The Wicked Heir (Blackhaven Brides Book 12)

by Mary Lancaster

  “Evening, Baines. Been here all night?”

  “And most of the day if you want the truth.”

  “The gentleman I was just talking to—has he been here all day, too?”

  “Nah, just this evening.”

  “Did he meet anyone here?”

  “Not that I saw. Seemed intent on getting bosky without any help.”

  Jon nodded thoughtfully. He couldn’t really imagine Claud Darcy trying to kill Jess just to get her out the way of his betrothed, or his mistress. But stranger things had happened. “See any other toffs in here the last couple of days?”

  Bains shrugged. “A few. Why?”

  Jon lifted his hand to reveal two guinea coins. Bains scooped them up without seeming to see them.

  “I’d like to know of any transactions involving toffs. Maybe you could even draw any you see.”

  “Maybe I could,” Baines grinned, tugged his forelock, and shouted for more ale.

  Jon fought his way out of the fug and into the fresh, cold air. It was time to collect his horse and ride back to Whalen.

  *

  The following morning, Jess and Crabby were still breakfasting when Cousin Hector called to say goodbye.

  “Goodbye?” Jess queried, civilly offering him a cup of coffee and trying not to sound too relieved. “Are you leaving Blackhaven?”

  Hector sat across the table from her while Crabby poured him a cup of coffee. “Yes, I’m going to stay with friends in Yorkshire for a few days and then I’ll travel back to London. Unless you require my escort when his lordship chooses to travel south?”

  “I have no idea when that will be,” Jess said. “So, I wouldn’t stay north on our account.”

  “His lordship is deriving some benefit from the famous waters then?” Hector asked.

  “I think he derives benefit from Jon’s presence,” she replied frankly.

  “Then Jonnie really does mean to give up the sea and return home?”

  “Who knows?” Jess said lightly.

  Hector picked up his coffee cup, meeting her gaze with a smile she didn’t quite like. “I rather thought you would, being engaged to marry him. Having second thoughts, cousin?”

  “Not in the least,” Jess said at once. “His returning to Viscral and our engagement are two different things.”

  “Are you sure his lordship sees it that way? He can rewrite his will again, you know.”

  “Of course, he may do so as often as he wishes,” she said impatiently. “That is his privilege.”

  Hector drank down his coffee and lowered the cup back to its saucer. “Indeed, it is. But I beg you will remember, cousin, men do not change. Not his lordship, and not Jonnie Tallon.”

  Jess opened her mouth to retort, but Crabby broke in, demanding in her rough way, “Shall I see if his lordship is receiving?”

  “No, no,” Hector replied, rising to his feet. “I’m too well acquainted with his lordship’s morning temper. Merely pass on my affectionate duty and farewells. Cousin.” He held out his hand, and Jess felt obliged to take it. “Remember where I am if you need me,” he said, giving her fingers a significant squeeze before he released them and made his stately way to the door.

  “How can I remember where he is?” Jess demanded when the door had closed behind him. “He never told us where in Yorkshire he was going!”

  “Well, why would you need him anyway?” Crabby said reasonably. “You have Mr. Tallon.”

  Hardly. Jess doubted any woman—except perhaps Izlan—ever had Jon Tallon. He was far too elusive.

  *

  Jess was returning to the hotel with Lord Viscral, after taking the waters, when she caught sight of a familiar figure stepping out of the coffee house. The man had a bandage round his head, not entirely covered even when he replaced his hat on top.

  “Goodness!” Jess exclaimed and came to a halt on the flags, forcing his lordship to pause, too, or stomp on alone. “Claud? What on earth happened to you?”

  With a quick, rueful grin, Claud veered across the road to them. “Good morning, Jess, my lord.” He touched his bandaged head. “Dashing, don’t you think?”

  “Not if you dashed into a wall or down the stairs,” Jess said worriedly. “Are you badly hurt?”

  “Lord, no, nothing like that.” Claude glanced past her, and his face abruptly changed. A frown replaced his slightly embarrassed, good nature. A wariness, something very like anger entered his eyes.

  Jess could not help following his gaze to an approaching horseman. At once her heart skipped a beat, for it was Jonathan.

  “Ha!” Lord Viscral greeted him.

  “Well met, Father. I was just on my way to see you.” He bowed in the saddle, his gaze flickering over Jess and Claud as he murmured their names.

  “I’ll be back in five minutes,” his lordship said, starting suddenly across the road. “I’ve just seen a friend.”

  He might have, or it might simply have been a way of making Jon wait for him. A quick glance at Jon told her he wondered the same thing, for he was watching his father stride toward the coffee house, frustration in his eyes. However, he quickly brought his gaze back to Claud.

  “What happened to you?” he said, dismounting and turning to face them once more. For the first time, Jess glimpsed the faint bruise on the side of the face. Fortunately, it looked no worse than last night. And at least he was not sporting a bandage like Claud.

  “I wondered if you might tell me,” Claude said as their eyes met.

  “I?” Jon asked.

  Claud glanced at Jess, looking uncomfortable, and then he shrugged. “To be honest, I can’t remember what the devil happened, but I do recall seeing you in the tavern. I believe we were quarrelling.”

  “Only in the mildest sense,” Jon said. “It was hardly the material for a tavern brawl. I hope you weren’t foolish enough to pick a fight with anyone else in there.”

  “So do I! But if I had, I’d probably be dead.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Jess demanded. “You were both in that horrid tavern, quarrelling? And you were so intoxicated you can’t remember who hit you?”

  “Or even if you fell over,” Jon said brutally.

  Claud flushed.

  “What were you quarrelling about?” Jess demanded while she wondered if the same men who had attacked her and Jon had also hurt Claud.

  Claud shook his head, although she could have sworn a gleam of memory lit his eyes for an instant.

  “He can’t remember that either,” Jon said wryly. “Besides, it was more of a discussion than a quarrel, though I must have riled you more than I thought, Darcy. Do you remember leaving the tavern?”

  “Vaguely. I remember walking…”

  “Walking where?”

  Claude’s gaze flickered. “Near the theatre, I think. I was on my way back to the inn. Then I landed on the ground. I suppose I might have fallen, but I remember going down with some force. It’s all a bit of a muddle to be honest, and I can’t quite recall whether the crack on the head came before I hit the ground.”

  “Interesting,” Jon murmured. “Did you lose consciousness?”

  “Yes, I think so, because the next thing I remember, two soldiers were helping me up. They took me back to the inn.”

  “Have you seen a doctor?” Jess demanded.

  “Yes, some quack came round—Bellamy? I think the soldiers sent him. He says I’ll be fine when the headache wears off. Feeling a trifle the worse for wear.”

  “I suspect you would, even without a knock on the head,” Jess remarked. She glanced at Jon, frowning. “Is this Bellamy a good doctor?”

  “No idea. Never met him. Lampton is best, I believe, but he’s out of the country on his wedding trip.” He gave Claud a long, clear stare. “He looks well enough to me.”

  “Thank you, Doctor Tallon,” Claud said sarcastically.

  “I didn’t hit you, you know,” Jon drawled. “Beating drunks from behind would give me no sense of achievement. And frankly, I w
as not that angry with you.”

  Which meant Claud was angrier with Jon. She couldn’t help wondering why.

  Jon must have sensed some of her unease, for he said abruptly, “We’ll discover what is going on and fix it.”

  Claud looked slightly baffled by this pronouncement, but since Lord Viscral returned at that point, he didn’t pursue it. Instead, they all repaired to the hotel for refreshments.

  “Does it not seem too much of a coincidence to you,” she hissed to Jon as they entered the sitting room, “that Claud was attacked on the same evening as we were? He wasn’t robbed, either.”

  “There may be a connection,” Jon agreed, “though I’m not yet convinced of it.”

  “You mean there are two sets of ruffians assaulting gentle folk at random?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Jon said peaceably. “But I have a few ideas.”

  Infuriatingly, he strolled away to speak to Crabby, and she stalked past them to leave her spencer and bonnet in her bedchamber. When she reemerged, he was in conversation with his father, and since it didn’t appear to be fractious, she decided reluctantly not to interrupt them.

  “How well do you know him?” Claud asked, sitting down beside her with his cup of black coffee.

  “Who?” Jess asked.

  “Your betrothed,” Claude said dryly. “Your cousin. Tallon.”

  “Oh.” Annoyingly, she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “Not very well, I suppose. I hadn’t met him since we were children before we came to Blackhaven.”

  Claude blinked. “Less than a week ago? And you are engaged to him?”

  “Well, sometimes one knows…there are matters which…”

  “Thing is, Jess,” Claude interrupted, much to her relief, “I’ve been making a few inquiries myself. And he’s associated with Captain Alban. Alban owns his ship. Not saying the fellow isn’t a hero, or even a gentleman by what I hear, but there is a past there. Who knows what Tallon has got up to in that time?”

  “I think it is the present that matters,” Jess muttered.

  “Absolutely. And the on-dit of the present is that Viscral has cut his son off from the bulk of his estate, which he’s leaving to you. I’m fond of you, Jess, and I don’t want you to be married for such a reason, let alone fooled as to the true state of his affections.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly, Claude,” Jess said hastily. “He and I understand each other very well.”

  He looked dubious. “What I’m trying to say is…I doubt Mary would like him.”

  Jess stared at him. “Mary doesn’t need to. She isn’t going to marry him.”

  Claud became flustered. “Well, of course not. I just meant…you probably won’t be comfortable with his past either—actresses, you know—and…I’m still not convinced it wasn’t he who hit me.”

  “Now you’re being silly,” Jess said, frowning at him. “Why on earth would he hit you? Just because you argued in the tavern? I wouldn’t put it past him hitting you during your quarrel, but to lie and wait and attack you from behind, unseen? I truly don’t believe so, Claud.”

  Claude sighed. “Perhaps you are right. I just don’t want you to be blinded by his rather dashing air. He seemed just a little too interested in our past engagement and…and other such matters that might affect you.”

  Her lips twitched. “You think he is jealous? Oh, no, Claud, you are quite out there!”

  “Well I don’t see what’s so dashed amusing about it!” he said indignantly.

  “Trust me,” she said. “He is not jealous, and he did not hit you.” She glanced around. “For one thing—and you must keep this to yourself, for I don’t want word to get back to his lordship—Jon and I were also attacked last night when we took a walk.”

  “Dear God!” Claud exclaimed, staring at her in horror. “So that is a bruise on his face. I wondered if I’d done that, to be honest.”

  “Well, you didn’t.”

  Claud stared at Jon’s face, apparently reluctant to give up the idea.

  “Stop it,” Jess hissed, “you’ll attract his attention.”

  Claud turned and took her hand. “Are you really so frightened of him?”

  Jess frowned in incomprehension. “What? No, you idiot, not Jon, Lord Viscral! I don’t want the old gentleman worried, so we are keeping the matter from him.”

  Claud narrowed his eyes. “I see. What happened?”

  Jess gave him a brief account, including the hat pin, which made him grin almost like the old Claud she remembered. Then he looked thoughtful.

  “He could have set that up,” he said. “He could have meant to pretend to be overrun and let those men kill you. He won’t have bargained on your unlikely weapon, the hat pin.”

  “No, he didn’t,” she agreed, holding back her flash of anger. “But he fought them off most efficiently.”

  “Jess,” Claud said carefully, “it’s not so easy to fight off two men at once.”

  “I know, but I suspect he is used to dealing with all sorts of threats, and I can assure you, none of what you suspect is true. Apart from anything else, what reason could he possibly have to hurt me?”

  Claud glanced across the room to where Jon threw back his head and laughed at some remark of his father’s. “To get all the old man’s money without having to marry you.”

  “You’re being ridiculous!” Jess exclaimed, outraged now on Jon’s behalf. She tried to snatch her hand free, but he held onto it.

  “No, I’m not, Jess,” he said urgently. “Think about it. With you gone, he can play the grieving lover, console Lord Viscral, and become heir to the whole estate once more. All he needed to do was hire a couple of ruffians.”

  “How? Where?” Jess demanded.

  “From the tavern. You’ve no idea the types who frequent that den of vice! I admit last night’s all a bit woolly, but I do remember Tallon being dashed comfortable there—quite at home. And he slipped some coins to the most villainous fellow you’ve ever seen.”

  “But there could be any number of reasons for that!” Jess exclaimed. “He’s a seaman! His ship is docked in the next town. I do appreciate your concern, Claud, but truly it is not necessary. I can’t explain how I know this nonsense is simply not true, but I do. Jon and I have an understanding that you don’t appreciate. Besides which, he does not want to stay in England. He’s going back to sea. And he is already a very wealthy man. He does not need to inherit his father’s fortune.”

  Giving into her tugging, Claud released her hand, but stared fiercely into her eyes. “How do you know, Jess? How do you know?”

  Chapter Nine

  The truth was, she didn’t know.

  Despite the unconventional nature of their first meeting when he had deceived her as to his identity, extracted information from her, and then insulted her with an impudent kiss, she had believed everything Jon had subsequently told her. Except the existence of his wife, which had turned out to be true.

  In fact, she was gullible. She did believe what people told her, especially if they were pleasant. And Jon was pleasant. She liked sparring with him, laughing with him, hearing about his journeys, discussing her ideas and his. She’d even liked kissing him, although she would never admit it. The thought that all of this pleasure could be the result of calculation and manipulation appalled her. The idea that he was befriending her only to kill her and inherit the old man’s money was simply too mind-boggling to contemplate.

  Could I believe such a thing? Do I?

  She found herself gazing across the room at him. He happened to glance up and caught her eye. The smile on his face died and swiftly turned into a frown. With a word to his father, he stood and walked across the room to her. Something within her seemed to be bursting to get out, something vitally important and yet terribly sad. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Excuse me,” she mumbled, jumping to her feet. “I need to…” Without finishing, she fled, brushing past Jon to get to her bedchamber.

  *

  She didn’t emerge again
until luncheon, by which time both visitors had gone. By then, she had things clearer in her mind. She truly didn’t believe Claud’s nonsense about Jon, but on the other hand, thinking about it all had made her realize how far she was falling under her cousin’s spell.

  Their engagement was not real, but her growing reliance on his company and his opinion was. Somewhere beneath the banter, she was in danger of believing in his kisses, of falling in love. And that was madness, for he would not stay, and he certainly would not love her back. Apart from anything else, he still grieved for Izlan. She had seen that only too clearly yesterday evening.

  Having made her excuses to Lord Viscral and Crabby concerning her absence, she tried hard to be cheerful over luncheon. And then several people called during the afternoon, including Mrs. Prescott and Alessandro de Rizzo, who brought her a posy of flowers. He seemed inclined to flirt although Crabby glared at him, but he made way good-naturedly enough for a young officer and Lady Sylvester Gaunt who arrived with another young man called Mr. Muir.

  She did not see Jon again until the evening when he came to escort her and Crabby to dinner at Lady Goddard’s house overlooking the sea. Chatting happily with both of them, she carried out her resolve to be friendly but just a little more distant. During the short walk and dinner, she thought she succeeded very well. She even enjoyed meeting new people and getting to know her acquaintances better.

  But she congratulated herself too soon. When the ladies had retired to the drawing room after dinner, she took the opportunity to make herself more comfortable. And as she returned downstairs, she caught sight of Jon crossing the hall toward the dining room.

  Cravenly, she paused, waiting for him to go in so that she wouldn’t need to reveal her presence. But to her surprise, he halted and turned, gazing directly at the staircase. Then he walked toward it.

  Drat the man! Giving in to the inevitable, she carried on downward.

  He waited for her, one foot on the first step. “I thought you’d been turned to stone,” he observed.

  “That would have been inconvenient for Lady Goddard. I was just wondering if I had left my reticule in the drawing room or abovestairs.”