“Yes. Are you all right?”
“You nearly sent my back through my chest, but yes, I am quite fine now. The bit of scone found its proper way down. Welcome to the Sherbrooke family. Did you really knock Douglas off his horse?”
Alex shook her head even as she said, “I didn’t really mean to do it at the time.”
“Ha! I recall making an observation about something quite bland and you coshed me onto the ground!”
“She is quite large and brawny, isn’t she?” Ryder said. He lightly closed his fingers around her upper arm. “Ah, strong as an Amazon and as muscled as Squire Maynard’s bull. She is terrifying, Douglas, she certainly is.”
“You weren’t at all bland,” Alexandra said to Douglas.
“Neither am I,” Melissande said.
Tony laughed. “No one in his right mind would ever call you bland, sweetheart.”
“Would you call me succulent?”
Tony’s face tightened ever so slightly. “I would but no one else would dare to.”
“Ah,” Melissande said and gave Tony a look so provocative it would sizzle any male’s toes.
Douglas stared at her.
Ryder said to Alexandra, his voice easy, and oddly gentle, “Won’t you sit down and join us?”
“I shall join you too,” Melissande announced. She eyed her sister with grave perplexity. This was beyond strange, she thought, staring at Ryder, who was looking closely at Alex. Mirrors didn’t lie. Perhaps poor Ryder was excessively myopic as she’d first thought. She turned back to her husband, saw that mocking gleam in his dark eyes, frowned, then turned to Douglas. Her soul found instant balm. His heart was in his eyes and both looked wonderfully bruised to her.
She gave him a sweet smile and nodded. “Please forgive me if I caused you discomfort last night.”
Douglas shook his head.
“Come and serve me tea, Mellie,” Tony said.
“I told you I don’t like that horrible name!”
Douglas’s right eye twitched.
“Come, Mellie,” Tony said again.
“It’s a lovely nickname,” Ryder said, eyeing the heart-stopping creature, who looked ready to spit at her husband of two weeks. When she didn’t react, he stoked the fire a bit. “I rather like the feel of ‘Mellie.’ It sounds rather mussed, comfortable, like a pair of old house slippers a man can slip his feet into and point them toward the fire.”
Alexandra laughed. “ ’Tis better than Alex. I would rather sound comfortable than like I was a man.”
“No one would ever make that mistake,” Ryder said.
Both Douglas and Melissande frowned together.
“Your gown is deplorable,” Douglas said to his wife. “It is so out of fashion I doubt it was ever in fashion at all.”
Her chin went up and the broom handle straightened alarmingly up her back. “It is blue, and blue is a very nice color.”
“You look like a schoolgirl.”
“Then perhaps you would like to buy me a new one? Or perhaps a dozen? Is my tone wheedling enough, my lord?”
Douglas realized this wasn’t the time to show his ill-humor. He drew himself in and sought control, a commodity of which he’d been plentifully endowed until but twenty-four hours before. The chit had stripped it off him. He felt raw and exposed.
He picked up a scone and bit into it.
“Did you ride Fanny?” Ryder asked.
“Yes, she is a wonderful mare. However, I am uncertain if His Lordship is convinced that I ride well enough.”
“You did fall,” Melissande said. “That wasn’t well done of you, Alex.”
To Douglas’s surprise, Alexandra said only, her voice quite apologetic, “It was unfortunate but I shall be far more careful in the future.”
Douglas wondered if there would be a future. He had to get out of here and do some serious thinking. Annulment seemed the best answer. It seemed the only logical thing to do. He looked over at Alexandra. She was looking directly at him and he saw such wariness in her eyes that he winced. And there was fear also. Fear of him? Because of what she’d done to him, doubtless. The twit should be afraid of him, curse her.
Douglas rose quickly and nodded to the assembled company. “I have work to do with Danvers. The mail is doubtless here by now.”
He left. As he closed the door behind him, he heard Ryder’s laughter.
The mail, however, didn’t cheer him at all.
It rained in the early afternoon, a light soft drizzle that soon cleared away, leaving a very blue sky and very fresh air. Alexandra found Ryder Sherbrooke in the overrun garden at the west of the house, leaning against an oak tree, staring at nothing in particular, seemingly content to bask under the warm sun that filtered through the branches.
“Ryder?”
“Ah, my little sister. Am I an accident or did you search me out on purpose?”
She’d never met his like before, but oddly enough, she trusted him. “I asked Hollis where you were. He always knows everyone’s whereabouts.”
“True. Come sit here next to this fat nymph. What do you think of all these statues? Brought by my grandfather from Florence during his Bacchanal phase, so wrote one of his friends, Lord Whitehaven, an old roué who bounced me on his knee.”
“I’ve never seen them before,” Alex said, staring at the line of naked females, each in a startling pose. “This is my first visit to the gardens.”
“In the depths of the gardens are all the naked male statues and the assorted couples. Grandfather evidently had some qualms about childish eyes and curiosity. The statues are nicely hidden. Do you like Northcliffe?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why do you bind your breasts?”
Alex nearly swallowed her tongue. She stared at him, mute as a snail.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I am known for speaking my mind, what there is of it.”
“How did you know?”
“I know women. There is nothing a woman can do that would fool me. The fairer sex is really rather obvious. Take your lovely sister, for example. Melissande will learn that life has a way of dishing out prunes along with the strawberries. She will play her games with Tony and he will allow them and doubtless enjoy them, within reason, of course. Already he controls her well despite his besottedness with her.”
“You don’t like ladies?”
Ryder gave her a surprised look. “Good Lord, I couldn’t live without them. I doubt there is anything else in life to compare to the pleasure a man derives from a woman’s body.”
Alex gasped, she couldn’t help it.
“Sorry, I did it again, didn’t I? You’re young, Alexandra, but you’re not fluff. You’ve got steel in you and I dare say you will have to use it, very soon. Now, what do you want of me?”
“I came to ask you if you believed Douglas would annul our marriage and how I can make Douglas wait and just give me a chance before he does it.”
“Ah, I thought that was the direction of his thoughts.” Ryder looked at her closely. “I will tell you what I think, since you ask me. Douglas is very likely seriously considering an annulment. He has been clipped hard in the chin, so to speak. He is angry, feels betrayed, and wants to strike out. He is also stubborn and hard and untractable. After seeing your sister today, after seeing Douglas seeing your sister, I believe time is short. If you want to keep him for your husband, I suggest that you climb into his bed and seduce him. Continue until you’re with child. Then there will be no question of annulment.”
Alex stood very slowly, staring in mute fascination at her brother-in-law.
“I doubt Douglas has had a woman for a good while now. It’s likely he will be amenable to your approach. Do it, Alex. Patience isn’t a virtue in this case. Don’t be Penelope.”
Her hands were shaking. She thrust them into the folds of her gown. “I don’t know anything about seduction.”
Ryder laughed. “All females are born knowing about seduction, my dear. Just take off your clot
hes in front of him. An excellent start. You do understand about sex, don’t you? About conception?”
There came a shout. It was Douglas. “Ryder! Come here, now!”
“Ah, the lord and master wishes my presence. He probably wants to send me back to London.” He paused, looking down at his new sister-in-law. “I think you’re a good sort, Alex. Now isn’t the time to be patient with Douglas; you must act quickly. Also, if you’re wise, you’ll insist that Tony and Melissande remain here for a while. Comparisons are wonderfully enlightening sometimes, and my brother isn’t stupid. Seduce him tonight; don’t think about it, just do it. A man’s brain can be diverted.” Ryder wasn’t so certain about Douglas’s brain, but he didn’t wish to discourage Alex.
Ryder left her then to stare after him in bemusement and to bemoan the poor condition of the garden and of her marriage. Her fingers itched to dig in the rich black soil. Why were the gardens so neglected? Rosebushes begged for pruning. She realized with a small smile that Douglas needed pruning too.
At dinner that evening, Douglas announced, “There was a letter from our plantation manager in Jamaica. There is trouble at Kimberly Hall. Ryder will leave on the morrow to deal with it.”
“What sort of trouble?” Alexandra asked.
“Grayson wrote of strange doings, of black magic and visions from hell itself, murders and the like, of slave uprisings. You undoubtedly get the idea.”
“Grayson excels in exaggeration,” Ryder said. “If a fly flew past his head, he would call it a gigantic wasp and claim it was bedeviling him. This talk of perversions sounds interesting, but knowing Grayson, it involves nothing more than two noisy cats.”
“Ah, but he is a good man and an excellent manager,” Douglas said.
Ryder thought about his children and frowned. He’d dealt with all that needed to be done in his absence, but still, he would miss the little devils. He said aloud, realizing he’d been silent overlong, “I’ll leave for Southampton early tomorrow. Thus tonight is my last chance to ingratiate myself with my sister-in-law. I like the pink gown, Alexandra. I have always said that deep red titian hair is complemented by certain shades of pink.”
“Yes, it is,” Tony said, frowning at Alex, as if he’d never really seen her before.
“The gown is old and is cut like a nun’s habit,” Douglas said. “It is as dowdy as the blue gown you were wearing earlier this afternoon.”
The broom handle stiffened. Douglas raised his hand. “No, I didn’t say I would replace any of your gowns, so I don’t need more of your comments about wheedling. I was merely noting that your feminine display is sorely lacking.”
“It’s true a lady should attempt to display well,” Melissande said.
Douglas looked over at Melissande. She looked so utterly feminine and unspeakably delicious that for a moment he was mute.
“Your display, Mellie,” Tony said, caressing her bare upper arm, “would make our randy Prince George slip down in a puddle of his own drool.”
Alex laughed. “I should like to see that. Will you take Melissande to London, Tony, so that the prince may see her and slip?”
“In good time,” Tony said. “In good time.”
“I should like to go now,” Melissande said. “You have a town house I have never seen. I should like to give a ball and invite everyone important.”
“In good time,” Tony said. “First you must see Strawberry Hill, my family estate in the Cotswolds.”
“A wonderful place to raise children,” Ryder said. “Do you remember, Douglas, how we used to swing off that old maple branch into the spring, screaming at the top of our lungs?”
“Yes, and the time Tony broke the branch and nearly drowned because it struck him on the head when he hit the water.”
“I should prefer London,” Melissande said.
“You will prefer what I wish you to prefer, Mellie,” Tony said very matter-of-factly.
Ryder said quickly, his voice limpid as that same spring in summer, “I agree that Melissande would enjoy London, but only if Tony was enjoying it with her. Since he prefers Strawberry Hill, why then, she will prefer it also. Melissande understands that it is a wife’s duty and pleasure to obey her husband, to honor him by her every word and deed and soft caress. Don’t you agree, Alexandra?”
Alex said with a smile, “I should like to see the branch that coshed Tony on the head and nearly drowned him.”
“I should also,” Melissande said, beautiful eyes wary, “but after I have enjoyed London, with my husband, naturally.”
Douglas took a sip of the rich claret. He looked at Ryder over the edge of the crystal goblet.
“As I was saying,” Ryder continued, “Strawberry Hill is a wonderful place to raise children. I have heard Tony say that he would like a good half-dozen children attaching themselves to his coattails.”
Tony, who had never uttered such a longing in his entire life, smiled like an already besotted parent. He looked at Ryder from the corner of his eyes, then directly at his wife. She looked remarkably flushed, and frankly appalled. He cleared his throat and whispered in a voice that carried to every corner of the dining room, “Should we continue trying to begin our brood after dinner, Mellie?”
“Don’t call me that!”
“But the other names I call you really aren’t appropriate for the dining room. But if you would prefer, if you feel so very comfortable with all those here at the table, why then, who am I to quibble? How about honey-po—”
Melissande slapped her palm over her husband’s mouth. He took her slender wrist between his long fingers and pulled it away. “Now, where was I?”
“Please, Tony.”
He looked at her closely. “Did I truly hear a ‘please’?”
She nodded.
He looked at her another long moment, then said calmly, “You have pleased me. Eat your stewed green beans, Mellie. They’re quite delicious.”
Alexandra, who’d been a fascinated observer, now looked toward her own husband. He was staring at Melissande and Tony and there was a deep frown on his forehead. As for Ryder, he was smiling at his turtle soup.
Two hours later, alone in her bedchamber, Alexandra stood irresolute, staring at the adjoining door. Ryder had said to seduce Douglas. Ryder said that all women were born knowing how. She wondered if Douglas would laugh at her if she tried. Ryder had said time was of the essence, that she must act quickly, that she mustn’t wait patiently, like the faithful Penelope did for Ulysses. Very well then. She would do it and she would do it now. Before she lost her resolve.
Alex doused her candle and walked to the adjoining door. Slowly, she opened it.
CHAPTER
9
ALEX WALKED SLOWLY into the large master bedroom. Her eyes went immediately to the bed and she stilled. It was empty, the covers unruffled. She saw him then and walked quietly toward him. A branch of candles burned on a table beside the wing chair in front of the fireplace. There were only embers still burning, dull orange, throwing off little light and warmth.
Douglas sat in the chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He was wearing a dark blue brocade dressing gown. It was parted over his legs. She stared at his legs, hairy, thick, strong. His feet were bare. They were long and narrow and quite beautiful to her. His chin was balanced on his fist.
She was scared silly; but she was determined, she had to be. It was very possible that her future with this man depended on what she did and how well she did it in the next few minutes. “My lord?”
“Yes,” Douglas said, not moving, not looking at her. “I heard you come into my room. I never thought I should lock my door against a woman. What do you want?”
“I wanted . . . you’re thinking about what to do with me, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that and other things. I am also worried about Ryder voyaging to the West Indies. It is never a safe sailing. But he insisted that he be the one to go.” Douglas turned then to look up at her. “Ryder said I shou
ld remain here and come to grips with myself and my marriage to you. He believes you a perfectly fine sort.”
She said nothing.
Douglas looked over at her then. He brooded, stroking his fingers over his chin now. “Your nightgown is a little girl’s, all white and long and high-necked.”
“I don’t have any others.”
“The brass I will have to spend on clothing you begins to boggle the mind.”
“There is nothing wrong with my nightgown. It keeps me warm and it is soft against the skin.”
“It is a virgin’s nightgown.”
“Well,” she said reasonably, “that is what I am.”
“No self-respecting woman would wear such a garment.”
Alex sighed.
“What do you want? Ah, I see. You wish to plead with me some more. You wish to further detail how indispensable you can be to me. You wish to bray on about your housewifely accomplishments. I beg you not to tell me you will also sing in the evenings to me and perhaps accompany yourself on the pianoforte. Why the devil do you have your hair braided? It looks absurd. I don’t like it.”
Alex never stopped looking at him. She hadn’t thought about her braid; she should have, for a braid couldn’t be considered remotely seductive. Melissande never braided her hair. Alex would learn. She set her single candle down on the table by his chair. She raised her arms and slowly began to upbraid her hair. As the plaits came loose, she tugged her fingers through the deep ripples, smoothing them out. He merely sat there, watching her, saying nothing.
When she finished, her hair was loose to the middle of her back.
“Bring some hair over your shoulder.”
She did.
“There. Your hair is a nice color and it is of a nice thickness. At least the hair hides some of the hideous nightgown. Now, what do you want?”
There was really no hope for it. Either she opened her mouth and told him, or she left. He appeared impatient with her and saw her as naught but an unwelcome intrusion. It was daunting.
“Well? Get on with it. I can take anything except whining and wheedling.”
She said without preamble, chin up, back straight, “I’ve come to seduce you.”
The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5 Page 11