The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5 Read online

  He was right about that, she thought, stunned.

  “How old are you?”

  “You know I am eighteen. I told you last night.”

  “Old enough to be a woman and a wife. You said that too. Oh, hell. Just be quiet, all right?”

  “But I didn’t say—”

  “Damnation, be quiet or I shall demand that you take off that riding jacket and let me see your breasts and your nipples and your ribs. All your upper parts I’ve paid so dearly for.”

  Alex was silent as a stone.

  Douglas eyed her, waiting, but she remained silent and still, that broomstick firmly in place down her back. He shrugged. “I will lead Garth. A good walk is balm to a weary soul.”

  She wondered why he’d gotten that bit of errant treacle, but was wise enough to keep her curiosity to herself. She watched him walk ahead of her; there was a jagged rip in his buckskins. She could see a patch of hairy thigh. Black hair. It looked rather nice to her. She looked down at herself then, jerked her chemise about, covering any hint of skin. She straightened again, and kept her eyes on the back of her husband all the way back to the stables.

  This annulment business was still somewhat a mystery. She would have to ask Tony about it. She knew too little about marriage sorts of things. All she knew about virginity and virgins was that she was one. She would have to be in her husband’s bed before she wasn’t one anymore.

  She should ask her husband, but she doubted he would take any question of that sort in a proper frame of mind.

  He stopped suddenly in the middle of the road and turned back to face her. “I’m tired. Garth is tired. Get down and come here. We will rest a moment beneath that oak tree.”

  Alex slid from the saddle, saying not a word.

  Douglas didn’t bother to tether Garth, just left his reins loose. “Sit down,” Douglas said, pointing to a grassy spot.

  Alex sat.

  Douglas sat also, a good three feet away from her. He leaned back against the thick oak trunk and crossed his legs at his ankles. He sighed, folded his arms over his belly, and closed his eyes.

  “I am sorry you’re so tired,” Alex said. “Tony said you were on some sort of mission and that was why he’d come to us rather than you.”

  “Yes. I certainly made the wrong choice, didn’t I? I certainly chose the wrong man to trust. Jesus, my entire life ruined because—”

  “Was your mission successful?”

  “Yes.” He opened his eyes then and looked at her. Perverseness sang through his veins. “Actually, I would have preferred the lovely lady I rescued in France to be here rather than you. Her name is Janine and she’s a woman, not a girl playing at being a woman, and she was more than interested in me as a man. She offered herself to me, without guile, without playing the coquette. However, since I believed I was a married man, believed that Melissande was awaiting me here, I didn’t take her. Indeed, I pushed her away.” He closed his eyes again.

  “You are a married man.”

  “You, however, are not Melissande.”

  “This woman you rescued, she is French?”

  “Yes, and a very important man’s mistress.”

  “Surely you wouldn’t want a mistress for your wife.”

  “Why not?”

  “That’s beyond foolish! You’re only saying that to hurt me, to make me feel horrible. No man wants a woman who isn’t all that is proper. It’s all a matter of heirs. I heard my father saying that to a neighbor.”

  “There speaks eighteen-year-old wisdom and eavesdropping.”

  “Will you annul me?”

  He was silent.

  “Won’t you at least give me a chance?”

  “Be quiet. I wish to rest now.”

  Alex eyed Garth, who was placidly chewing thick grass at the side of the road. If she coshed Douglas, then he couldn’t whistle for his horse and then the horse would take her back to the Sherbrooke stables. She sighed, closing her own eyes. The morning was warming and becoming clear. Soon the sun would shine fully.

  Alex said then, “I had the oddest dream the first night I was here in your home, sleeping in the countess’s bedchamber. I dreamed there was a young lady in the room and she was standing next to the bed, just looking down at me. I thought she wanted to say something, but she remained silent. She looked so sad and beautiful. When I awoke fully, she was gone, of course. A dream, yet it seemed so real.”

  Douglas opened his eyes. He stared at her. He said very slowly, “The devil, you say.”

  “Dreams are strange, aren’t they? They seem so real, so tangible, but of course—”

  “A dream, nothing more, nothing less. Forget it. Do you understand?”

  Why would he behave so strangely about a silly dream? She nodded. “I understand.”

  CHAPTER

  8

  “YES, HOLLIS, IT’’S indeed the one Sherbrooke you neither expected nor wanted to see. Yes, I know, you would probably like to see me at Jericho, but I’m back. The suspense was more than I could bear. I told Mother, Tysen, and Sinjun that I was going to the Newmarket races. They all believed me except Sinjun, no surprise there, she’s a smart little chit, sometimes too smart, damn her eyes. But forget that. I had to see Douglas’s new wife.”

  Hollis was dismayed. He stared at the windblown young man he’d known and loved all his life, a young man almost too vital and handsome for his own good, a young man who was far too young to be so very cynical. Now, facing him, Hollis was forced to smile. “No, not at all, Master Ryder, do come in, though I do understand that Jericho is quite nice this time of year. Yes, do come in. Give me your cloak. You will see that the new countess is a charming young lady. However, just so you will be properly advised, it may take His Lordship a bit more time to adjust himself to his good fortune. The new countess was, as you know, somewhat unexpected.”

  “Yes, and you decided Douglas should be left here alone to sort things out without family interference. I’ll tell you, Hollis, Mother is fair chomping at the bit to chew the chit to bits. Poor little twit, I don’t envy her when Mother returns. So Douglas didn’t particularly approve the female Tony attached him to? Odd, I’ve never known Tony not to have exquisite taste in females, all except for that Carleton woman who somehow wrung a proposal out of him, which will remain a mystery in the annals of malehood into the misty future. Ah, well, Douglas is fickle and he is demanding as the devil.”

  “I don’t believe fickleness is a particularly noble quality, Master Ryder, thus it doesn’t fit well with His Lordship’s character. No, it is all a matter of change, I believe. Abrupt change is difficult even for the best of men. The new countess, as I said, is all that a gentleman would wish for in a wife.”

  “Ah ha! I begin to understand. The chit isn’t all that toothsome. She’s nothing compared to the succulent Melissande, isn’t that right, Hollis? Is that what you’re trying to tell me in that wonderfully understated way of yours?”

  Melissande, who’d immediately spotted this dashing young man with his fair good looks and his even fairer speech from the breakfast room door, thought a moment about being succulent, wasn’t actually certain of its meaning, but decided the intent was obvious enough, and thus she cleared her throat and sang out, “Hello, I’m Lady Melissande. Who are you, sir?”

  Ryder turned toward the unfamiliar voice and looked at the female standing there. To Melissande’s utter amazement, this gentleman, unlike all the other male specimens of her acquaintance, did not turn to mesmerized stone at the sight of her; he did not metaphorically fall at her feet and lie there inert as a dead dog. She knew the sight she presented was enough to smite down the most jaded of gentlemen. Whatever was wrong? Was her hair not perfect? Was her figure not just as perfect, and the lavender of her silk morning gown beyond glorious against her white skin? Was his vision defective?

  Of course nothing was wrong with her. Nothing was ever wrong. Still, he merely stood there, his head cocked to one side. For the life of her, Melissande couldn’t see any inc
ipient signs of besottedness about him, no sudden pallor or stiffening, no hint of soulful reverence in those lovely blue eyes of his. Ah, but maybe he was tongue-tied, and that was his afflicted reaction in the presence of her succulent self. Then he smiled and said, his voice lazy and smooth as warm honey, “I’m Ryder Sherbrooke, Douglas’s brother. Where is the new countess? And what are you doing here?”

  “She’s with me, Ryder.”

  “Hello, Tony.” Ryder grinned at his cousin, who’d come around his wife from the breakfast room. Ryder stepped forward and gripped his hand. “I am rather pleased you are still alive or is it still in question? Is Douglas still at your throat or have you convinced him that he is all the better off for this good deed you performed for him?”

  “Look, Ryder, I—”

  “No, cousin, Hollis didn’t tell me any secrets, it’s just that I had to come and see for myself. It’s dashed good to see you in one healthy piece, Tony.”

  “I’m Melissande.”

  “Yes, I know. My pleasure.”

  Ryder immediately turned back to his cousin. “Is that a swollen lip I see, Tony? Perhaps that’s a bruise on your cheek? So you did tangle with Douglas, did you? I trust you gave as good as you got.”

  “I’m Tony’s wife.”

  “Yes, I know. My pleasure.”

  Ryder continued to his cousin, “Well, did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Punch Douglas in his pretty face.”

  “I got in a few good blows, but not enough. His wife attacked me.”

  “I’m Melissande. I attacked Douglas.”

  Ryder knew the glorious creature was miffed, and he was amused by it. Obviously Tony was meant to be an Atlas among men; he would need to be in order to control this delightful package of vanity that was his wife. If he didn’t manage her well, he would probably wish rather to carry the world on his shoulders. It wasn’t Ryder’s problem, thankfully, so he said, “Come along, Tony, I want to hear all the details. Is Douglas here?”

  “No, he and Alex are riding, I believe.”

  “Alex?”

  “Alexandra.”

  “I’m Melissande. I’m Alexandra’s sister.”

  “I know. My pleasure, ma’am. Come along, Tony.”

  Melissande was left standing in the entrance hall, staring after her husband and the unobservant clod of an oblivious cousin-in-law. Hollis gently cleared his throat. “Should you like anything, my lady?”

  “No,” Melissande said, her voice absent, for she was still suffering minor shock. “I must go upstairs and see what is wrong.”

  Hollis smiled after her, knowing that her mirror would soon enjoy her image and her puzzlement.

  Five minutes later he wasn’t smiling. His Lordship and his wife came into the hall, both looking as if they’d been dragged through a ditch. “My lord! Goodness! My lady, are you—”

  “No, don’t fret, Hollis.” Douglas turned to Alexandra. “Go upstairs and do something about yourself.”

  As a dismissal, it was clear and to the point. Even though he looked very probably as bad as she did, Alex kept quiet. She went upstairs.

  Douglas said to Hollis, “We both fell from our horses, but no harm done.”

  “Her Ladyship is limping a bit.”

  “It serves her . . . well, perhaps a bit, but she’ll be just fine, don’t fret, Hollis.”

  When told that his brother had come to grace the Northcliffe portals, Douglas cursed, cursed some more, stomped past Hollis, and stomped into the library. Three maids were peeking around the Golden Salon doors and two footmen were stationed unobtrusively beneath the stairs, staring out. Hollis, as was his wont, very gently sent them back to their duties.

  “Ah,” Ryder said upon Douglas’s entrance. “Let me see your face. Tony claimed that you nearly beat him to a bloody pulp and you escaped without a mark. He said, of course, that he let you, that he only tried to defend himself.”

  “It was his wife who nearly killed me,” Tony said. “She was first my sister-in-law, but now she shows me no loyalty. It isn’t right of her. I feel flayed with treachery.”

  “Treachery! You damned cur! I’ll—”

  Douglas stopped. There was nothing more to say. What he had to decide now was whether or not to annul the marriage. And now Ryder was here. He looked with some dislike upon his brother. “All right, why are you here, Ryder? Is Mother all right? Tysen and Sinjun?”

  “Mother is carping about you at full steam. Sinjun is reading voraciously, as usual, and Tysen was prosing on and on until Sinjun threw a novel at him. In short, everyone is just the same, Douglas. They all think me at Newmarket. I was curious, that’s all. Where’s the chit Tony married you to? Does she have a squint? Is she fat with several chins? Missing teeth? Flat-breasted?”

  “Don’t be an ass, Ryder,” Tony nearly shouted. “Alex is lovely and sweet-natured and—”

  “Sweet-natured! Ha! You would say so, certainly, since you married her to me! She’s not Melissande.”

  “I saw Melissande, Douglas,” Ryder said slowly, staring at his brother. “Tony was standing near her. I believe he’s afraid that every man who lays eyes on her will lose his head.”

  “You saw her. He’s justified.”

  “But you didn’t appear to,” Tony said thoughtfully to Ryder. “Why not?”

  Ryder merely shrugged. “One woman’s much the same as another. So long as they’re warm and loving in bed, why then, who cares? Sorry, but I don’t mean to insult your wife, Tony, it’s just that . . . I will try to make her a fine cousin-in-law, all right?”

  Tony chewed this over. He liked Ryder but he didn’t understand him. This cynicism of his, this utter bland indifference toward women in general, hadn’t led him to monkish tastes but rather to a satyr’s appetites. No, he didn’t like women particularly, yet he supported his bastards and their mothers. He never blamed a woman for becoming pregnant. It was perplexing. Women were sport to Ryder, nothing more, and he was quite willing to pay for it and accept the consequences. It was also a relief that Melissande was safe from his ogling. But Douglas . . . Tony turned to his cousin and said, “I understand you and Alex were riding. She’s a superior horsewoman.”

  Douglas grunted.

  “You are a bit disheveled, Douglas,” Tony persevered. “What happened?”

  “I fell off Garth; rather, that cursed woman you married pushed me off my horse. She fell off first and now I will have to buy her a new riding habit. Did you see the one she was wearing? Old and dowdy, doubtless all her other clothes are equally distasteful, and I’ll wager it was all planned by her fond parent so I would be forced to buy her a new wardrobe. She looks a fright, Tony, damn you to hell.”

  Tony frowned. “That’s odd. Melissande has beautiful gowns and the softest silk, er, feminine things.”

  Ryder said quickly, “There’s a faint bruise by your left eye and over your right ear, Douglas. Any other battle marks?”

  Douglas said nothing whilst he poured himself a brandy. He sipped it, then waved his snifter at Tony. I am going to kill this miserable sot. Would you like to second me, Ryder?”

  “You’ve a tear in your britches. And no, I truly cannot second you. I like Tony. I always have. Look, Douglas, it seems to me that you must allow a relative some latitude, particularly a relative of Tony’s closeness. We spent much of our boyhood together. He has never before done you in, has he? No, you will be forced to say, and I must agree. Thus, it’s just this one time that he has fallen off the cousinly straight and narrow. Only one time. Thus, forgiveness is—”

  Douglas threw his brandy snifter at Ryder, who promptly ducked. The glass shattered against the brick hearth.

  There was a knock on the library door.

  “Come in,” Tony shouted.

  Hollis entered, carrying a massive silver tray with the Northcliffe crest emblazoned upon it—a lion with his front paws on a shield, looking both noble and vicious. “I brought some refreshments, my lord.”

  “Whic
h lord?” Douglas said.

  “You, my lord.”

  “Ha! You came because you feared I was trying to murder Tony again.”

  “It’s wise to be vigilant, my lord. Here are also some rather tasty scones from Mrs. Tanner’s kitchen, your favorite, my lord. And Master Ryder, here is your favorite strawberry jam. Come, my lord.”

  “What about me, Hollis?” Tony said.

  “For you, my lord, there are thick slices of shortbread.”

  “Ah, you are a prince among butlers, Hollis.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Douglas cursed under his breath, Tony reached for a slice of shortbread, and Ryder had his hand around the jam pot.

  Hollis stood back, feeling a modicum of relief. When he heard the footsteps from outside the library door, however, he felt himself pale. Oh dear, now wasn’t the time for the two wives to make appearances. But there was naught he could do.

  Both ladies came into the library. Lady Melissande glided forward on graceful feet; Lady Alexandra made solid thuds until she reached the thick Aubusson carpet. Lady Melissande’s glorious black hair was in soft waves and ringlets about her face; Lady Alexandra’s hair was a lovely color, true, but it straggled out of the crooked bun at the nape of her neck. She needed more time in front of her mirror. Lady Melissande’s gown was a soft peach silk that draped over her womanly shape with subtle invitation—she’d changed from the lavender. Lady Alexandra wore a pale blue gown with nothing more memorable than a deplorably high neck.

  With the two females standing side by side, Ryder understood his brother’s sense of betrayal. He had a mouth full of scone and strawberry jam. He swallowed too quickly and choked and continued to choke. Alex calmly walked to him, and hit him as hard as she could with her fist between his shoulder blades.

  She nearly knocked him over with the force of her blow. He stopped choking, however. Still red-faced, Ryder looked up at the young lady and quickly got to his feet. He studied her in silence for several moments, then nodded slowly.

  He took her hand and kissed the wrist. “I’m Ryder, your brother-in-law. You’re Alexandra.”