How did you come by your snippy temperament?” he asked.

  “I’m not snippy.”

  “Yes, you are. Why would your father tolerate it? Why didn’t he beat it out of you?”

  “My father thought I was precocious.”

  “Was he blind or deaf or both?”

  “He was neither, and I was frequently told that I was just like him, so it would have been silly for him to be angry when I acted as he would.”

  “Yes, well, a man can be assertive and bossy, but they’re not the traits a female should ever exhibit.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says…everyone?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. Why don’t you go into your castle and leave me alone?”

  “I’m having too much fun bothering you. Besides, I have no desire to spend hours socializing with my relatives.”

  “It is a peculiar situation. All of you carry on as if it’s still the Middle Ages. Why is that precisely?”

  “We’ve always been so isolated, and we’ve always had our traditions. No one has ever had the sense or the energy to make any changes.”

  She peeked up at him. “How about you? Wouldn’t you like to change things?”

  “Yes, but I can’t imagine how I would. I’d have to kick people out, and they’re all kin to me. It’s too exhausting to fight with them.”

  “It would be difficult.” They were quiet again, then after a bit, she said, “Thank you for allowing us to stay the night.”


  “It wasn’t my idea.”

  “I know. You won’t toss us out in the morning, will you?”

  “I might—if you aggravate me too much.”

  She studied his expression, what she could see of it anyway in the dim light. He seemed to be grinning with mischief.

  “You would not toss us out,” she scoffed. “Don’t claim to be an ogre.”

  “I am an ogre—or at least I can be if horrid conduct is required.”

  “Well, don’t be horrid to me. I won’t let you behave like a tyrant until we’ve had more of a chance to talk.”

  “Aren’t we talking now?” he asked.

  “Yes, but dare I mention Jane Prescott? I wouldn’t want to pitch you into a rage by raising an awkward topic.”

  “She’s not an awkward topic.”

  “She’s not?”

  “No. You story is preposterous, so if you prattle on about it, I’ll simply ignore you.”

  “You’ve just posed one of the most ludicrous statements ever made in my presence.”

  “You don’t get out much, do you?”

  “I get out plenty. Why don’t you believe me? What reason would I have to travel so far only to spew a lie?”

  “How about for money?”

  “For money! How would I gain money by lying to you?”

  “Melvina thinks you’re a confidence artist who will prey on my kindly nature so I’ll cough up a few of my hard-earned pounds.”

  “Melvina thinks that? Melvina—your sister-in-law who can’t have a bedroom floor swept or a slab of beef baked so it’s edible? You listen to that Melvina?”

  “When you put it that way, you force me to realize that perhaps I shouldn’t.”

  “First of all,” she said, “I doubt you have a kindly nature, so how could I prey on it?”

  “That’s an interesting question.”

  “And second of all, why would you pay me for spreading falsehoods about Jane?”

  “Essentially, you’d be blackmailing me. You’d hope I’ll buy your silence to prevent you from ruining my dead sister’s saintly reputation. Or maybe you’re plotting to persuade me to buy Jane from you—even though she’s a stranger who has no connection to me.”