Lyon's Gate (Sherbrooke Brides 9)

“You mean as in tossing her into Reever Lake? No, I’m too tired to do away with her today.”

He heard a gasp from young Martha and smiled down at her. “I won’t strangle your mistress. Don’t worry.”

Hallie said, “I’ll tell you when to worry, Martha. Go with Hollis now.” She watched small Martha walk very slowly up the stone steps next to the ancient butler, her hand ready to steady him if he faltered. Both Hallie and Jason saw Martha look up at him, and heard her whisper, “Ye’re glorious, Mr. Hollis, meybe even more than glorious.”

Hallie laughed, couldn’t help herself. She was still very nervous. “And here I wondered if Martha and I would suit.”

“Since she makes you laugh, she’ll suit you well enough.”

“I didn’t meet Hollis when I came here after Melissa and Leo’s wedding.”

“I believe he was in his bed nursing a cold. He is quite well now, thank God.”

When Hollis and Martha had negotiated the steps and disappeared into the house, she looked up at Jason. “I don’t know about glorious, but you are a beaut. Such a pity that you know it too well.”

An eyebrow shot up. “You are something of a beaut yourself, Miss Carrick. However, unlike you, I am not vain. I do not array myself in such a way to draw attention to my attributes.”

“And what would you do if you wished to draw attention?”

She had him, and she knew it. She grinned up at him shamelessly. “You really couldn’t push your chest up and out, now could you? Hmm. As for rice powder on your face, I daresay you’d sweat it off in the middle of your first waltz.”

He quickly took the opening she gave him. “And ladies don’t sweat off their rice powder?”

“Certainly not. Ladies are made of fine porcelain, not porous mud.”

Since that was exactly what he felt like at the moment, Jason threw back his head and laughed. He realized in that moment he’d missed that fast brain of hers, not to mention her tongue.

“Ravensworth Abbey is as grand as Northcliffe Hall, but it’s very different. You have a beautiful home.”

“Lyon’s Gate is now my home.”

“Our home, Mr. Sherbrooke. Our home.” She lightly patted his white sleeve. “Twenty-eight minutes. Not even half an hour and your fate is decided.”

“Please believe me, Miss Carrick, I would rather share a house with you than one day be the master here.”

She noticed then that he wasn’t dressed like a son of the house. Odd that she hadn’t noticed how sweaty and dirty he was, his old boots scuffed, his white shirt open at the neck and a bit down his chest, and she wasn’t about to stare, not when all that lovely dirt meant he’d been at Lyon’s Gate and she hadn’t. “You’ve been spending the past three days at Lyon’s Gate, haven’t you?” Her voice rose an octave. “What have you done?”

He’d have to have been dead not to hear the outrage, and was tempted to string her along. No, better not, since her eyes were already bulging in her head. Besides, his precious mother might hear her shouting at him and come down and shoot her. “Nothing you would disapprove of,” he said mildly. “I hired three men from the village to help me clean out the stables. We nearly finished today. I’ve already spoken to the man who will decide what is necessary to repair the house and he and his workers will begin tomorrow. You can speak to them then. Oh yes, my mother sent over a half-dozen gardeners, who are all pulling the ivy from the house and getting rid of the weeds. It begins to look much better.”

Hallie chewed this over a moment, nodded. “All right. You are lucky you didn’t paint any rooms, Mr. Sherbrooke.”

“Paint, you say? I was picturing a lovely bright crimson for the drawing room, perhaps one wall a pale blue. What do you think?”

She looked up into those incredible lavender eyes of his and said, “You surprise me, sir. An excellent choice. And lovely crimson draperies, don’t you think? Or perhaps the pale blue?”

“Crimson, with thick braided gold tassels looping them up. Velvet would be utterly charming. How nice. We should have no arguments at all.” He offered her his arm. “Let me take you inside to greet everyone. I imagine they should be assembled by now.”

She laughed as she walked beside him up the steps. “May we leave early tomorrow to go to Lyon’s Gate? I want to see everything.”

She was as excited as he was. He hated it that she lusted after Lyon’s Gate as much as he did.

He called out, “Hello, Mother. Look who’s arrived.”

Alex stood just inside the imposing front door, eyeing the young woman who’d had the gall to ruin her son’s dream. She knew her duty, gulped once, and presented a smile. Sometimes being well bred was the very devil. “Miss Carrick. How very lovely to see you again.”

Hallie curtsied. “Thank you, ma’am, for having me. It is very kind of you.”

What to say when she’d really had no choice in the matter? Best to keep her mouth shut.