Lyon's Gate (Sherbrooke Brides 9)

She was the height of fashion in a dark hunter green gown with wide sleeves tapering to fit snugly at her wrists and a belted waist that looked the size of a man’s fists bunched together. Her hair was tucked up under a bonnet of the same dark green, several curls lazily floating down in front of her ears. And in her lovely little ears were sparkling diamond studs. “I see that you are, Miss Carrick. Both you and your equipage look quite grand.”

“Yes, the carriage cost me very nearly all the money my father’s banker would give me, the dolt. I must write my father and have him send instructions.”

“Unlimited funds for you, Miss Carrick?”

“Don’t be a knothead. Oh, thank you for the compliment to my person as well as to my carriage. The gown is from Madame Jordan, who tells me that your father selects all your mother’s clothes, and your brother selects all of Corrie’s. I’ve never heard of gentlemen dressing women. Isn’t that rather odd? Is it some sort of tradition in your family?”

“To be honest, I’ve never thought about it, although the men in this family have excellent taste—Hmm, now that I think about it, I don’t know that I would have selected such a very dark green for you, Miss Carrick. I could, of course, be mistaken—perhaps the late afternoon sun shining too brightly in my eyes—but is bilious the right word?”

She let the bait dangle in front of her nose for a moment, then laughed aloud, a bright, quite lovely sound. “That was well done.” She turned to the carriage. “Come along, Martha. We’re here at Northcliffe Hall. Isn’t it beautiful? Look at all the colors.”

Her maid hopped out of the carriage, landing lightly on very little feet. She couldn’t be more than seventeen, Jason thought. She was very small, her pointed chin trembling in excitement. “Oh yes, it be glorious, more than glorious. So many thick trees, jest like in the park. I didn’t know you was acquainted with such grand folk, Miss Hallie.”

“Only the grandest folk for me, Martha.”

Jason laughed as Hallie rolled her eyes. “Let me see to your coachman and your outriders.” Jason turned to the coachman. “Any problems?”

The coachman gave Jason a smart salute. “None, milord. Benji and Neally, our outriders provided by Miss Carrick’s banker, well they wanted a highwayman or two to break the monotony, but nary a rascal showed hisself.”

“He’s twenty-eight minutes too young to be a lord, John,” Hallie said. At Jason’s raised eyebrow, she added, “I overheard Melissa telling her mother about how close in time you and James were born.”

Hallie turned when Martha lightly tugged on her sleeve. “Yes, Martha?”

Martha whispered, “Who is that god, ma’am?”

?

?God? What god?”

“The young gentleman, ma’am. Oh Lordie, is he ever a beaut. I’ve never afore seen such a glorious young gentleman, meybe more than jest plain glor—”

“Yes, yes, I understand, Martha. We will look into getting you spectacles.”

“But I gots eyes wot can see birdseeds, Miss Hallie.”

So both he and the Hall were glorious? He saw Hallie open, then shut her mouth. Routed by her maid. He said to the coachman, “That is Hollis standing in the front door. He will see that all three of you have dinner and beds for the night. Thank you for taking such fine care of Miss Carrick.”

The three men stood gazing up at Northcliffe Hall and Jason knew what they were seeing. One of England’s great houses, three stories, with three wings coming off the back of the house, making it look like an E. The first earl of Northcliffe had built the Hall, quarrying the lovely gray stone at Hillsley Dale some three centuries before, mellowed now to a soft cream color in the late afternoon light. Northcliffe would look utterly stark and coldly formal like so many of the other great houses of England if not for the current countess who’d planted oak, lime, larch, and maple trees all along the drive and throughout the grounds more than twenty-five years before. As for the myriad bushes and flowering plants, they crept close to the stone walls, softening the lines of the house even more, and presented so many colors and blossoms in the summer that the Northcliffe gardeners would find small groups of strangers on the grounds staring at the incredible summer foliage. It looked like a great house conjured up in a fairy tale.

“Thank ye, milord,” the coachman said and turned when Hollis called out, his old voice firm and steady, “Come along, lads, Bobby here will take you to the stables to see to your horses and the carriage, then you’ll go to the kitchen.”

The three men, leading the horses, with Bobby three strides ahead of them, disappeared around the side of the house. Hollis said as he came down the deep, wide steps to stand beside Jason, “You are Miss Carrick?”

“Yes,” Hallie said, staring at the old man with his sharp blue eyes and his flowing thick white hair. “I saw a painting of Moses once. I would accept your Ten Commandments before I would accept his, Hollis.”

Hollis gave her a lovely smile, showing a mouth still filled with sufficient teeth to chew his mutton.

Jason, serious as a judge, said, “James and I believed he was God. You never corrected us, Hollis.”

“You and his lordship never disobeyed me when you believed I could smite you both with but a flick of my finger.”

“James and I feared more than smiting, Hollis. We feared you would give us pustules all over our bodies.”

Hollis looked thoughtful. “Pustules. Hmm. That never occurred to me. I suppose it is too late now?”

“It’s perfect for the twins. Ah, would you please see to Miss Carrick’s maid, Martha? I will take care of the disposition of Miss Carrick.”

Hollis, who’d been studying Hallie, said in a low voice that Hallie could hear perfectly well, “You will not cause her bodily harm, will you Master Jason?”