The Sherbrooke Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 1)

“Ah, but he is a good man and an excellent manager,” Douglas said.

Ryder thought about his children and frowned. He’d dealt with all that needed to be done in his absence, but still, he would miss the little devils. He said aloud, realizing he’d been silent overlong, “I’ll leave for Southampton early tomorrow. Thus tonight is my last chance to ingratiate myself with my sister-in-law. I like the pink gown, Alexandra. I have always said that deep red titian hair is complemented by certain shades of pink.”

“Yes, it is,” Tony said, frowning at Alex, as if he’d never really seen her before.

“The gown is old and is cut like a nun’s habit,” Douglas said. “It is as dowdy as the blue gown you were wearing earlier this afternoon.”

The broom handle stiffened. Douglas raised his hand. “No, I didn’t say I would replace any of your gowns, so I don’t need more of your comments about wheedling. I was merely noting that your feminine display is sorely lacking.”

“It’s true a lady should attempt to display well,” Melissande said.

Douglas looked over at Melissande. She looked so utterly feminine and unspeakably delicious that for a moment he was mute.

“Your display, Mellie,” Tony said, caressing her bare upper arm, “would make our randy Prince George slip down in a puddle of his own drool.”

Alex laughed. “I should like to see that. Will you take Melissande to London, Tony, so that the prince may see her and slip?”

“In good time,” Tony said. “In good time.”

“I should like to go now,” Melissande said. “You have a town house I have never seen. I should like to give a ball and invite everyone important.”

“In good time,” Tony said. “First you must see Strawberry Hill, my family estate in the Cotswolds.”

“A wonderful place to raise children,” Ryder said. “Do you remember, Douglas, how we used to swing off that old maple branch into the spring, screaming at the top of our lungs?”

“Yes, and the time Tony broke the branch and nearly drowned because it struck him on the head when he hit the water.”

“I should prefer London,” Melissande said.

“You will prefer what I wish you to prefer, Mellie,” Tony said very matter-of-factly.

Ryder said quickly, his voice limpid as that same spring in summer, “I agree that Melissande would enjoy London, but only if Tony was enjoying it with her. Since he prefers Strawberry Hill, why then, she will prefer it also. Melissande understands that it is a wife’s duty and pleasure to obey her husband, to honor him by her every word and deed and soft caress. Don’t you agree, Alexandra?”

Alex said with a smile, “I should like to see the branch that coshed Tony on the head and nearly drowned him.”

“I should also,” Melissande said, beautiful eyes wary, “but after I have enjoyed London, with my husband, naturally.”

Douglas took a sip of the rich claret. He looked at Ryder over the edge of the crystal goblet.

“As I was saying,” Ryder continued, “Strawberry Hill is a wonderful place to raise children. I have heard Tony say that he would like a good half-dozen children attaching themselves to his coattails.”

Tony, who had never uttered such a longing in his entire life, smiled like an already besotted parent. He looked at Ryder from the corner of his eyes, then directly at his wife. She looked remarkably flushed, and frankly appalled. He cleared his throat and whispered in a voice that carried to every corner of the dining room, “Should we continue trying to begin our brood after dinner, Mellie?”

“Don’t call me that!”

“But the other names I call you really aren’t appropriate for the dining room. But if you would prefer, if you feel so very comfortable with all those here at the table, why then, who am I to quibble? How about honey-po—”

Melissande slapped her palm over her husband’s mouth. He took her slender wrist between his long fingers and pulled it away. “Now, where was I?”

“Please, Tony.”

He looked at her closely. “Did I truly hear a ‘please’?”

She nodded.

He looked at her another long moment, then said calmly, “You have pleased me. Eat your stewed green beans, Mellie. They’re quite delicious.”

Alexandra, who’d been a fascinated observer, now looked toward her own husband. He was staring at Melissande and Tony and there was a deep frown on his forehead. As for Ryder, he was smiling at his turtle soup.