The Wicked Heir (Blackhaven Brides Book 12)

by Mary Lancaster

  He rolled her onto her back, looming over her in a predatory and entirely thrilling manner. “And debauched and loved. And will be again. Constantly.”

  “Goodness,” she whispered, reaching her arms around his neck. “I suppose I’d better marry you, then.”

  “Oh, I hoped you’d say that…” He kissed her for a long time. Then, lifting his head, he added, “But if you would rather wait, I still have a chaperone. We’ll rendezvous with Alban and Lady Bella in…” He shifted position, leaning over the bed to rummage among the clothes on the floor, and came back up with his watch. “In about half an hour. Where has all the time gone?”

  She laughed a little breathlessly, for his every movement against her body brought fresh delight. “I think we both know the answer to that.” As she sat up, her attention was caught, for the first time since he had entered the cabin, by the portrait of his late wife.

  Jon, seeing the direction of her gaze, said, “Bains, one of my crew, drew her. He has a gift. It’s an excellent likeness.”

  “She was beautiful.” She glanced at him a little uncertainly. “Do you think she would mind?”

  “About you and me? No,” he said emphatically. “She would be glad I had found love again. And she would have liked you. I think you would have liked her.” He sat beside her on the bed, his long legs dangling down to the floor, and put his arm around her shoulder. “I was devastated when she died, for I loved her very much. But I came to terms with her loss a long time ago. What I feel for you is…different, because you are, and I know it will only grow and deepen.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes to hide the sudden tears of emotion. Then she kissed his shoulder, stood up to wash and dress and face the world.

  *

  Jon, his mind and body both singing with joy, stood at the rail to welcome Alban aboard, and shook hands warmly. “Thank you for this.”

  “I left Bella on the yacht,” Alban said, nodding his head in the direction of his vessel. “I don’t want her risking the climb up and down ladders.”

  “Of course not! My plan was for Jess and I to join you there, rather than the other way about.”

  “So, how goes your plan? Are you married yet?”

  “Not yet. I thought you could stand my best man if you didn’t object.”

  “I’m happy to oblige. And your cousin, Hector?”

  Jon sighed. “Locked up below. I’ll deliver him to the magistrate when we return to Whalen.”

  “Then you just have to decide which ship you’d rather be married on.”

  “I’ll ask Jess. She might prefer to have Lady Bella with her.”

  “Sir!” a seaman yelled from across the deck. It was one of the guards Jon had set on Hector. “His nibs is breaking things down here!”

  “Maybe I should just fight a duel and kill the bastard,” Jon said between his teeth, though he strode off to deal with the situation at once. Alban followed him down the ladder to the cabin, from where they could hear nothing at all.

  “He’s gone quiet,” the other guard told him unnecessarily.

  “Unlock it,” Jon ordered.

  The man obeyed, throwing the door wide. Hector lay in the middle of the floor, unmoving. Bits of glass from the decanter lay strewn about him.

  Jon swore, and strode across the cabin. He dropped to a crouch by Hector’s body—and saw the broken glass in his hand only a fraction of a second before Hector moved, thrusting the jagged glass straight at his heart.

  Jon knocked his wrist aside in time to feel only a glancing scrape across his arm instead. But Hector threw himself at Jon, the razor-sharp glass still a dangerous weapon in his hand. Jon went down under him but rolled forcefully, until he sat astride his cousin who was face-down on the floor, and yanked Hector’s left hand behind his back, forcing it upward. Hector didn’t even yelp. But his other hand was hidden beneath him.

  Alban appeared on his right, grasping Hector’s shoulder. “Turn him. Carefully.”

  When they did, the jagged glass was protruding from his heart, and he stared lifelessly into space.

  Jon gazed down at him and swore under his breath. He swallowed hard and dragged his hand through his hair.

  “Accidental death,” Alban said coolly. “Anything you did was simply self-defense. But perhaps you shouldn’t tell Jess until after the wedding.”

  *

  Jon told her of Hector’s death at once. She blinked several times. “What a waste of a life. I believe the world is better without him.”

  “Then you are still prepared to marry me?” Jon asked in awe.

  She smiled. “Of course I am.”

  And so, on the deck of the Albatross, under the moon and stars, she was married to Jon Tallon by a not precisely sober but very amiable clergyman, formally witnessed by Captain Alban and Mr. Griggs. Informally, the wedding was also witnessed by the entire crew and by Masters, who all cheered at the pronouncement of man and wife.

  “Is this legal?” Jess whispered to her husband under cover of the noise.

  “Quite,” Jon replied, somewhat belatedly producing a special license from his pocket.

  Jess began to laugh.

  “Blackhaven?” Jon suggested.

  “Oh, yes! His lordship will be worried sick.”

  “No, he won’t. I sent him a note that you were safe with me and all was well.”

  “Do you think of everything?”

  “Most things,” Jon said modestly.

  Taking Masters with them, since he was eager to be home, they crossed to Alban’s yacht by the long boat. Lady Bella welcomed them with champagne, and Jess had never been happier in her life.

  But there was another surprise in store. As they docked at Whalen, with the sunrise still red and gold in the sky, Jess saw a familiar figure on the quay. Antonia Bliss.

  Inclined to outrage, she glared at Jon, who only smiled and placed her hand on his arm. “She hasn’t come for me, you know.”

  Masters ran down the gangplank ahead of them. Antonia stormed up to him, giving him a furious tongue-lashing before she suddenly threw her arms around his neck in a fierce hug and dragged him off. Masters was smiling.

  “It’s an odd relationship,” Jon remarked. “Masters is the only one she loves, but there’s very little she won’t do for money so that they can be together.”

  “He can’t like that!”

  “He doesn’t. Which is why he thumped Claud when he realized he was going to her house that night. I think Masters and Antonia might have reached a better agreement now.”

  “You’re right,” Jess said. “There are all sorts of love.”

  “Talking of which, our carriage to my father awaits.”

  Jess laughed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Albans accompanied them to the hotel, and left them there to face the music.

  “Good luck,” Alban said wryly.

  Lady Bella, mindful of her role as chaperone, made sure to lean her head out of the carriage window to shake hands with both Jess and Jon.

  The hotel foyer was quiet, but it seemed almost inevitable that on the stairs, they should run into Mary and Mrs. Francis. Neither looked as if they knew whether to be delighted by Jon’s return or disapproving of Jess’s presence at his side.

  “Goodness, you are abroad early this morning,” Mary said. “Have you walked far?”

  “Merely from the front door,” Jon said amiably, “where the carriage dropped us. We were lucky enough to spend the night on the Lamonts’ yacht.”

  Mrs. Francis’s eyes could have frozen hot coals. “A delightful expedition, I am sure,” she said, looking pointedly behind them. “But without Miss Crabtree, Jess?”

  “Exactly,” Jess said, fixing her smile. “But with Lady Arabella.”

  “Of course,” Mary said quickly. “And how delightful to find Captain Tallon and you still friends, Jess…after your latest news.”

  “Oh, news is always changing,” Jon said, with a slight bow. “Good morning
, ladies.”

  Mary and her mother exchanged glances as though wondering what he meant, and whether it was still worth pursuing a viscount’s heir over poor Claud.

  Prompted by sheer wickedness, Jess paused to whisper in Mary’s ear. “And he and I are more than friends. Much more.”

  Mary gawped at her as she sailed on upstairs with Jon.

  “Poor Claud,” Jess said with feeling.

  “Don’t spare him too much sympathy,” Jon murmured. “It’s perfectly possible he will always have an Antonia of some kind in the background. I believe many such marriages prosper very well.”

  “Ours would not,” Jess observed, and received a quick, hard kiss in return.

  They must have been seen from the window, for the door to Lord Viscral’s rooms was wide open when they reached the landing, and Crabby flew out to welcome them.

  “Oh, my dear Jess, is everything well?” she demanded anxiously, dragging her into the sitting room.

  Jon strolled after them and closed the door, nodding at the wary Holmes as though to reassure him.

  “Yes, everything is wonderful!” Jess exclaimed, hugging her before she glanced around the room for her uncle. A twinge of unease pinched her. “Where is he?”

  Crabby pointed at his bedchamber door. Before she even lowered her finger, his lordship’s door flew open, and he walked out into the sitting room.

  “Ah. Good,” he said to Jess as if she had never been away. “In time to accompany me to the pump room.”

  Jess closed her mouth. After a moment, she managed to say, “Of course. But we have news for you. I hope you will wish us happy.”

  He grunted, easing himself into his favorite chair. He must have known from Jon’s note that their quarrel was over, that marriage was likely, for he was taking it far too calmly. On the surface at least.

  “We are married,” Jon stated, in case there was any doubt.

  His lordship grunted, pretending not to care. “Good.” His gaze flickered. “Off to South America, are you?” he asked with studied nonchalance.

  “No,” Jon said. Taking Jess’s hand, he led her over to him. “Captain Alban and I have come to an arrangement that suits both of us. With Bonaparte on the loose again, he wants me doing the Mediterranean trade routes instead. Which entails much shorter trips. And there will be fewer of them as I become more involved in Viscral.”

  His lordship snorted. “Oh, you decided that, did you, in the few hours you managed to spend there already?”

  “I spent almost three days there,” Jon said mildly. “Long enough to see how little I know, as well as how much needs to be done. We need to be in agreement, Father. If I curtail, or even give up the sea, I need to know I’m doing something worthwhile. You must give me—and Matthews, a say in the land.”

  The old man glared at him, then at Jess. “I suppose I must,” he said ungraciously.

  “I suppose you do,” Jess agreed. “It will be much more fun, you know.”

  The old man’s lips twitched. Suddenly, he looked very like Jon. There was humor as well as rare affection in his eyes. “Well, I wish you well of this reprobate I spawned. I hope you won’t regret your haste.”

  Jess smiled, reaching for Jon’s hand once more. “I won’t,” she promised.

  And she didn’t.

  Mary Lancaster’s Newsletter

  If you enjoyed The Wicked Heir, and would like to keep up with Mary’s new releases and other book news, please sign up to Mary’s mailing list to receive her occasional Newsletter.

  Other Books by Mary Lancaster

  VIENNA WALTZ (The Imperial Season, Book 1)

  VIENNA WOODS (The Imperial Season, Book 2)

  VIENNA DAWN (The Imperial Season, Book 3)

  THE WICKED BARON (Blackhaven Brides, Book 1)

  THE WICKED LADY (Blackhaven Brides, Book 2)

  THE WICKED REBEL (Blackhaven Brides, Book 3)

  THE WICKED HUSBAND (Blackhaven Brides, Book 4)

  THE WICKED MARQUIS (Blackhaven Brides, Book 5)

  THE WICKED GOVERNESS (Blackhaven Brides, Book 6)

  THE WICKED SPY (Blackhaven Brides, Book 7)

  THE WICKED GYPSY (Blackhaven Brides, Book 8)

  THE WICKED WIFE (Blackhaven Brides, Book 9)

  WICKED CHRISTMAS (Blackhaven Brides, A Novella)

  THE WICKED WAIF (Blackhaven Brides, Book 11)

  REBEL OF ROSS

  A PRINCE TO BE FEARED: the love story of Vlad Dracula

  AN ENDLESS EXILE

  A WORLD TO WIN

  About Mary Lancaster

  Mary Lancaster lives in Scotland with her husband, three mostly grown-up kids and a small, crazy dog.

  Her first literary love was historical fiction, a genre which she relishes mixing up with romance and adventure in her own writing. Her most recent books are light, fun Regency romances written for Dragonblade Publishing: The Imperial Season series set at the Congress of Vienna; and the popularBlackhaven Brides series, which is set in a fashionable English spa town frequented by the great and the bad of Regency society.

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