by Cheryl Holt
Her initial impulse was to storm over and demand answers as to where he’d been since that humiliating morning at the church. But her second, more powerful impulse was to hide so he would never realize she was nearby. He was such a wily character, if she talked to him, she’d come away feeling as if the whole wedding debacle had been her fault.
She studied him avidly, thinking he was as handsome as he’d previously been. His golden hair shone brightly, and his green eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement. He looked interesting and sociable, and Winnie certainly hadn’t been immune to his many charms.
From how he and Freddie were carrying on, they were very cordial and definitely not strangers.
Freddie was a dodgy character too, and her worry spiraled. They were probably conspirators in a dubious scheme that would cheat some unsuspecting fellow out of his money. Was such a morass any of her business? Should she have an opinion about it?
On the spur of the moment, she couldn’t decide. Should John be apprised? He wouldn’t be happy to learn Freddie was pursuing mischief so close to Dunworthy Island. Then again—as with Melvina—he and Freddie had a relationship she didn’t fully understand, and he might not be keen to have her butt her nose into it.
She meandered toward them, staying out of sight behind crates and carriages. Ultimately, Holden climbed the stairs on the side of the tavern where there were rooms above the establishment. She continued to spy, and in a minute, he appeared in a window and gazed out at the ocean. If he peered down to the wharf, he didn’t see her.
Freddie was still on the corner, and before she could convince herself not to, she marched over to him.
He noticed her approaching, and he was startled. “Hello, Miss Watson. Fancy meeting you here. Why have you ventured into town?”
“I’m taking a walk.”
“It’s perfect weather for it.”
He tipped his hat as if he’d keep on, but she wouldn’t permit him to evade her interrogation. Nor would she give him time to concoct a credible lie.
“How are you acquainted with Holden Cartwright?”
He blanched. “Who?”
“I saw you with him. Don’t pretend you don’t know who he is.”
“I don’t have to pretend,” he snootily said, “because I don’t know the gentleman. Good day, Miss Watson.”
He huffed off, and her pulse was racing, her temper spiraling. If Mr. Townsend would fib about Holden, then something very devious was occurring.
It seemed Holden had an apartment over the tavern, and she was dying to knock on his door and pry out an explanation as to why he was in Dunworthy, but she didn’t. She couldn’t bear to speak with him. Outwardly, she exuded a confident demeanor, and people assumed she had an assertive personality. In most instances she did, but not in this one.
Holden had delivered the most mortifying episode of her life, and she hadn’t completely recovered from that terrible event. What benefit was there to confronting him? Could there ever be a benefit?
She had to ponder the best course.
She whirled away and headed back to the island.
* * * *
“You two shouldn’t be in here.”
Bobby glared at Huntly and Jane, but neither of them moved. They were in a storage room at the rear of the castle. It was situated next to a stairwell that led to the boat landing down at the base of the cliffs.
Once smuggled loot was unloaded, it was brought up and relabeled for sale. Bobby was cleaning, sweeping, and stacking boxes so it was easier to access the inventory.
Rex had commandeered a spot on the floor and was observing. Since the day the dog had arrived, he hadn’t left Bobby’s side. Various women had tried to shoo him out, but he refused to heed them, and they’d given up. He went where Bobby went.
Huntly gestured to the boxes and told Jane, “We sneak all of this in from our fishing boats, and we hide it from the tax collectors.”
“Huntly!” Bobby scolded.
“Isn’t that illegal?” Jane asked. “It sounds illegal.”
“Then we sell it to local taverns,” Huntly boasted. “It’s how we earn our money.”
Bobby was extremely exasperated. “Honestly, Huntly, if you don’t learn to be quiet, I’ll have to make you be quiet. Lord John would be so angry at you for blathering on like this. Should I hit you again to pound some sense into you?”
“She’s Lord John’s niece,” Huntly mulishly said. “She’d find out sooner or later.”
“Well, she shouldn’t find it out from you. You should be silent.”
Jane frowned at Bobby. “Huntly claims you’re working for Lord John.”
“What if I am?”
“Huntly also claims you swore an oath to him, but outsiders are never allowed to swear.”
Bobby scowled at Huntly who had the grace to look abashed.
“Maybe Huntly shouldn’t gossip so much,” Bobby said.
“Why were you permitted to pledge yourself?” Jane asked. “You’re not a Dunn.”
“Lord John let me.”
“Why didn’t he let me too?” she asked. “I’m his niece. If one of us was to be accepted by them, it should have been me.”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No.”
“You’re a girl.”
“So? What does that have to do with it?”
“I’m involved in men’s business. Females aren’t included.”
“You’re twelve, Bobby. You’re not a man yet.”
“I’m close enough.”
“Is the rumor true?” Huntly inquired. “He marked you? Show us your arm so Jane can see.”
Bobby sighed. “Huntly, you’re talking about subjects that are supposed to be a secret. We don’t share them with the whole world.”
Huntly wasn’t the smartest boy, and he was confused by Bobby’s chastisement. “I didn’t tell the whole world. I told Jane. She’s your sister, and she deserves to hear how you were singled out. It’s a huge honor.” Huntly peered over at Jane. “Lord John doesn’t pick just anybody. You ought to be very proud.”
After Bobby had pummeled Huntly, their relationship had altered in a strange manner Bobby couldn’t have predicted. Huntly was fascinated by Bobby, and he’d grown oddly devoted. He followed Bobby around like an annoying puppy, and Bobby couldn’t get rid of him.
Every facet of Bobby’s life had become interesting to Huntly, and Huntly’s own life at Dunworthy was so small and boring that, in comparison, Bobby’s was like a fairytale.
He constantly begged Bobby for stories about how they’d carried on at Benton, what their cottage had been like, how they’d furtively befriended their father’s other daughter, Alice, who used to sneak out of the manor to play with them in the woods.
Huntly was most captivated by Rex and how the dog had run across the country after Bobby. He pointlessly tried to pet Rex or encourage him to chase sticks, but Rex ignored him.
“Did Lord John put his mark on you?” Jane demanded.
Bobby shook his head. “Let it go, Jane. It doesn’t matter.”
Before he could guess what she intended, she grabbed him and pushed back the sleeve on his shirt. The brand was still rough and red, scabbed over and sore. Lord John had advised him not to bandage it, that it would heal quicker that way, but currently, it looked awful.
Jane was horrified, and Huntly ecstatic.
“You did it!” Huntly crowed. “You really did! I didn’t believe it.”
Bobby yanked away and jerked his sleeve down. “Pretend you didn’t see it, Jane. It’s no big deal.”
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“A little.”
“Why would you proceed? I don’t understand any of this.”
“I did it for you.” Bobby wished they were alone for what he viewed as a private conversation. “I wanted to secure my spot, so I could stay with you. I’ve been afraid they’d keep you, but force me and Miss Watson to depart. I
could never leave you here by yourself.”
“Will you have to change your name to Dunn? I’m proud of our name of Prescott, and you can’t change it and have a different one than me.”
“I’m not changing it.” She was such a worrier, and he patted her shoulder. “I’m just serving Lord John. That’s all it means. I’ll always be his most devoted retainer. I did it for you, but I did it for myself too—so I would have a place to call my own. I belong here now too.”
“I’m telling Miss Watson,” Jane said. “She has to know about this.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Bobby insisted. “It isn’t any of her business.”
“Yes, it is. She’s our guardian. You can’t hide this from her.”
They might have quarreled, but suddenly from over by the door, Miss Watson asked, “What can’t you hide from me?”
All three of them blanched, and Huntly vanished behind some crates, then tiptoed out.
Jane and Bobby froze, and a dozen terrifying scenarios rattled him. Miss Watson was the most honest, ethical person he’d ever met. She wouldn’t like to learn about the Dunn family enterprise. Nor would she like to learn about his new connection to Lord John.
Bobby would never deliberately upset her, but at the same time, she couldn’t discover any details that might create a morass for Lord John. His mind was awhirl as he figured out the best path. He would never lie to her, but he didn’t imagine he ought to be completely frank.
“From how you’re both gaping,” she said, “it’s clear you’re involved in mischief I won’t like. Who will start by explaining what it is?”
“It’s nothing, Miss Watson,” Bobby claimed.
To his great surprise, she was short with him—when she never lost her temper.
“I’ve had the worst day ever, Bobby! You and I have been through months of bad days together, so you grasp my frustration when I inform you that this one was particularly horrid. Now what nonsense are you pursuing and spit it out at once!”
He and Jane had to appear guilty as sin. They glanced at each other, then Jane said, “I think Bobby should tell you, but if he won’t, I will.”
“Fine,” Miss Watson curtly snapped. “Bobby, please begin.”
“I’m simply working for Lord John.” He hoped it sounded innocent and unimportant.
Jane scoffed. “Tell her the truth, Bobby.”
“Yes, Bobby,” Miss Watson repeated, “tell me the truth.”
Bobby took a deep breath and slowly released it. What could it hurt to confess his conduct? She’d likely hear the rumors anyway. Yet he needed to get her out of the room so she wasn’t too curious about the furtive inventory. She might not be overly concerned about his oath to Lord John, but she’d never countenance any lawbreaking.
“I’ve pledged myself to Lord John.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve promised to be loyal to him. In exchange, I can stay at Dunworthy.”
“You bound yourself without asking me?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry too.”
She was stunned. “Why didn’t you discuss it with me? We should have reviewed the possible ramifications.”
“I wasn’t sure what your opinion would be, but he offered me the chance, and I felt I should proceed. I can protect you and Jane now.”
She sighed. “Oh, Bobby, you don’t have to protect us.”
“I disagree. It seems to me that—ever since my father died—we’ve been in a very precarious position. I’ve arranged a safer future for us.”
She smiled a tired smile. “You’re such a good boy.”
“I try to be.” He stepped over to her. “Why don’t we walk up to the main hall, and I can clarify my reasons?”
But she didn’t budge. She laid a hand on a box—as if she might lift the lid and peek inside. “What kind of work will you be doing for him?”
“Whatever he requires. At the moment, I’m no better than a scullery maid. I sweep and clean, but as the years go by, I expect I’ll be promoted. I’m excellent at mathematics, and he needs a proficient accountant.” He grinned. “Why couldn’t he pick me?”
He could devise no swifter way to ingratiate himself than to manage Lord John’s money. If that role didn’t play out, he’d be happy to merely be Lord John’s enforcer. He wasn’t afraid of anyone, and he never backed down from a fight. Of course he’d have to grow quite a bit, but his father had been a large man, and he had no doubt he’d shoot up in height.
“I like that you’re planning ahead,” Miss Watson said, “but still, I’m very vexed by this. You should have come to me.”
“Probably.”
Jane unhelpfully said, “He swore an oath, and Lord John marked him. Make him show you his arm.”
Miss Watson might have demanded to see it, but instead—as he’d feared—she raised the lid and looked into the box where the bottles of wine were carefully packed in straw. She dawdled forever, struggling to deduce what she was witnessing.
“It’s French wine,” she ultimately murmured.
“Yes, it is,” Bobby admitted, “but let’s go upstairs and talk about Lord John. Jane tells me he’s sweet on you.”
Miss Watson studied the neat rows that indicated how much had been brought in. “Lord John is…is…smuggling foreign wine?”
“No, no.” Bobby waved away her question. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“Smuggling is against the law. We can’t be party to a crime.”
“We’re not.”
“Put down that broom, and we’ll find Lord John. You can’t be mixed up in this. I won’t permit it.”
“It’s not up to you, Miss Watson. I’ve vowed to obey him.”
“What about your duty to me? I’m supposed to watch over you, and I have decided you will not involve yourself in this venture. I will not allow it.”
Bobby glowered at Jane. There’d be all sorts of Hell to pay, and Bobby was the one who’d have to pay it.
“You stirred all this trouble,” he said to his sister. “Are you happy?”
“No,” she glumly mumbled.
Miss Watson pointed to the door. Bobby hesitated, nearly refused to accompany her, but in the end, he went as she’d commanded. He simply couldn’t imagine defying her, but he was disgusted with himself too.
He’d been Lord John’s servant for a few brief days, and he’d already failed to keep his secrets. What would happen to Bobby? How would Lord John react?
Bobby was morosely certain it wouldn’t be pleasant, and he could only hope Lord John wouldn’t take his oath and toss it back in his face.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“We have to speak with you, Lord John. Are you busy?”
“Yes, but come in anyway.”
Winnie stood with Bobby and Jane in the doorway to his office. He was meeting with some of his cousins. They were big, burly men who worked on the fishing boats and who lived in the cottages down in Dunn village. In many ways, they’d carried on in the same manner for centuries.
Their world was so different from the one in which she’d been raised. She’d never learned any of the tasks that so completely occupied their wives. She couldn’t cook or sew or clean a fish or stuff a mattress. Her father had been very modern and had believed girls should be educated as thoroughly as boys, so she’d received all the education he could provide.
It set her apart from the women at Dunworthy and made her an outsider as nothing else could. It created a chasm she would never be able to bridge, and it hurt to recognize that she’d never have a friend in the isolated, barren place.
John waved them in, and the men grumbled about not having finished their business, but they shuffled out without arguing. Very quickly, the room was quiet as a tomb. He was behind his desk, and there was a map open on it. He rolled it shut and put it in the corner.
He appeared happy and wonderful and eager to smooth over the awkward interval. The last time she’d been in
close proximity to him, she’d been in the hall by his private quarters. Melvina Dunn had exited his bedchamber, and the encounter had rattled Winnie, had sent her running over to Dunworthy town to get out of the castle for a few hours.
Then she’d bumped into Freddie and Holden, and she was still reeling from observing them together. To compound matters, she’d been searching for Bobby and Jane and had found them precisely where they shouldn’t have been.
She had no idea how she should view any of it, especially with regard to Bobby and Jane. She was their guardian, but she wasn’t their guardian too. Richard Slater back at Benton had retained final authority over them. She was just the glorified nanny who’d delivered them to Dunworthy.
She’d brought Jane to her uncle to discover if he would take her in, and he had. What remaining influence did Winnie have over her?
What about Bobby? He’d pledged himself to John, but he was only twelve. What responsibilities might he be required to assume over the years? Had Winnie any right to an opinion? What would snooty, awful Mr. Slater think of Bobby’s rash act? Was Winnie obligated to notify him?
And as to the smuggling…well…
She was rippling with fury, with questions and confused yearning. Her emotions were raw, and she felt abused and maltreated. She was extremely distressed, and with her and John being face to face, she couldn’t bear to bicker. She simply wished she’d gone to her room and had a nap.
He was all smiles. “Jane! I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been hoping to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“I heard from Mr. Slater at Benton.”
“If he told you anything horrid, he was lying. I never caused any trouble.”
John frowned. “No, he had no negative comments. He’s verified Miss Watson’s claim about my sister being your mother. Tonight at supper, I’ll announce it.”
Jane was alarmed. “Announce what?”
“That you’re my niece. You’re one of us now. A real Dunn.”
For a tense moment, Winnie was afraid Jane might retort with, I don’t want to be a Dunn!