Mad Jack (Sherbrooke Brides 4)

osed. Gloom and shadows filled the room.

“Ah, bless you, my boy. I hate the blasted light. It hurts my brain. But my dear wife insists that it is from the sun that we gain life and well-being.” Lord Burleigh laughed deep in his throat. “If she only knew,” he whispered, and coughed.

“Mr. Harpole Genner reminded me that you preferred the darkness. Now, my lord, they’re gone. This message you sent me. You said it was of the utmost urgency that I come here. What is wrong, sir? What can I do to assist you? You know I will do anything in my power.”

“Your marriage,” Lord Burleigh said, grasping Gray’s hand between his. “My boy, I had no idea you were acquainted with Winifrede Levering Bascombe, no idea at all.” He fell silent. His breathing was light as a moth’s wing. His hands were now limp at his sides.

Gray saw the loose flesh on the backs of his hands. He looked at his own hands, strong, firm, the fingers sure and dexterous. He closed his eyes a moment, waiting. What was wrong? What was this about Jack?

When Lord Burleigh opened his eyes again, Gray said, “Yes, my lord. You were very ill when we needed to wed. Mr. Genner and Lord Bricker approved the match in your place. They believed, as did I, that since you are her guardian and I am your godson, you would be delighted at our marriage.”

A muscle contracted in Lord Burleigh’s cheek. Gray said, “I didn’t know her until about three and a half weeks ago. Shall I tell you how it came about?”

“No, it doesn’t matter now. As you will guess, Harpole Genner and Lord Bricker told me of your marriage when I was finally reunited with my wits again some three days ago. It was a shock, a dreadful shock.”

“It was for me as well, my lord, but I’m very fond of her. Of course you know that I didn’t marry her for her money. I married her to save her reputation. She’s a marvelous girl, my lord, full of caring and spirit and loyal to her bones. She makes me laugh. I have her little sister, Georgie, with us as well. I don’t despair that this marriage will succeed. I swear to you that I will do my best to make her happy.”

“No, Gray.”

His eyes were closed again. He was sweating. Gray picked up a soft, dry cloth from the bedside table and gently patted Lord Burleigh’s forehead. “It’s all right, sir. Just be easy.”

“I can’t be easy, Grayson. It’s too late.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“You can’t be married to Winifrede Levering Bascombe. I can’t begin to tell you how appalling it is.”

Appalling? What the hell was this? “Good God, sir, why?”

Lord Burleigh grasped Gray’s hand. His eyes were nearly black with intensity. “Listen to me, Grayson. I’m so very sorry, my boy, so very sorry indeed, but there’s simply no choice for you. You must end it. An annulment. It’s the only way.”

“Sir, please. You must remain calm. I don’t understand you. What is this about an annulment?”

Lord Burleigh’s fingers strengthened around Gray’s wrist. “You can’t have her as your wife, Grayson. Such a thing is cursed by God. She’s your sister.”

“No,” Gray said very clearly in that still room. “No, that’s utterly impossible. You’re mistaken, my lord.”

Gray didn’t return to his home until late that afternoon. He didn’t see Jack, thank God. He went directly to his dressing room.

Horace was there, waiting for him. He looked at his master’s white face and said immediately, “Sit here, now. That’s right. What did Lord Burleigh want?”

Gray sat on the dressing stool, leaned forward, and clasped his hands between his knees. He looked briefly toward the closed door that led into his bedchamber.

“No, her ladyship is out with the great-aunts. Aunt Mathilda expressed a wish to see Queen Elizabeth’s tomb in Westminster Abbey. They took Georgie with them. The child was shrieking with pleasure. I believe Dolly wanted to shriek as well, but she couldn’t, she’s too old for it to be acceptable.” Horace stopped. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Gray finally looked up. “Lord Burleigh is my godfather.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“You also know that he is her ladyship’s guardian.”

“Yes.”

“He told me that her ladyship is my half sister.”

Horace just stood there, his hands limp at his sides, staring at the thick warm towels he’d heated in front of the fireplace for his lordship’s next bath. Then he realized. “I forgot,” Horace said, staring at those towels, anything but take those words into himself and give them meaning. “You bathed this morning. I heated the towels. You won’t need them. You weren’t at Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Saloon, were you?”

Gray shook his head.