Hollis hurried around the chair to assist her, although she didn’t need any assistance at all. By visual reckoning, Alexandra thought she was at least fifteen years Hollis’s junior. Was his name really William? But, the odd thing was, they looked very natural standing side by side, and when Hollis took her arm, he gave her such a sweet smile that Alexandra thought it matched hers, and hers was potent indeed.
When Hollis reappeared that evening at the dinner hour, he gave everyone a placid smile and announced that he and Annabelle were going to be married. Soon, he added, since a man couldn’t count on hanging about forever, and besides, a man wanted his wife with him at Christmas, when he placed a present in her hands and earned her gratitude.
“What sort of gratitude could Mrs. Trelawny show Hollis?” Jason wanted to know as he watched Hollis glide in his stately manner from the drawing room, but he knew. The thought of Hollis and Mrs. Trelawny even kissing, much less taking off their clothes, made his innards cramp up. His father, knowing exactly what he was thinking, threw his napkin at him, and said, “Gratitude is gratitude at any age. Never forget, Jason, if a man has the will and the parts, he’ll do just fine until he’s planted deep.”
Jason was hard-pressed not to hoot with laughter, but one look at his mother’s face stilled him. He cleared his throat. “Judith and Lady Arbuckle have finally agreed to come for a visit. I believe they will arrive tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” Jason’s mother said. “I have this feeling that we should perhaps get to know Judith McCrae a bit better. What do you think, Jason?”
“Oh yes,” Jason said. “Oh yes,” and he left the dining room, whistling.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
JASON LOOKED LIKE a proud parent as the girl he planned to marry said to his father, “I have heard that Jason can tame any wild animal he finds.”
How did she know that?
“It’s true,” Douglas said slowly, his eyes on his son, who looked so besotted he was in danger of drooling. “He found an injured marten when he was five years old. The marten allowed Jason to wrap him in his coat and bring him home. He kept it in his bedchamber for two weeks. There have been a long line of creatures for him to tend since then.”
Judith saw that Jason wanted to know how she knew this and said simply, “Lord Pomeroy told me. He said he should know, since you burped up milk on his shirt when you were eight months old.
“I also heard it said that you even train cats to run in the cat races.”
“Who told you that?”
She lowered her eyes just a moment, a maneuver Douglas recognized and admired. “Why, I believe it was Corrie’s vampire who told me that. Devlin said he’d always wanted a racing cat, but there was some sort of approval that had to be granted. Is this true?”
Her dark eyes twinkled outrageously as she added demurely, “Devlin also told me that the cat races were held during the day, so what was he to do?”
“He should sod off,” Jason said under his breath.
Douglas said, holding his grin back, “The Harker brothers, old now, but still in charge of all racing rules, demand to know the bona fides of anyone who wishes to race cats. Jason here, even though cats don’t treat him to infinite trust as do other animals, still race well for him.” Douglas arched a black brow. “You spoke of Corrie’s vampire. Did you know that Devlin’s grandfather, the old duke, never left his house for the last five years of his life? Kept all the windows covered, not a hint of sun did he allow in. So Devlin is evidently following in his path, is he?”
“He does wear a hat when the sun is strong,” Jason said. “I think James wants to drive a stake through his heart, a rather black heart, according to James. With his bare hands, I believe I heard him say.”
“Oh dear,” Alexandra said under her breath and stared helplessly at the open doorway where the dowager countess of Northcliffe stood, those bright old eyes of hers glued on Judith.
No hope for it, she thought, and rose, sorry that she hadn’t had the time to warn Judith. “Mother-in-law, this is Miss Judith McCrae, here with Lady Francis Arbuckle, her aunt. Judith, this is Lady Lydia.”
“Ma’am,” Judith said, rising immediately and giving the dowager a graceful curtsy suited for a duchess. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Jason has told me about you.”
“He has, has he?” The dowager humphed loudly and took herself to a large winged chair and sat herself down.
“I asked Hollis to fetch me some nutty buns. Where are they?”
“Why don’t Judith and I find out?” Jason was on his feet, his hand reaching for Judith’s when the dowager said, “Oh no. I want the girl to remain here. Jason, you go get my nutty buns for me. Now, girl, you have a cheap Irish name. Who are your parents? How is Lady Arbuckle related to you? Where is Lady Arbuckle?”
“She went to her room, a headache, I believe.”
Douglas said, “Mother, Alex already told you about Judith. She isn’t here for an inquisition. Let Alex pour you a cup of tea and give one of your lovely smiles to our young guest.”
The dowager said, “Young lady, do you know that the Virgin Bride visits the ladies of the house?”
Judith, mouth ajar, said, “No, ma’am. I haven’t yet met the Virgin Bride. Jason has mentioned her, as did Corrie, but I don’t know anything about her.”
“She is a ghost, you ninny, a real ghost that my dear son Douglas refuses to admit lives here. The poor thing was left widowed even before she was a wife, and thus her name. I don’t believe it, of course, but my daughter-in-law here—who has more hair than she deserves and the color simply doesn’t fade, which is a pity since it is such a vulgar shade—and wouldn’t you think it would as she’s gained years? She believes in the Virgin Bride, claims that she’s visited her innumerable times, but will this famous ghost bother to tell her the name of the man trying to kill my son? No, she won’t, and I am tired of it all! I don’t think the Virgin Bride finds you worthy anymore, Alexandra. She finds you paltry and loose, always sticking our your bosom so that men will admire you, and wouldn’t you think that such a bosom would disappear as she’s gained years?”
“Er, I really couldn’t say, ma’am,” Judith said and shot the countess an agonized look. Alexandra merely rolled her eyes, poured the tea, added exactly one small teaspoon of milk, and carried the cup to her mother-in-law.
The dowager eyed the tea, handed the cup back to her and said, “There is too much milk in there. It looks soggy. I have told you countless times how to prepare my tea, yet you still can’t manage something even that simple.”
Alexandra smiled down at the old woman she’d known and suffered nearly thirty years of her life. Something unfamiliar washed through her, something hot and deliciously free, and it filled her brain to overflowing. She never stopped smiling. “If you don’t like the tea, ma’am, I suggest that you pour it yourself.” She set the teacup down on the small table beside the dowager and walked away.
The dowager was so shocked by this unexpected behavior that she was speechless, for perhaps nine seconds. “It is your responsibility as the countess of Northcliffe to pour the tea, young lady! I didn’t want you to be responsible, but my poor Douglas had to marry you, so that was that. But look at you, speaking back to me, your words all sly and mean—”
Douglas rose, tall and straight. He looked at his mother dispassionately, wondering why he’d allowed her reign of terror to continue for so very long. Respect, he thought. Damnable respect drummed into his head from the cradle, even though it wasn’t merited in his mother’s case. He said easily, every inch the earl, “Alex is right, ma’am. If you don’t like your tea, then pour it yourself. Now, I want you to try for a bit of charming conversation with our guest.”
“Why is she even here? Our Jason is far too young to be wed. Poor James, nearly as young as Jason, having to shackle himself to that little baggage, Corrie Tybourne-Barrett and—”
Douglas walked to his mother’s chair, leaned down, and lifted her out of the chair, his h
ands in her armpits. He straightened, and she dangled by a couple of inches off the beautiful Aubusson carpet upon which she’d dumped countless cups of tea because it was a rug that Alex had bought and placed in the room. She was very heavy, his mother, probably nearly as heavy as he was. He looked her straight in her eyes, even managed to smile. “You will not say another derogatory word about Corrie. You will not say another derogatory word to my wife. Indeed, you will not say another derogatory word about anyone. Do you understand me, Mother?”
The dowager shrieked, threw her head back and shrieked to the ceiling. Douglas, instead of letting her down, merely carried her to the drawing room door, kicked it open, and carried his mother away, still shrieking, but now she was adding some quite unrestrained curses. They heard him say calmly, “That is rather vulgar, Mother.”
The dowager shrieked again, louder.
Alexandra stared after her husband, her look bemused. She said at last, “Well, it’s about time, don’t you think, Jason?”
“Yes, Mother, you did very well and so did Father. Judith, you don’t realize it, but something very unexpected just happened. My grandmother isn’t a very nice old lady—well, truth be told, she’s a harridan. My mother has always let her walk on her back, always been kind even when that old witch tortures her mercilessly, but no longer. And Father actually carried her out of here. Oh, I can’t wait for James to hear this. Well done, Mother, well done.”
“I wonder if she will be kind to Corrie,” Alexandra said. “I also wonder what threats your father is making at this moment.”
“I can’t imagine anyone not being kind to Corrie,” Judith said, still staring at the open drawing room door, where muffled shrieks still sounded.
Jason laughed. “She even manages to insult Hollis. I do wonder how long it will take grandmother to realize she’s no longer in charge here.”
“I trust your father. Her reign is over.” Alexandra stood, her arms crossed over her chest, her chin up, her eyes hard. “It was over such a little thing,” she said, shaking her head. “Never again will that old woman make my stomach ache.” She turned to Judith. “Well, such a spectacle for a guest. I am so sorry, not about what I did, not about what my husband did, I’m sorry at the timing of it. Nearly thirty years—all this time I’ve swallowed my bile and tried to keep the peace.” She began rubbing her hands together. “I cannot believe it took me so very long to put an end to it. Now, I need to speak to your father, Jason, if he is finished with the old bat. We can develop a strategy. What do you think?”
Alexandra didn’t wait for any advice, just sailed out of the drawing room, head high and shoulders squared.
Jason said, “James told me that he and Corrie were going to live at Primrose Hall, a charming house that the first Lord Hammersmith built. He was probably thinking of the insults Corrie would have to endure were they to live here. Now? I wonder. Shall I show you some interesting statues in the east garden, Judith? They’re rather unusual. I think you might like them.”
CORRIE TURNED ON her side, kissed her husband’s mouth, and said, “James, please wake up, please.”
James was instantly awake. “What is this? You want me in the middle of the night? What’s wrong, Corrie? You’re shaking.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her so tight she had trouble breathing. “Did you have a nightmare? It’s over now, all over.”
She pulled back from him. “No, it wasn’t a nightmare, James. I was awake, she woke me up. It’s you, James, not your father. Oh goodness, it’s you. It was the Virgin Bride, I know it was. She visited me because I’m now a part of the family.”
James stared down at her. He believed in the Virgin Bride, but he would never admit to his father that he did. He didn’t want to see his father’s look of amused contempt directed at him. He’d heard stories about how she’d appeared to his father, but still, the earl wouldn’t speak of the ghost without copious sneers and mockery.
He rubbed her back, ran his hands down her arms. “It’s all right now. That’s it. Now, tell me what the Virgin Bride told you.”
“I woke up, felt you next to me, and I was smiling. I was thinking about kissing your belly.” She reared back in his arms and made out his face in the moonlight. It seemed to her that suddenly James was too still, that he’d almost stopped breathing. “Are you all right, James?”
“No. Yes. Kissing my belly? No, no. I’ll get over it. Tell me more.”
“All right. After I kissed your belly then I thought about what else I could do to you—”
“Er, about the ghost, Corrie, start talking about her right now, or else I might be on my knees begging you to do what you were planning.”
“Really? Oh goodness, James—oh yes, the Virgin Bride. Well, I was awake and then I sort of drifted off. But I wasn’t asleep, I’m positive about that. Then she was there, beside the bed, and she was looking down at me. She looked all floaty, sort of wispy, but I could see that she was beautiful, with lots of long, pale hair. She didn’t speak, at least I don’t think she did, but it felt like she was speaking to me, in my mind. She said it was you, James, said you were in danger. She didn’t say anything at all about your father, just you. What is going on? Oh God, what are we going to do? We’re alone here. Do you have a gun?”
“Yes, I have a gun.” He added with barely a pause, “I will buy one for you as well, all right?”
That calmed her as nothing else he could have said. He knew her that well.
“All right, that’s good. What shall we do?”
“I think,” James said slowly, kissing her forehead, “that it’s time you and I went back home.”
“I’m afraid, James.”
“Yes, so am I. Now, can you put this out of your mind until morning?”
She was quiet for a good minute. Then she twisted in his arms and shoved him onto his back. She smiled down at him even as she began to push down the covers. “About your belly, James—”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
IT WAS MIDNIGHT, a time when James, in decent weather, could be found lying on his back on some close-by hillock, gazing up at the stars. But for Jason, midnight was the time to sleep. He awoke with the sun on most mornings, his head clear, full of energy, and ready to take on the world. He many times passed yawning servants in the corridors of Northcliffe.
Moonlight spilled through the windows since Jason refused to have the heavy draperies drawn. If it weren’t so very cold, near to freezing this night, the windows would have been open, cold air on his face, and a pile of blankets to his chin.
He was dreaming of his grandmother. In his dream, he saw her as a young girl. The thing was, though, she looked just like she did today, her face all mottled red with rage and disbelief because his mother had finally told the old woman her reign of terror was over. The only thing different was that his grandmother looked smaller, not different or older. Suddenly, she was yelling at another girl he suddenly saw hiding behind a chair. She threw a doll at the girl.
His dream suddenly changed. His grandmother became the marten he’d saved when he’d been a small boy, and the marten’s breath was warm on his face, its body heavy on his chest, down the length of his body as well and that was strange. He couldn’t breathe, there was something—
Jason woke up, no blurry mind, all of him there and alert, to find Judith lying on top of him, kissing his face.
His heart jumped; the girl he loved was actually here, in his bedchamber, sliding about on top of him, and it wasn’t a dream. He was able, barely, to keep his voice slow and easy. “Judith, you’ve turned me into a bucket of sentiment and lust, but when all is said and done, you shouldn’t be here in my bedchamber at midnight, doing what you’re doing, which is a great pity.”
She laughed, her warm breath fanning his mouth. Then she kissed him again, just a light, tentative kiss, because he knew she had no experience.
“Judith, why are you here?”
She didn’t laugh. He heard nervousness in her voice. “Jason, I came here because I wa
nt you. I want you more than you can begin to imagine. I want you more than I did just a minute ago. Don’t send me away. Please.”
Jason didn’t know how it happened, but his arms were around her back, tightening. She felt soft against him, and he knew that within moments he would be hard against her belly and surely that would scare her witless. He kissed her then, keeping his tongue in his own mouth.
She liked that. When he managed to pull himself free, he said with great urgency, “Judith, you shouldn’t be here, it isn’t right. I love you, I’ve told you that—”
She reared up a bit. Her face was shadowed, but he could see those dark eyes of hers clearly enough. “You’ve never told me you loved me. You’ve always played around the point. And then you’ve gone off to your mistress.”
“Very well, listen to me now. I love you. There, is that clear enough for you? Now, you must leave. I can’t accompany you back to your bedchamber because there is no doubt at all in my mind that someone utterly unexpected would magically appear in the corridor and see us.”
She laughed.
“No, listen to me. I’m perfectly serious. Something would wake them up, and they’d come out into the corridor to see us skulking back to your bedchamber. So go now, while I’m still able to let you leave me. You can count on the fact that I’m not off to see any mistress.”
Her eyes were dark, even darker now at midnight. “I don’t want to leave you, Jason. Don’t you want me?”
“Even though you’re a virgin, you can answer that question, Judith. Surely you can feel me against you.”
She squirmed, and he thought he’d die. “Yes,” she whispered against his mouth, “I feel you. I know that part of you somehow comes inside me, and that sounds very strange, but I’ve decided that I want to learn all about it tonight. I’m nearly twenty, after all. I want you to teach me.”
“I can’t do this, I just can’t.” It took all his will to flip her off him and over on her back. When he immediately turned to look down at her, he wondered if it had been such a fine idea. He was balanced on one elbow. His left hand was free to stroke her hair, to touch her cheek, her lips, her chin. She was wearing a virginal white nightgown, a soft white wrapper over it, tied at her waist. His hand hovered then touched her throat. He leaned down and kissed her.
Catherine Coulter the Sherbrooke Series Novels 6-10 (9781101562123) Page 91