Lyon's Gate (Sherbrooke Brides 9)

Lady Lydia accepted a cup of tea from her daughter-in-law. Douglas watched her shake it around in the cup for a moment, saw that she wanted desperately to complain about it, but she knew if she did, she would not be invited back until the hussy herself invited her back, and she could be dead by that time. Hollis passed a lovely large tray filled with scones, lemon tarts, tiny seed cakes, and small cucumber and ham sandwiches, sliced into myriad shapes.

Jason saw Miss Carrick place her tea and plate containing two lemon tarts on the floor beside her. She looked perfectly content to remain at his grandmother’s feet. Just you wait, he wanted to tell her, just you wait until she decides your hair is brassy, or those lovely eyes of yours are sly, or God knew what else.

The dowager sipped her tea, grimaced only a little bit, then announced, “No matter Coriander’s faults, and they are multitudinous, she has presented James with two lovely boys, the very image of his beautiful aunt Melissande, who should have been wedded to—”

Douglas cleared his throat, watched his mother poke a tart into her mouth and chew it vigorously, and said, “Jason, you have the look of a contented man. Tell me how everything is going at Lyon’s Gate.”

Jason sat forward, clasped his hands between his knees, forgot that he was dirty and smelled of dried sweat, forgot that Hallie would be living with him and that she was half owner of Lyon’s Gate, and said, “Oh yes. I want you to come over soon, Grandmother, and tell me what you think of my home. The stables are a perfect size, and once we got them all cleared out and cleaned up, we could see the excellent workmanship.” He continued to speak, and everyone smiled at him, nodded, asked questions. It was as if no one else in the room existed except Jason, Hallie thought, eyeing him. Not a word about her, but she’d quickly realized that no one wanted to shock the dowager. And, of course, he’d just gotten home after being away for a very long time. Were they all afraid he would leave again? This time for good? So no one said anything to bruise his tender feelings?

When Jason wound down, a silly grin on his face, Hallie said in a quiet voice to the dowager, “Perhaps you and I could visit Lyon’s Gate together.”

The old lady chewed slowly on her ham sandwich, which had been shaped by Cook to look like one of the full oak trees outside the drawing room window. Slowly, she nodded. “Yes,” she said, patting Hallie’s sleeve, “I should like that very much.”

Hallie finished a lemon tart. “We will visit early next week.” She grinned. “Do you know when I first saw Hollis only a while ago, I asked him if he was Moses?”

“Moses? That crickety old man? Hmm. He does look rather like some ancient prophet, doesn’t he? I can remember the days when he chased down James and Jason, tucked them under his arms, and delivered them to their tutor, he was that strong. They were ten years old, I remember. What did Hollis tell you?”

Hallie’s lip quivered. “He said no, he wasn’t Moses, he was God.”

The old lady laughed, a cackle really, but it was full-bodied, even though it sounded like rusty nails grinding together. “Did you really, old man?”

Hollis, who was serving some cream onto Corrie’s scone, finished what he was doing, then raised his head and smiled at the dowager. “Certainly, madam.”

CHAPTER 15

Five mornings later at the breakfast table, Alex said, “The messenger you sent to Mrs. Tewksbury returned today with her reply.” She handed Hallie a pristine white envelope, for the messenger had carefully wrapped the letter in a white cloth. She wanted to tell Miss Carrick it was her responsibility to pay the messenger, but that might be a bit heavy-handed.

“Jason, listen. Angela is arriving at the end of the week!”

Douglas said, “You know, Jason, you cannot move into Lyon’s Gate until it’s habitable enough for the ladies.”

“I agree. However, I can.”

Hallie said without missing a beat, “You’re going nowhere near Lyon’s Gate with a pillow and a bed unless I’m with you.”

Douglas choked on his coffee.

“My lord, are you all right?” Hallie was on her feet in an instant and sending the heel of her hand into Douglas’s back.

“I’m fine, Miss Carrick,” Douglas said at last. He looked at Jason, who rolled his eyes.

Hallie reseated herself. “I plan that all of us will move to Lyon’s Gate together.”

Jason said to his relatives, “She doesn’t trust me. It’s an insult to my mother, Miss Carrick, and surely you would wish to rethink that.”

“I beg pardon, ma’am. It is my experience, however, that sometimes the fruit falls some distance from the tree, through no fault of the fine tree.”

“Is this a reference to rotten apples, Hallie?” Corrie said.

“Oh no, surely not,” Hallie said, and grinned like a sinner.

“As the tree in question, Miss Carrick, I forgive you,” said Alex, “However, I do not appreciate your insulting my fruit. You must realize that a tree will go to any length to protect her fruit, no matter how far away it falls. A tree can cast a very long shadow.”

The twins and their father stared at the countess in awe. Jason said, “Ah, speaking as a cherished fruit, I thank you, Mother. Well, Miss Carrick, would you like to graciously ask my parents if they would allow Mrs. Tewksbury to spend some time here?”

Hallie smiled at the countess of Northcliffe, who, she was certain, would prefer her to move to Russia. “My lady, I would be very grateful if you would allow both my cousin and me to remain here for a little while longer. It won’t be much more than a couple of days after she arrives. We’ve visited Mr. Millsom’s furniture warehouse in Eastbourne. We’ve selected fabrics and styles. Truly, well, perhaps three more days after Friday.”

Such a bright, charming girl, Alex thought, wishing she could strangle her and toss her body in Cowper’s well. But it was not to be. “Certainly, Miss Carrick. That will be our pleasure.”