The Sherbrooke Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 1)

“I don’t like it. You’re dressed and I’m not.”

“Should you like me to bathe you now and help you to dress? It’s the old gown you were wearing but at least it’s dry.”

“I can do it myself.”

“Nastiness won’t help your recuperation.” He held up his hand. “All right, stubbornness, then. I should realize that you’re never nasty. No, don’t berate me. You’re not even stubborn, it’s maidenly sensibility that directs your every word. I think I should simply bundle you up in blankets and take you back to the hall that way.”

One hour later, the earl’s crested carriage pulled up in front of Northcliffe Hall, the two matched grays blowing and snorting in the warm afternoon sunlight. The earl stepped out of the carriage carrying his countess in his arms.

Douglas stopped cold in his tracks when there came loud cheering from his staff. He stared toward Hollis, who was grinning like a wily old fox. He was responsible for this outpouring, of that Douglas had no doubt. He wondered if Hollis had paid the servants to give this wondrous cheerful homecoming. He would tell him a thing or two as soon as he deposited Alexandra in her bed.

She said nothing. He realized that her eyes were closed and that she was limp as a sweaty handkerchief in his arms.

He leaned his head down and whispered, “It’s all right. It’s natural for you to feel weak. Just a few more minutes and I’ll have you tucked up.”

“Why are all your people cheering?”

Because Hollis bribed and threatened them to. “They’re pleased we’re alive and back.”

She retreated into silence again. He saw Melissande at the top of the stairs, looking so utterly delectable he swallowed convulsively. Her lovely face was pale, and she was wringing her hands. Her incredible eyes were brimming with tears of concern, yet she didn’t move closer to her sister.

“Alex? Are you all right? Truly?”

Alexandra roused herself and lifted her head from Douglas’s shoulder. “Yes, Melissande, I will be just fine now.”

“Good,” said Tony, coming up to stand beside his wife. “We hear from Finkle that Douglas has been taking very good care of you. He never left your side for a single moment.”

Melissande said loudly, “I would have been the one to care for you, Alex, but Tony wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t want me to endanger myself, but oh, I wanted to. I did pray for you.”

“That’s right,” Tony said. “On her knees every night.”

“Thank you,” Alexandra said, turning her face against Douglas’s shoulder.

“You’re not contagious any more, are you?”

“No, Mellie, she isn’t contagious. You won’t contract any spots.”

“Don’t call me that horrid name!”

Tony clutched a handful of Melissande’s thick glorious black hair and bent his wife back against his arm, reminiscent of Mrs. Bardsleys’s finest heroes. He then kissed her and kept kissing her until she was quiescent. He raised his head and grinned down at her, then over at Douglas, who looked fit to kill him.

He said calmly, belying the racing of his heart from kissing his wife, “I have saved you a great deal of vexation and aggravation, Douglas. One of these years you will realize it. Her temperament is not that of a devoted nurse. I have discovered that she needs constant attention to her various needs, and they are many and diverse. Believe me, Douglas.”

Melissande gasped and struck her fists against Tony’s chest.

He laughed and kissed her again, hard. “ ‘Twas a compliment, love.”

“It didn’t sound like one to me,” Melissande said, her voice laden with suspicion. “Are you certain?”

“More certain than I am of the color of my stallion’s fetlock.”

“In that case, I’ll forgive you.”

“That is handsomely done of you, Mellie. Very handsomely done.”

Douglas stomped away in angry silence toward the countess’s bedchamber.

“Damned bounder,” he said finally under his breath, but not under enough.