The Sherbrooke Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 1)

“Perhaps this angers you, perhaps you believe I did it just to try to placate you, perhaps everything I’m saying rings false to you, but I swear to you that I gave it great thought. I studied Alexandra thoroughly, and I swear she is worthy of you. She’s a good sort. She isn’t arrogant or vain. She’s kind and steady and loyal—”

“You make her sound like a damned horse, Tony. Or a panting hound. She isn’t Melissande!”

“No, lucky for you. Come, you saw how she defended you, her husband, nearly killing me! Truly, Douglas, you wouldn’t be pleased for long with Melissande for your wife.”

“Ha! You slippery sod, you make it sound as though you saved me from a fate worse than death. You want me to believe that you removed the plague from me and took it onto yourself, that you martyred yourself for me. You stole my wife, Tony! Damn you, it is too much, I have listened to your lame excuses and I—”

“My lord,” Hollis said softly, his hand once more on Douglas’s shoulder, “we must remain for the moment with the facts. Emotion is enervating and leads, evidently, to violence. I cannot allow more violence in Northcliffe.”

“Where is my sister? Where are Ryder and Tysen and my mother?”

“Master Ryder insisted they all leave Northcliffe until everything was sorted out. He is an intelligent young man. Once he understood what had happened, he had the family gone from here within two hours. They, ah, are staying presently in London, at the Sherbrooke town house.”

Lord, he’d very nearly taken Janine to the town house, but in the end, Lord Avery had seen to her lodgings. Douglas twisted about to look up at Hollis. “So, I’m alone in the house with this bloody wife thief?” Douglas rubbed his hands together and he smiled. “Excellent! That means I can kill him with no one the wiser, without Tysen preaching to me from his future pulpit, without Ryder laughing at me, without my sister and mother falling into a swoon. No, that’s not true, is it, Hollis? It wasn’t all Ryder’s idea, was it? No, you were afraid there would be disagreements and so you convinced Ryder to remove them all. Ah, I don’t mind, indeed I don’t. Thank God, you sent them away. Now, I am going to kill this damned bastard cousin of mine!” Douglas roared to his feet.

“Please, no more, my lord.”

Douglas stopped cold and stared at the same slight female who’d been upstairs in the midst of the fray. She was now standing in the open doorway, that same female who’d tried to protect him. The same one who was supposedly his cursed wife. He shuddered with the strangeness of it; it was absurd; it wasn’t real; he couldn’t, wouldn’t, accept it.

“Tell me your name, at least,” he said, his voice harsh, his fury boiling near the surface.

“My name is Alexandra Gabrielle Chambers. I am the Duke of Beresford’s youngest child, but I am not a child, I am eighteen years old and a woman.” She paused and he saw the strain on her face, really a quite pretty face, with rather luminous gray eyes that weren’t stupid. She’d pulled her hair back and tied it with a ribbon at the nape of her neck. She had nice bones, a nice mouth, pleasantly arched brows and quite pretty small ears. It didn’t move him one bit, none of it. She fretted with the sash on her pale blue dressing gown, then looked up to face him again. “Don’t you remember me at all, my lord?”

“No.”

“I suppose I have changed a bit. I was plump then and even shorter. I even wore spectacles sometimes to read, my hair was always in tight childish braids, so it was likely that you disregarded me entirely, but now—”

“I really don’t care if you were bald and obese. Go away. Go back to bed. You can be certain that I won’t come to ravish you tonight. I am not in the habit of bedding women who are strangers to me.”

She paused a moment, drawing up, straightening just a bit more. She looked briefly at Tony, then nodded. “As you wish, my lord. I will sleep in the adjoining bedchamber if that is all right with you.”

“Sleep in the corridor! Sleep with Tony for all I care. After all, he appears to have married you too.”

“Really, Douglas—”

Alexandra turned without another word and left. She picked up a candle from a huge Spanish table in the entrance hall. She walked slowly up the wide staircase. What had she expected? That he would look at her and fall into raptures at the gift Tony had bestowed upon him? That he would compare her to Melissande and decide straightaway in her favor? That he would fall instantly and madly in love with her? That he would sing hallelujahs and donate his wealth to charities for what Tony had brought about? Or rather what her father had convinced her to do? Ah, her father . . . She remembered exactly what he’d said, how he’d begged her, pleaded with her, used her own feelings against her, how . . . Alexandra shook her head. No, it was on her head, no one else’s, all of it. If she had wanted to toe the line, had really wanted to refuse, her father wouldn’t have forced her to wed Douglas by proxy. But the money, he’d needed it so desperately, and he actually believed that the addition of both Douglas Sherbrooke and Anthony Parrish to the family would force his fatuous heir, Reginald, once he returned to England, to curb his wild, spendthrift ways.

Ha! She was doing it again, trying to find reasons to convince herself that what she’d done was right and just and really marvelous. When, in fact, there were no good reasons at all. Douglas had been betrayed by his cousin and by Melissande and by her father. And by her. She’d been hoping, desperately hoping that his reaction when he learned about her would be different, but now Douglas had come home and reality had presented a furious face. It will be all right. You mustn’t give up. It will be all right. Her silly litany, Alexandra thought, climbing the stairs. Stupid and immature and . . .

Melissande was waiting at the top of the stairs, clutching her hands spasmodically to her bosom.

“Well?” she said without preamble. “Have they started fighting again? Have they drawn guns or their swords? Will they fight for me?”

“Are you palpitating?”

“No, don’t be silly. What does that mean?”

Alexandra only shook her head. Nastiness toward the bone of contention between the two men was unworthy. “He told me to go to bed,” she said, forcing all emotion from her voice.

“You knew this would happen, Alex. I warned you; I warned Father, but he talked you into going along with him. I warned Tony. All of you knew that Douglas wanted me desperately, not you. How could he ever want you or any other lady once he’d seen me? He doesn’t even remember you, does he?”

Alexandra shook her head.

“It isn’t that I mind you being a countess, Alex, though you certainly won’t be happy being one. If your husband hates you, if he can’t bear to look at you, if he leaves the room wh

en you enter, how then can you be happy? No, I’m the one who should be a duchess or a countess, but here I am only a viscountess. But it is what I chose, isn’t it? I chose Tony and he had no choice once I’d chosen him. Poor Alex! Poor Douglas! Are you certain Douglas isn’t trying to kill Tony again?”

“Hollis will control both of them.”