The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

She stepped on Lord Castlebaum’s toes three times in an attempt to find the man again. Later she began to think that her eyes must have lied, that no man could be so immensely glorious to behold. But she dreamed of him that night. They were together, and he was laughing and standing close to her, touching his fingertips to her cheek, and she knew she wanted him and she was leaning toward him, wanting to touch him, and it was there in her gaze, all the wanting she had for him, and he saw it and knew it as well. The scenes softened and slowed, melding together into vague colors and intertwining bodies, and she awoke near to dawn, her heart pounding, perspiration lying heavy on her skin, and a moan in her throat. Her body felt languid and slow. There was a strange ache deep in her belly. She knew she’d dreamed the mystery of lovemaking, but only in blurred images. She had yet to solve the myster

y, yet to know him, yet to be intertwined with him. She wished she’d discovered his name, for to be that intimate with a nameless man wasn’t something she could accept.

She saw him the second time at a musicale at the Ranleagh town house on Carlysle Square three nights later. A very large soprano from Milan thumped the piano with her fist as her Viennese accompanist tried to keep his fingers on the trembling keys and mark a strong beat at the same time. Sinjun was soon bored and twitching with restlessness. Then, quite suddenly, she felt something strange sweep over her and knew, simply knew, that he had come into the room. She turned slightly in her chair and there he was. She sucked in her breath at the sight of him. He had just divested himself of a black cloak and was speaking quietly to another gentleman. He looked even more splendid to her than he had at the Portmaine ball. He was dressed all in black with a very white batiste shirt. His thick hair was brushed back, a bit long for current fashion, perhaps, but to her, perfection itself. He was seated at a diagonal from her, and if she kept her profile toward the bellowing soprano, she could look at him as much as she wanted. The moment he was seated, he grew instantly still. She watched him remain perfectly still, even as the soprano pumped up her lungs and gained a ringing high C. A man with courage and fortitude as well, she thought, nodding to herself. A man with manners and good breeding.

Her fingers itched to touch that cleft in his chin. She saw that his jaw was strong and well defined, that his nose was elegant and thin and that his mouth made her want to . . . no, she had to get hold of herself. The dream images mixed in her mind for a moment and she knew herself well lost. Goodness, it was quite likely that he was already wed, or betrothed. She managed a show of outward calm until there was, at last, an adjournment to the supper room.

She said in an offhand manner to Lord Clinton, a friend of Douglas’s from the Four Horse Club, who had escorted her to dinner, “Who is that man over there, Thomas? The tall one with the very black hair? You see him, he’s with those three other men who aren’t nearly as tall as he is or nearly as impressive.”

Thomas Mannerly, Lord Clinton, squinted in the direction she was pointing. He was myopic, but the man in question did stand out, no question about that. The man was very tall and too well built for his own good, the bastard. “Ah, that’s Colin Kinross. He’s new to London. He’s the earl of Ashburnham, and a Scot.” The last was said with a hint of disdain.

“Why is he here, in London?”

Thomas stared at the lovely girl at his side, nearly as tall as he was, and that was surely a bit off-putting, but he didn’t have to marry her, just keep an experienced eye on her. He said now, carefully, as he brushed some invisible lint from the sleeve of his black coat, “Why do you care, Sinjun?” At her silence, he stiffened. “My God, he hasn’t offended you in any way, has he? Those damned Scots, they’re barbarians, even when they’re educated in England, as he was.”

“Oh no, no. I just asked out of curiosity. The lobster patties are quite good, don’t you think?”

He agreed, and Sinjun thought: At last I know his name. At last. She wanted to shout her victory. At last. Thomas Mannerly happened to look at her just then and he sucked in his breath at the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen in his life. He forgot the lobster patty on his plate. He said something to her, something polished and just a bit intimate, and was chagrined when she didn’t appear to have even heard him. She was, if he wasn’t mistaken, staring at that damned Scot.

Sinjun was fretting within five minutes. She had to know more than just his name and the fact that he was a Scottish nobleman and why Thomas Mannerly had sounded a bit stiff about that. She didn’t have much opportunity to find out more about Colin Kinross that night, but she didn’t despair. It would soon be time to act.

Douglas Sherbrooke, earl of Northcliffe, was happily ensconced in his favorite leather chair in the library, reading the London Gazette, when he chanced to look up to see his sister standing in the doorway. Why the devil was she just standing there? She would normally come caroling in, speaking and laughing even before she had his attention, and her laughter would make him smile, it was so carefree and lovely and innocent. And she would lean down and kiss him on the cheek and hug him hard. But she wasn’t laughing now. Why the hell was she looking so damned diffident? As if she’d done something unbelievably awful? Sinjun didn’t have a shy bone in her body, not from the moment he’d first picked her up out of her cradle and she’d grabbed his ear and twisted it until he’d yowled. He folded the paper on his lap. He frowned. “What do you want, brat? No, you’re too advanced in age for brat anymore. My dear, then. Come in, come in. What is the matter with you? Alex said there was something on your mind. Out with it. I don’t like the way you’re acting. It isn’t like you at all. It makes me nervous.”

Sinjun came slowly into the library. It was very late, nearly midnight. Douglas waved her to the seat opposite his. It was odd, she thought, as she approached. She had always believed Douglas and Ryder were the two most handsome men in the entire world. But she’d been wrong. Neither of them came close to Colin Kinross.

“Sinjun, you are behaving quite strangely, not at all like yourself. Are you ill? Has Mother been tormenting you again?”

She shook her head and said, “Yes, but she always does, saying it’s for my own good.”

“I will speak to her again.”

“Douglas.”

She stopped, and he blinked to see that she was staring down at her toes and she was actually plucking at her muslin skirt.

“My God,” he said slowly, the light dawning finally, “you’ve met a man.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Sinjun, I know you haven’t overspent your allowance. You’re so tight with your purse strings that you’ll be richer than I am in a matter of years. Mother picks at you, but most of it bounces off. You pay her no mind, truth be told. Alex and I love you within the bounds of common sense, and we’ve tried to make you as comfortable as we can. Ryder and Sophie will be arriving in a week or so—”

“I do know his name, but I haven’t met him!”

“Ah,” said Douglas. He sat back, grinning up at her, steepling his fingers. “And his name is?”

“Colin Kinross, and he’s the earl of Ashburnham. He’s a Scot.”

Douglas frowned. For a moment he’d hoped it just might be Thomas Mannerly she liked. No such luck.

“Do you know him? Is he married? Betrothed? Is he a gamester? Has he killed men in duels? Is he a womanizer?”

“You would have to be different, wouldn’t you, Sinjun? A Scot! No, I don’t know him. If you haven’t even met the man, then why are you so damned interested?”

“I don’t know.” She paused, and looked extraordinarily vulnerable. She shrugged, trying for a glimmer of her old self, and gave him a crooked smile. “It’s just there.”

“All right,” Douglas said, eyeing her closely. “I’ll find out all about this Colin Kinross.”

“You won’t say anything to anyone, will you?”