The Sherbrooke Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 1)

“He deals well with her,” Alexandra said, wonder in her voice. “It is amazing.”

Douglas cursed floridly.

“I can’t imagine why my father would think you a good influence on Reginald. He has not heard the foul level of vocabulary you have.”

“I see you’re feeling much better. I’m relieved because I’ve gotten behind in my estate work taking care of you. I trust you’ll keep to your bed for a while and leave me in peace.”

He could feel that broom handle stiffening her back and he regretted his hasty words, but he’d said them and they would remain said. She’d deserved every one of them. She was stiff and starchy and she galled him, shoving him on the defensive, and it both surprised and angered him.

Alexandra said nothing. There was a young maid—Tess was her name, Douglas said—and she would see to her ladyship’s needs. “Also,” Douglas continued, “Mrs. Peacham will doubtless fill your craw to overflowing with advice and potions and all sorts of invalid dishes. Deal with her as you wish to but know that she means well.”

He left her. Alex slept the remainder of the day. Mrs. Peacham herself brought a beautiful silver tray filled with at least a half-dozen selections to tempt a mending patient. “His Lordship said I was to stay with you until you ate enough,” Mrs. Peacham announced as she sat herself down in a wing chair next to Alexandra’s bed. It seemed to Alexandra that she counted every bite she took.

“Where is His Lordship?”

Mrs. Peacham looked uncomfortable, but for just an instant, then she nodded. “You know, my lady, gentlemen aren’t really the thing in a sickroom. They’re all thumbs and confusion and contradiction.”

“He wasn’t at all confused at Tom’s cottage. He was a tyrant, but he knew well what he was doing.”

“Well, now, that was quite different, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose it was,” Alexandra said, and began on another dish, this one of stewed potatoes and peas, that Mrs. Peacham uncovered for her. She spent the evening alone. Neither her husband nor her sister came to see her.

She felt very sorry for herself.

When she slept, it was fitfully. She dreamed, a similar dream to the one she’d had before. A beautiful young lady was standing beside her, motionless, just looking down at her. She looked all floaty and insubstantial, very beautiful but also frightened. It was strange. She wanted to speak but she didn’t. Somehow Alexandra knew this. She wanted to warn her about something and Alex knew this as well even though she didn’t know how she knew it. The lady came closer to her, bent down until she could touch her face, then she retreated suddenly nearly back to the door. Once she raised her arms in supplication. It was very odd. The dream ebbed and flowed until Alexandra brought herself awake at dawn. Because she’d been locked so tightly into the dream, because it had been so very real, she found herself looking into every corner of her bedchamber. Her room was empty, of course. She realized she needed to relieve herself. She reached for the bell but knew she couldn’t wait.

The chamber pot was behind a screen not more than twelve feet from her bed. Just twelve feet. No great distance.

Alex swung her legs over the side of the bed. At least Tess had helped her into one of her nightgowns so she didn’t have to worry about the dressing gown that was laid over a chair in the other direction from the chamber pot. She closed her eyes for a moment against the memory of Douglas dealing with her needs while she was quite without a stitch on. He’d looked his fill at her, that was certain, for there had been no one to gainsay him, no one else to see to her. She’d heard whispers that gentlemen were many times victims to their baser natures and that was why a young lady had to take such care with her person. If she did not exercise sufficient caution, why then, it would be her fault if the gentleman suddenly became a ravening beast. She’d been unable to exercise any caution whatsoever and evidently Douglas had been bored with what he’d seen; hadn’t he already rejected her?

Well, she’d been ill and helpless then. She wasn’t now.

She rose and quickly grabbed the intricately carved bedpost, clutching at a cherub’s fat neck. How could she still be so weak?

She took a step, was successful, then took another. Three more shuffling steps and she had to release the cherub. The screen that hid the chamber pot looked to be two villages and a turnpike away still.

She sighed and released the cherub. She stood there, weaving back and forth, then gained her balance. “I will make it,” she said over and over, her eyes on that screen. “I will not shame my

self and fall into a heap on the floor.”

When she weaved against a chair, then grabbed its back for balance, the wretched thing went skidding across the polished floor into the desk, jarring it so that the ink pot went flying, spewing black ink to the floor and onto the exquisite Aubusson carpet just beyond. Two books hit the floor with resounding thuds. Alexandra, so frustrated and furious that she wanted to yell, just stood there, dizzy and weak, wanting to kill.

The person who obligingly came through the adjoining door was a perfect victim. It was Douglas and he was hastily knotting a belt around his dressing gown as he came toward her.

“What is all the commotion? What the hell are you doing out of bed?”

She wished she had a cannon. Or a knife. Even a bow and arrow. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking my morning constitutional. Doesn’t everyone do that at dawn?”

“Damnation, you’re destroying my home!”

She followed his line of vision to the awful stream of black ink that was quickly soaking into the carpet, raised her chin, and declared, “Yes, I am. I hate Northcliffe Hall and I fully intend to wreck everything before I leave. This is but my opening salvo.”

Douglas, realizing that she was about to fall on her face, quickly strode to her and grasped her arms to hold her upright. “What are you doing out of bed?”

She couldn’t believe how obtuse he was. “I was going down to the kitchen for some warm milk.”

“Absurd! You couldn’t even make it halfway across your room.”