Prince of Ravenscar (Sherbrooke Brides 11)

An hour later, Julian lay on his back, his head pillowed on his arms, staring up at the inn’s sloping ceiling. It was a warm night, and utterly silent. There was not a sound of a single carriage or horse outside his window, no drunken voices, no yelling or singing. He was tired, but his brain wouldn’t close itself down. He found himself thinking not about Orvald Manners but about an ugly black jewel that was magic. But the magic would work only for him, not for his father. And this magic lay beneath stone spears. His mind went round and round with the absurd idea of magic itself until he thought he’d drive himself mad. He finally rose, pulled on his clothes, and made his way downstairs to the taproom.

He’d hoped Mr. Knatter was still about, but the taproom was dark and empty. He wanted a brandy, anything to make his mind stop racing. He heard a small noise, whirled around to see an apparition all in white standing in the shadows before him, a candle cupped by a hand.

He smoothly pulled the knife out of his boot. Then he smelled her unique scent.

“Julian, what are you doing here? Before you blight me like Leah did, let me explain. I heard you walk by our chamber and followed you. Are you all right? It is very late.”

He slid the knife back into his boot and straightened. “Sophie, it is well after midnight, and there is no one about. You should not have come down after me.”

She merely smiled and glided toward him. “I saw you pull your knife out of your boot. You were fast, Julian. Had I been a villain, you would have brought me down between one breath and the next.”

“Come, I will walk you back to your room. Hopefully you did not awaken Roxanne.”

But she didn’t move. “If I awoke anyone, it would be Tansy. She starts at the sound of a curtain moving at the window. I heard Devlin telling Roxanne about Mr. McGurdy’s hardfisted cider. I should like to try it.”

“Only if you wish to lose your virginity by the second glass. Forget I said that.” Julian scraped his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end.

She held the candle higher. “You have whiskers.”

He nodded, said, “Yes. By morning, I look like a pirate.”

“So does my grandfather. Once when I was visiting Allegra Hall with my mother, I chanced to see him early one morning. He had black whiskers all over his face. I asked him if I had to walk the plank, and he came down on his haunches, told me in all seriousness that his whiskers meant he was a Russian czar, not a pirate, and I was to bow to him.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she’d bowed, but he got his brain back on track. “Come, back to bed with you.”

“What do you think about this puzzle from your father?”

“Not much.”

“I believe I know what he means by spears of stone.”

They both whirled about at the sound of a man’s angry voice. “What nasty piece of work is trying to steal my ale in the middle of the bloody night?”

Julian took the candle from Sophie, held it high. There stood Mr. Knatter, his bulk wrapped in a lovely Scottish plaid dressing gown.

“We aren’t nasty pieces of work, sir,” Sophie said. “We’re works of art.”

Julian laughed, couldn’t help himself.

47

It was to everyone’s collective relief when Pouffer announced that Richard and Leah had returned to Hardcross Manor during their three-day trip to Plymouth.

Pouffer was rubbing his gnarly hands together, grinning widely. “It’s peaceful now, Prince, very peaceful, no more harangues from Lady Merrick. Master Richard was polite as can be, but then he’s been in and out of Ravenscar all his life, and everyone knows him, so why would he become ill-mannered? However, I did not regard his good manners with any approval at all.”

“Why?” Roxanne asked him.

“Because Master Richard believes our prince killed her poor ladyship. He is naturally quite wrong. It fair to curdles my liver to show him politeness even when he is so very polite to me.”

Corinne said as she stripped off her gloves, “Now they’re gone, we can quite enjoy ourselves.”

She gave a sloe-eyed look at her son, then looked purposefully toward Sophie, who was removing her bonnet. Julian rolled his eyes. He said, “Sophie, aren’t you due in the schoolroom for your geography lesson?”

Sophie said thoughtfully, “Indeed, I wish to chart the Blue Star’s course to Boston. I wonder, are there any ice floes to batter a vessel in the North Atlantic?”

Julian said, “There are ice floes everywhere to batter the unwary.”

“I wonder who is about to instruct me?” Sophie gave him a blazing smile, and walked up the staircase, dangling her bonnet by its blue ribbons.