Jilted By A Cad (Jilted Brides Trilogy Book 1)

by Cheryl Holt

  “How will it?”

  “For starters, you’re coming home with me.”

  “Are you certain that’s wise?” Jo asked.

  She thought of his sister, Amelia, and how Amelia had assumed for years that Lord Benton would marry her. Why would she welcome Jo? Then again, when she’d visited Jo, they’d realized they might have been friends if Lord Benton and her brother hadn’t been quarreling. Would she still feel that way?

  “It’s the best notion ever,” he said. “If I didn’t help you, and my sister and mother learned I didn’t, they’d never forgive me.”

  “I would hate to cause any trouble.”

  “You couldn’t possibly.” He stood. “Now let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home.”

  * * * *

  Peyton wasn’t sure why he had his driver pass by the Boyle residence. He was positive they wouldn’t allow him in the door. But he was very dejected, and he was eager to chat with people who might commiserate.

  He’d just spoken to his superiors and announced his retirement. He’d been brief and concise. He’d succinctly explained why he couldn’t continue to serve. He’d been completely detached—as if they’d been discussing the weather. He hadn’t waxed nostalgic. He hadn’t broken down and cried like a baby over all that had been relinquished.

  He was no longer a sailor. He was no longer a member of the Royal Navy, and he couldn’t wrap his mind around the sudden change. If he wasn’t Commander Peyton Prescott, who was he? Would he finally have to become a farmer? Would he withdraw to Benton to watch the crops grow?

  The prospect was so depressing that he wondered if he might curl into a ball and cry like a baby after all.

  After he’d left the meeting, he’d felt totally isolated from all other human beings. He might have been the last man on Earth. Evan was the only person in the kingdom who would recognize what Peyton’s career had meant to him. Evan was the only person who would comprehend the depth of Peyton’s anguish.

  The coach rattled to a halt, and as the dust settled, he recollected how much he abhorred having to utilize a coach. It was the most powerful indication of how the accident had altered his life. He’d always been a man in a hurry. When he’d traveled from one spot to the next, he’d ridden a horse and galloped as fast as he could.

  He liked speed and alacrity and excitement, and he’d scoffed at tedious gentlemen who lumbered on in their heavy, pretentious vehicles.

  He would eventually be able to ride a horse, but for now, his doctor had insisted he not, and Peyton hadn’t argued. The idea was simply too painful to consider. So…he was rolling across the country—like an aging spinster.

  He peeked out, seeing that the Boyle siblings were definitely home. The curtains were pulled back, and smoke billowed from the chimney. It was a brisk, windy November day, and they had a fire burning inside.

  Arthur yanked on the door and lowered the step, then he reached up so Peyton could grab his hand to maintain his balance if he felt inclined.

  “Wait for me,” Peyton said as he descended. “If I’ll be awhile, I’ll send a servant out to apprise you. I’ll have you brought into the kitchen for tea.”

  Arthur grinned. “I’m happy to wait, Commander Prescott. It’s not as if I’m busy.”

  Arthur was aware that Peyton had resigned his commission, and Peyton said, “You probably don’t need to refer to me as Commander.”

  “You’ll always be Commander Prescott to me. It’s like having blue eyes. They can’t take them away from you.”

  “I suppose, but with me retiring, it doesn’t seem proper.”

  “Would you like me to call you Lord Benton instead? Didn’t you claim your title sounded too fussy?”

  “Cheeky devil,” Peyton muttered.

  He stomped off—as much as he could stomp anyway—and he went through the gate and started up the walk. As he approached the door, Evan emerged and shut it again with a determined click, curtly informing Peyton that he wouldn’t be invited in.

  Evan’s expression was grim. “What are you doing here, Peyton?”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “Then you must be going deaf. I told you to never pester us.”

  “Yes, but I was in the neighborhood, and I took a chance that you’d be home. May I come in?”

  “No, you may not.”

  Peyton blew out a frustrated breath. “Now just a damned minute!”

  “You’re not welcome here, Peyton.”

  “Will you be angry forever? Is that your plan?”

  “I haven’t begun to be angry with you.”

  “When did you develop such a penchant for melodrama?”

  “It flourished after I realized how much I despise you, so please don’t dawdle.”

  Evan glared at Peyton in a condemning way, and Peyton was bewildered by the level of his hostility. It made no sense.

  Evan wasn’t the sort of man to hold a grudge. He might lose his temper, but he quickly shucked off any upset. Apparently, it was too early for Peyton to have visited. He had to give Evan more of an opportunity to calm down.

  He sighed with regret and followed after Evan who was headed to the coach and disdainfully studying the Benton crest on the side. He would grasp how odd it was for Peyton to be traveling in a carriage, and he thought Evan might offer a snide remark about it that would provide a basis to chat, but he didn’t.

  He spun to Peyton, and he noticed Peyton was limping.

  “Are you injured?” Evan inquired. “I’d ask what happened, but I don’t really care.”

  “I had an accident.” He paused so Evan could comment, but he didn’t, so Peyton added, “On my horse. The animal fell off a bridge, and I broke my leg. My recuperation has been ghastly.”

  Again, Peyton expected Evan might display some sympathy or curiosity, but he simply said, “Don’t call on us in the future—even if you’re in the neighborhood. You shouldn’t use it as an excuse.”

  Arthur opened the door and waited for Peyton to climb in, but Peyton couldn’t depart.

  He was so sad! He was mourning numerous difficult issues: Jo, Daisy, his naval career, his health, his change of circumstance. Evan was the only man he’d ever been close to, and he was anxious to confess his troubles, but from how Evan was glowering, it was clear he wasn’t concerned over what might be vexing Peyton.

  “I resigned my commission today.” Peyton mentioned it even though it was obvious Evan wasn’t interested. “That’s why I stopped by I guess. I yearned to tell somebody who would understand. I’m feeling a little…forlorn.”

  Evan peeked down at his bad leg. “Was it because of your injury?”

  “My arm too.” Peyton forced a smile. “I’m a bit of a mess physically.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Evan coldly replied. “You being an earl and all, the universe wouldn’t dare to lay you low.”

  It was an awful statement, and Peyton bristled. If he’d been more hale, he’d have beaten Evan to a pulp. “What is your problem, Evan? Why are you being such a prick?”

  “I enjoy being a prick to you. Besides, you deserve it.”

  Peyton might have punched him anyway, might have started a brawl he couldn’t finish, but the door to the house opened, and to his stunned amazement, Jo appeared. He had to blink three times to be certain he wasn’t hallucinating.

  She was beautiful as ever, willowy and ethereal, like a ghost or a fairy. But the bulge in her tummy reminded him he had responsibilities to her that he hadn’t handled.

  “Lord Benton,” she said, “why are you here? You’re supposed to be in the Caribbean.”

  “Jo!” he murmured, and he stepped toward her, but Evan slammed a palm into his chest.

  “Leave her alone,” Evan seethed.

  “I have to speak to her! I’ve been searching everywhere. Why is she in your home? Why didn’t you notify me?” He turned to Jo. “Where have you been? Why are you with Evan?”

  Eva
n shifted to block his view so he couldn’t see her. He and Peyton tussled, shoving and scrapping as Peyton tried to skirt around him, but Evan refused to let him by.

  Evan called to Jo. “Go inside, Jo. I’ll deal with this.”

  “Please don’t quarrel.” Her tone was beseeching. “I don’t want you two fighting.”

  “We’re not fighting,” Evan lied.

  Amelia walked up behind Jo, and she cast a contemptuous frown at Peyton, then she pulled Jo in and shut the door. A dangerous silence descended, and Peyton whirled on Evan.

  “Talk fast, Evan, and don’t slow down until I decide I’ve heard enough.”

  “We don’t owe you any explanations.”

  Peyton grabbed Evan’s shirt and yanked him close so they were nose to nose. “You don’t think so? Tell me why she’s here or I swear to God, I will beat the living shit out of you.”

  It was a threat he probably couldn’t carry out, but he’d be delighted to attempt it. At the moment, there was naught he’d like more than to deliver a sound thrashing.

  “I found her hungry and wandering the streets,” Evan spat.

  “What? That’s not possible.”

  “I figured you’d pretend not to know anything about it.”

  “I’m not pretending. I don’t know.”

  “A likely story.” Evan scoffed with derision. “I brought her home so we could take care of her.”

  “Thank you. I’m grateful.”

  Peyton spun as if he’d march to the house, but Evan seized him by his coat and jerked him to a halt.

  “You’re not going in there,” Evan said.

  “I have to speak to her,” he repeated as he shook off Evan’s tight grip. “Then she’s leaving with me. I appreciate you helping her, but I will take care of her from this point on.”

  “You?” Evan laughed. “If you imagine she’d risk trusting you again, you’re deluded.”

  “Your opinion has been noted, but I suggest you bugger off.”

  He tried to push by Evan again, but Evan wouldn’t release his coat.

  “Jo has no desire to meet with you,” Evan claimed.

  “She can tell me herself.”

  “It doesn’t matter what she wants.”

  “If that’s what you believe, then you don’t know her very well. She can make her own decisions. She doesn’t need an ass like you to make them for her.”

  “Maybe not in the past, but I have every right to command her now.”

  Peyton scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that Jo and I are married.”

  “What?”

  “She’s my wife, so I have the authority to determine who talks to her and who doesn’t, and I have determined that you will never talk to her.”

  Peyton felt as if the Earth had tipped off its axis, and he collapsed against the side of the carriage. He had to slap a palm onto the vehicle to steady himself.

  “You married her?” he hissed. “Why? Why would you?”

  “As if you can’t guess, you prick.”

  “Tell me! Why would she agree?”

  “She’s in the family way!” Evan shouted the accusation. “She desperately needed a husband, and I was willing to volunteer.”

  “It should have been me! I should have been her husband. I proposed to her. I vowed to support and protect her forever.”

  “You! All you ever did was jilt her at the altar like the cad you are!”

  “I didn’t intend to jilt her. I didn’t! I was hurt!”

  “It’s too late for you to rationalize your conduct. I wouldn’t listen anyway.”

  “But…but…I love her!” Peyton declared. “I always have. And she loves me. She wouldn’t have forsaken me like this.”

  “Really? If that’s how you picture your relationship with her, then I can only assume your accident has left you deranged.”

  “She can’t want this ending for herself. I don’t want it. She’s having my child!”

  “No, she’s my wife, so she’s having my child.” Evan tsked with disgust. “If you’d like to make yourself useful, you can find her niece for us.”

  “Who? Daisy? Why isn’t she with Jo? Where is she? What happened to her?”

  “Well, that’s the thousand pound question, isn’t it? You seem to be in the dark about many issues.”

  “I absolutely am.”

  “After you jilted my bride,” Evan fumed, “Barbara and her brother barged into Jo’s house. They evicted her on the spot.”

  “They did not,” Peyton insisted. “Jo departed of her own accord. I visited the landlord. She wrote to him that she was vacating the premises.”

  Evan snorted with disdain. “You are such an idiot. She didn’t blithely traipse off. She was tossed out on the street, and Richard attached a chain to the door so she couldn’t sneak back in.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Oh, but I am. Before they threw her out, they kidnapped Daisy, and they wouldn’t reveal where they’d taken her.” Evan stepped in. “If you’d like to redeem yourself in Josephine’s eyes, Lord Benton, you can start by searching for her niece. She and I would like to have her returned to us.”

  “I will locate her, and please inform Jo that I’ll begin looking for Daisy immediately.”

  “Don’t refer to my bride by her Christian name,” Evan said. “I don’t wish to recall that you were once on familiar terms with her. If I ever have the misfortune to bump into you again, I will expect you to address her as Mrs. Boyle. Now go away and don’t come back.”

  Evan marched off, his demeanor very regal, and Peyton watched, stunned and livid, as he went into the house and shut the door. The key spun in the lock. He continued to watch, hoping Jo might emerge or at least glance out the window.

  For a fleeting instant, he considered rushing to the door, kicking it in, and forcing his way inside. But why would he? She was married. She was Mrs. Evan Boyle. There could be no changing that fact. Why would Peyton want to talk to her? What was the point?

  Since the day he realized she’d vanished, he’d incessantly wondered why she hadn’t sought him out. Hadn’t she been worried about him? Hadn’t she been frantic to discover why he’d missed the wedding?

  Obviously, she hadn’t cared enough to ponder or investigate. So…to hell with her. She could have Evan and good riddance!

  If there was a tiny voice in his mind, clanging with the distressing awareness that he’d never see her again, that he wouldn’t have the chance to be her husband, to rear their child, he didn’t have to listen to it. She’d made her choice, and she’d chosen Evan.

  Why be crushed? Why be devastated? Strident emotion was for fools.

  “Let’s get you in the coach, Commander,” Arthur gently said as if Peyton was a decrepit imbecile. “There’s no reason to linger, is there?”

  Peyton stared at the house where he’d spent so many joyous hours as a boy. The happy family belonged to Jo now, and he would never be part of it again. He couldn’t bear to reflect on all that had been lost: his career, his niece, his child, his best friends, and his beloved Jo Bates. She was Jo Boyle now, and he had to remember she was.

  She would never be his.

  A bubble of rage ignited deep in his breast, and it swiftly grew into a frightening inferno. He was eager to lash out, to make every person in the kingdom pay for what had been taken from him. He wouldn’t stop until he’d extracted every ounce of available vengeance.

  He’d start with Barbara and Richard. Why not? He’d ignored them and put up with them. He’d tried to be patient and understand their situation. Why had he? Look where his compassion had left him!

  “You’re correct, Arthur. There’s no reason to linger.”

  Arthur stepped away, letting Peyton climb into the carriage on his own. As he settled himself on the seat, Arthur peeked in and asked, “Where to, Commander?”

  “First, I have to travel to London. I have to hire a team
of men who are willing to perform a difficult task. Are you acquainted with anyone who might like a few weeks of temporary work?”

  “I have a ton of friends who are veterans like me. They need jobs, and any job will suffice.”

  “Are they tough and reliable?”

  “Definitely.”

  “We’ll round them up and head to Benton.”

  “What will we do when we arrive?”

  “We have some relatives to evict.”

  Arthur raised a brow. “Are you sure you should?”

  “Yes.” Peyton pulled the door closed. “Tell the driver our destination and that I’d like to hurry. This episode won’t be pleasant, and I’d like to finish it as quickly as possible.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “He’s gone.”

  Evan nodded to Jo, and she shuddered with relief.

  “I’m surprised he didn’t force his way inside,” Amelia said.

  “I was sure he would,” Jo concurred.

  “He suffered some sort of accident,” Evan told them. “He wasn’t sufficiently hale to engage in a quarrel.”

  At the news, Jo looked stricken. “What sort of accident?”

  “I guess he broke his leg.”

  “Even though I’m furious with him, I hate to hear he was injured.”

  “He’s not completely healed, so it was easy to push him around. Normally, he’s not so obedient.”

  The two women were lurking in the corner, peeking out the window to watch as Peyton’s carriage rolled away. The entire incident had been distressing, and Jo seemed to deflate. She staggered over to the sofa and plopped down.

  “I feel awful,” she said.

  “Don’t let him upset you,” Amelia firmly insisted. “He’s distressed you enough.”

  “He’s the father of my child, and there’s no ignoring that fact. I can’t bicker with him.”

  “He deserves some bickering,” Amelia fumed, “and a sound thrashing too. What do you suppose, Evan? Might you be interested in delivering one?”

  “I’ll wait until his condition improves. I’d want it to be a fair fight.”

  Jo tsked with exasperation. “I won’t have you fighting. Not over me. We have to deal with him in a civil fashion, so he’ll support my child.”