The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

His jaw dropped. Relief flooded him. Manna from heaven, all of it flowing from her mouth. He’d floundered and thought and thought some more, rejecting one idea after another, and here she was, giving herself to him, without reservation.

“I’m not yet very strong,” he said, concentrating on chewing the ham.

“You will be strong enough by Friday. Perhaps even sooner. Ah, if only you could be well right this minute.”

Colin drew a deep breath. “I must tell you something, Joan. No, please, listen to me. It’s very important. Your brother will forbid the marriage. He has told me he will, that he must, to protect you.”

Sinjun just looked at him, the peas on her fork, hovering above her plate. She waited, slowly ate the peas, then drank some of her wine. She continued to wait, saying nothing.

“Oh, the hell with it! Your brother believes that I killed someone. He will tell you about it if I don’t. He must protect you, as I said. He wants everything resolved before we marry. Unfortunately, there is no way to resolve any of it, ever. I didn’t tell him that, but it’s true. We won’t marry, Joan, I’m sorry. Your brother won’t allow it and I must go along with his wishes.”

“Who did you supposedly kill?”

“My first wife.”

Without hesitation, Sinjun said, “How utterly absurd. Not that you are so young and already once wed, but that you would hurt her or anyone for that matter, and certainly not your wife. Nonsense. How did he hear such a ridiculous thing?”

“An anonymous letter.”

“There, you see. Someone is jealous of you; that, or someone simply has taken you into dislike because you are so handsome and have cut such a dash in London. I will speak to Douglas and set him straight on this.”

“No.”

She heard the determination in that one word. She said nothing. She waited. Patience was difficult, but for once she managed it.

She was rewarded after an interminable wait when he said slowly, looking right into her eyes, “If you want to marry me, we will have to leave, tonight. We will go to Scotland and marry over the anvil, but not in Gretna Green, for that would be the first place your brother would go. It will be done, and your brother will not be able to do a thing about it. We will stop at the Kinross house in Edinburgh and have a proper wedding.” There, he’d done it. Dishonor filled him. But what else could he do? There was no damned choice, and she had offered herself to him on the proverbial platter.

Sinjun was silent for a very long time. When she spoke finally, he nearly fell back against the pillow with relief. “I wasn’t weighing your suggestion, Colin, I was planning. We can do it. My only concern is that you aren’t at your full strength just yet, but no matter. I will take care of everything. We will leave at midnight.” She rose and shook out her skirts. She looked every bit as determined as her brother had. “This will hurt my brother, but it is my life and I must choose to do what I believe is best for me. Oh goodness, there is much to be done! Don’t worry. You must rest and regain your strength.” She leaned down and kissed him. He had no chance to respond, for she was already striding toward the door, her steps so long that the material of her gown pulled across her buttocks and thighs. She turned, her hand on the doorknob. “Douglas isn’t stupid. He will know immediately what we’ve done. I will plan an alternate route. We must throw him off. It’s a good thing that I’m tightfisted. I have a good two hundred pounds of my own. After we’re wed, Douglas will have no choice but to give you my dowry, and you won’t have to worry about losing everything anymore. He must do it quickly—we will make him understand that—I know that you must have the money very soon. I’m truly sorry about that letter, Colin. Some people are the very devil.” With that, she was gone. He could swear he heard her whistling.

It was all right. He’d won; against all odds, he’d won, and he was doing only what she wanted, after all. She’d been the one to push it, not he. Ah, but

the guilt was there, deep and roiling inside him. Even having known Joan only a short time, Colin had no doubt that she would have them off exactly at the time she’d determined, in a very comfortable carriage that her brother would have a devil of a time tracing. He wouldn’t be surprised if she even had matching grays pulling the carriage. He closed his eyes, then opened them. He had to eat everything on his plate. He had to become strong again, and very soon.

My brothers will kill me, she thought as the closed carriage bowled through the dark night toward the Reading road. Colin was sleeping beside her, exhausted. She leaned over and lightly kissed his cheek. He didn’t stir. She tucked the blankets more closely around him. He was quiet, his breathing deep and even. Excellent, no nightmares. It still surprised her that the illness had so weakened him. But it didn’t matter now. He would be well again, very soon, particularly since she would be the one to see to him.

She loved him so much she hurt with it. No one would ever come between them. No one would ever harm him again. It is my life, she thought, not Douglas’s or Ryder’s or anyone else’s. Yes, it’s my life, and I love him and trust him and he is already my husband, my mate in my heart.

She thought of her mother and how she’d managed to grind poor Finkle under just that afternoon, and sailed into Colin’s bedchamber like the Queen’s flagship. Colin had grinned as he’d told Sinjun that her mother had stood there, eyeing him for the longest time, and then she’d said, “Well, young man, I understand you want to marry my daughter for her dowry.”

Colin smiled at Joan’s mother and said, “Your daughter resembles you greatly. She’s lucky, as am I. I must marry for money, ma’am, I have no choice in the matter. However, your daughter is beyond anything I could have expected. I will take good care of her.”

“You speak with a honeyed tongue, sir, and it is entirely acceptable to me that you continue doing so. Now, pay attention to me. Joan is a hoyden. You will have to find some way to control her pranks, for she is quite good at them; indeed, she is known far and wide for them. Her brothers have always applauded her escapades, for they are imbeciles when it comes to proper feminine propriety. It is thus your responsibility now. She also reads. Yes, I am being truthful to you, I feel I must. She reads”—the dowager drew a deep, steadying breath—“even treatises and tomes that should rightfully be covered with dust. I am not responsible for this failing. It is again her brothers who haven’t shown her the correct way to comport herself.”

“She truly reads, my lady? Tomes and such?”

“That is correct. She has never bothered even to hide her books beneath her chair when a gentleman visits. It is provoking and I try to scold her, but she only laughs. What could I do? There, I have told you the truth. Joan may suffer for it if you decide her character is too malformed for you to wed her.”

“It will be my problem, my lady, as you said. I will ensure that she reads only those things I deem appropriate for a young wife.”

The dowager countess beamed at him. “This is excellent. I am further pleased that you don’t speak like a Scottish heathen.”

“No, ma’am. I was educated in England. My father believed that all Scottish nobility should speak the King’s English.”

“Ah, your father was a wise man. You’re an earl, I understand. A seventh earl, which means that your title goes back a goodly way. I don’t approve of newcomers to the peerage. They’re upstarts and believe themselves to be equal to the rest of us, which, of course, they’re not.”

He nodded, his serious expression never faltering. The interrogation had continued until Sinjun had flown into the room, gasped, then said firmly, “Is he not handsome and terribly clever, Mother?”

“I suspect he’ll do, Joan,” the dowager countess said as she turned to face her daughter. “He has come to rescue you from a spinster’s fate, thank the good Lord. Were he ugly or deformed or obnoxious of character, I should have to refuse him—though it would be a close thing, since you grow older by the day, and thus fewer gentlemen want you for their wife—but our consequence would demand it. Yes, this is a good thing. He is handsome, although too dark. He resembles Douglas. Odd that neither you nor Alexandra seems to mind. Now, Joan, you will not allow him or yourself to fall into slovenly Scottish ways once you return to that place. I am glad you brought him here to the house. I shall visit him every day and teach him about the Sherbrookes and his duty to you and to our family.”