The Hellion Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 2)

"I understand your brother is the Earl of North­cliffe?"

"Yes. He would have come here himself but he had recently wed."

"Ah. Do you plan to remain on Jamaica?"

"Only until we have dealt with the ghostly mani­festations that seem to have plagued Kimberly Hall for the past four or so months."

"Mr. Grayson has spoken to me of these things. It's common knowledge that there are evil ceremonies and equally evil priests and priestesses on Jamaica who are capable of anything."

"They have stopped."

"Really? I'm vastly relieved, Ryder, but I wonder why."

"So do I." Ryder wanted to ask him about his overseer and his archery skills but it was too soon. He wanted to keep the upper hand. He sat back in his chair and gave Mr. Burgess a guileless smile.

A house slave brought lemonade at Mr. Burgess's request. It was delicious. Ryder noted that Miss Stanton-Greville had far exceeded her ten minutes. He finished his glass of lemonade and gently set the glass down on the polished mahogany-topped table next to him. He rose and extended his hand to Theo Burgess.

"I fear it grows late, Theo. Evidently your niece has become occupied with more important matters than riding with me. Good-bye."

He walked away, whistling, nonchalant as a clam.

Theo Burgess stared at him, then yelled, "Sophia!"

Ryder didn't pause. He strolled out onto the drive toward his horse. He heard a noise from above, and curious, looked up. She was standing on the balcony some twelve feet up and in her hand was a basin. He moved, but not quickly enough. A good amount of water whooshed down in a thick arc and landed squarely on the top of his head.

He knew he heard a laugh, but then she was crying out. "Oh dear, what have I done? Oh, Mr. Sherbrooke, how could I be so very careless! Dear me, I really should have looked. Do forgive me, sir. Do come in and I will give you a towel. Oh dear, oh dear."

He would give it to her. She'd gotten him quite nicely.

He called back, "Thank you, Miss Stanton-Greville;. Actually the water feels very good in this heat."

"I will be right down with a towel, sir." She added with a voice of gentle sweetness so false he was forced to grin, "And do call me Sophia."

He turned back to the veranda and saw something very unexpected. It was Theo Burgess's face and it was ugly and mean and something very frightening moved in his pale brown eyes. Then, suddenly, what­ever Ryder thought he'd seen was gone, and Burgess was distraught and concerned and waving his hands as he moved quickly toward him, even wringing his hands, exclaiming, "Come here, Mr. Sherbrooke, do come here and sit down. Ah, my niece was careless, but surely she will make it up to you."

"I have no doubt she will try," Ryder said.

The brazen jade.

Sophie had washed only the most vulgar of the makeup off her face. But Ryder Sherbrooke's face was shiny and dripping with nice clean water, She smiled at him, her eyes glittering her triumph even though the words that came out of her mouth would do justice to a contrite nun. She prattled nonsense like a brainless twit. She hung about him, offering to pour him more lemonade, offering him four more towels, perhaps even five for he was so very wet, even offering him a comb for his hair, even offering to comb his hair.

Finally, Ryder said, "No, thank you, Sophia. I feel quite dry. No more of your ministrations. I do hope that the bucket you accidently spilled on me con­tained fresh water and only fresh water?"

She blinked rapidly, her face paling creditably, then flushing, and settled finally into a patently false mask of chagrin. "Oh dear, I think so, but you know ... oh certainly Dorsey must have changed it and cleaned out the bucket, but then again, some­times she is lazy so perhaps not. Wait, sir, and I will ask." Then she struck a pose. "But you know, if Dorsey didn't clean it out, she would never adroit it. So we will never know. Oh dear." She jumped to her feet and as she passed him, she sniffed rather loudly and wrinkled her nose.

She was quite good.

He rose to stand beside her. "Sniff again, Sophia. Yes, is there anything untoward? No? Excellent, I see that your face must weigh a bit less than it did. There are still cosmetics, but not enough to make me send you back to your room. Further, you have no more water to wash your face with, do you? Perhaps I now have some of your powder on my head? Come, let's go riding before it becomes too hot."

A boy appeared leading a beautiful bay mare with two white stockings. She nipped Sophie's shoulder. Sophie laughed, and patted her nose. "You naughty girl! Ah, you are ready for a gallop, aren't you?"

Ryder frowned. A completely different voice and a low, quite charming laugh.

He didn't help her to mount. She expected it, he saw that, but he merely mounted his own stallion and waited, not even looking at her.

The boy gave her a foot up. She looked over at Ryder, her expression as bland as his sister Sinjun's when she'd managed to beat him at a game of chess.

"Where would you like to go, Mr. Sherbrooke?"