Jilted by a Rogue by Cheryl Holt

Author:Cheryl Holt [Holt, Cheryl]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * * *

By the time Brinley strolled into the dining room in James’s rented house, it was the middle of the afternoon. He was sitting at the table, waiting for her to drag her sorry self out of bed. He’d hired a cook and a housemaid to tend her, so he’d had them serve breakfast, but they weren’t overly competent, and the food was awful.

She was a hard taskmaster too, and if she chased them off, she’d be on her own. He wouldn’t replace them.

She wasn’t dressed yet, but was still in her nightgown and robe. She seemed to be hung over. Was she? On top of all her other problems, she had an affinity for alcohol, so he wouldn’t be surprised.

“James? What are you doing here?” Her voice was rough and ragged. “Don’t you have a horse to train or something?”

She was such a snot and—whenever they interacted—he wanted to whack her on the side of the head and tell her to mind her manners.

“I found Laura for you,” he said.

“Was she missing?”

There was a meager buffet on the sideboard: cold ham, dry bread, stale muffins, a pot of tea that was no longer hot. She staggered over and poured herself some tea, then she slid into the chair across from him.

“Don’t pretend to be unaware that she’d disappeared,” he scolded. “I’m not in the mood to play any word games with you.”

Brinley shrugged. “You didn’t have to hunt for her. She runs off, but she always comes back.”

“Miss Boyle told me you hadn’t seen her in four days.”

“I suppose that’s about right.”

“You weren’t worried?”

“No.”

He stared her down, and she was a tough adversary. Any other female would have been cowed by his stern glare, but not her.

“Are you curious where she is?” he asked.

“Not really, but from your sour expression, I imagine you’re about to tell me.”

“She’s with Miss Boyle at her cottage. She’s staying there for now.”

“Fine. That’s less trouble for me. It’s aggravating, having to watch her every second.”

“Yes, she’s such a difficult child.”

His comment was sarcastic, but she didn’t notice.

She downed her tea, then lurched over to the sideboard and filled a plate. She dug into her food with considerable relish, and she deftly ignored him, her disrespect annoying and impertinent.

“You’re sailing for London in two weeks,” he said.

She peered at him, their visual battle fierce, then she replied, “Probably.”

“What will you do there for money? How will you support yourself? How will you support Laura? What is your plan?”

“If you’d help me with Gaylord’s father, I could marry the rich dolt. It would get me out of your hair in a quick minute.”

“Gaylord—whose father sent him to Jamaica to yank him from your dastardly clutches? I’m betting I wouldn’t have much influence with him.”

“I guess I don’t need to pine away over Gaylord. Since I’ve been in Gibraltar, I’ve recalled that there are plenty of other fish in the sea.”

“Your remark alarms me. Are you scamming gullible soldiers out of their wages?”

“They’re all too poor, so they’re not worth the bother.

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