The Hellion Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 2)

He looked up at his wife and she knew that this was his child, and that the little girl wasn't like the other children. There was a look of near desperation on his face and she realized that he was worried that she would snub the little girl.

"You should have some faith in me," she said as she came down to her knees beside her husband and held out her hand, making no move toward the little girl, who was huddled against her father's chest. "Hello, Jenny. That's a lovely dress you're wearing, much nicer than mine. I'm very glad to meet you and I'm very glad you're here. Your father has missed you very much. How old are you?"

Ryder raised her right hand, folded down her thumb and said very slowly, "One."

Jenny said, "One."

Ryder folded down the next finger and said, "Two."

When he reached her little finger, he only bent it in half and said, "There now, I'm four and a half years old."

"Yes, Papa."

There was such pride and love on his face. Anoth­er Ryder, no, another side to him. She said now, "Such a big girl you are and just look at that lovely locket. May I see it?"

Jenny very slowly stretched out her hand, and her fingertips lightly, tentatively touched Sophie's palm. She held out the locket and Sophie opened it. "Ah, what lovely paintings. You and your mama? Yes, I can see that you're as pretty as she is. You have your father's beautiful eyes though."

"Papa," Jenny said, and threw her arms around Ryder's neck again and buried her face in his neck.

"It's her new word," Ryder said, immensely pleased.

"Now, little love, my old bones are creaking. Let me heave you up—you're such a great big girl, Sophie's right about that—and let's go into the house. You'd like some lemonade, wouldn't you?"

Pandemonium reigned in the kitchen. Mrs. Chivers looked as if she'd just been dumped willy-nilly into Bedlam, but she was smiling, thank the good Lord. Cook, a Mrs. Bedlock, was running to and fro from the pantry. It was Sinjun, though, who was in charge of the brood. Each child was finally seated on the floor with a plate filled with goodies.

"There won't be anything left to eat," Mrs. Chivers said, staring from one child to the other. "I have three grandchildren and they all eat like it's their last meal."

"Then we'd best send Mrs. Bedlock to Lower Slaughter to buy out the town," Sophie said. Ryder looked at his wife, still didn't meet her eyes, and she would have sworn that he blushed.

He neatly managed to avoid her for the next sev­eral hours. It wasn't difficult because each of the children wanted his attention. He showed them the east wing, told them about Mr. Dubust, making the man a villain fit to rule the world, but his aunt, dear Mildred, had shrieked him down and now he would pay for his crimes.

Sophie merely bided her time and made decisions as to where the children would sleep.

At last she managed to corner him as he tried to slip past her out of the house. "Oh no you don't, Ryder. I want to talk to you and it's now or I will make you very sorry."

That ruffled his manly feathers and he said sharp­ly, "Oh, and just how do you plan to do that? Tie me down and have your way with my body?"

She grinned at him. "Come along. We're going for a walk."

Sophie walked beside her husband in the apple orchard just behind the house. It was private, with not a single child hiding behind a tree. Sinjun was with the children, playing mediator, mother, and nursemaid. Ryder was silent. Sophie started hum­ming.

Suddenly she laughed. "You're embarrassed! I couldn't believe it, you were actually embarrassed. You couldn't meet my eyes. Is it because I never, even for one instant, believed all those children to be yours! Ah, if that is it, why then, what a blow to your manhood."

"Go to the devil, Sophie."

"No, that isn't it at all. I had hoped to enrage you out of your damned silence. No, you were and are embarrassed because you don't want anyone to know that you're not a care-for-nothing rakehell. You enjoy being the homme terrible and this, my dear, truly ruins that devil-may-care image."

"Maybe it doesn't. What the hell do you know? Did that wretched Sinjun speak to you?"

"Yes, at first she was desperate because she was afraid I'd get a gun and shoot you. Then later I pinned her against the wall and forced her to spill out the truth—you know, during all those hours when you assiduously avoided me. She told me she'd hoped you would have spoken to me before this, but that you were very reticent about your Beloved Ones, that you didn't consider the children to be anyone's business, even your family's. That it was your damned money and you could do whatever you wanted to do with it. Sinjun also said that Uncle Brandon probably was whirling about in his grave at your philanthropy, but that maybe he wouldn't spend so much time in hell because of the good cause you were putting his money to."

"She appears to have spilled her innards. I'll wager she even sang out about the quarterly bastard meetings, didn't she, curse her eyes?" Sophie looked perfectly blank. "Then forget it. God, the chit finally kept her mouth shut about something that is none of her business." "Not on your benighted life will I forget it. Bastard meetings? What's that? Tell me this instant."

Ryder cursed and Sophie just laughed. "That won't get you out of it. Now, what's a bastard meeting?"

"Oh hell. Douglas and I had a meeting every quar­ter to count up bastards, so as not to lose any by accident, you know. He believed all the children were my bastards."

"I do wonder what he will say when he finds out the truth."