The Sherbrooke Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 1)

“A dream, nothing more, nothing less. Forget it. Do you understand?”

Why would he behave so strangely about a silly dream? She nodded. “I understand.”

CHAPTER

8

“YES, HOLLIS, IT’’S indeed the one Sherbrooke you neither expected nor wanted to see. Yes, I know, you would probably like to see me at Jericho, but I’m back. The suspense was more than I could bear. I told Mother, Tysen, and Sinjun that I was going to the Newmarket races. They all believed me except Sinjun, no surprise there, she’s a smart little chit, sometimes too smart, damn her eyes. But forget that. I had to see Douglas’s new wife.”

Hollis was dismayed. He stared at the windblown young man he’d known and loved all his life, a young man almost too vital and handsome for his own good, a young man who was far too young to be so very cynical. Now, facing him, Hollis was forced to smile. “No, not at all, Master Ryder, do come in, though I do understand that Jericho is quite nice this time of year. Yes, do come in. Give me your cloak. You will see that the new countess is a charming young lady. However, just so you will be properly advised, it may take His Lordship a bit more time to adjust himself to his good fortune. The new countess was, as you know, somewhat unexpected.”

“Yes, and you decided Douglas should be left here alone to sort things out without family interference. I’ll tell you, Hollis, Mother is fair chomping at the bit to chew the chit to bits. Poor little twit, I don’t envy her when Mother returns. So Douglas didn’t particularly approve the female Tony attached him to? Odd, I’ve never known Tony not to have exquisite taste in females, all except for that Carleton woman who somehow wrung a proposal out of him, which will remain a mystery in the annals of malehood into the misty future. Ah, well, Douglas is fickle and he is demanding as the devil.”

“I don’t believe fickleness is a particularly noble quality, Master Ryder, thus it doesn’t fit well with His Lordship’s character. No, it is all a matter of change, I believe. Abrupt change is difficult even for the best of men. The new countess, as I said, is all that a gentleman would wish for in a wife.”

“Ah ha! I begin to understand. The chit isn’t all that toothsome. She’s nothing compared to the succulent Melissande, isn’t that right, Hollis? Is that what you’re trying to tell me in that wonderfully understated way of yours?”

Melissande, who’d immediately spotted this dashing young man with his fair good looks and his even fairer speech from the breakfast room door, thought a moment about being succulent, wasn’t actually certain of its meaning, but decided the intent was obvious enough, and thus she cleared her throat and sang out, “Hello, I’m Lady Melissande. Who are you, sir?”

Ryder turned toward the unfamiliar voice and looked at the female standing there. To Melissande’s utter amazement, this gentleman, unlike all the other male specimens of her acquaintance, did not turn to mesmerized stone at the sight of her; he did not metaphorically fall at her feet and lie there inert as a dead dog. She knew the sight she presented was enough to smite down the most jaded of gentlemen. Whatever was wrong? Was her hair not perfect? Was her figure not just as perfect, and the lavender of her silk morning gown beyond glorious against her white skin? Was his vision defective?

Of course nothing was wrong with her. Nothing was ever wrong. Still, he merely stood there, his head cocked to one side. For the life of her, Melissande couldn’t see any incipient signs of besottedness about him, no sudden pallor or stiffening, no hint of soulful reverence in those lovely blue eyes of his. Ah, but maybe he was tongue-tied, and that was his afflicted reaction in the presence of her succulent self. Then he smiled and said, his voice lazy and smooth as warm honey, “I’m Ryder Sherbrooke, Douglas’s brother. Where is the new countess? And what are you doing here?”

“She’s with me, Ryder.”

“Hello, Tony.” Ryder grinned at his cousin, who’d come around

his wife from the breakfast room. Ryder stepped forward and gripped his hand. “I am rather pleased you are still alive or is it still in question? Is Douglas still at your throat or have you convinced him that he is all the better off for this good deed you performed for him?”

“Look, Ryder, I—”

“No, cousin, Hollis didn’t tell me any secrets, it’s just that I had to come and see for myself. It’s dashed good to see you in one healthy piece, Tony.”

“I’m Melissande.”

“Yes, I know. My pleasure.”

Ryder immediately turned back to his cousin. “Is that a swollen lip I see, Tony? Perhaps that’s a bruise on your cheek? So you did tangle with Douglas, did you? I trust you gave as good as you got.”

“I’m Tony’s wife.”

“Yes, I know. My pleasure.”

Ryder continued to his cousin, “Well, did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Punch Douglas in his pretty face.”

“I got in a few good blows, but not enough. His wife attacked me.”

“I’m Melissande. I attacked Douglas.”

Ryder knew the glorious creature was miffed, and he was amused by it. Obviously Tony was meant to be an Atlas among men; he would need to be in order to control this delightful package of vanity that was his wife. If he didn’t manage her well, he would probably wish rather to carry the world on his shoulders. It wasn’t Ryder’s problem, thankfully, so he said, “Come along, Tony, I want to hear all the details. Is Douglas here?”

“No, he and Alex are riding, I believe.”

“Alex?”