Mad Jack (Sherbrooke Brides 4)

“He’s wicked. He’s not a fool. I just don’t know about this lust business. Gray, you’re lying on top of me. I can feel you.”

He closed his eyes and shuddered, unconsciously pressing his belly against hers. “Yes, I can feel you as well, Jack.” He released her and rolled to his side. She came up to face him.

“What will you do tomorrow?”

“I plan to have a nice talk with Darnley and Mrs. Smithers. I fancy they’ll be excellent allies. I just want to cover all the possibilities. Now, it’s late. I very much want to give you a teasing lesson, but I imagine you’ll forget yourself and attack my poor manly self. We can’t let that happen, Georgie’s here. No, just sleep tonight, Jack.”

Gray said nothing more to Sir Henry about his daughter for the next two days.

Jack spent most of her time with her stepsister. Georgie improved steadily. She was a tough little button. The first time Gray saw her awake, in the clear light of day, he blinked. Jack had just pulled her out of her bathing tub and wrapped her in a towel, and was drying her in front of the window. Gray paused a moment until she was finished. She was humming softly, kissing the child’s nose every so often. He watched her run her fingers through Georgie’s black hair, smoothing out the tangles. “There now, pumpkin, very nearly dry. But we don’t want to take any chances with you. Let’s go over to the fire and let your hair dry there.”

Gray came closer and blinked again. Georgie had one bright blue eye and one gold eye.

No, surely he was mistaken. Different colored eyes—that made no sense. He took a step closer. The little girl stared back at him.

21

JACK LOOKED up to see him. She grew very quiet. She squeezed her sister closer. “It doesn’t make her bad,” Jack said, all fierce and protective, but at the same time keeping her voice low and smooth so Georgie wouldn’t be upset. He didn’t know anyone else who could have managed to do that. “It doesn’t make her evil, or a tool of the devil, or anything foolish like that. I don’t care if a vicar once denounced her as an outcast from hell. He was a malicious idiot. I would have killed him if I’d had the chance. She’s beautiful and very smart.” She kissed her little sister’s temple. “Ah, pumpkin, that bath tired you down to your little toes, didn’t it? It doesn’t matter, you did very well. You just nap now for a while, nice and warm in front of the fire.”

Surprisingly, the child did just that, once Jack had wrapped her in blankets, smoothed her hair out around her head, and lightly patted her face.

Gray motioned her back toward the window. He said quietly, “Jack, when I was with your stepfather and Mrs. Finch that first meeting, she said something about Georgie’s dying being for the best. Did she mean that just because she has eyes of different color?”

“Wicked, awful woman,” Jack said. “Yes, she had to mean that. Sir Henry also believes Georgie is mentally deficient just because her eyes don’t match.”

Gray said slowly, smiling toward that small, very beautiful child, “I imagine that when she grows up she will have her pick of just about every eligible bachelor in London. She’s beautiful, Jack, just beautiful. And unique, just like her stepsister.”

Jack let out a very low, very undignified squeak and hurled herself at him. He was laughing quietly even as she knocked him backward onto the bed and landed flat on top of him. She kissed his face, stopping only when she heard Georgie say, “Freddie, w-w-ho is that m-m-an? W-w-why are y-y-you hurting h-him?”

Jack rolled off him and quickly came down onto the floor. She gathered her sister into her arms, blankets and all. “He’s my husband, sweetie. I swear I’m not hurting him. We were just playing. He made me laugh, you see. Now, since I’m married to him, that makes him your brother. His name is Gray. He saved your life. He’s nice.”

Georgie peered at Gray over Jack’s shoulder. “G-Gray? That’s a c-color, not a n-n-n—”

“It’s a name too. Now, let me comb my fingers through your hair and make you a bit more presentable. First impressions are very important. Yes, let’s straighten that cute bow on your nightgown. There, you’re the prettiest little girl in all of England, Georgina. Make your curtsy to Gray.”

The little girl bent slightly in Jack’s arms and gave him a very small smile.

“Hello, Georgie. Do you know something? I have a comb. Now, your sister did try to straighten your hair, but you’re still not quite ready to see the queen. Would you come to me and let me comb your hair?”

Georgie sent an agonized look to Jack. “He’s never offered to comb my hair, Georgie. I think we should let him try it first on you. What do you say?”

“I-I don’t k-k-know, Freddie. L-lots of tangles.”

After a good deal of laughter and coaxing, Georgie was seated on Gray’s lap and he was combing the tangles out of her hair with both a small comb and his fingers, all the while delivering a monologue designed to entertain her.

“And after this tangle, I’ll go west where there’s a whole nest of them, trying to hide in the shadow of your little ear. If I were a very small little animal, I’d be afraid of falling into that nest, it’s so well hidden. I’d be lost forever and starve because nobody could find me and feed me.”

Georgie laughed. Her throat was still on the raw side, but it was nonetheless a sweet child’s laugh and very nearly normal.

“How do you know what to do?” Jack asked him, sitting down on a small stool beside the

m.

He studied a knot of hair, then untangled it with his fingers. “You met Ryder Sherbrooke very briefly the morning of our wedding.”

“Yes, I remember. What about him?”

“Remember I told you he saves children. He’s saved children since he was twenty years old. He and Jane—she’s called Jane the Directress by Sophie, Ryder’s wife—she takes care of all the children he brings to her. She told me about Jamie, the first child he brought to her. He was just a baby and someone had tossed him in a pile of garbage in an alley. Ryder saved him and brought him to Jane. That started it all. About six years ago Ryder built another house, close to his and Sophie’s in the Cotswolds. I believe there are currently about fifteen children there, of all ages. When I was visiting some time years ago, Ryder introduced me to his own daughter. He was combing her hair and she very nicely allowed me to learn how to do it. She let me practice on her.” He paused a moment, looking into a past that wasn’t at all pleasant.