Wizard's Daughter (Sherbrooke Brides 10)

Lady Mountjoy leapt to her feet, sending her empty teacup tumbling to the carpet. She waved her fist in Rosalind's face. "You are a liar and a hussy. My fine sons wouldn't touch you, they would scarce look at you unless they were forced to. You are a nasty bit of goods." After malevolent looks at both Rosalind and Grayson, Lady Mountjoy swept out of the drawing room. They heard Willicombe moving quickly to open the front door for the lady.

Grayson's eyebrow shot up a good inch. "She called you a liar. Now, that's all right because you are indeed an excel­lent liar. But a nasty bit of goods isn't at all accurate."

"I suppose she couldn't think of anything else to call me, poor woman, and so it popped out. Actually, she fired off in­sults at everyone. I also got the impression she wasn't too fond of her husband. And she also has a special friend, an Alfred Lemming.

"She knows all about my background, Grayson. I made it seem that everyone knew and who cared?"

"Poor woman, she picked the wrong target. Hmm, now that I think about it, you always have a light hand when there is unpleasantness to deter."

"Well, yes, I try. I suppose it's because when I first arrived at Brandon House I was terrified that if I yelled back at any­one, your father would kick me out. No, no, I know I was wrong, but still

, I was very young and afraid. Imagine not knowing who you are, Grayson, no memories of anything at all." She shrugged. "I suppose a way of behaving begun at an early age sticks well."

"I didn't know that," Grayson said slowly. "I remember when Father first brought you home, he trembled with rage at what had been done to you, a child. And the pain in him that you would die. I remember Dr. Pomphrey and my parents spent hours at your bedside when your injuries brought on that horrible fever. I remember clearly how my father shouted to the rafters when he came running down the stairs to say you would live. Your father and mother weren't there loving you, Rosalind , but mine were. Never doubt that. Never forget that."

She felt tears sting her eyes and swallowed. "No, I won't. Thank you for telling me, Grayson. In any case, none of it matters now. A light hand was the hast way to make her spit out nuggets as well as bile. I learned a lot from her."

"Everyone views you as a mystery, and it is ever so ro­mantic how you came to be with us, even though it was actu­ally quite awful since you could have so easily died. You're not a no-account, Rosalind . I daresay if someone happens to remark that you are, all you would have to do is sing for them and they would admire you endlessly."

"I did offer to sing for her, but she refused."

He laughed. "I wasn't joking. Your voice is magic."

"You used to think so when we were young," she said and he grinned at her, showing those beautiful white Sherbrooke teeth of his. "How is Lorelei today?"

To her astonishment, he merely shrugged, then pulled his watch out of his vest pocket and consulted it. "I suppose she is fine now. I'm off to my literary meeting. I'll see you later at the Branson ball." And he was gone before she could say a thing, such as, In matters of the heart, Grayson, you are a blockhead. What had poor Lorelei done?

23

That evening at the Branson ball, Nicholas gave Rosalind a brooding look after a particularly exciting waltz that left her dizzy with pleasure. She studied his face a moment, ac­cepted a glass of champagne punch from a passing waiter, drank down a good half glass, and realized the problem. "Ah, I see, you somehow found out about your stepmama's visit to me this afternoon. I dealt with her, Nicholas, you needn't worry. Did you really kick Richard in the ribs with your foot? You really got your leg that high? Please, Nicholas, please teach me how to do that."

"Unfortunately you cannot do it because of all your petti­coats."

"I can wear pants. Teach me, Nicholas, perhaps on our honeymoon. What do you think?"

He pictured her wearing a pair of his trousers and grinned. "We'll see." He stared down at her. "You should have told me she'd had the gall to insult you."

Rosalind only shrugged. "She didn't overly concern me. I must tell you, though, I had to open all the drawing room windows to air out the vitriol."

"She tried to warn you away from me, didn't she?"

"She certainly tried."

He laughed, marveling at her good humor. It pleased him, most of the time. He wondered if she would laugh when he took her to had. He wouldn't mind her starting out with a laugh, but—since he'd never made love to a woman who was laughing at the same time—he didn't know. He took her glass and drank the rest of the punch. He shook his head. "Two glasses of this stuff and you would leap upon one of the tables and do a dance that would make my eyes cross."

She leaned up and whispered against his neck, "Would I dance slowly and take off each item of clothing?"

He pictured her quite clearly on a lovely table in the cor­ner. "I'm thinking of all the ridiculous petticoats you wear, the silk stockings, and don't forget the corset and chemise. There is simply no way you could do it by yourself."

He gently placed his fingertips over her mouth. "I want you to be serious now. Listen to me; my dear stepmama is a bitch. She sows discontent and sees herself as sorely abused. I don't wish you to see her again."

Rosalind frowned at him. "How do you know this about her? You haven't seen her in twenty-odd years."

"She hated me when I was five years old, wanted me dead, but since that didn't happen, she wanted me gone. Why would she change? You have only to look at her sons." He couldn't believe he'd said that. "I have an excellent solic­itor. I asked him to give me complete reports on all my rela­tives. He is right, isn't he?"

She snagged another glass of champagne off a waiter's tray, saying, "Do you know, I think she was there to convince me her beloved sons had nothing to do with Lorelei's kid­napping, meaning they were no threat to me. I think she is afraid you will kill Richard and Lancelot. She was trying to protect them. She simply doesn't have the talent to go about it smoothly, not like you would have done. Yes, you would be smooth, and you would be deadly."

"The only reason I didn't kill Richard this time was be­cause he bungled the job so badly. However, if Richard and Lancelot ever attempt to touch you again, I will kill them."