Page 43 of The Vanished

“Erm, yes,” the man said as he relocated to her table. “Jesseph Bellamy, but my friends call me Jesse.”

Now that he sat directly across from her, Geneva had the chance to study him more closely. His sandy hair curled softly and appeared to have been freshly trimmed. In the light from the window, his eyes were a lovely shade of blue-gray, the color emphasized by his bronzed skin. And when he smiled, he offered a glimpse of even, white teeth. With an angular face and a nose that was a trifle too long, his features were not perfect, but he was undeniably attractive, and blessed with a natural confidence that put Geneva at ease.

“How did you know?” he asked, but she did not get the chance to respond.

Mrs. Lynley arrived with a tray and set two teapots, Jesse’s sandwich, and Geneva’s scones on the table. She didn’t bother to hide her curiosity, since she had probably heard through the village grapevine that an American heir was coming to take charge of the Bellamy estate and realized this had to be him. She made certain they had everything they needed, cast a disapproving glance in Geneva’s direction, and a downright nasty one in Jesse’s, and finally walked away.

Jesse’s eyes searched Geneva’s face for clues as she poured them both tea, then set the pot on the table before adding a bit of milk and a sugar cube to her cup.

“I’m Geneva Bellamy,” she finally admitted.

“Should I be worried that you’ll poison my tea?” Jesse asked. His gaze went to her face in mock alarm.

That was about the last thing Geneva had expected him to say, and she found herself amused by his insouciance.

“Why would I poison your tea?”

“Because I’m here to ruin your life,” Jesse replied. “I can’t imagine you would be well disposed towards me.”

“The jury is still out,” Geneva muttered.

“Is there anything I can do to sway the jury?” He smiled winsomely into her eyes.

“You can state your case and divulge your intentions.”

Jesse nodded. “All right. I came because I was curious.”

“And not because you liked the idea of becoming an English aristocrat?”

He actually laughed at that. “You are refreshingly direct, Geneva, but the answer to your question is no. In all the days of my life, I don’t ever recall thinking to myself that it would be nice to become an English lord. I think it’s an antiquated system that needs to be abolished.”

“So, you came for the money, then.”

“I came because I thought I would be helping,” Jesse replied after he’d taken a bite of his sandwich and chased it with a sip of tea. He made a face at the tea and reached for the sugar bowl.

“Helping how?” she asked.

“It is my understanding that your father is unwell and that the question of succession weighs heavily on his mind. As I’m the only living male relation, I thought I would answer his summons and do whatever I could to make things easier.”

“Are you really so altruistic?”

“I’m really not,” Jesse said.

“Then what are you after?”

“A holiday. I haven’t been anywhere in years, and I fancied a change.” He grinned broadly. “I learned that turn of phrase from a lovely English lady I met onboard. I think she fancied me,” he added confidentially.

“And did you return her feelings?” Geneva asked, suddenly worried that the lovely English lady would become the new mistress of her home.

“She was a peach, but not really my type.”

“Why not?”

“I prefer my ladies a bit younger,” Jesse confided.

“Why? How old was she?”

“Seventy-eight.”