The Sherbrooke Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 1)

“Yes, ’tis true,” Tony said in a mournful voice. “Just look at her. So hagged, so ancient, so long in the tooth. It was difficult for me to pull her off the shelf, she was set so far back and so very high up. It required all my resolution to bring myself to the sticking point. Even now I try to convince her to wear a pillow sheet over her head, to spare sensibilities, don’t you know. Aye, I wed her because I felt pity for her. I suppose that every other man on earth must also feel pity for her for they look at her from thirty feet away and become fools and addle-brained.”

To Alexandra’s surprise, she saw Melissande bite Tony’s finger, then lightly rub her cheek against his palm. Then she looked at Douglas, who looked the perfect picture of a polite nobleman, standing with his shoulders against the mantel, his arms crossed over his chest. He was staring from Juliette to Melissande to Alexandra. There was no expression on his face, at least none that she could read. Comparisons in this instance brought on severe depression. It was time to do something, not just sit here like a stupid log.

She rose, smiled, and extended her hand to Juliette. “If you will forgive me I must see to our dinner. If there is anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask. Welcome to Northcliffe.”

She left the room, aware that her mother-in-law’s face was brick red with annoyance. She’d lied; she didn’t try to find Mrs. Peacham. She knew well enough that the dinner cook would present would make even a skinny ascetic eat until he groaned.

She went to the gardens where all the Greek statues were displayed. The grounds were in abysmal shape. She would have to speak to Douglas. She needed his permission to direct the Northcliffe gardeners, the lazy clods. There was a particularly beautiful rosebush that was being choked to death with weeds. Alexandra didn’t hesitate, for her gown was old and quite unappetizing, as Douglas had told her. She dropped to her knees and began weeding. Soon, she was humming. Soon after that, she felt calm and even-keeled. She forgot Juliette; she even managed to forget her mother-in-law.

It began to drizzle lightly. The earth softened even more and she dug and plucked and smoothed down and lovingly tended. She was unaware of the trickle of water that fell off the end of her nose.

Finally, the rosebush was free. It seemed to glow in front of her eyes. The blooms were redder, larger, the leaves greener and more lush.

She sat back on her heels and smiled.

“My God.”

She turned, still smiling, to see Douglas standing over her, eyes narrowed, his hands on his hips.

“Hello. Isn’t it beautiful? And so much happier now, so much more healthy.”

Douglas looked at the damned rosebush and saw that it was true. Then he looked at his filthy wife, her hair wilted with rain over her forehead, and forgot the rosebush. “Come along, it’s time for you to dress for dinner.”

“How did you find me?” she asked as she got to her feet and swiped her dirt-blackened hands on her already ruined gown.

“Melissande. She said that while she painted you made things grow. I have half a score of gardeners. There is no need for you to become quite so dirty.”

She gave him a severe look that made him smile. “These gardeners are taking advantage of you, my lord. These beautiful gardens haven’t been touched in far too long a time. It is appalling.”

“I shall speak to Danvers about it.”

“He’s the head gardener?”

“No, he’s my steward. He isn’t here at the moment. His father is ill and he is visiting his ailing father in Couthmouth.”

“It is the head gardener who is the one responsible, my lord.”

“Fine, you may speak with Strathe whenever it pleases you. Tell him you have my permission. Come along now, you must do something about yourself.”

“There is not much that can be done.”

Douglas frowned. “I have wondered every time I see your sister why it is that she is always so superbly garbed and you are not.”

“I would have had new gowns had I had a Season. Instead, Tony married me to you and thus there was no Season and no new gowns. Do not believe Melissande to be spoiled and pampered. Most of her gowns are from her last Season.”

“I see,” he said and Alexandra wondered just what it was that he saw.

Dinner that evening with two diamonds in the same room, eating at the same table, was a trial. Juliette spoke of Lord Melberry who was smitten with her and gave Melissande a superior smile. Melissande shrugged and said he’d bored her with his interminable talk of his succession houses. After all, commenting on the fatness of grapes paled after ten minutes.

Juliette told of turning down Lord Downley’s proposal and how wounded he had been. Melissande laughed and said that Lord Downley had proposed to every woman who claimed to have more than a thousand pounds dowry. On and on it went.

At last Alexandra was able to rise and motion for the ladies to leave the dining room. She didn’t notice that her mother-in-law gave her a very annoyed look. She immediately went to the pianoforte and sat down. She played some French ballads, trying to ignore the verbal flotsam around her.

“My parents are very fond of me,” Juliette announced. “They gave me a beautiful name. Lord Blaystock told me they must have known I would be so beautiful.” She turned very gray eyes toward Alexandra, who began to play a bit more vigorously. She raised her voice. “You parents must not have wished for what they got with you. Your name is manly, don’t you agree, my lady?”

“Which lady?” Sinjun inquired. “There are so many here.”

“You are very young to still be allowed amongst the adults, are you not? I refer, of course, to Alex. Why it is a man’s nickname, to be sure.”