“You understand, don't you Tally?” Lord Corbett snapped the top of a biscuit and began to chew with gusto, daring Tally to disagree.
“Of course, my lord.” Tally understood only too well. He’d heard the gossip himself just yesterday in Hamilton while making his own discreet inquiries. Half of Bermuda thought Jemma driven mad by her father’s death, the other half thought her a woman of no moral standing. Tally knew full well who stoked the fires of those lies.
Lady Corbett fluttered her fan and waved at a servant for more tea. “Augie has already ridden to Sea Cliff for luncheon and to gather the pertinent estate information. I would hate for our dear William’s personal papers to fall into the wrong hands.” She exchanged a knowing look with her husband. “I think it is best that today you bring Jane Emily to us. Remember, her mental state is quite delicate, poor dear, from all she has endured. She may behave erratically. I pray you will not need to force her.” Lady Corbett pursed her lips.
Tally nodded politely. There would be no account books for Augie to find nor William’s deeds to property in Virginia and Newport. The papers detailing Willie’s vast holdings were in the packet to be given to a London solicitor. The Corbetts might be able to take Sea Cliff, after a time, but they would get none of Willie’s wealth and especially not his daughter. He would make sure of it.
“Please see to it immediately, Tally. I wish Jane Emily here in time for tea.” Lord Corbett took another bite of biscuit, dismissing Tally with barely a wave of his fingers.
Tally placed his hat on his head, bowing low, anxious to leave the presence of these blue-blooded parasites as soon as he could. He had no intention of delivering Jemma or Sea Cliff to the Corbetts. Tally had something else planned entirely.
13
“Jemma? Are you listening to me?” Augie stabbed a piece of melon and pointed it towards her. “Daydreaming again, I expect. I hope it isn’t about Nick Shepherd. You know, flights of fancy, such as you seem to have, are a sign of mental impairment.”
Jemma focused her gaze on a brilliant pink bougainvillea blooming outside the breakfast room window. Shehadbeen thinking of Nick, asking herself again how she could have been so wrong. Why she still felt the pain of his absence nearly as much as the absence of her father.
“I’m sorry, Augie.” Jemma looked back to the table, replying as evenly as possible so as not to set him off. “And I am not simple minded, pray do not treat me as such.” She wished Augie would leave. The delicious luncheon that Cook prepared still lay untouched on her plate.
“I’m sorry, Augie.” He mimicked rudely, pulling his lips into an ugly sneer. “Good Lord.” He nodded at her uneaten food. “Eat something. I’ve no wish to marry a skeleton.”
Her temper flared at his words and suddenly she didn’t care if she angered him. “Good,” she retorted, throwing her napkin down. “I’ve no wish to marry a childish boor.” How she detested his endless baiting of her, his insults, his condescending attitude, and most of all, he and his parents’ arrogant assurance that Jemma’s only hope was to marryhim. Truth be told, the pain of being a social pariah was no worse than facing a future with a man she was rapidly growing to detest. Her father had been wealthy, surely she could use some of that wealth and leave Bermuda behind.
Augie drained his glass. “I tire of your mooning over a man who used you for money.” He poured more wine for himself. “I held my tongue and my hand,” he raised his palm, “out of respect for your father. But perhaps that is my mistake, for I think a good beating is exactly what you need to keep you in line.”
His words caused a trickle of apprehension down her spine. What had happened to Augie? Dislike and fear of her former friend rose up in Jemma until she thought it would spill out of her and flood the table. Enough was enough. Surely if she explained to Lady Corbett that she could not marry Augie under such circumstances, she would understand. “How dare you speak to me in such a way. I want you to leave.”
“Leave?” He put his elbows on the table and glared at her. “You wish me to leave so that you can pine for that one-eyed fortune hunter? Is that it? Perhaps you have the foolish notion he will return.”
“You’re drunk.” The fumes of the wine he drank wafted towards her as he spoke. “Please see yourself out.”
“I still can’t believe you wallowed in the sand with him like some common slut. I had the whole story from Agnes Sinclair. I gave you respect, affection, tolerated your oddities—”
“Stop.” Jemma stood determined, shaking from his constant barrage of insults. “This is my house, and I bid you leave before I have you thrown out.”
“He only wanted Sea Cliff, or rather the wealth of Sea Cliff. Not you. Never you." Augie picked up his fork again and stabbed at a bit of poached chicken lying next to his melon.
“Then you and he are much alike,” Jemma spat, her words echoing harshly in the morning room. “Get out.” She wished fervently she had a pistol handy or some other weapon. Her eyes flew to the cheese knife lying in the middle of the table.
Augie followed her glance and smirked. “Not likely.” He placed the chicken in his mouth and chewed slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. “Where did you hide your father’s account books, Jemma?”
She tried not to let her surprise show on her face that the account books had gone missing. If Augie didn’t have them, then they were safe with Tally. “I don’t know what you’re talking about and even if I did—the accounts of Sea Cliff are none of your business. I will inform your parents myself that our ill-fated betrothal is off. I would rather stay here at Sea Cliff, an outcast, or a withered old maid than marry you, Augustus.”
“What did you say?” Augie carefully dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin.
“I believe you heard me,” Jemma retorted. “For the sake of the friendship and affection I once bore you, I tell you that I am deeply and truly sorry I have hurt you. But I have apologized and tried to make amends. I thank you for all your kindness during the last few weeks—”
“Whore.”
Jemma grabbed at the edge of the table, shocked to hear him call her such, sickened that his opinion of her came of her own foolishness.
“Another man would toss you aside without a thought.” He returned his attention to his food, “But then,” he annunciated each word, “you've already been tossed aside. Like an overripe peach that sits too long in the sun.”
“I cannot believe your parents would allow you to treat me this way.” Lord and Lady Corbett had many faults, but she refused to believe they would sanction Augie's harsh treatment of her. After all, they were her father’s dearest friends.
The sound of his laughter made her skin crawl. “Now that,” he pointed a finger at her, “is amusing.”
“Get out of my house!” She choked out, trying to sound brave.
