Sherbrooke Twins tb-8

by Catherine Coulter

  “Well done, Freddie. Let’s you and I go over to where you spotted this man and see if we can find any clues.”

  “Lawks,” said Freddie, and patted his trousers, straightened his sleeve, presented James a proud pose in his beautiful new livery. “Let’s be off then, my lord. We’ll find somethin’, er, something.”

  “Yes, hurry, both of you,” the earl said. “Now, I think these two fine specimens should spend some time in our stable, if you don’t think they’ll upset the horses.”

  Remie and Jason bore the men off, and Douglas went in to write a note to Lord Gray, a gentleman he knew in Bow Street.

  As for Corrie and Judith, they watched Jason and Remie haul the three men away. “This,” Judith said quietly, “isn’t what I planned to see when I came to visit.”

  “No,” Corrie said. “Do you know, Judith, maybe you and I should spend some time with these fellows as well.”

  “You mean if the gentlemen don’t glean any information from them?”

  “Exactly.” And Corrie cracked her knuckles, something she hadn’t done since she was ten years old.

  Judith laughed, shaded her eyes with her hand, and said, “I wonder if James and Freddie will find anything. Who is that boy, Corrie? Isn’t he a bit young to be employed by the earl?”

  “Freddie is very special,” Corrie said. “Very special indeed. Did you hear how much better he speaks?”

  “You’re teaching him to speak proper English?”

  “Actually, it’s Willicombe,” Corrie said. “I daresay that the earl would do about anything for Freddie.” She smiled at Judith. “We can come back this afternoon, perhaps have our own little talk with those two villains.” And that was what Corrie told the earl just ten minutes later. “My lord, I think you should reconsider calling in Bow Street. Let me go question these men. I know I can convince them to talk to me.”

  Judith nodded, eyes narrowed, nearly growling. “I should like to pry their mouths open as well, my lord.”

  Douglas looked at the two young ladies, whom, he suspected, had as much guts as his wife, and said slowly, “Perhaps this note to Lord Gray can wait for a while. Yes, let us try to break them first.”

  Willicombe, however, was dead set against this. Indeed, he stood in the entrance hall, six feet from the front door, so pale he looked dead.

  He was breathing so fast, Corrie was afraid he would faint. She stepped up to him and slapped him hard.

  “Ah, oh goodness, a hit in the chops by a young lady.” Willicombe said on a moan. “But since the aforementioned young lady rescued one of our boys, I suppose that-” He stopped, drew a deep steadying breath, and said, “Thank you, Miss Corrie. I think I shall have a nutty bun if there is one left.”

  And he tottered off.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “ HE RAN LIKE a young man,” James said to his father, Freddie nodding vigorously at his right elbow.

  “A young man,” Douglas repeated. “Yet again he comes, this son of Georges Cadoudal.” He looked at his son. “Why, James? Why?”

  “When we get him, we will find out. Everyone is looking for him, Father. It won’t be long now.” James pointed across the park. “He hurled himself into a hackney and the driver whipped the horses up, fast. We had no chance to catch him.”

  “Well, we have three of his men. I’ve decided that we’ll let Corrie and Judith speak to them tomorrow.” He smiled at James’s look of utter horror. “The young ladies claim they will make the villains tell us all. But now, let’s try our hand at breaking them.”

  James rubbed his hands together. “Let’s do it. Freddie, go fetch Master Jason, tell him we’re going to have a chat with our villains.”

  Douglas said, “If none of us has any luck, I will send off my note to Lord Gray. He can send one of his men here to take them away. At least they won’t be of any further use to Georges’s son.”

  Two hours later, Douglas had to admit defeat. The men were being paid extremely well to keep their mouths seamed. Indeed, it was more than money, James thought, since he’d offered them five hundred pounds and been refused. There was real fear in their eyes. They simply said over and over that they didn’t know nothin’, that they’d just wanted to snag the rich bloke’s purse, no, no, they didn’t know any cove what called hisself Douglas Sherbrooke-a young man? No, they knew no young men. And on and on it went until Douglas called a halt. James and Jason wanted to bash their heads together, but Douglas allowed that he didn’t want two dead men buried in his stables. He would turn them over to Bow Street, let Lord Gray’s men bust heads and bury them in gaol.

  All three men were depressed, but were forced to smile because Alexandra had invited Lady Arbuckle and Judith as well as Lord and Lady Montague and Corrie to dine with them that evening. Her reason, she admitted to her husband, after he’d nibbled on her neck, forgetting for a good long while that he was supposed to be fastening her ruby necklace, was to see the two young ladies with her sons.

  “I want to observe how they treat each other, how they behave with their relatives, and with us.”

  “You’ve known Simon, Maybella, and Corrie forever. You know how they relate to us.”

  “Ah, but don’t you see, Douglas? I don’t know how they’ll deal with Lady Arbuckle and Judith McCrae, and that’s important. Also, I want to see if I like Judith. I’ve never before seen Jason so drawn to a young lady. Maybe she’s rotten to the core, maybe she wants him for his looks, maybe she has a terrible sense of humor.”

  Douglas shook his head, patted her cheek, looked down at her breasts, swallowed a bit, and turned to straighten the cravat that his valet had pronounced perfect ten minutes before. He said over his shoulder, “Poor James. He had no chance to see if there was a young lady out there to win his heart. Now he’ll never know.”

  Alexandra looked at her husband’s broad back, watched his nimble fingers twitch his cravat this way and that. “You had to take me on, if you will remember, Douglas. You had no chance to find the love of your life either.”

  “Ah, there is that, isn’t there?” He brought her against him, pressed up her chin with the lightest touch of his fingers. “We turned out all right, didn’t we, Alex, what with you wanting to make love to me whenever you would pull me behind a door or clear off a table or-”

  “How very odd, my lord,” she said, her fingertips stroking his jaw, “I seem to remember that it was you who couldn’t keep your hands off my fair person. Now, I must say that you didn’t see James stick his tongue down Corrie’s throat. He looked utterly absorbed, Douglas.”

  “Down her throat? Now, that’s something that a gentleman much enjoys. Naturally he enjoyed it. What man wouldn’t? But there’s Juliette Lorimer and-”

  “No,” Alexandra said firmly. “Were James to prefer her, I would travel to Scotland and move into Vere Castle with Sinjun and Colin. I think Juliette might be tolerable until she realized that James got more admiring looks than she did. And her mother-oh dear-”

  Douglas laughed, hugged her, careful not to disarrange her lovely hair, as he lightly bit her earlobe. “It was Juliette’s mother who alarmed me as well, truth be told. All right, let’s see how our respective young ladies behave toward their elders. Corrie and Judith, two lovely names.

  “Ah, it was you, Alex, you, who were always after me, always lurking around corners, waiting to nab me and-”

  She gave him a comfortable fist in the belly.

  Truth be told, the young ladies behaved splendidly, but the fact was that all conversation was centered around the person out to kill Douglas.

  “A madman,” Simon said as soon as he’d swallowed the bite of vermicelli soup. “A very nervy madman. Did you say you think he’s young? Well, young madmen are the nerviest, but that doesn’t mean they’re frothing at the mouth. You know that, Douglas.”

  Douglas, looking down at his own soup, said, “I know, Simon. Also, this young madman is very probably the son of Georges Cadoudal. For whatever reason-be it mad or not-he is co
mmitted to killing me. Is he truly mad? I wonder.”

  Maybella, who was eyeing Lady Arbuckle’s emerald bracelet with a bit of envy in her heart, said, “Georges Cadoudal’s son. His father died when he was only ten years old. That means he’s festered with hate for fifteen years. How very odd it sounds, and frightening.”

  “I agree with you, Aunt,” Corrie said and took a spoonful of codfish au gratin from the footman’s proffered dish. “There was also a daughter. We haven’t yet been able to find out about either son or daughter.”

  “It’s evil, evil,” said Maybella.

  Neither twin spoke.

  Lady Arbuckle finally cleared her throat, looked at Judith, and announced, “I believe it is all nonsense. There is no revenge at work here. I am convinced it is some foul Frenchman from a secret French society bent on destroying the very fabric of English society. Killing one of the premier noblemen of the realm, it is their opening salvo.” That announcement made, Lady Arbuckle returned to her fillet of whiting a la maitre d’hotel. She drew a deep breath, and for an instant, she closed her eyes, her fingers clutched around her knife.

  Corrie said, leaning toward her, “Are you all right, my lady?”

  “What? Oh, yes, Miss Tybourne-Barrett. The whiting is perhaps a bit too rich for me, that’s all.”

  Judith lightly patted Lady Arbuckle’s hand. “I myself find it a little rich, Aunt. Why don’t you try some fricasseed chicken? I have found it quite tasty.”

  Lady Arbuckle accepted the chicken and nodded as she chewed a small bite. “Yes,” she said, “it’s an excellent fricassee. Thank you, my dear.”

  James said, “It’s a pity that Lord Arbuckle must remain in Cornwall, ma’am.”

  “Ah,” said Judith, waving her fork, “my uncle adores being close to the Irish Sea. He is happiest when he is breathing in that salty air, feeling the sea winds ruffle his hair. Besides, the estate needs constant attention. He will not hear of another seeing to his responsibilities.”

  Douglas, who didn’t know Lord Arbuckle well at all, was frankly tired of all the talk of his assassin, and was eager to learn more about this girl who might become part of his family. “I understand you come from Waterford.”

  She nodded, giving him a dimpled smile that Douglas found charming. “Yes, my family raises Arabians. It is a fine country for horses, you know, and Waterford is an excellent area.”

  “Who is there now?” James asked. “Jason told me that your father and mother were dead.”

  “My cousin Halsey manages things now. In any case, Halsey was next in line when my father died. The farm is called The Coombes and Halsey is Baron Coombes.”

  Jason picked up her fingers and squeezed them. “Judith has been alone too much of her short life, but Lord and Lady Arbuckle are seeing to her nicely.”

  “Yes, they are,” Judith said, and leaned over to kiss Lady Arbuckle’s powdered cheek. “My very first season. I never thought it could happen, but my dearest aunt-” She broke off, tears sheening her dark eyes.

  Jason squeezed her hand again, then launched off on one of his favorite topics-horses. He wanted to visit The Coombes, see the farm’s operation, examine the stock.

  The conversation continued to James and Corrie’s wedding, which was to take place at St. Paul’s in three weeks’ time. Douglas shrugged. “I know the Bishop of London, Sir Norton Graves, a fine man who officiated at your christenings. He gave me a cocked eyebrow when I informed him that time wasn’t in great abundance, and thus I had no choice but to tell him exactly why your marriage was on the prompt side. It turns out, naturally, that he’d heard most of what had happened already, albeit slanted in a far more scandalous direction. Sir Norton has many ears in society, and to his credit, he rarely believes what he hears. James asked that he officiate, and he agreed.”

  Corrie choked on an oyster patty. James immediately slapped her back.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Oh yes. It’s just to have your father speak about our getting married in such a matter-of-fact way-sometimes I still can’t believe it’s going to happen. Good heavens, in only three weeks. It closed off my throat there for a moment.”

  James said, “It closes off my throat too. Don’t dwell on it. We’ll get through it. Now, I know you wanted a thousand people at least to overflow St. Paul’s, all of them cheering and waving you on your way, but Corrie, it’s not to be.”

  “Perhaps five hundred?”

  James laughed, and his mother said, “Maybella and I believe that it is best if we have about thirty people to witness our drama.”

  James said, “I will ask several members of the Astrological Society to come. I wish you to meet them. Ah, perhaps you would care to come to a meeting with me, next Wednesday?”

  “And I will show them you are getting the perfect wife. I will myself write and present a paper,” Corrie said, and looked so wicked Jason nearly spewed a mouthful of wine on his mother’s tablecloth.

  “Yes,” James said, his voice serious as his Uncle Tysen’s when he was looking sin right in the face, “I think you should. I have already written about the cascade phenomenon. What should you like to present to the learned group?”

  Corrie gave this some thought while she observed the roast goose on her plate. She picked up a roll, waved it at James, and said, “I want to speak about how vampires can come out only at night under bright moonlight, but not in the day when the sun beats down. That is, it beats down only occasionally here in England, which makes me wonder if English vampires have more freedom of movement than do, say, vampires from the Sahara Desert.”

  James rolled his eyes. “No more about Devlin Monroe. I saw him hanging about you yesterday. What did he want?”

  “He tried to convince me that he would make a superior husband to you.”

  James, who took the bait swiftly, nearly leapt to his feet. “That damned bounder. That’s more than enough, that’s-”

  “That was a jest,” Corrie said and gave him one of her patented sneers that he hadn’t seen since before she’d come to London.

  Amidst the laughter, Alexandra led the ladies out of the dining room, leaving the gentlemen to their port.

  “She got me,” James said, red-faced, staring into his glass of port.

  “Yes, she’s quite good at it,” his brother agreed, “has been for years.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, I believe that Judith is as skilled as Corrie. She too could bait a dead man, make him leap up, curse, and rattle his bones.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen her do it,” James said. “I do wonder what Devlin Monroe is up to, though.”

  “Nothing,” said Simon. “Nothing at all. I myself spoke to him, told him Corrie had been in love with you, James, since she was three years old, to which Devlin replied that Corrie was too unripe in the ways of men and the world to know what was what, that she was too young to be forced into this marriage, that you were taking gross advantage of her, and that I should challenge you to a duel and shoot you. I thought for a moment that the poor boy would burst into tears. But then he got himself together and said it was a lovely overcast day, didn’t I agree. Of course I agreed. Nearly every day is overcast. I didn’t want anymore of his melodrama. I wanted him to leave. Is he really a vampire, do you think?”

  Corrie had been in love with him since she was three? A child adoring an older brother, yes, he could see that, but was this how her uncle saw it? She loved him? As a man?

  At that moment, the gentlemen looked up at the sound of running feet, raised voices.

  Corrie threw open the dining room door and yelled, “Quickly! James, oh dear, come quickly!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  WHEN THEY BURST into the stable it was to see that the three villains were gone, Remie was unconscious beside the door, and three stable lads were bound and gagged in the tack room.

  The horses were distressed-neighing, tails swishing, shuffling about in their stalls.

  James dropped to his knees to feel for Remie’s pulse. It wasn’t str
ong, but at least it was steady, and he was coming around.

  Judith said, her voice high-too high-shaking a bit, “Corrie wanted to come out and question them the moment we left you. She knew you, my lord, would go all stiff and proper on us and deny us our chance. She didn’t want to put it off until tomorrow, and so we told your mother that we needed to go to the ladies’ withdrawing room, but instead we came out here and they’re gone, escaped, and that means someone helped them.”

  Jason said, “Yes, that young man who was standing across the square. He must have circled back, seen his men taken into the stables, observed the routine, then made his move.”

  “He succeeded,” Douglas said, rising and dusting off his hands on his breeches. “Damn him. I will call for a doctor for Remie and send off a note to Lord Gray.”

  As it turned out, neither Remie nor the stable lads had seen who had assaulted them. Remie said he’d heard something, but then he’d been struck on his head and that left him on his nose in the straw.

  Lord Gray, when he was drinking a brandy in the Sherbrooke drawing room late that evening, allowed he’d heard about the attempts on Douglas’s life, told him he was now involved and would find the men responsible. “Since you have determined who the man is, why then, I will myself search him out,” he said comfortably, tossed back his brandy, kissed Alexandra’s lovely white hand, and took his leave.

  No one believed him, even though they wanted to.

  THREE WEEKS LATER

  All seventy guests-forty more than originally intended-cheered wildly when James and Corrie, Viscount and Viscountess Hammersmith, came out of St. Paul’s, and ran, hand in hand, toward the open landau, festooned with every white flower Alexandra Sherbrooke could locate in greater London. It was, to everyone’s surprise, not a frigid, overcast day as all expected, but a cool, crisp, sunny day, unheard of for the end of October in England.