Jilted by a Scoundrel

by Cheryl Holt

  “I never meant for them to be harmed.”

  “Really? Did you notice when Bobby was thrown out of the carriage?”

  “No, sir. We were traveling quite fast. I didn’t notice.”

  “What is it you thought would transpire once Miss Watson arrived in Falmouth?”

  “I had no idea, Lord John. I tell you true. I was just the driver.”

  At his cowardly refusal to own up to his perfidy, Winnie was so furious she could have leapt down and slapped him.

  She bestirred herself to comment to John. “He’s lying, Lord John. He injured me.” She tugged on the sleeves of her dress so people could see the bruises on her wrists. “His hands left these marks.”

  “I know.” John patted her arm as if she was an invalid, but he kept his scathing gaze on Arnold. “You were just the driver?”

  The other man didn’t dare offer more of a defense. He fell to his knees. “I’m guilty of many sins, Lord John, and I’m ready to accept my punishment. I simply hope you’ll be merciful.”

  “It’s to be a year and a day in my dungeon,” John solemnly stated. “The minute you’re released, you’ll depart Dunworthy forever. You’ll never return. Not while I draw breath.”

  “Please, Lord John,” Arnold implored, “I’ll willingly spend my sentence in the dungeon, but don’t banish me afterward. Dunworthy is my home.”

  “Be glad I didn’t order you hanged.”

  John gestured to Bobby, and he dragged Arnold out. Arnold didn’t protest or cause a scene, and she wondered if it was finally over so she could head to her bedchamber and write to Miss Bates about her plans to come to London.

  John interrupted her scattered musings. “Was that verdict all right with you? I can still hang him if you’d like.”

  She was startled to hear she had a choice. “It shouldn’t be up to me. Whatever you decide is fine.”

  “You can definitely have an opinion. If I’m not being hard enough on these fiends, let me know.”

  “I’m content with your rulings.”

  She couldn’t force herself to focus or care. She’d never been cruel or vindictive, but their actions toward her were fueling an urge for revenge that she didn’t like. She just wanted to escape and never encounter any of them again.

  There was another kerfuffle in the back, then Bobby and Cook Tim escorted Melvina into the hall. Her wrists and ankles were bound, lending her a hazardous air, as if they’d all be at risk if she walked freely.

  She’d been in the dungeon for a week, and clearly, it was a harsh penalty. She was completely bedraggled and looked as if she’d been incarcerated for years. As she reached the dais where Winnie was sitting next to John, she was livid.

  Apparently, she mistakenly felt belligerence would work well with John. “Your doxy is still in residence. Why?”

  “I chased after her and stopped what you had set in motion.”

  “Where is Freddie? Since Miss Watson is here, it’s obvious he’s a total incompetent.”

  “He told me what he’d arranged for her, and he claimed it was all your idea.”

  “I bet he did,” Melvina fumed. “I merely had him remove her from the castle. I can’t guess what he intended beyond that.”

  “You expect me to believe such a pathetic story?”

  “Yes,” she spat. “Are we finished? I’d like to head to the grotto to bathe, then I’m eager to take a nap in my own bed.”

  John studied her as if she were an alien species he’d never previously observed.

  “No, we’re not finished,” he said. “Not even close.”

  Melvina huffed with offense, as if John was being an irksome pest. “Get on with it then. What else is there to discuss?”

  “What indeed?” John mused.

  Winnie was overcome by the worst wave of fury. She remembered how hostile Melvina had always been, how malicious and spiteful, and then—on that last day—how terribly dangerous.

  She could barely remain in her seat, lest she march down and pummel the woman bloody, which was so out of character that she frightened herself.

  She leaned to John and whispered, “May I be excused?”

  “No.”

  “I can’t bear to watch her strutting and bragging.”

  “She won’t be strutting much longer, and it’s our way that you sit in judgment. You were the person who was harmed, so the castigation is part of your compensation.”

  It was the Dunn way, but it wasn’t her way. She didn’t point it out though. She simply nodded. The sooner he issued his edict, the sooner it would be over.

  John asked Melvina, “Have you a defense you’d like to raise?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure that should be your reply? You wouldn’t like to beg my pardon?”

  “No.”

  Melvina had never been particularly smart, and she viewed herself as being much more important than she actually was. She didn’t understand how angry John was or how she needed to at least pretend to be contrite.

  “How much money have you stolen from me?” he asked.

  “Anything I took I deserved to have.”

  “By what standard?”

  “By any standard. I managed this place for a decade. You never visited. You never bothered to check on us.”

  “I sent you all the wages I earned in the army.”

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  People gasped, and John said, “You used to write with news of the calamitous fiscal conditions. You’d demand I find even more money than what I’d provided.”

  “We usually were in dire straits. I wasn’t being deceitful.”

  “But you kept any extra for yourself.”

  “Why shouldn’t I have? I was here. I was in charge. At this late date, you have no right to judge me.”

  “You constantly harp about Dunn traditions. The main custom is that the lord rules and passes sentence.”

  “Yes, but you have no authority over me.”

  “What have you to say to Bobby?”

  Melvina peered over at him. “He doesn’t look too bad. I guess he survived his recent difficulties.”

  “How about Miss Watson? Is there a comment you’d like to share with her?”

  Melvina’s snide gaze flitted to Winnie, then it traveled back to John—as if Winnie were invisible. Melvina asked him, “Where is Freddie? You still haven’t told me.”

  “Freddie escaped, and it’s a good thing too. If I’d caught him, I’d have killed him.”

  Winnie peeked at John, and she couldn’t decide if he was lying or not. Her memories of the event were hazy, but she recalled that he’d stayed in the woods with Mr. Townsend. Then he’d returned to the carriage alone.

  Had Mr. Townsend run away? Would John have permitted it? Winnie wouldn’t speculate, and so long as she never bumped into him again, she’d be content with that.

  “That’s your answer about Freddie?” Melvina asked John. “You let him escape? He was your friend, but I appear to be the only one who’s curious about him.”

  “You’re correct, Melvina. You are the only one who’s curious.”

  “Aren’t you worried about him?”

  “No, and this is your last chance to speak to me. Are there any extenuating circumstances you’d like me to consider?”

  “You’re a pompous ass, John. I’ve always thought so.”

  People gasped again and muttered with derision. Winnie stared down at her, wondering how she could think to walk out of the encounter without significant consequences being imposed. Didn’t she recognize the value of repentance?

  John rose from his chair, and he was regal and commanding, like a king or a black prince.

  “As lord of Dunworthy,” he imperiously announced, “I sentence you, Melvina Dunn, to a year and a day in my dungeon.”

  “What?” Melvina was confused, as if she didn’t comprehend plain English.

  “It will be a year and
a day. Upon your release, you will be sent away to America. I will pay for your passage and put you on the ship myself. It is my specific intent that you never set foot on Dunworthy Island again.”

  “No, no, no,” she mumbled, and it had finally dawned on her that the meeting hadn’t gone at all as she’d planned. “John, I am your sister-in-law. I am your brother’s widow! You can’t treat me like this. It’s not acceptable.”

  “I find you guilty of theft and duplicitous conduct. I find you guilty of malice and dangerous scheming. You are not welcome here, Melvina Dunn, and you no longer have a place.”

  For a Dunn relative, it was the harshest verdict he could have levied. Her jaw dropped in astonishment. “You can’t be serious. What were you hoping to hear from me? That I’m sorry? All right, all right, I’m sorry. Is that what you want?”

  “There is nothing you can tell me, Melvina.” John glared out at the crowd. “My decree has been rendered. Is there any person present who disagrees with it?”

  The spectators shook their heads, and Melvina frowned over her shoulder and realized she had no allies.

  “Disloyal bastards!” she seethed.

  “We’ve all had enough of you,” John said, “and I will escort you to your cell myself. This tribunal is adjourned, and there will be no socializing afterward. When I return, I expect my hall to be empty.”

  He jumped down and stormed over to Melvina. He grabbed her arm and started out. She froze, being stunned by how swiftly and how egregiously the trial had ended for her.

  Then she wailed and cursed at John. She alternated between pleading for leniency and accusing him of perfidy, but he was much bigger than she was. Despite how she fought, he dragged her out, and it grew silent as they vanished into the bowels of the castle.

  The audience glanced at each other, then they grumbled and whispered. One by one, they flitted out. None of them wished to be lurking when John returned. It didn’t seem wise to enrage him further.

  Winnie dawdled in her chair until everyone had cleared out, then she stood and proceeded to her room.

  Jane called, “Where are you going, Miss Watson?”

  “I’m tired, and I have some letters to write. I’ll be in my bedchamber.”

  “Would you like me to walk with you?”

  “No, I’m fine, and I’ll be fine from now on.”

  * * * *

  “Are you busy? May I speak to you for a minute?”

  “I’m busy, Jane,” John said to her, “but of course you can speak to me. Come in.”

  He was in his office, seated at his desk and tabulating the pilfered wealth he’d received during the court hearings. Numerous other items had been secretly deposited in the main hall in the dark of night when no one would note the identity of the thief.

  With his felonious relatives having been smacked down good and hard, he was much richer. It was an odd conclusion to a terrible episode, but he wasn’t upset over how matters had resolved. His finances had drastically recovered.

  Best of all, two-thirds of the cousins had been ordered off the island. Those remaining had professed their fealty to John and their lack of resentment toward Winnie.

  He should have had a talk with her, but he’d been preoccupied with family business, and she’d been so drained by her ordeal that he’d left her alone. But he’d like her to begin hiring new staff, and with so many servants being fired, they needed a hoard of replacements. Winnie would know how to search for and pick stellar candidates.

  He planned to marry her as soon as he felt she could bear to consider his proposal, so eventually, the castle would be her castle. She should select the employees who would be working for her.

  Jane entered and sat across from him. In the days since she’d arrived, she’d proved herself indispensible and—as with his binding Bobby—he was so delighted by her.

  When she’d been hiding from Melvina, she’d cut her hair and had dressed herself like a boy so she could blend in. She’d chopped it at her shoulders, and he thought it was very fetching, but when Winnie had first seen it, she’d nearly fainted.

  “How is your hair?” he asked her.

  “It’s growing slowly, and it’s definitely easier to brush.”

  She was holding some papers, and he gestured to them. “What brings you to my dull, drafty office?”

  “I have another sister. Actually, I have several half-siblings.”

  “I’d heard that.”

  “When Bobby and I were still at Benton, we lived with one of them. Daisy?”

  “Miss Watson has mentioned her. What became of her? I don’t recollect.”

  “She went to stay with her aunt, and we came to Dunworthy.” She pointed to the papers. “Daisy wrote to me. She says that Lord Benton—he’s my father’s brother—might let us visit her in London. Or we might be able to travel to Benton and have a holiday in our old house.”

  “Miss Watson mentioned that too.”

  “If he invited us, could Bobby and I go?”

  John’s initial reaction—as when he’d discussed it with Winnie—was to categorically refuse, but Lord Benton was Jane’s uncle. If he arranged for Jane and Bobby to visit their sister, John could hardly reject the offer. But who could guess if it would ever occur? For the moment, it merely sounded like two girls dreaming, so it was easy to be magnanimous.

  “Yes, you could go,” he said. “I’m sure it would be very fun.”

  “We’d need to use a carriage, and we might need some money to pay for our expenses.”

  “If the excursion ever transpires, I’d be happy to pay for it.” She grinned with pleasure, making him glad he’d obliged her.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome. Have you told Bobby?”

  “Yes, but he insists it will never happen, so I’m ignoring him.”

  “Why would he suppose it won’t happen?”

  “We don’t know our Uncle Peyton very well, but at Benton, he was very cruel to us. He promised we could remain, but once we believed him, he kicked us out.” She scowled. “He fired Miss Watson too, for being insubordinate.”

  Winnie had already supplied the answer, but he raised a brow. “Was she?”

  Jane grinned again. “Yes, but just to his estate agent, Mr. Slater. He deserved it though. He constantly shouted at her and called her bad names.”

  “If your uncle was so awful to you, why would he invite you to London?”

  “Daisy claims he’s turned out to be kind, that he didn’t kick us out. It was all Mr. Slater, but Bobby thinks I’m being ridiculous. I, on the other hand, am an optimist, and I will keep my fingers crossed.”

  “Good.”

  He nodded as if he’d keep his fingers crossed too, but if Lord Benton had been rude to Winnie, it was a reason John could cite to prevent the trip. No aristocratic idiot would be horrid to her ever again.

  “I have to tell you something else,” Jane said. “I have to confess it.”

  “Is it hideous? Will I swoon with dismay?”

  “I hope not.”

  “Spit it out then, so we can deal with it in the open. I’ve had enough of my relatives concealing information.”

  “It’s not me. It’s Miss Watson.”

  John was instantly on alert. “What about her?”

  “Since you and Bobby brought her home, she’s been so sad. I went to her room to ask if she’d like to walk out on the cliffs. I thought it might cheer her, but she wasn’t there.”

  Jane fidgeted, but didn’t continue, and John said, “Well…?”

  “I might have…ah…poked around in her correspondence.”

  “Jane, you scamp!”

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “Not yet and not with me. Miss Watson might have some remarks to share—once she learns you snooped.” He leaned in and murmured, “What have you discovered?”

  “She’s quietly preparing to leave.”

  “No!”

&
nbsp; “Yes! She was writing to Miss Bates that she’ll be in London soon, but she didn’t finish the letter, so she must have been interrupted.” Jane wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t peek in a drawer or anything. It was lying on her desk where anyone could read it.”

  “You have it there?”

  “Yes.”

  She slid it over to him. Quickly, he scanned what Winnie had penned.

  “Who is Miss Bates?” he inquired.

  “She’s my sister Daisy’s aunt, the one Daisy’s been living with.”

  “Are she and Miss Watson friends?”

  “Maybe. They’re about the same age, and they seemed very cordial.”

  John remembered how, a few weeks earlier, Winnie had received a letter from Miss Bates. She’d replied and had asked John to mail it for her, but John had destroyed it, being determined that Winnie never escape.

  Had she been plotting her exodus ever since? The notion didn’t bear contemplating, and if he wasn’t careful, he might glance around someday and she’d have vanished.

  “She’s not leaving,” he scoffed.

  “Can you stop her? Bobby says we have no right to boss her, and she can depart if she wants.”

  “Of course we are the boss of her,” John staunchly responded. “If we weren’t watching over her every second, what sort of jams might she land herself in?”

  “Precisely.”

  “She’s a Dunn now too, isn’t she? I officially declare it.”

  Jane beamed with satisfaction. “If she’s a Dunn, you and I can definitely boss her.”

  “I am in charge here, and I decree that she will stay at Dunworthy where she belongs. What is your opinion, Jane Dunn Prescott?”

  “My opinion is exactly the same as yours.”

  He reached over, and they shook on it, then he pointed to the door.

  “Take the letter to her room, so she doesn’t realize it’s missing. I’ll find her, and tell her our verdict. Do you know where she is?”

  “No, but she can’t be far.”

  A terrifying prospect rattled him. “She hasn’t…ah…snuck away, has she, without our noticing?”

  “No. I checked her dresser. Her clothes are there, and her portmanteau is stuffed under the bed.”

  “My dear little niece, you are quite amazing.” He gestured to the door again. “Now get going with that letter.”