The Wicked Heir (Blackhaven Brides Book 12) Read online

  “What do I want with your money?”

  “I suppose you have shiploads of gold!” Lord Viscral sneered.

  “I suppose I do,” Jonathan agreed. “Enough to give my cousin a decent dowry if you don’t.”

  Jess leapt to her feet. “I want nothing from either of you! Neither dowries nor husbands nor fortunes! And I will not be spoken of as if I am not even in the room. You will excuse me.” With that, she stalked away from the table, though was prevented slamming the door of her bedchamber by Crabby, who scuttled in behind her and closed the door very quietly.

  “Now you’ve put both their backs up,” Crabby said, scowling.

  “Good!”

  “It isn’t good at all. Look, I admit it is hardly a romantic proposal but—”

  “Hardly,” Jess interrupted, “when he is already married. Or says he is.”

  Crabby raised an intelligent eyebrow. “You believe he is lying to avoid marrying you?”

  “I don’t know. I thought he was… but in fact, it would be more in character if he simply refused.”

  “He would hardly do so in front of you!” Crabby exclaimed. “That would be rude.”

  “He doesn’t have a problem with rudeness,” Jess said impatiently, forgetting that she wasn’t meant to know him quite so well.

  “You’re wrong,” Crabby said. “He was most polite to me when he certainly didn’t need to be.”

  Jess suspected that was merely to annoy his father, but she said nothing.

  “I suppose you won’t walk with him now, either,” Crabby said, sitting down on her bed with a worried frown. “But truly, Jess, your best move in all of this is to keep Mr. Tallon on your side.”

  Crabby, bless her, was still hoping for a happy outcome and trying to keep Jess from open hostility.

  “You’re probably right,” Jess soothed, although she had no idea whose side he was on.

  Crabby brightened. “What a pity it is not yet evening, for the new gown.”

  Jess bit back a surge of laughter. “Never mind,” she managed. “He told me he likes the hat.”

  *

  When Jess tripped back into the room as though she had not stormed out of it a mere fifteen minutes earlier, she could not help wondering what father and son had said to each other in her absence. They sat across the table from each other like two generals arranging an armistice—or perhaps agreeing fresh battle lines.

  “Ah, I trust Crabby has mended your manners,” Lord Viscral said, scowling at her.

  She smiled sunnily. “Yes, thank you, sir. Are you finished your lunch, Cousin? Shall we take that walk now?”

  “By all means,” Jonathan said, a faint smile playing around his lips.

  “Should I go with you?” Crabby asked worriedly.

  “Don’t be silly, woman, he’s her cousin if nothing else,” Lord Viscral snapped.

  Although she very much wished to talk to Jonathan alone, when he held the sitting room door open for her, she could not help feeling distinctly nervous. For no reason, she remembered his sudden, insolent kiss last night. She itched to slap his face, but the mere memory of it made her lips tingle. She supposed it was anger, and yet, the feeling was very…strange.

  He was too tall, too physical, somehow, to be taken lightly. And she had no idea if he was friend or foe or neither. As a result, they walked downstairs and out of the hotel in silence.

  Civilly, he offered her his arm, and when she took it, somewhat dubiously, his lips quirked. “Regretting it already?” he asked.

  “No.” She took a deep breath. “I very much wish to speak to you.”

  “You mean you want to tear me off another strip for deceiving you? Or to beg my support in your millinery scheme?”

  “There is more than mere deceit to anger me,” she retorted, then immediately wished she hadn’t, for his eyes gleamed with the same warmth she remembered from last night.

  “You mean kissing you?” he said blatantly. “But you were so very sweet and pretty and seemed in need of comfort.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Comfort?”

  “Comfort. Don’t refine upon it. It was a mere cousinly peck.”

  “On the lips?” she said indignantly.

  His eyes laughed at her. “Why not? If you don’t believe me, I’ll engage to show you the difference—some time when we’re not in the middle of Blackhaven’s High Street.”

  A flush rose from her toes as she couldn’t help wondering exactly what he meant. “So speaks the married man.”

  He laughed, a deep, engaging sound that invited a response. “Touché, ma cousine.”

  “Then you were lying! Won’t he find out?”

  “Not exactly. Besides, it should give you enough time to borrow your hat shop money from the generous Claud.”

  “That’s true…” She frowned. “But he’ll be lonely without both of us.”

  “His lordship? Stay, then. It’s all one to me.”

  “Can’t you see he misses you?” she snapped.

  “Well, in a funny way, I miss him, too. But I’ve made my own way in the world. I don’t need his money, now or later, and he has no way to compel you to marry me.”

  “But he will leave everything unentailed to the orphanage,” she warned him. “You know he will.”

  “Let him. I don’t believe he’d truly leave you with nothing. He’s not a monster.”

  “Then why do you treat him like one?”

  He blinked. For a moment, he was silent, then gave a rueful shrug. “Perhaps because I’m the monster. This building is the assembly rooms. They have subscription balls here that are very popular with residents and visitors alike. You should persuade his lordship to take you.”

  “I couldn’t persuade his lordship to take me to church.” The words tumbled out before she thought about them. Feeling his gaze on her, she added hastily, “But I go with Crabby, so you mustn’t fear for my soul!”

  “Oh, I don’t. I’m more afraid for your spirits. Don’t you even go to local parties from Viscral Hall?”

  “No, for there is no gentleman to escort me. Not that there are many. I go to tea with the vicar’s wife, occasionally. And Mrs. Bannerman.”

  “The days must fly by. No wonder you believe millinery to be fun. Look, here is a hat shop. Would you like to talk to your competitor?”

  She regarded him with hostility. “Are you making fun of me?”

  He sighed. “No, I’m probably trying to talk you out of the crazy idea.”

  She cast a quick glance in the milliner’s window as they passed. There were some gorgeous and outrageous confections that intrigued her. Certainly, they would stretch her abilities to replicate. “Is it so crazy? I do need something to live on if…” She broke off. “If his lordship leaves me nothing.”

  He glanced at her. “When did you last see this Claud of yours?”

  “Before I came to Viscral Hall,” she confessed. “Seven years ago.”

  “When you were what, thirteen? How old was he?”

  “Fifteen. But we write occasionally still.”

  “And have you asked him to lend you this money?”

  “Not exactly. I thought it would be better face to face, so I asked him to come to Blackhaven while we’re here. He is in Yorkshire, so it’s not so far for him to travel.” She glanced at him. “That’s what I was doing downstairs in the hotel last night,” she confessed. “I left a letter to him to go in the post. And then I was curious about what was happening in the hall at the back.”

  His face was unreadable.

  “I know I shouldn’t have gone in,” she said. “And I never will again. But, in spite of everything, it was interesting.”

  He gave a quick, half-rueful smile. “You must be quite a handful for my father.”

  “I suspect I’m more of a handful for poor Crabby! But she bears it very well.”

  “You bear her, too.”

  “I like Crabby! I know she is a bit odd, but she cannot help being awkward in company. In fact, she is a very kind
and very learned woman.”

  “I know,” he said unexpectedly. “I just meant you have no one around you under the age of fifty.”

  She regarded him with some curiosity, for it seemed, in spite of everything, that he was her friend. “What will you do? Will you go home? Or go back to sea?”

  He didn’t even think about it. “I’ll go back to sea.” He glanced down at her. “But I will keep in touch with him.”

  She didn’t ask with whom. And then, she was distracted by the sight of the picturesque little harbor and exclaimed with delight, releasing his arm to dash from point to point to admire the view from different directions. She lifted her face to the wind and tasted the salt breeze on her lips, aware of him watching her, an enigmatic smile on his lips.

  At last, leaning on the harbor wall, she turned to meet his gaze. “I’m glad I talked to you. I’m sure we’ll manage the old gentleman somehow.”

  “He’s not really so easily managed,” Jonathan said. “In my experience.”

  “Is that why you ran away to sea?”

  He shrugged. “I’m too like him. I need to be in control.”

  “Of everyone?”

  “Myself, mainly. And my men.”

  With a sudden burst of clarity, she blurted, “And you are. That’s why that odious man was afraid of you last night.”

  Jonathan shrugged. “That, and the fact he recognized my association with Captain Alban.”

  “I hope his lordship recognizes that you won’t run anymore.”

  Jonathan looked startled. “I won’t?”

  “No. I think now you would stand and fight.”

  There was a pause, then, “You have a very odd idea of me. Come, shall we go back?”

  Of course. He needed to go back to Whalen. He took her back by a different route, past a pretty, old church, and as they emerged back onto the high street, she glimpsed a familiar figure striding toward the hotel.

  Hastily, she yanked on Jonathan’s arm and swung him around, back toward the church.

  “Cousin Hector,” she hissed. “Did you see him?”

  “I didn’t get the chance. Though I did catch sight of him in the coffee house this morning. What’s the matter? Don’t you like Cousin Hector?”

  “No,” she replied frankly. “Even if he is under fifty!”

  “Poor Hector. What has he done to offend you?”

  “I think he still wants to marry me.”

  “Well, that is certainly a grievous insult. Perhaps he doesn’t know about the estimable Claud.”

  “You can’t fool me,” Jess said, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the coast was clear before turning back toward the high street once more. “You don’t like him, either.”

  “What makes you say so?”

  “You saw him in the coffee house, but you didn’t speak to him.”

  “How do you know I didn’t speak to him?”

  “Well, did you?”

  “No,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to speak to any of my family. I only came to the hotel to see for myself how the old gentleman looked. So, why is Hector here? Pursuing you?”

  “I hope not,” she said fervently. “I suspect his lordship told him he intends me for you.”

  “He’ll be devastated when he learns he’s been rejected not for me—or even for Claud—but for a Blackhaven hat shop.”

  Jess giggled before she meant to, then sobered as they crossed the road. “He must be staying at the hotel, too.” She glanced at him. “You know, I rather think he wants to be the next Lord Viscral.”

  “He always has.”

  However, avoiding him in High Street proved to be a merely temporary reprieve, for when they returned to Lord Viscral’s sitting room, it was Hector who opened the door.

  Chapter Four

  Jonathan Tallon, also known as Captain Barnaby, didn’t expect to feel so protective of his father when he discovered Hector in the room. But his own surprise was nothing to the expression of ludicrous, stunned dismay that swept over Hector’s countenance.

  “Good God!” he exclaimed. “It can’t… Good Lord, Jonnie!”

  “’Afternoon, Hector.” Jonathan pushed past him into the room, which was otherwise empty. He squashed the sense of panic, merely asking casually, “Where is Holmes?”

  “He’ll be with his lordship,” Jessica said calmly. “The old gentleman generally takes a nap at this time of the afternoon. How do you do, Cousin Hector?” As she spoke, she walked across the room to one of the doors and tapped.

  Holmes stuck his head out at once. “His lordship will join you in five minutes,” he said, then closed the door again.

  Foolish relief flooded Jon. He wasn’t given to fanciful fears. Over the years, he had dealt with far too many genuine threats to life and limb. But the sight of Hector had unnerved him for some reason. And yet, if he truly believed Hector meant his father harm, how could he have stayed away for seven years?

  Facing his cousin, he thought his panic was due largely to the appalled look on Hector’s face at sight of him. That, and the new confidence, the physical presence of the man that Jon did not recall being so striking before. As though Hector had found his feet in the world. Well, so had Jon.

  As Jon finally closed the door, Hector recovered from his shock enough to back further into the room and stand beside Jess. At almost the same time, Miss Crabtree bolted out of her bedchamber and all but threw herself at the girl’s other side.

  Jon’s lips twitched. “I feel like a gladiator facing the lions. What do you want, Hector?”

  “To see my uncle, of course,” Hector said with dignity. “And to renew my acquaintance with Cousin Jess, which is always a pleasure.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Jess disputed, walking away from her would-be protectors to sit on the sofa. “I frequently irritate you.”

  Hector waved that away. “Nonsense. Not since you were a mere child. But I’ll not deny, Jonnie, it’s your presence that has floored me. Does he know you’re here?”

  “Of course he knows. He summoned me.”

  Hector looked dubious. “He’s been summoning you since you ran away. What changed? Did you believe he was at death’s door and rushed to a hasty reunion?”

  “To make sure I’m still in his will?” Jon drawled. “You do know men die for making accusations like that?”

  Hector’s eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me, little cousin?”

  Jon allowed a smile to form. “Not unless you’ve made such an accusation. And not in the presence of ladies.”

  As though remembering their existence, Hector surged forward and sat beside Jess on the sofa. “And you, Cousin Jess, are you happy to see Jonnie again?”

  “To be honest, I don’t perfectly recall seeing him before, but yes, of course I am. His lordship is delighted.”

  Hector sneered. “Slaughtered the fatted calf for the prodigal, eh?”

  “Well, he gave me luncheon and shouted at me for a bit,” Jon said, holding a chair for Miss Crabtree before lounging in the one beside it.

  “More than you deserve,” Hector said severely.

  “Indubitably.”

  “I suppose you see now that running away solves nothing?” Hector said in his superior, patronizing manner.

  “He didn’t run away,” Lord Viscral snapped, drawing all attention to his bedchamber door where he stood perfectly dressed and groomed. “He told me he was going and left. What do you want, Hector?”

  “Why, nothing. I merely discovered you were staying at the hotel, too, and called to present my regards. Have you come to try the waters, sir?”

  The old gentleman grunted by way of affirmation and crossed the room to take the chair by the fireplace. “Have you?” he demanded of Hector. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just travelling in the wake of friends who like it here. London, after all, is quite dead so early in the season.”

  London to Blackhaven was a long way to come without a purpose. Jon, watching the direction
of Hector’s flickering gaze as he spoke, suspected he knew the reason. Hector was in pursuit of Jess and believed he would have more luck away from the crushing atmosphere and over-protective servants of Viscral Hall.

  “Well, well,” the old man said with unusual amiability. “Join us for dinner.”

  Jon almost laughed. His father was still trying to manipulate him, to make him dine here after all, if only to compete with Hector for Jess’s affections. He was tempted, too, for many reasons, and giving in to the tyranny no longer bothered him.

  “Well?” Lord Viscral barked at him. “Will you make it a proper family reunion.”

  “Sadly, I have a prior engagement,” Jon said, “as you know. Perhaps I’ll call in the morning.”

  “Perhaps we’ll be out!” the old man snapped.

  “Then I’ll find you at the pump room, will I not?” He unwound himself from the armchair and bowed with deliberate casualness. “Cousin Jess, Miss Crabtree. Good afternoon, Father.” And he strolled out, accepting his hat from Holmes on the way.

  *

  Captain Alban had recently bought a rather charming old house on the coast outside Blackhaven, closer to his nephew’s property, which he oversaw when the family was absent. The house backed onto the sea, and yet stood in its own, neglected parkland, which his wife, Lady Arabella, was having landscaped.

  Jon discovered Alban in his study, deep in conversation with his estate steward.

  “Good morning, Barnaby,” Alban said, glancing up and gesturing to a chair. “Give me five minutes.”

  Jon sat and gazed out of the window at the rather charming figure of Lady Arabella wandering among the new flower beds. Kind and deceptively vague, she possessed her own beauty. In fact, she shone with it. Marriage and motherhood suited her.

  “So,” Alban said, drawing his attention as the steward departed. “What have you discovered?”

  “Very little,” Jon said apologetically. “I suspect the spices were slightly light, but by so little that I doubt anyone will quibble. And again, something under half-a-bolt of silk has vanished, part of a large order. It must be happening in the warehouse, but it’s far from clear who’s doing it. I asked around, and some of the other warehouses have noticed something similar. Most of the men work around all of them as needed, so it’s difficult to narrow down. I haven’t given up.”