The Courtship (Sherbrooke Brides 5)

“Yes,” Helen said, “but you must be alert, Spenser. Sir John is ruthless and shrewd. I know that Gerard was afraid of his father. His father ruled not only him but his entire family with an iron fist. I do want to see what truths you manage to get out of that old curmudgeon.”

Late that night Lord Beecham lay wide awake in his bed thinking about his life. It was at once extraordinarily complicated and very simple and as clear as a spring rain, and he smiled into the darkness. He remembered his words with Lord Prith just before they had all retired. “I have decided that you deserve to stay in the Dancing Bear’s Room, in my town house,” Spenser had said.

“An odd name, my boy. Wherever did that name come from?”

“Well, some fifty years ago, my grandfather had a trained bear and he kept him in the house. In that bedchamber.”

“What was the bear’s name?”

“Guthry, I believe. He did enjoy dancing with my grandfather. I was told that he died shortly after my grandfather did.”

“I hope,” Lord Prith said, “that they were not buried together.”

“I understand that it was discussed, but I don’t believe it happened. But you know, I have learned over the years that nothing in my family is ever what you expect.” Except for his father, he thought, who was a thorough rotter, no doubt about that; but now, Spenser didn’t flinch from it. He just dismissed it. It felt very good. He felt like a house that the ghosts no longer haunted.

As he was nodding off to sleep, Lord Beecham realized that life was fascinating, a thousand years ago and today. Who else had dancing bears hanging about in the past? He wondered now as he had when he’d been a boy, what it would be like to have a bear living in the house.

Beecham Town House

London

It was Claude, Lord Beecham’s acting butler, who assigned the name “the War Room” to the large, shadowed study at the back of the house.

On Friday morning everyone was gathered around talking. Everyone had an opinion. When Ryder and Sophie Sherbrooke unexpectedly joined the company some thirty minutes later, Ryder simply stood in the doorway and said in the special voice he used for his fifteen children, which was actually a bellow, “Close your mouths or no dessert!”

That got everyone’s attention. One by one, each occupant ceased speaking and stared at Ryder.

Douglas Sherbrooke said, “Ryder, Sophie, welcome to London. Come join us. This is a conundrum both of you will enjoy. Ryder, did you know a naval man, Gerard Yorke? He supposedly drowned back in ’03 off the coast of France?”

Ryder Sherbrooke frowned, looked thoughtful, stroked his chin, then announced, “I hope this doesn’t distress anyone here, but he cheated at cards. He nearly got his throat slit over one incident where I was present. I remember him whining that his father never gave him enough money and that he was desperate. When he was asked why he was desperate, he said he was three months behind in paying his mistress. I remember he was a seedy fellow, complained a lot. Yes, I remember now that he reportedly drowned. What’s this all about? What’s the matter?”

And so the mix increased and the noise level escalated until Mrs. Glass, the Heatherington housekeeper, poked her head in the door and whistled, just like a man. “Claude has a slight cold and his voice isn’t all that strong at present,” she said once she had everyone’s attention. “Who would like tea and cakes? No, don’t speak. Raise your hands. Ladies first.”

One countess, one sister-in-law of a countess, and Miss Mayberry all dutifully raised their hands.

“Good. Now gentlemen.”

And so an earl, two viscounts, and the brother of an earl all raised their hands. Lord Prith requested a touch of champagne in a subdued voice.

Sophie Sherbrooke said to Helen, “We haven’t met, but I’ve heard a lot about you, from Alex, who wanted to garrote you before, but then she decided that you were just fine as long as you kept your distance from Douglas. Is it true that you are going to marry Lord Beecham?”

“Yes,” Helen said. “But first as you have already heard, we must determine if my husband is still alive, and if he is, what sort of evil he is brewing. It is a horrid thing to have a husband pop up when he was supposed to have croaked it eight years before. It is particularly difficult since I want to marry Spenser.”

“I see,” said Sophie Sherbrooke, without blinking an eye. She could, after all, deal quite well with fifteen children forced indoors on a rainy day. “Tell me all about it.”

Thirty minutes later, when everyone was eating cook’s delicious chocolate puffs, peach fritters, and caraway seed cakes, Ryder announced, “Behold the new member of the House of Commons. That is why Sophie and I are here in London at this particular moment. I handily beat a very obnoxious paunchy man by the name of Redfield. I will now be representing Upper and Lower Slaughter and environs.” He beamed at everyone.

“Hear, hear,” Lord Prith said, and raised his crystal flute of champagne. “Er, are you certain you wish to do this, young man?”

“He wants to reform the wretched laws that allow for the terrible exploitation of children, sir,” Sophie said. “He will succeed, you know.”

They briefly discussed Ryder’s Beloved Ones, the children he saved from dreadful situations and brought to live at Brandon House.

Plans were made, shifted, reevaluated. Ryder and Sophie decided to stay with Douglas and Alexandra. They were on the point of leaving when Lord Prith strode into the drawing room, Flock on his heels carrying a large silver tray.

“What is this, Father?”

“Ah, my dear, I believe we now have a suitable number of gullets to experiment on. No, don’t look alarmed, Sophie, this is champagne.”