Scandal and Miss Markham by Janice Preston

Author:Janice Preston [Preston, Janice]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Vernon had not seen it coming. He had been caught up in Thea’s tale, heart sore at the pain she had endured, furious at the dirty trick paid on her and her family. He stood up and paced the room as he sorted through the facts, then he returned to sit on the bed again. No wonder Thea had spoken of ghosts. No wonder she had been in such shock.

‘We must ensure he does not see you,’ he said.

Thea stiffened. ‘Is that all you have to say? Your only concern? That Jasper... Mannington, I mean, might recognise me?’

Vernon swept his hand through his hair. ‘No. Of course not. I was thinking aloud. It is one of my concerns...the others...’

He could barely order his thoughts. Every instinct he possessed screamed at him to chase after Mannington. Find him...and put his hands around his neck and squeeze the life from him. He had never known his own self-control so precarious. He rarely lost his temper. He was not a violent man. But something about this woman stirred some primeval force deep within him, a snarling beast that urged him to take action. To protect. To avenge.

He poured himself a glass of brandy and tossed it down his throat, then proffered the decanter to Thea. Wordlessly she held out her glass.

‘We need to discuss this in a calm manner,’ Vernon said. ‘We must try to work out how and why Jasper is still alive and how that ties in with my cousin and your brother.’

Thea sipped her brandy. He was pleased to see she had more colour in her cheeks now. She shuffled around on the bed until she was sitting facing him, cross-legged. If only she knew what she did to him...her shapely legs outlined by the breeches she wore... Vernon averted his eyes, concentrating on her face. The fact that she was completely unselfconscious about her appearance, and about being here, alone, with him in a bedchamber...never had he felt so overlooked as a man.

He cleared his throat and marshalled his thoughts.

‘I gleaned some information from Horwell when I went downstairs to order the brandy,’ he said. ‘It sounds as though Connor... Mannington, that is...is up to his old tricks. He lives at a place called Crackthorpe Manor, which is about four miles out of town on the road to Great Malvern and he has befriended an American businessman, Mr Samuel Temple—’

‘Was that the man we saw him with? I thought he had a strange accent.’

‘Yes. He is in Worcester on business and is staying here at the Crown. He is very wealthy and is accompanied by his daughter, Cordelia, who stands to inherit his entire fortune.’

Thea sucked in an audible breath. ‘An heiress?’ She swivelled around, lowering her feet to the floor. ‘We must warn her!’

Vernon grasped her arm, restraining her. ‘Steady. According to Horwell, Mannington’s plans are not going as smoothly as he would like. Mr Temple is set on snaring a nobleman for his daughter.’

‘That, at least, is some protection for her.

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