Holt Jilted By a Cad

1. Auflage 2018
ISBN: 978-1-5439-4228-6
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, Band 1, 248 Seiten

Reihe: Jilted By a Cad

Josephine Bates only ever wanted to marry and have a home of her own. At age eighteen, when a handsome suitor swept her off her feet, she believed all her dreams were about to come true. But he was actually a cad who stole her dowry and jilted her at the altar. Since then, she's been wary of men and their motives. She's accepted the notion that she'll never escape her dreary, quiet existence, and she'll most likely live out her days as a spinster... Peyton Prescott is a ship's captain in the Royal Navy. He's a man of action and adventure, and his years have been filled with danger and excitement. But his brother has died, so he's inherited a title and earldom he never sought or wanted. He's afraid his new position will force him to abandon the thrilling life he loves, and he's loafing in England, feeling landlocked and desperate to return to the sea. He'd give anything for a diversion, and when pretty, lonely Josephine crosses his path, he's fascinated and can't resist... But Peyton isn't looking for a bride, and Josephine could never be interested in a handsome, dashing scoundrel. Yet as friendship blossoms and passion flares, can love be far behind?

CHERYL HOLT is a New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon 'Top 100' bestselling author who has published fifty-two novels. She's also a lawyer and mom, and at age forty, with two babies at home, she started a new career as a commercial fiction writer. She'd hoped to be a suspense novelist, but couldn't sell any of her manuscripts, so she ended up taking a detour into romance where she was stunned to discover that she has a knack for writing some of the world's greatest love stories. Her books have been released to wide acclaim, and she has won or been nominated for many national awards. She is considered to be one of the masters of the romance genre. For many years, she was hailed as 'The Queen of Erotic Romance', and she's also revered as 'The International Queen of Villains.' She is particularly proud to have been named 'Best Storyteller of the Year' by the trade magazine Romantic Times BOOK Reviews. She lives and writes in Hollywood, California, and she loves to hear from fans. Visit her website at www.cherylholt.com.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Holt, Cheryl

Leseproben

CHAPTER ONE

Jo walked down the pretty lane, enjoying the summer day. The sky was so blue, the woods so green. It was a perfect morning to have snuck away from home, to be out on her own. She was glad she’d seized the chance to have an adventure.

She spent too much time on her own and—with Maud’s wedding approaching—her sister was in London, shopping for her trousseau, so the house was even quieter than usual.

Jo was bored and lonely, so her current task had arisen just when she needed it the most. It gave her an excuse to fritter away several hours that otherwise would have been wasted by watching the minutes tick by on the clock.

Maud had received the strangest letter from the Earl of Benton’s estate agent, a Mr. Richard Slater. Since Maud was busy in town, Jo opened all the mail, even the correspondence addressed to Maud. Mr. Slater’s message had made no sense, and she’d had to read it over and over before the import became clear.

He seemed to believe—when Maud had been a decade younger—she’d engaged in salacious conduct with the Earl that had resulted in the birth of a child named Daisy. The notion was so preposterous that Jo chuckled whenever she considered it.

Maud was the fussiest, grumpiest, vainest female in the kingdom. She would never have succumbed to passion.

She and Jo had the same father, but different mothers. Their father, Harold, had been a gentleman, and Maud’s mother—his first wife—had been a baron’s daughter. Jo’s mother had been their father’s second wife. She’d been the fetching, sweet nanny hired to tend Maud after her own mother had died.

Because of it, Maud viewed herself as being grand, interesting, and very much above Jo in class and station. She lorded herself over Jo, constantly referring to the disparity in their antecedents and reminding Jo of their separate places in the world.

After his horrid marriage to Maud’s mother, their widowed father hadn’t been able to resist Jo’s mother. His fixation had been disturbing and scandalous, and it still shocked the conscience of many of their neighbors.

Maud definitely never forgot about it, and Jo should have been offended by Maud’s condescension, but she was twenty now, and she was used to Maud’s irksome ways.

Her sister would never change, and Jo thought Maud was quite ridiculous. When—precisely—would straitlaced, finicky Maud have found the opportunity to participate in a wicked fling with Lord Benton? How and where would she have perpetrated it?

Maud was twenty-five, five years older than Jo, and they had always lived at Bates Manor, the lovely mansion on the large estate that had belonged to the Bates family for generations. Then, after their father had perished and they’d had to sell to pay his debts, they’d moved to the small house outside Telford that Maud had inherited from her grandmother.

There was nothing odd about their childhood or adolescence. They’d been raised as typical British girls by their very typical British father. Maud was pious, prim, and moralistic, and Jo was positive Mr. Slater had contacted the wrong Maud Bates by mistake. Yet there was that year when Maud had been sixteen, and she’d gone abroad to France on a school trip.

With Mr. Slater’s troubling missive to Maud, Jo couldn’t deny being curious about that trip. Maud hadn’t written Jo a single letter while she was away, and when she’d returned, she hadn’t brought any souvenirs. Jo had barely been eleven, and she’d been hideously disappointed.

Should Jo be questioning that entire event? Could it be? Could Maud have birthed a bastard child fathered by Lord Benton when she was sixteen?

No! It simply wasn’t possible…

As far as Jo was aware, they’d never met the Earl of Benton and weren’t acquainted with the Prescott family. And Maud wasn’t an attractive female. She was blond and blue-eyed, but chubby and fleshy, and there was a hardness in her expression that made her appear cruel. It put people on edge.

If an earl had been bent on seduction, Maud was the very last woman such an exalted nobleman would have selected.

Jo intended to speak with Mr. Slater, apprise him of his error, and urge him to locate the correct Maud Bates so the poor girl, Daisy, could have a beneficial conclusion. Then she’d hurry back to Benton village and take the public coach to Telford. It was only ten miles, and the summer sun was setting very late. She’d be home in plenty of time to have a quiet supper with just the servants for company.

Finally, she arrived at the gate to the estate, and a man was approaching from the other direction. He was older than she was, probably thirty or so. He waved a greeting, and she waved too.

She dawdled as he neared, but she should have kept on. After all, she was on a deserted stretch of road. Since she’d left Benton village, she hadn’t stumbled on another soul. But he seemed friendly, and she perceived no menace.

He was incredibly handsome—tall, broad in the shoulder, thin at the waist—with black hair and striking blue eyes. He had a firm stride and erect bearing that had her wondering if he’d ever been a soldier. He looked the sort who would be proficient at barking orders and having them obeyed.

While she wasn’t concerned for her safety, she caught herself bracing nonetheless. Ever since the pathetic afternoon when Holden Cartwright had jilted her at the altar, she’d been wary of handsome men.

Mr. Cartwright had proved she had no aptitude for judging a person’s character. She was as naïve as the flightiest debutante and effortlessly swayed by outlandish comments that couldn’t be true.

She’d gotten past that terrible episode, had forgiven herself for her stupidity. She’d forgiven Maud too, even though it had been difficult to absolve her sister. Maud was Jo’s guardian, and a few days before the wedding, she’d signed over Jo’s dowry to Mr. Cartwright. He’d absconded with it and had vanished without a trace.

They’d been gullible fools who’d seen no reason to be suspicious, so they’d been easy prey for such a dodgy fiend. Who could have imagined such duplicitous cads existed? Not Jo and Maud, that was for certain.

Jo had accepted her fate as a penniless spinster, that she’d have to live with her unlikable sister forever. The situation would be even more untenable when Maud married her betrothed, Thompson Townsend, in September.

Jo couldn’t abide Mr. Townsend. He teased Jo and whispered risqué remarks—as if he and Jo shared a secret. Her circumstances had always been trying, but with Mr. Townsend about to move in, they would become quite horrid. But with her dowry squandered, there would be no escape.

She’d adjusted her thinking and lowered her expectations, but she hadn’t shed her distrust of handsome men—and she never would.

“Are you headed to the manor?” the man asked.

“How did you know?”

“It could be that I’m possessed of uncanny mental abilities or it might also be that you’re standing under the Benton sign.”

She laughed. “You’re very clever.”

“It’s what everyone says about me.” He gestured up the lane. “May I walk with you? Allow me to brighten your stroll.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sure you’ll brighten it.”

“People say that about me too.”

“What? That you brighten strolls?”

“Strolls and other…things.”

There was a profusion of innuendo in the boast that she didn’t like. “Are you flirting with me?”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

“We haven’t even been introduced which makes you appear very fast.”

“Or very friendly.”

She scoffed. “I’ll stick with very fast.”

“May I hope friendly will soon follow?”

“It depends on whether you mind your manners.”

“I shall be the epitome of decorum.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Her prim tone was evidence that she spent entirely too much time around her sister.

Like a trained gallant, he offered his arm. She hesitated, then took it.

What could it hurt? It was hardly a crime to walk with a manly man on a sunny day. It wouldn’t kill her. Anymore though, she was just so accursedly cautious.

Gradually, she realized she was enjoying herself. Since her debacle with Mr. Cartwright, she rarely socialized. In Telford, it wasn’t as if there had been a line of swains waiting to grab his spot. Because of her mother—who was viewed as a voracious hussy who’d snagged the king of the castle for her own—Jo was suspected of inheriting the same base tendencies.

Men kept their distance—except for Mr. Cartwright who’d been from London and hadn’t been apprised of her dubious antecedents.

She’d forgotten how pleasant a gentleman’s company could be. Though it sounded odd, there was a peculiar charge in the air, as if the universe had engineered the encounter and approved of their meeting.

“Are you employed at the estate?”...