Jilted By A Cad (Jilted Brides Trilogy Book 1)

by Cheryl Holt

  “Amelia is why Evan and I were fighting,” he said. “He and I have been dancing around this situation for ages, and it erupted this afternoon.”

  “How did you leave it with him?”

  “I wanted to speak to her—to apologize—but he told me if I knocked on their door, he’d kill me.”

  “Was he serious?”

  “Probably.”

  “Will he ever calm down? Maybe in a few weeks or months, he’ll feel differently.”

  “His father died at sea when he was a boy, so he’s protective of his mother and sister. He dotes on them.”

  “Good for him.”

  “He could never forgive a person who hurt Amelia.”

  Jo’s spirits sank. She’d planned to never be a bother, but she’d only been in residence for twenty-four hours, and she was already causing chaos.

  “Should Daisy and I depart in the morning?” she asked.

  “No!” he firmly stated. “You’re not going anywhere until I’ve had a chance to make arrangements for you.”

  “I can’t be responsible for ruining your relationship with Mr. and Miss Boyle.”

  “You didn’t ruin anything,” he insisted, but it certainly sounded as if she had.

  She slid away from him, and she sat up, her hips balanced on the edge of the mattress, her feet on the floor. He was stretched out behind her, and he laid a palm on her back.

  “You agreed to be my judge,” he said. “I’ve behaved badly, haven’t I?”

  “Yes. You led her on for years, and you spurned her when you shouldn’t have. There’s no other possible verdict.”

  “I can’t marry her though.”

  “It’s what you claim now, but you should ponder a bit more so you’re sure.”

  “I’ve had an eternity to decide. It’s what Evan couldn’t bear to hear. It’s why we were quarreling.”

  She stood and moved away from the bed. When he was touching her, it was so difficult to concentrate.

  “I want to share an incident from my past,” she said. “I never talk about it.”

  He sat up too. “What is it?”

  “Your predicament with Miss Boyle is very distressing to me.”

  “It shouldn’t be. You’ve never even met her. It’s my problem and none of yours in even the slightest way.”

  “Yes, but when I was eighteen, I was jilted at the altar by my fiancé.”

  He gasped. “What?”

  “I was in the church, waiting for him, and he never arrived.”

  “What happened to him? Were you able to find out?”

  “Yes, actually, and it’s so embarrassing. Maud was my guardian, and before the ceremony, she had signed my dowry over to him. He absconded with it.”

  “What is his name?”

  “Holden Cartwright.”

  “Did you search for him?”

  “No. We were informed that he’d fled to Scotland, and we didn’t have the money to chase after him. Anyway, I’m positive—if I had found him—my dowry would have been squandered.”

  “I wish I’d known you then. I’d have located him for you. First, I’d have beaten him to a pulp, then I’d have had him arrested for theft and breach of promise.”

  “It would have liked that.” She grinned. “Especially the beat-him-to-a-pulp part. I’d have liked that very much.”

  “Aren’t you worried that he’s out there cheating other potential brides?”

  “I hope not, but he’s very charming, so he definitely could be.”

  His sympathy wafted toward her. “I’m sorry, Jo.”

  “I’m over it,” she lied, “but this story about Miss Boyle is agonizing to me. I hate for any woman to be rejected by a man.”

  “It’s agonizing for me too. I detest that I’ve hurt her, but in my own defense, I was only ever very cordial with her. I never blatantly encouraged her.”

  “Your view is irrelevant. She assumed you would propose. That’s all that matters. No one cares what the male thinks about it.”

  “I suppose,” he grumbled.

  “You need to fix this with them.”

  “I will—after more time has passed. I’ll make overtures to approach her face to face.”

  “I’m glad. In the interim, you and I must be very cautious. I can’t have rumors circulating that I was the cause of your break from Miss Boyle.”

  “Who would believe that?”

  Was he really that thick? “Everyone would believe it, you dolt. The servants are probably already speculating, and if that’s the conversation in the kitchen, it will spread down the street fast enough.”

  She went to the door and fumbled with the key in the lock. She peeked into the hall, relieved to see it was empty. She motioned for him to depart.

  “We can’t meet like this in the future,” she told him.

  “Yes, we can.”

  “It’s not up to you. I won’t shame myself with you, and I won’t have gossip disseminated that you and I are romantically involved. The news would crush Miss Boyle, and I won’t be implicated in your folly.”

  “My relationship with you won’t lead us to perdition.” From the hot look in his eye, it was obvious he didn’t mean it.

  Men were so different from women. He could profess all sorts of honorable intentions, but in the heat of the moment, he’d ignore them. And she was too naïve and lonely to resist him.

  “You’re an earl,” she said, “and if Miss Boyle—whom you’ve known all your life—is suddenly unsuitable, then I am certainly in the same boat. Since I could never be your countess, there’s no spot I can occupy.”

  “I’m very fond of you though.”

  “Of course you are, and I am very fond of you too, but we’ll leave it at that. Don’t sneak in here again.”

  “I can’t swear that I won’t.”

  “I’m putting my foot down. You’re a man, so you can’t be expected to act appropriately, but I am a female, and I don’t have that luxury. I have to behave or I’m doomed.” She gestured to the hall. “Please go. This is getting awkward.”

  He dithered forever, studying her. No doubt he presumed he could coerce her into changing her mind, and she figured he was correct. He probably could, so she had to erect some barriers and keep them firmly in place.

  “Goodnight, Lord Benton,” she said.

  At her mode of address, he snorted with amusement. “When you were on the bed with me, you called me Peyton.”

  “It was temporary insanity.”

  “My dilemma with Amelia doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  “Don’t be absurd. It has everything to do with me, and we’re not discussing it again. Goodnight.”

  Evidently, she appeared obstinate and adamant because he pushed himself to his feet and came over to her. He hovered, gazing down at her, his regard warm and affectionate. She yearned to reach out and wrap her arms around his waist, but she didn’t.

  “You’re quite a lioness, aren’t you?” he murmured. “If you feel strongly about an issue, you’re an absolute warrior.”

  She chuckled at the very idea. “I’m not tough—not by any stretch of the imagination. This is simply a topic that haunts me.”

  He bent down and tried to steal a final kiss, but she was wiser now. She turned her head so he brushed her cheek instead.

  They stood, frozen, wondering what a proper comment would be, but there didn’t seem to be one. He smirked and strolled out.

  She closed the door and spun the key in the lock.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Peyton! How…ah…nice to have you back.”

  “Is it nice? When we both know you don’t mean it, is that the word you should choose?”

  Richard stared at Peyton, and his first inclination was to hurl a snide retort, but he managed to control himself. Peyton Prescott was Earl of Benton, was Richard’s boss, was Barbara’s landlord and trustee, was guardian to Alice and Nancy, and there was naug
ht to be gained by taunting him.

  “What brings you to the country?” he said instead. “We hadn’t heard from you, so we weren’t certain if you’d sailed off with the navy or if you were gamboling in town.”

  Peyton flashed a wily smile. “Yes, that’s me. All I do is gambol.”

  “It was your birthday. There was a rumor that you hosted a party at Benton House to celebrate.”

  “Why would there have been a rumor about it? Are the servants reporting my activities to you? Should I be concerned about spies?”

  Richard frowned. “No, they’re not spying. Someone mentioned it, that’s all. I don’t remember who. If it was a servant, several of them are cousins and siblings. Between the town house and the manor, it would have simply been family gossip.”

  “I suppose that’s an explanation.”

  Richard forced his own smile. “Happy birthday! You turned thirty. That’s a big milestone, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t find it particularly big—or interesting. If it were up to me, I’d just as soon still be twenty-nine.”

  They were in the dining room, and Peyton was eating a late breakfast. Footmen scurried about, determined to wait on him hand and foot—and that he be pleased with their efforts.

  He’d ridden in without warning, and a maid had rushed to locate Richard to apprise him. He’d raced around, whispering orders and sending the staff creeping about to check that conditions were perfect.

  Peyton hadn’t bothered to rise when Richard entered. Richard was standing, hovering like a sycophant. He wasn’t sure if he’d be welcome to sit too, and he suspected Peyton understood the moment was awkward, and he enjoyed harassing Richard very much.

  Apparently, Peyton’s belly was full, for he pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair. He studied Richard, his impertinent gaze roaming up and down Richard’s torso, then he gestured to the chair across, and Richard slunk down.

  “Let’s chat, Richard. We have some issues to discuss.”

  The footmen were all ears, deliciously eager to eavesdrop, and Richard asked, “Would you rather retire to my office? We’d have some privacy there.”

  “I don’t require privacy for what I’m about to tell you, and I don’t care if the footmen listen. They likely already know what happened anyway.” Peyton glanced at them. “Didn’t your sister convey all of them to Benton after your father went bankrupt?”

  “Well…ah…most of them.”

  “So the Prescott servants lost their jobs, some—I might add—whose families had worked here for generations.”

  “I wouldn’t put it that way,” Richard said.

  “How would you put it?”

  “Barbara was the new countess, and she had to establish her household. Every bride does. It’s not unusual. She needed people who would grasp how she liked to run things.”

  “Yes, I’m positive the Slater servants were much more competent and obliging than the Prescott ones.”

  “Your brother never had any complaints.”

  “He’s dead though, so we can hardly ask him, can we?”

  Richard blew out a heavy breath and prayed for patience. “What’s wrong? You seem vexed with me. Have I angered you? If so, I wish you’d toss it out in the open so we can address it like adults. I hate all this innuendo and spite. It doesn’t get us anywhere.”

  “No, it doesn’t, but I like how it discomforts you. I’m a rude ass, and you’re a pompous ass, and I love seeing you so unnerved.” He poured himself some tea, drank down the contents, then changed the subject. “How are Neville’s bastard children? Have you found homes for them or are they still in the cottage?”

  “Their maternal relatives came forward, and they’ve all left.”

  “Have they?”

  Peyton scrutinized Richard as if he were vermin, as if he were a clot of dung Peyton might wipe off his boot. His focus was so potent and so intense that Richard squirmed in his seat.

  “Before you dig a hole for yourself, Richard,” Peyton said, “I should probably inform you that I have become friendly with Josephine Bates.”

  “Oh.”

  Outside, it was a gray, cloudy morning, the weather so inclement that Richard couldn’t fathom why Peyton would ride from London. It was definitely a day to be caught in a deluge out on the road. A burst of lightning streaked across the sky, and a crack of thunder boomed so loudly that it rattled the glassware. Everyone jumped except Peyton.

  “Remember the last time I was here, Richard?” Peyton asked. “You and I chatted in the foyer.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “Good. So we don’t have to pretend we never talked. Do you recall my instructions? They would have been my final words as I walked out the door.”

  Richard’s cheeks heated with embarrassment. Who could have guessed that Miss Bates would cross paths with Peyton? And so soon too!

  Richard thought he’d tricked her. She’d demanded to speak with Peyton, and Richard had lied and claimed he’d sailed away to the Caribbean. She’d accepted Richard’s statement without argument. How should he proceed through the debacle?

  There was no viable route but to brazen it out.

  “Yes, I recall your final instructions,” Richard said.

  “I specially told you not to enforce the July fifteenth deadline, but it appears you enforced it immediately.” Peyton drummed his fingers on the table. “I’m at a loss, Richard. We have a problem with you recognizing my authority over you.”

  “I have no problem. It’s my duty to carry out your orders.”

  “If that’s how you view it, then why would you flagrantly disobey me?”

  “I disagreed with your decision, and I felt it was important to countermand it. Surely I must have some leeway to manage things.”

  “I understand you need leeway, but you need to understand—if you were one of my sailors—I’d have you flogged, then I’d lock you in the brig for a few weeks so you could contemplate your choices. Let’s review, Richard. Who is in charge? You or me?”

  “You.”

  It was the only suitable answer, but it didn’t seem as if Peyton should be in charge. The property seemed to belong to Richard and Barbara. Neville had never cared about Benton and had preferred to revel in town with dissolute companions.

  He’d handed the estate’s reins to Richard, and Richard had eagerly assumed control. He’d run the place for most of a decade, and it was infuriating to have Peyton bumble in and seize power.

  What did he know about Benton? He’d never visited, had never corresponded with Neville or feigned any affection for his brother. Since he’d arrived on furlough, he’d been distant and aloof and bored. What gave him the right to interfere? What gave him the right to chastise or chart the course? He wasn’t worried about Benton and was too disconnected to learn any details.

  Yet Richard didn’t dare mention any of that.

  “How should I respond to this fiasco?” Peyton pressed. “I’m curious as to your opinion.”

  “I swore to my sister that I would rid her of those children, and I kept my promise.”

  “They were my nieces and my nephew. They have my deceased brother’s blood flowing in their veins.”

  “With all due respect, Peyton, they are your deceased brother’s bastards. They’re a disgrace to your family.”

  “Are they? I suppose it depends on whose morals we apply.”

  “And they are a permanent stain on my sister’s marriage to your brother. Certainly, we can agree on that much.”

  “Yes, I can agree with that part of your assessment, but I’d like to set all that aside for a moment.”

  “Fine, set it aside.”

  “How can I ever trust you in the future?”

  “I’m an excellent administrator,” Richard fumed.

  “Are you? That’s debatable. Aren’t you the fellow who advised me we’re nearly bankrupt?”

  “Yes, we are!” Richard’s voice and temper
were rising. He couldn’t tamp them down. “But it’s because of your brother! We were never able to contain his profligate habits. I tried to curb his extravagance—I constantly tried!—but talking to him was like talking to a wall!”

  The footmen shifted uneasily, suddenly wishing they’d been kicked out before the conversation had started. Peyton deemed it amusing to have them hear the quarrel, but Richard wouldn’t allow them to loiter and gawk.

  Richard gestured to them. “All of you, get out, and close the door behind you.”

  Peyton didn’t contradict the command, but as the last boy passed by, he said, “Find the Countess, would you? Tell her I must speak with her at once, and she can’t refuse to attend me.”

  “I will, my lord,” the boy muttered, and he hurried off to locate Barbara.

  As their strides faded, Richard asked, “Why do you need Barbara?”

  “We’ll discuss it when she arrives.”

  “I won’t permit you to confer with her without my being present. I won’t have you browbeating her.”

  “I don’t mind if you listen in while I browbeat her. Now where were we?” He poured himself more tea, and he looked very calm, as if he wasn’t disturbed in the least by their heated bickering. “Oh, yes, we were dissecting your blatant disregard of a direct order from me.”

  “Those children couldn’t remain. They were a humiliation to my sister!”

  “Yes, they were, but the issue we’re pondering is between you and me. It doesn’t involve her.”

  “Everything at this estate involves her.”

  “Not this. For you see, Richard, I’d really, really like to return to the navy.”

  “So go! What’s stopping you? It’s obvious you hate it here.”

  “If I sailed away, and I was away for months or years, how could I leave you at your post?”

  “Your brother was satisfied with my service.”

  “Was he?” Peyton snidely said. “Again, he’s dead, so we can’t pry an answer out of him.”

  “Ask anyone at Benton. They’ll tell you I’ve been good at my job.”

  They’d delved to the crux of the dilemma, and he didn’t have much of a defense. Peyton had told him to be lenient to the three children, and Richard had ignored him.