Sophie wanted very much to say no, but she merely nodded, paid the man, and watched him bowl down the drive. She and Jeremy were left in front of the wide, deep stairs of the mansion, their two paltry valises sitting forlornly beside them on the gravel drive. Rain dripped off the end of her nose.
Had Sophie but had more than the hundred pounds Ryder had given her, she would have turned on her heel and left immediately. She would have walked to Fowey. She would have carried Jeremy to Fowey when he got tired of walking. But again she had no choice. She stood there for another minute, feeling more alone than she ever had before in her life, just staring up at the three-story mansion with ivy rich and green up the west side of it until Jeremy tugged on her sleeve.
“Sophie, I’m wetter than a wharf rat. Let’s go in.”
She shivered, picked up both their valises, and began climbing the deeply grooved marble steps. “That sounds like a verbal gift from Clancey. Contrive to forget it, Jeremy.”
“Do you think they’ll let us stay?” Jeremy whispered, his eyes large now with fright as they neared the incredibly huge double doors. There were large brass lion heads for doorknobs. The lions’ mouths even had brass teeth. The doors looked more solid than a live oak tree.
“Of course,” she said, and began another series of devout prayers.
There was an overhang just in front of the massive doors and Sophie pulled Jeremy out of the cold drizzle. She looked at the bellpull. There was no hope for it. The poor relations had arrived.
She pulled the bellcord with all her might. She jumped at the full-bodied ringing that seemed to reverberate throughout the mansion. They hadn’t long to wait.
The door opened without a creak or a groan. A footman in dark blue and green livery stood before them. He was small and slender and he didn’t say anything, just stared at them and blinked.
He was an older man, as bald as Captain Mallory and Mr. Mattison had been. He opened his mouth then and said, “Would you care to go to the servants’ entrance?”
“No,” Sophie said, and forced a smile. She could well imagine how the two of them looked.
“I saw you arrive, both of you sitting on top of the coach. Perhaps you’re looking for employment? Then you must speak to Mrs. Peacham. As for the boy, I don’t—”
“We are here to see the Earl of Northcliffe. You will show us to him immediately, if you please.”
Her speech was upper class, no doubt about that, but there was a faint lilt to it, a sort of strange drawl that Jamieson couldn’t identify. So she wanted the earl, did she? She and the boy looked like beggars. Wet beggars. He could tell the girl’s gown was too short. Doubtless they wanted charity. The gall of these two. He drew himself up, ready to tell the minx what she could do with her demands when there came another man’s voice. “What have we here, Jamieson?”
“Ah, Mr. Hollis, sir. These two just climbed off a carriage box. This one here’s demanding to see the earl. I was just endeavoring to—”
Mr. Hollis looked at Sophie. She looked back at him. He smiled and stepped aside, ushering them in.
“Do come in, ma’am, and the lad too. Ah, the weather isn’t what one would wish, is it? You are both wet and cold. Come with me. Jamieson, take the bags, please, and place them at the foot of the stairs.”
“Who is he?” Jeremy asked behind his hand. “Is he the earl?”
“I don’t know.”
“This is all very strange, Sophie.”
Their footsteps resounded in the immense entry hall. A huge chandelier hung overhead, its crystals glittering in the dim afternoon light. Italian black and white marble squares stretched in all directions. There were paintings on every wall, and even several suits of armor set on either side of a huge fireplace. Sophie remembered their snug Georgian house in Fowey. They’d had a chandelier there as well, only it wasn’t as large as a room. When Ryder had spoken of his home, she’d never imagined anything like this. There were maids and more footmen, all looking at them, and, Sophie knew, whispering about them behind their hands.
She wanted to be sick. Her chin went up.
Mr. Hollis led them down a vast corridor into a small room that, luckily, had a blazing fire burning in the grate.
“I will inform the earl of your arrival. Now, may I give him your name, ma’am?”
“Yes,” Sophie said. Suddenly, she grinned, for it really was too much. “Please tell the earl that his sister-in-law and brother-in-law have arrived from Jamaica.”
The man’s dark eyes never registered anything but calm acceptance. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was even a sudden gleaming in his eyes. “I see. Do remove your cloaks and dry yourselves. I am quite certain the earl will wish to see you immediately.”
They were left alone in the small room. The draperies were drawn against the chill afternoon. It looked to be a lady’s salon, with its feminine desk and pale green and yellow furnishings. There was a pile of books on the floor beside a comfortable wing chair. It was a lovely room and so unlike any room in Jamaica.
It was so bloody cold. She’d forgotten how very different England was from Jamaica. She helped Jeremy off with his cloak, then removed her own. They stood in front of the fireplace, hands extended to the flames.
“You did that well, Sophie. I was so scared I couldn’t think of a word to say.”
“They can’t shoot us, at least I don’t think they can. But what they will do—” She shrugged, saying no more. Her tongue felt as if it had a cramp in it.
The door flew open and in strode a young girl with thick, curly brownish-blond hair and the most beautiful blue eyes Sophie had ever seen. Actually, they were exactly the same color as Ryder’s eyes; the girl’s hair matched Ryder’s as well. She looked exuberant, full of life—just as Ryder did—and she was grinning at them. “Ho! What’s this? I saw you climb off that carriage. My, you’re wet and doubtless miserable. I myself am so very tired of this blasted rain. Do forgive me, but I’m Sinjun, you know, the earl’s sister. Who are you?”
Sophie had to grin back. There wasn’t really a choice. This girl was exactly as Ryder had described her. She was tall, lanky, lovely really, and friendly as a puppy.
Sophie stepped toward her. “I am Sophia Stanton-Greville. Well no, that’s no longer correct. I am Sophia Sherbrooke. I am Ryder’s wife and this is Jeremy, my brother.”
Sinjun could only stare at the wet, frowzy girl standing there in front of her in a girlish muslin gown that was too short for her, a gown that Ryder would have found utterly distasteful.
This was excessively odd.
“Oh dear, is it true? It’s difficult to believe, you know. Ryder married! Imagine such a thing. It leaves the brain numb. I never thought he would take a wife because he absolutely adores so many ladies and—”
“I believe that is quite enough, Sinjun.”
The earl, Sophie thought, and went very still. He didn’t look at all like either Ryder or Sinjun. He was massively built, all lean and muscular, very tall, his shoulders broad as the front door, and dark as a Moor, his hair black as midnight, his eyes just as dark. He looked ruthless and mean and severe and she couldn’t imagine him doing anything but tossing her and Jeremy out on their wet ears. He was looking at her, taking in every detail. Sophie knew what she and Jeremy looked like. It wasn’t promising. Her chin went higher. She remembered Ryder telling her that his brother, the earl, would have demolished her in no time had he been the one to come to Jamaica. He wouldn’t have enjoyed playing her games as Ryder had.
Then, quite suddenly, the earl smiled. It changed him utterly. Sophie heard Jeremy release a pent-up breath. “Forgive my sister here for bombarding you the moment you arrived. It wasn’t well done of you, brat. Now, I am Douglas Sherbrooke, Ryder’s brother. Welcome to Northcliffe Hall.”
Sophie gave him a curtsy, saying quietly, “I am Sophia and this is my brother, Jeremy. We left Ryder on Jamaica to conclude business, but he will return here very soon. It is all very complicated.” She paused, not another wor
d swirling to the forefront of her brain, thrust her hand into her reticule and retrieved Ryder’s letter. She thrust it at the earl.
He smiled at her quizzically as he took the letter, saying, “Please be seated. Sinjun, make yourself useful and have Mrs. Peacham send some tea and some cakes. Our guests look a bit tired.”
“Yes, Douglas,” Sinjun said, rubbing her hands together. “Wait until Alex hears about this, she’s my other sister, you know. I just—”
“Go, brat.”
Sinjun went, but not before she winked at Sophie.
“Forgive my sister’s impertinence,” Douglas said as he opened the letter, “but no one has ever managed to curb her tongue.”
“She’s very kind. I didn’t mind.”
“Nor did I,” said Jeremy.
“Actually, I don’t either. Excuse me a moment,” the earl said, and lowered his eyes to the letter.
Sophie didn’t know what Ryder had written. She had wondered many times during the voyage, one time even going so far as to hold the envelope over a candle hoping to loosen the wax. She’d drawn it back. With her luck, if she did open it, it would show and the earl would believe her a sham. She pictured him pointing a long finger at her as she was dragged out the door. She stood there, stiff and miserable, waiting like a condemned prisoner in the dock. The earl read the letter through very slowly. When he looked at her there was a softening about his mouth. There was also a glittering in his dark ever. He looked very human now. Sophie noted these changes with relief. She had learned to read men quite well in the past nearly two years.
“Ryder tells about some nasty business that has nearly been concluded satisfactorily.”
Sophie hoped she wasn’t the major part of the nasty business. “I see,” she said, waiting, wary and very still.
“He also writes that I am to call you Sophie. He writes that Sophia sounds like a Russian princess who has ice water in her veins. He says you’re warm and sweet.”
“He wrote that?”
“My brother always gets to the kernel of the matter, Sophie. He doesn’t waste time on trivialities. As for you, Jeremy, Ryder says you are the best of brother-in-laws and I am to immediately put you on a horse.”
“Ryder really said that? But it is too bad of him, sir, for I am his only brother-in-law!”
“Yes, that is true as well. He requests that I look after the two of you until he comes home.”
Both brother and sister merely stared at the Earl of Northcliffe. Douglas Sherbrooke realized fully that they’d been perfectly terrified of him. When Hollis had told him that his sister-in-law was waiting to see him, he’d laughed and wondered aloud at the gall of some of Ryder’s women. “A child is with her, you say? Goodness, a boy about ten years old? It doesn’t make sense, Hollis. Ryder isn’t old enough to have fathered a boy that age!” But Hollis hadn’t laughed with him. He’d looked utterly austere and said as he looked past Douglas’s right shoulder, “Do not treat her badly, my lord. You are quite wrong. She is who she claims to be.”
It was true they both looked like drowned urchins. It was even truer that Sophie wasn’t a remarkable beauty, not like the women Ryder would normally rave about. But there was something lovely in the cast of her features, and he wasn’t blind to the pride and stubbornness in her, or the character. His brother had married her. It was difficult to accept even with the evidence standing in front of him. It was difficult to accept even though Hollis had been convinced immediately. The earl shook himself and tried to find something to say. He was rescued by the entrance of Mrs. Peacham herself, the Sherbrooke housekeeper for twenty years.
“Master Ryder’s wife, just imagine that! But you’re not at all comfortable, are you, in those wet clothes? Oh, but aren’t you a sweetling and just look at all that pretty hair! Goodness me, I’m Mrs. Peacham, and I’ll take care of you and you’ll not have to worry about a thing.”
Sophie was overcome. She nodded. “I’m not all that wet now.”
“Ah, and here is Hollis. You wish to meet the wife as well, Hollis?”
“Most assuredly, my lord. I am Hollis, ma’am. If you require anything at all, you have but to ask me.”
Tea was dispensed. Mrs. Peacham and Hollis took themselves off. Sinjun was joyfully consuming scones and nudging Jeremy in his ribs as she pointed out the tastiest ones to him. He’d already moved closer to her.
Sophie took a bite of lemon cake. It was delicious. She looked nervously at the earl, who was thoughtfully studying her. The room was warm and pleasant. They’d been welcomed. They’d even been fed. Ryder had told his brother to call her Sophie. He’d told his brother to give Jeremy a horse. It was suddenly too much. Then, the earl smiled at her and offered her more tea.
Sophie burst into tears.
“Oh dear!”
“Sinjun,” the earl said calmly, “I want you to take Jeremy to the stables and select a suitable mount for him. Go now. If it’s still raining, why then, describe the horses to him.”
Sinjun grabbed Jeremy’s hand and nearly dragged him from the room. She said fiercely, leaning down to his ear, “Don’t worry. Douglas will take care of your sister. I imagine she has had a very difficult time. She will be all right, Douglas will see to it. He’s wonderful, you know.”
Douglas waited a moment, then said to Ryder’s weeping wife, “You have done very well. I believe I myself would have cracked under the pressure of coming here to a strange house filled with people you don’t know, people who could make your life quite unpleasant. But you’re here now and the people here accept you and welcome you and everything will be fine.”
Sophie hiccuped and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. The earl handed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose.
He moved back to lean against the very feminine desk, his legs crossed at the ankles, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Ryder stands the same way,” Sophie said. “Only he does it to intimidate me. You look fine doing it.”
Douglas smiled. “My brother tries to intimidate you? How peculiar of him. Usually Ryder has but to use his charm to receive any gift he wishes.”
Sophie blew her nose again, then tucked the handkerchief into her sleeve. “That’s what he kept telling me.”
“Ryder had to remind you of his considerable charm? How very odd of him. Would you like to meet my wife now? By that time Mrs. Peacham will have prepared a room for Jeremy and aired your bedchamber. Later, if you wish, you can tell me more of what occurred on Jamaica. As I told you, Ryder wrote of important things, not the other superfluous things.”
Sophie nodded and tried to swipe some of the wrinkles from her gown. She still looked wilted but she was nearly dry now She caught a look of herself in a mirror in the hallway. She looked a fright. She made a distressed sound, her hand flying to a strand of hair that hung damply down the side of her face.
The earl said easily, “Don’t mind that mirror. It lies always. My wife has remarked upon it. Even my wife’s sister, Melissande, who is so beautiful it makes your teeth ache to look at her, avoids that mirror. I regret that my wife can’t come here to meet you. We must go to her. Also, you don’t have a red nose. She does.”
The Countess of Northcliffe was in bed, propped up with pillows. Her nose was indeed red, her eyes watery, and she was sniffling. Her hair was a marvelous shade of red and was braided loosely around a very pretty, pale face.
The introductions were made.
The countess stared at the girl who stood still as a Sherbrooke garden statue.
“As least you’re wearing clothes,” the countess said.
“I beg your pardon, my dear?”
“Oh, I was just thinking that Sophie is standing as still as our garden statues.”
“And the statues, Sophie, are, unfortunately, quite bare of fig leaves and of shirts or trousers. My wife’s mind has slipped a notch with this cold. It brought her low two days ago. She dislikes being kept in bed; she desires to be up and about, ordering all of us around mercilessly.�
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“He adores to tease me. Goodness, you’ve been crying. What happened? Douglas, weren’t you kind to her?”
“No Alex, I berated her for daring to come here. I told her she could sleep for two nights in the stables but then she would have to leave. However, I did give her my handkerchief.”
“Well, it is true that Ryder actually marrying is enough to overset one’s thinking.”
“I will bring up Jeremy later to see you. Keep your distance, Sophie, I don’t wish Ryder to return home only to find his bride in bed with a red nose and a foul disposition.”
The earl patted Sophie’s arm, gave his wife a mock bow. “If my wife makes you uncomfortable, simply tell her to mind her own business. On the other hand, I have always found her utterly discreet and an excellent confidante. She also has an adequate sense of humor.” He touched Sophie’s arm once again, then took himself off.
“He is wonderful, is he not?” the countess remarked.
“That’s what Sinjun said.”
“It’s true. Even when he behaves in a manner that provokes one to the point of madness and wanting to cosh him, he is still wonderful. I sound besotted, don’t I? Well, I daresay it will go away in twenty or so years.”
“I have wanted to cosh Ryder since the first moment I met him.”
“Excellent,” said the countess and blew her nose. She then sneezed, lay back against her pillows and moaned. “I am so sorry not to be able to see to your comfort. But Douglas, you know, I’ll wager at this very moment, he’s ensuring that a maid will be assigned to you and that she will see to your clothes and that one of the footmen will see to your brother—Jeremy? Yes, a very nice name, yours as well. Please, sit down and tell me all about Ryder. That’s right. Now you’re more comfortable.”
“He made me marry him!”
Alex merely looked at her new sister-in-law “I see,” she said slowly. “Do tell me more.”
Sophie bowed her head, her hands fidgeted with her skirt. “I’m sorry. He is your brother-in-law and you must be fond of him. It’s just that he married me only to save me from being hung. He didn’t want to. He doesn’t even like me. It all came about because he felt sorry for me. I do think he came to believe that I was indeed a virgin, at least before he drugged me and took me to the cottage and ... and took off my clothes and did other things, except I don’t remember because, as I said, he had drugged me.”
The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5 Page 53