He didn’t say anything to anyone. He shook his head at Philip when he would say something, and took the stairs two and three at a time.
“Remember, Papa,” Philip shouted after him. “Remember she’s been ill!”
“She’ll pray for a fever before I’m through with her,” Colin shouted back over his shoulder.
He saw Aunt Arleth. She, in turn, saw his rage and smiled. It was obvious to Colin that she was devoutly praying that he would murder his wife. It was a thought, but he preferred torture and slow strangulation. Emma was coming out of one of the wives’ bedchambers. She saw the earl and quickly dashed back inside.
“Smart of you,” he said under his breath. He wanted to crash into the laird’s bedchamber and start yelling. At the last minute he forced himself to calm. These ladies had to be handled carefully. They were used to men who yelled; yelling wouldn’t yield the desired effect of making them fall in a faint and stutter and plead and stammer out the truth.
Very gently, his fingers nearly cramping with the effort to contain his ire, Colin opened the bedchamber door. Odd, but he wasn’t at all surprised to see the two wives gowned as gloriously as society ladies all set for tea. They looked elegant, fresh, and beautiful; his wife was lying in bed, her hair soft and curling around her face, wearing a lovely lace-covered peignoir. She looked very young and elegant and innocent as a lamb. She was holding a book in her hand. All looked tranquil. It could have been an English drawing room in Putnam Square. There wasn’t a hair out of place on any of their heads. There wasn’t a wrinkle in any of their gowns. They were giving him inquiring looks, as if to say, “Goodness, a gentleman is here. How very strange. He came without an invitation. What should we do with him?”
Sinjun called out, her voice as sweet and innocent as her damned face, “Oh, Colin. I’m delighted you’re back. Do forgive me for sending you on that quite useless errand to Dr. Childress, but I felt much better nearly the exact moment after you’d left. Strange, isn’t it? I tried to call you back but you left too quickly. I’m just fine now, as you can see. Aren’t you pleased?”
“What I see,” Colin said mildly as he walked into the room, “is a quite perfect stage setting. My God, it would do any Drury Lane theater proud. The three of you are really quite good. I’ve always known that Joan could move quickly—indeed, accomplish incredible tasks in very little time, just witness our elopement—and now I see that you two aren’t to be left in the dust. Even the color of your gowns and her peignoir complement each other. Remarkable. I applaud you.”
Sinjun said nothing. The wives were silent, blank smiles firmly affixed to their faces, their hands steady in their laps.
He walked to Sinjun and sat beside her on the bed. He very lightly traced his fingertips over her cheek. She looked suddenly flushed as a very ripe apple. He was so furious he wanted to strangle her. He looked at her white neck wistfully. Her hair was soft and lovely, so very thick and curly. He ran his fingers through several strands. He remained silent, just looking at her, touching her face and hair.
Sinjun had believed he would storm into their bedchamber and yell and rant. But he hadn’t and now she wasn’t so sure. She waited, keeping quiet. There wasn’t a word in her head in any case.
“How very lovely you look,” he said after another few moments of silence. “Lovely and clean and there’s not even a hint of horse smell on you.”
“We only rode for a very little while. I did tire quickly.”
“Yes, I imagine you did. Poor darling, are you certain you’re better? I don’t have to fear another relapse?”
“Oh no, Colin, I feel just grand. It’s kind of you to be concerned for me.”
“Yes, isn’t it? Actually, what I want from you, Joan, what I want this very instant, is the truth. If you lie to me, I will know it and I will punish you.”
“Punish me? Really, sir, such a threat isn’t at all civilized.”
“At this moment I’m not feeling at all civilized. I’m feeling quite savage. Speak to me, Joan. Now.” His voice was so low and calm and quiet, yet his words . . . Oh dear, he couldn’t be any more dangerous than Douglas or Ryder at their best, could he?
She darted a look toward Sophie and Alex, who both looked nailed to their chairs. Then Sophie, bless her, jumped to her feet. “Goodness, Colin, all we did was ride out a bit, nothing more. Then Sinjun felt a bit weak and we came back to the castle and put her to bed. Surely you aren’t angry about that.”
Colin said pleasantly, “You’re lying, Sophie. Unfortunately, I’m not your husband so I can’t beat you. But this simpleton here is my wife. She belongs to me. She is supposed to obey me; however, I’ve yet to experience that blessed phenomenon. She will have to learn that—”
Alex grabbed her stomach, groaned loudly, and jumped to her feet. “Oh dear! The baby—my stomach. Sophie, I’m going to be ill. Oh dear!”
It was a tableau worthy of Emma Hamilton, and Colin wasn’t untouched by the talent to produce it. He began clapping. “Bravo,” he said. “Ah, yes, bravo.”
Alex fell to her knees and vomited on the newly cleaned Aubusson carpet.
CHAPTER
17
“SHE WAS ALWAYS throwing up when she was pregnant with the twins,” Sinjun said, struggling to get out of bed. “The first three months kept everyone on their toes trying to keep basins near her. Poor Alex.”
“No, stay put,” Colin said to his wife. He strode over to Alex, who was clutching her sides now, nothing more in her belly, trying to catch her breath. He grasped his sister-in-law under her arms and pulled her upright. He took a look at her pale face and the sweaty strands of hair plastered to her forehead, and swung her into his arms. He said gently, “You’re feeling miserable, aren’t you? I’m sorry, but it will get better soon.” Sighing, Alex lay her face against his shoulder.
“Get some water and dampen a towel, Sophie,” Colin said, and laid Alex next to Sinjun on the bed.
“At least she didn’t eat much breakfast,” Sinjun said. “Poor Alex, are you all right?”
“No,” Alex said, and groaned. “Stop calling me ‘poor Alex.’ It makes me feel like a gouty maiden aunt.”
Sophie alerted the servants to the disaster and for the next few minutes pandemonium reigned. Emma stared wide-eyed at the mess, two other serving maids stacked behind her, gawking. Sophie brought a wet towel, Rory the footman behind her, craning to see into the bedchamber. Mrs. Seton trailed her with a basin of cool water.
“Here, drink this,” Colin said, and lifted Alex slightly. She sipped at the water he’d poured into a glass from the carafe on the bedside table, promptly grabbed her stomach, and groaned again.
“I remember drinking water sometimes made her stomach cramp,” Sinjun said. “Mrs. Seton, what we need is some hot tea.”
“Poor little mite,” said Mrs. Seton, and efficiently wiped Alex’s face. “Aye, birthing isn’t always an unafflicted joy.”
Alex groaned again, and Sophie announced, “I wasn’t sick for a minute.”
“Shut up, Sophie,” Alex said, teeth gritted. “First you don’t have the good sense to tell Douglas where we are and now you’re bragging about how wonderful you felt carrying Grayson when I want to die.”
“Shush,” Colin said, taking the cloth from Mrs. Seton and wiping Alex’s clammy face. “You’ll feel just the thing very soon, I promise.”
There were suddenly loud footsteps in the corridor, coming closer and faster, as if a battalion of crusaders had just arrived to free the Holy Land. It needed but this, Colin thought, staring at Douglas Sherbrooke as he burst into the bedchamber, flinging the door so hard that it slammed against the wall. Ryder nearly rammed into Douglas’s back, and there was Philpot, consternation writ plainly on his face, jumping up and down behind Ryder.
“My lord,” Philpot yelled above the jumble of voices. “They truckled right ov’r me!”
“It’s all right,” Colin said on a sigh. He continued to wipe Alex’s face. “Hello, Douglas, Ryder. Do come
in. Philpot, they won’t attempt violence in front of their wives. Ah, Emma, stop staring at the mess. Please clean it up. The rest of you—out!”
“I knew you’d come,” Sinjun said, beaming at both of them. “But this is faster than I expected, even for you two.”
Sophie was staring down at her slippers.
Alex just groaned and closed her eyes.
Douglas said dispassionately, as he strode to the bed and stood there, staring down at his wife, “So you were sick, were you? And on the beautiful carpet, I see. Well, Sinjun, it’s your own fault. You know how Alex is. Blessed hell, she threw up on every carpet of value at Northcliffe Hall. Didn’t you have the foresight to put a basin in every room? She even threw up on my favorite burgundy dressing gown.”
“You deserved it,” Alex said without opening her eyes.
Ryder wasn’t at all dispassionate. He strode to his wife, grasped her arms, and shouted two inches from her face, “Damn you, look at me, Sophie!”
“I’m looking!”
“You left me! You vex me, woman; your gall has gone too far this time.”
“My gall has never gone anywhere before! And you’re here, Ryder, here with Douglas, just as we knew you’d be, although Alex was beginning to think that Douglas wouldn’t come, just to punish her with his absence.”
“Yes, I’m here. I would never use absence as a punishment and neither would Douglas. Blessed hell, I was worried about you, nearly fretted myself out of my mind until I realized it was all a lie. You’re not pregnant.”
“I never said I was. You were strutting around all arrogant and pleased with yourself. I simply didn’t gainsay you.”
“I will beat you. Where is your bedchamber?”
“I shan’t take you to my chamber. Alex is sick. Sinjun was sick but she’s better now. Colin appears philosophical but I don’t trust it. You and Douglas are as you always are. Sinjun knew you’d be here. But I don’t know how you could be here since I didn’t tell you where we were going.”
“Yes,” Alex said, “how did you know, Douglas?”
Douglas was looking at poor Emma, who was cleaning up the carpet. He turned to his wife and said, “You twit. You think I couldn’t very quickly determine where you’d gone?”
“I told you I was going to see Sophie,” Alex said, refusing to open her eyes.
“Och, here’s a cup o’ tea for her ladyship,” Mrs. Seton said, and marched to the bed. She gave Douglas a severe look and he obligingly moved. She sat down and gently put the rim to Alex’s lips. “Oh, that’s good,” Alex said, her head falling back on the pillow after three healthy sips.
“The two of you look quite remarkable in that bed, side by side,” Ryder said.
“I want you to feel better,” Douglas said to his wife. “I have quite a bit to say to you, madam.”
“Oh, stow it, Douglas,” Sinjun said, and immediately regretted opening her mouth, because her brother, frustrated because his wife was ill and thus immune from his displeasure for the moment, bent the full force of his anger on her. “So, little sister, you’ve been up to all sorts of nonsense again, haven’t you? I can see you’re well enough again for any sort of just deserts. I would personally enjoy taking your skirts up over your bottom, but you’ve a husband now and I must deny myself that pleasure. However, I must hope that he will do it. She is well enough now, isn’t she, Colin?”
Colin smiled. “Yes, she certainly is well enough now.”
“Good,” Douglas said, rubbing his hands together. “I hope he won’t suffer your pranks as I’ve had to over an interminable number of years.”
“I daresay I won’t suffer pranks at all.”
Sophie interrupted. “Listen, Douglas, I want to know how you and Ryder knew to come here. Sinjun said you’d be here Friday, but that’s just because she thinks you’re both gods.”
Alex moaned softly. Mrs. Seton reached in one of her large pockets and drew out a fat scone, wrapped in a napkin and bulging with raisins. “Try this, my lady, ’tis soft an’ easy for the belly. ’Twill make ye settle, ye’ll see.”
Sinjun was staring at Douglas. He looked uncomfortable; he was actually flushing. He rose and strode across the bedchamber and back again. He was clearly agitated.
But it was Alex who was eyeing him with dawning comprehension as she chewed on her scone. “It was the Virgin Bride! She came to you and told you where we were. What else did she tell you?”
“That’s utter nonsense!” Douglas shouted. “Nothing of the sort. That bloody damned ghost. She doesn’t exist—”
“Naturally not,” Sinjun said. “She’s been dead for centuries. It’s her ghost that hovers about.”
“Shut your mouth, Sinjun. I merely applied a few mental processes—very few were necessary, given you two—and quickly realized that you would go haring off to Scotland.”
Ryder was frowning at his brother. “You fetched me from Ascot. You told me we had to go get our wives, that they’d heard from Sinjun, and that she was ill and that there was trouble. I didn’t think to question you then. I thought Alex had left you a letter, but obviously she hadn’t. How did you know Sophie was involved? What’s going on here, Douglas?”
Douglas plowed his fingers through his hair, standing it on end. He looked clearly harassed, defensive, and wary. “I just got this feeling, that’s all. A simple feeling. We all have simple feelings from time to time, even you, Ryder. This bloody feeling came when I was sleeping in Alex’s bed because Mother had insisted on having my mattress restuffed and pounded, God knows why. I like flat goose feathers. I just felt them then, during the night, these simple feelings when I was thinking about Alex, that’s all. Simple feelings and simple deductions.”
Colin had moved to stand by the fireplace, leaning negligently against the mantel, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked utterly unmoved by all the carping and ghost talk. He even appeared mildly amused to Sinjun’s fond eye, at least she hoped he was amused. He’d be easier to deal with if he was amused. He said at last when there was a moment’s break, “The carpet wasn’t all that expensive. Don’t worry about it, Alex. I think Emma’s done an excellent job.”
Alex cocked an eye open. “Thank you, Colin. You’re very kind to a sick lady, unlike—”
“Don’t even think about saying it,” Douglas said. Mrs. Seton had left, albeit with a lagging step, and he had resumed his seat on the bed by his wife. “No, not a damned word. I am your husband and it is I who am kind to you, no other man, do you understand?”
Her eyes twinkled at him for the first time. “I understand. But Douglas, you must have seen the ghost and she told you where we’d gone.”
“No, dammit!”
“What I don’t understand,” Sophie interrupted, “is why the Virgin Bride would tell Douglas. Doesn’t she think we’re capable of dealing with the situation by ourselves?”
“Oh God,” Sinjun said. “Sophie!”
Sophie clapped her hand over her mouth, darting an agonized look at Colin.
“So,” Colin said, “there is a situation, not that I ever doubted it. It must involve MacPherson. I assume you took care of him once you’d gotten rid of me this morning. My dear wife, what have you done with him? Is he dead? Did the three of you draw lots to see who would kill him?”
“Never,” Alex said.
“I would have liked to kill him,” Sinjun said wistfully, “but I didn’t think you’d approve. You’re fond of his father. No, the bounder isn’t dead. You do understand, don’t you, Colin? I had to do something. I had to protect you. You’re my husband. He would have snuck up on you, stuck a knife in your back; he’s that sort of man. Or he would have sent some of his bullies, like he did in London when you got stabbed in the leg. He has no honor, no—”
Colin didn’t move a muscle, but Sinjun saw the tic by his right eye. He said with superb calm, “This is all quite interesting, don’t you agree, Douglas, Ryder? My wife, who is also your little sister, thinks I’m helpless as a motherless foal. She enjoys
unmanning me. She believes me feeble, a fool, unable to see to the truth of things, unable to protect myself when appropriate. What do you think I should do to her?”
He didn’t sound very amused now, Sinjun thought.
“You’re her husband,” Douglas said. “You will do whatever is necessary to keep her safe.”
“I should like to know,” Ryder said thoughtfully, disregarding Colin and Douglas and still clutching his wife’s upper arms, “how you three all got together.”
“The Virgin Bride visited Alex, naturally,” Sophie said. “She normally only appears in the countess’s bedchamber, as Douglas very well knows, except for that time when I first came to Northcliffe Hall. Then she welcomed me in your bedchamber, Ryder.”
“Bosh,” said Ryder. “You were anxious for me to make love to you, and when I didn’t come to you quickly enough, your female brain decided upon something dramatic to relieve your anxiety. That or Sinjun played the Virgin Bride again. Alex’s brain has done the same thing.”
“But she does usually visit only the countess’s bedchamber,” Alex said. “As Douglas very well knows.”
“That’s not entirely true. Once—” Douglas stopped and cursed. “Listen, all of you. Enough is enough. For whatever combination of reasons, all of us are here. There is a situation. I should like to get it resolved. Now, Sinjun, what have you done with this MacPherson fellow whom we don’t yet know?”
“We manacled him and locked him in a deserted croft.”
The three men stared at Sinjun, speechless for the first time in fifteen minutes. The chamber reeked with the blessed silence.
“We weren’t overly cruel,” Sinjun continued. “He has some length on the chain so he can walk about a bit and do private things as well. But the manacle was necessary. We couldn’t risk his escaping.”
“I see,” Colin said slowly. “And is Robbie to starve to death?”
“Oh no,” Alex said, eyes firmly on Colin, not on Douglas. “We’re taking turns going to the croft to feed him. We didn’t want you to suspect anything.” She sighed. “I suppose it’s all blasted to hell now.”
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