Mad Jack (Sherbrooke Brides 4)

Their bedchamber. He closed his eyes.

He leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped between his knees, staring into the crackling fire. She stood beside him, her hand light on his shoulder. He wanted to fling off her hand, yell at her not to touch him. His sister wasn’t to touch him like that, like she had every right to touch him, like she had the right to be his wife and lover. He knew he stiffened, but he remained silent. He didn’t want to, but finally he looked up at her.

“Do I look as bad as you do?” she asked.

It brought a brief smile. “Yes,” he said. “I believe that you do. Won’t you sit down?” All night, he thought, while he’d battled his demons, she’d battled her fear for him. And he’d allowed her to do it. He’d left her alone. There was no excuse, none at all, but he knew, simply knew, that if it were to happen all over again, he would have done the same thing.

“No,” she said. “I feel more in control of myself, more in control of this situation that I don’t understand at all, if I’m standing.” Then she was quiet, waiting.

“It’s something bad, isn’t it, Gray?” Fear crawled in her voice. “No, it’s more than bad.” Her voice was sad now, and distant, as if somehow she knew their world had ended. Just like that, it had ended. He heard her swallow.

Not for the first time since he’d visited Lord Burleigh the day before did Gray wish that the man had simply died, taking the secret with him to the grave. But he hadn’t. And now Gray knew.

What if Lord Burleigh died now? Did anyone else know?

Gray didn’t think so. If Lord Burleigh did die now, then Gray wouldn’t have to do anything with the knowledge. He could continue his life as if nothing had ever intruded, nothing had ever broken him to his soul.

But he knew. God, he knew. And knowing made all the difference.

“Gray?”

She’d spoken. He looked up at her, an eyebrow raised. “Yes, Jack?”

He saw it in her eyes, those lovely blue eyes of hers. She didn’t want to know now. She knew, deep down, she knew there was something bad out there and it was just a matter of time before it flattened her.

“Nothing. Here is our breakfast.” She left his side quickly.

When they were seated across from each other, each holding a cup of Mrs. Post’s specially blended coffee, Gray said, “It looks to be clear today. At dawn this morning it was cloudy, the fog deep and thick, but now the sun is out. Yes, it will be a lovely day.”

“Yes,” she said. “Sunny.”

He wasn’t hungry. Neither was she. They both fidgeted with their coffee cups for a moment, then Jack jumped up and said, “I will see to Georgie.”

“Jack, no, please. Stay here, with me. I ran away and I suppose it would be only fair if I allowed you to do the same. But I can’t. We must speak.”

“I have nothing to say,” she said, still not seating herself again, standing behind her chair, her fingers gripping the top of it tighter than death. “Well, yes, I do. The aunts are returning home today. They were very worried about you yesterday. So was Georgie.”

“I will miss them,” he said. He gripped the edge of the table until his own knuckles showed white. “Remember that note Quincy gave me yesterday when I was hauling you upstairs and couldn’t be bothered?”

She nodded, leaned down, and picked up a piece of cold toast, tore off a piece, then dropped it back on her plate.

“I read the note this morning. It was from Lord Burleigh. He wrote that he had to see me on a matter of the gravest urgency. I went. I found out what he wanted to tell me.”

She saw the pain in him, and something else as well. It was the memory of the utter shock, perhaps of disbelief. But of what? She realized that what she saw on his face now was acceptance of whatever he’d found out. No, no, surely she was imagining things. But the pain she felt coming from him, it was real, all too real. She didn’t want to know anything more, she didn’t. She was trembling. She sat down in her chair again.

“I’m very sorry that I didn’t return home yesterday. I couldn’t. I guess I’m a coward. Weak, pathetic really. It was just such a shock. I couldn’t deal with it; rather, I had to try to deal with it by myself first.”

The shock. Yes, she’d seen the shock, he saw that she had. She remained silent, stiff, as if awaiting a blow. But she couldn’t begin to know.

He couldn’t keep it back any longer. “He told me that you and I share the same father, Jack. Thomas Levering Bascombe was my father as well as yours.”

She stared at him, her mouth open to say something that wouldn’t be said now. No, she hadn’t heard him correctly. Her mind was shifting in and out of the shadows, wanting to hide, and that’s why she had heard something utterly ridiculous, utterly unbelievable. No, he was going to tell her that he didn’t want her anymore, or that he was bringing a mistress to the house, or—yes, she knew now—he didn’t want Georgie living with them. She could deal with any of those things.

“You’re my half sister.”

His what? A half sister? Surely that couldn’t be true.

“That makes no sense.”