by Cheryl Holt
John grabbed Bobby’s arm, and in a quick move, he pressed a piece of hot metal to Bobby’s skin—just above the elbow. There was a sizzle, then the smell of burning flesh, and for a moment, Bobby worried he might faint.
Then it was over. Bobby glanced down and saw that the letter “D” for Dunn had been seared into his skin. It was the Dunn mark of fidelity and connection. From this evening forward, he and Lord John were tightly bound.
Briefly, he wondered what Miss Watson’s opinion would be, but he’d never confide in her. The women in the castle weren’t privy to most of the men’s activities. It was like a clandestine society, with fascinating rituals and rules, and Miss Watson didn’t need to know about it.
Lord John tugged up his shirt sleeve, displaying his own mark of “D” in the same place. He patted Bobby on the back and said, “You’re one of us, young Bobby.”
“Good.”
“So I have some important information to share, and I have important work for you to do tonight—and most every night. It’s how we earn our income to feed our families. Let’s walk to the cave entrance down by the water. I’ll show you what it entails.”
“By any chance, Lord John,” Bobby asked, “are you a smuggler?” He’d suspected the truth for awhile.
“We shouldn’t give it such a negative name,” Lord John said. “We’re merchants, but we engage in commerce that we don’t mention to others. We’ll leave it at that.”
Bobby grinned and followed him to where the island met the sea, and the boats of smuggled liquor bobbed in the waves.
CHAPTER TEN
“I have to speak with you.”
“Not now, Melvina.”
“I’m sorry, but this can’t wait.”
She strutted into his bedchamber, and John sighed with aggravation. A footman had just brought his breakfast, delivering more of Cook Tim’s terrific food. It was sitting on the table by the window, the aromas making his mouth water. He was simply anxious to eat, then get on with his day.
Melvina was always on a mission to remind him that they were united in running the castle, but he didn’t have to be reminded. He was grateful to her for how she’d kept things going after Duncan’s death, but he wouldn’t bestow any medals for effort.
The place was a decrepit mess, and she was a horrid administrator. The exhausting part was that she didn’t seem to notice the awful conditions and had no ability to implement improvements.
She was content to carry on in squalor, and Winnie’s modest attempts to fix the situation enraged her. Much of her pique was due to Winnie usurping a bit of control. Melvina didn’t like to cede any, but Winnie was an assertive force of nature. He was happy to have her pitch in—particularly when Melvina didn’t realize modifications were necessary.
“Fine,” he groused, “but I’m starving. You’ll have to harangue at me while I’m eating.”
“I never harangue at you. I merely point out the obvious.”
“If you say so.”
He went to the table and plopped down. She plopped down too and was blessedly silent while he dug in. Once he’d finished, she said, “I’ve had several complaints this morning.”
“About what?”
“You allowed Bobby Prescott to help unload last night’s shipment of liquor, and the men are upset about it—both because he’s an outsider and because he’s a child.”
“He may be twelve, but he’s got more sense than a hundred of our relatives.”
“It doesn’t alter the fact that he’s an outsider. People are angry.”
“So they approached you instead of me?”
“There’s no reason to be in a snit about it. I have always been here. I have always been in charge. You left to attend school, and you never came back. They know me in ways they don’t know you.”
“Let me be very clear.” He tossed his napkin on his plate. “The castle is mine. The island is mine. You constantly nag about our traditions, and the main one is that the lord is king. At the current moment, that would be me. If I want to include Bobby Prescott in any venture, it’s my business, and I won’t be chastised.”
“I told everyone that would be your opinion, but they begged me to clarify their position. Don’t bark at me. I’m simply the messenger.”
“Yes, well, next time a bunch of trembling milksops cower behind your skirt, tell them to grow a spine and protest to me themselves.”
“If Bobby ever betrays us, they’ll blame you.”
“He won’t ever betray us.”
“I hope not.”
“If I’d suspected he might,” he said, “I wouldn’t have confided in him, and you needn’t worry. He pledged himself to me.”
“He pledged himself?” She was astounded and annoyed. “We were speculating over it. I stuck up for you and insisted you wouldn’t have permitted it. He’ll assume he can remain at Dunworthy now.”
“Yes, he will. He’s eager to protect Jane. I’m sure it will greatly surprise you, but he doesn’t feel he can rely on us to watch over her.”
“Speaking of Jane…”
“Were we?” John asked.
“You’re prepared to publicly claim her as your niece, but should you proceed? It will levy responsibilities that will end up costing you.”
“Such as?”
“She’s not some fisherman’s daughter. She’ll require schooling and pretty clothes and boarding school tuition. Eventually, she’ll demand a grand marriage. She’ll expect a dowry.”
He shrugged. “If it ever comes to that, I’ll give her one.”
“I’d like you to pester her about money, so we can dig out her secrets.”
John frowned. “Why would I?”
“I’ve tried to pry out information, but she won’t share any. She’s an earl’s daughter. I’m betting we could wring an allowance out of her father’s family. Or perhaps he bequeathed a trust fund we could dip our fingers into.”
“You’re such a mercenary,” he said.
“Someone should think about these kinds of details. You never do.”
“Jane doesn’t have a hidden fortune. After her father died, his widow refused to support her any longer. She was kicked out. It’s as simple as that.”
“According to who?” Melvina scoffed. “Miss Watson?”
“Yes—and Bobby. She’s a penniless orphan.”
“I wouldn’t automatically take their word for it. Would you mind if I write to Benton to inquire?”
“I’d mind very much, and I forbid it. After how they treated Jane and Bobby, it’s my specific intent that we will never correspond with any of them again.”
“You’re being ridiculous. In their original letters, they were…”
She blanched, realizing what she’d nearly admitted, then she didn’t continue.
He glared at her. “In their original letters…what? What do you know about them?”
“I…ah…don’t know anything.”
“Really? Miss Watson contacted me. The estate agent too. I’ve been wondering what became of those letters. I don’t suppose you’d care to apprise me.”
They engaged in a battle of wills she could never win. He could practically see her frantic thoughts as she decided how to reply. Should she prevaricate? Should she brazen it out?
Ultimately, she said, “You’ve certainly started to accept Miss Watson’s version of events on a regular basis.”
“We’re not talking about Miss Watson, so don’t change the subject. What happened to the letters from Benton? Did you burn them or what?”
She hemmed and hawed, then finally confessed, “Yes, I burned them. You weren’t back from the army yet, and I wasn’t about to communicate with strangers who were spewing lies.”
“They weren’t lying.”
“How could I be sure? Your mother painted Rebecca as a saint who perished from illness when she was alone and far from home. Everyone believed that about her. Why would I ruin their memories?�
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There was an odd sort of sense in her reasoning. “What about Jane though? They were threatening to throw her out on the road.”
“I didn’t even know the blasted girl. Why would I be concerned about her?”
“Honestly, Melvina. You make me despair for mothers everywhere.”
“And she wasn’t in peril. They were trying to find a place for her to live, and they begged me to provide it. That’s why we should approach them about an allowance. They’re dumping her on us, so they ought to chip in on expenses. We should discover how much they could be coerced into supplying.”
He shook his head with disgust. “No, and don’t you dare go behind my back. I won’t put up with any mischief. Swear to me you won’t bother them.” She was stubbornly silent, and he snapped, “Melvina! Swear it to me.”
“All right, all right. I won’t bother them.”
“Is that all we have to discuss? Tell me it is, for you’ve exhausted my patience.”
“No, there’s one other matter.”
“What is it? Have mercy on me and be brief.”
“Why are you flirting with Miss Watson?”
The accusation shocked him. He’d naively assumed himself to be furtive in his interest, but he should have remembered—in the castle—there were no secrets.
Still though, he felt compelled to insist, “I’m not flirting with Miss Watson. Don’t be absurd.”
“Jane saw you creeping out of her bedchamber, and she accidently spilled the beans to me.”
“If she claims she saw me, she was dreaming—or maybe having a nightmare.”
“Don’t worry about her spreading gossip. I warned her to shut up.” She studied him, then snorted with irritation. “Have you seduced her? Is that what’s occurred?”
“No, Melvina, and pardon me if I categorically state that my relationship with her—or anyone—is none of your business.”
“Not my business!” she huffed. “Everything that transpires in this castle is my business. If you’re not careful, she’ll be tying a leg-shackle onto your ankle, but Winifred Watson will never be Mistress of Dunworthy. We don’t want her here, and we wouldn’t tolerate it. Most especially me.”
In the short collection of remarks, she’d hurled so many outrageous ones that he couldn’t deduce where to begin in addressing them. He hated to quarrel, but he was in charge, and she and his kin had to come to grips with that fact.
“First of all,” he said, “even if I was considering marriage to Miss Watson—which I’m not—she would never agree to have me. She’d never trap herself on this island where there is so little to recommend the spot.”
“It’s good enough for me and you,” Melvina seethed.
“But not for her. She’s from the bigger world, and she’ll crave more in her life than we could ever furnish. And second of all, if I ever break down and select a bride, all of you will accept my choice. You’ll welcome her or you’ll leave.”
She scowled. “You pretend to recall our traditions, but you don’t.”
“What don’t I recall?”
“If you wed, you have to wed me. I’m your brother’s widow, and it’s your duty.”
“It might have been in ancient times, when there were Vikings in residence who had a dozen wives, but not now. Were you counting on it, Melvina? If you were, you’ve been very foolish.”
“I’ve been counting on it from the day Duncan died. Why else would I have stayed and waited for you to return?”
“How about because it’s your home?”
“I could have gone to live with my mother in Dunworthy town.”
He chuckled. “Yes, I’m certain that would have satisfied you.”
“I’m Mistress Dunn. I’ve held that position since I was a girl, and I’m entitled to hold it until I’m cold in the ground. Please tell me you won’t take it away from me.”
She looked genuinely stricken, and he couldn’t bear that he’d upset her. Yet he couldn’t imagine binding himself to her, and he was disturbed that she’d expected such an unrealistic ending.
He leaned forward and patted her hand. “Don’t fret over this, Melvina. Promise me you won’t. At the moment, it’s a nonissue.”
“You can’t ruin Miss Watson. It would be a disaster.”
“I have no desire to ruin her.”
“What about me? Where do I stand? I’ve been positive I was safe, and now, I find out I’m probably not.”
“If I wed, it won’t be for many years. I’m content to have you in your role of confidante and advisor.”
“Will you marry me—once you’re ready? Or are you informing me it won’t ever occur?”
Cautiously, he said, “I’m merely stating that I’m not marrying anybody for a very, very long time.”
“So there’s still a chance for me.”
No, there’s not! he yearned to shout, but she shuddered with such relief it would have been cruel to blurt out the truth. He bit his tongue when he shouldn’t have.
“Will that be all?” he asked instead. “I’m an hour behind on my chores.”
“We’re finished. I’ll let you get to work.”
She flashed a wan smile and departed, and he blew out a heavy breath.
He didn’t owe Melvina anything except respect as his brother’s widow—respect she didn’t really deserve—but if John didn’t wed her, his more conventional relatives would have a fit.
They viewed his habits as suspect, as being too modern and unusual. The only aspect that mattered to them was the Dunn blood in a person’s veins, but in his opinion, Dunn blood wasn’t exactly an indication of quick thinking or bright intellect. He’d pick Bobby for a task over all of his cousins.
Melvina had left the door open, and out in the hall, he suddenly heard Winnie say, “Hello, Mistress Dunn. What are you doing here?”
“What do you imagine I’m doing?” Melvina answered.
“Is Lord John up?”
“Oh, yes, he’s definitely up.” Melvina oozed with salacious innuendo. “We had a long night, so we slept in. We were having a private breakfast. May I help you?”
“Ah…no,” Winnie mumbled. “I’ll catch up with him later.”
“I wore him out, Miss Watson. I doubt he’ll have any energy later. You might have to wait until tomorrow to speak with him.”
“Melvina!” he grumbled. “What game are you playing?”
He pushed back his chair and hurried out to tamp down any misconceptions, but the hall was empty, and both women had vanished.
* * * *
Winnie wandered down the wharf in Dunworthy town. The harbor was busy, filled with fishing boats and larger cargo ships, and there were people all over. It was hectic enough that she could amble about and be invisible.
After encountering Melvina Dunn outside John’s bedchamber, she’d been desperate to escape the island for a bit. With the tide going out, she’d walked over the sand bridge.
She knew better than to believe Melvina on any topic, and she had no connection to John Dunn. He and Melvina had a lengthy history that she didn’t comprehend. They practiced odd customs that were unfathomable to her, and she was a stranger who would always be assessed that way.
But still, she had assumed she and John had an understanding. Didn’t they?
In a different, more normal world, they’d be marching to the altar, but she had no father or brother to arrange that ending, and actually, she wasn’t certain she’d like to have him as her husband.
As his wife, she’d be set above all his cousins. They would hate it, and she would never force that conclusion on them.
She stared across the water to where the castle poked through the clouds. The desolate spot called to her on a level she couldn’t explain. She felt as if it was wrapping tendrils around her ankles to hold her in place so she could never leave.
Were John and Melvina having an affair? Might they even be betrothed? Why else would Melvina have been s
trolling out of his bedchamber so early in the morning?
Winnie shouldn’t have been near it either, but she’d spent the night expecting him to sneak in to be with her. He hadn’t, and on being confronted with how easily he could disregard her, she’d been inordinately sad.
She’d been anxious to talk to him, and it had been in a frantic, possessive manner that boded ill for her future on Dunworthy. She’d cast her lot with Bobby and Jane, and John had agreed to let them remain, but if Melvina was amorously involved with him, what would happen to Winnie?
Melvina was jealous and cruel, and Winnie was her enemy, so how could she ever be safe?
She’d behaved like an idiot in a dozen ways that had left her vulnerable and exposed. Bobby and Jane needed her protection, but what if Melvina kicked her out and John refused to intervene? What then?
Could she abandon Bobby and Jane to Jane’s peculiar relatives? Could she depart without them? She didn’t have the means to support them, so she couldn’t abscond with them. They had to stay, and she had to ingratiate herself so she could stay with them, but could she sit in the shadows and watch John and Melvina together as a couple?
The very idea made her sick to her stomach.
She glanced down the block, and on the corner, Freddie Townsend was chatting with another man next to a tavern. She winced. In her current mood, she had no desire to bump into him. She was about to head in the other direction, when his companion turned, and she could clearly see his face.
She almost fainted with shock.
Holden Cartwright—the despicable fiancé who’d jilted her at the altar—was dawdling on a public street in Dunworthy and blithely conversing with Freddie Townsend.
Her jaw dropped in astonishment. She truly thought she’d never cross paths with him again, and she was swamped by numerous potent emotions: fury, surprise, curiosity, extreme aggravation. How dare he show up in Dunworthy when she was there too!
Did he live in the area? Was he passing through? Whatever his purpose, he couldn’t have an honorable motive for being present. Was he seducing some other gullible girl? Was he promising love and marriage while checking the location of the exits so he could quickly escape?