Lyon's Gate (Sherbrooke Brides 9)

He cleared his throat, couldn’t think of a single word to say. His mother obligingly said, “Oh, you mean the beach off the right side of the promontory, not fifty yards from Dunsmore House? Did you swim?”

“Yes,” Hallie said. “we were there most nights, except when it was raining.”

“Nights?” Lady Lydia asked. “My dear child, you and your precious new husband went swimming in the evenings?”

“Oh yes,” Hallie said, beaming. “There was no one about after the sun went down so we—oh dear, never mind that. Fact is, we did plan to swim one day after we’d eaten a lovely picnic lunch on the beach beneath a lovely tree, but then—” In a flash of inspiration, Hallie said, beaming at her mother-in-law, “We were invited to Lord and Lady Lindley’s house twice. Very charming people. Weren’t they, Jason?”

“I believe they were. Yes, of course they were. Lord Lindley admired you, perhaps overmuch as I recall.”

“What about Lady Lindley? I believed she would try to bite your neck she got so close to you. Not to mention those three girls who attempted a very old tried and true stratagem—”

“The wedge,” Corrie said.

“Yes, they tried a very nice wedge to get a clear path to you.”

“What did you do?” Corrie asked.

“I executed what I now call my counteroffensive. Jason, do you remember when I asked you to look at that particular painting on the drawing room wall?”

“Yes, you nearly had me walking backward a good six feet as I recall.”

Hallie nodded. “That’s it. It quite flummoxed them. Their wedge vanished, they fell into disarray.” She frowned. “However, this one young lady was determined but I whisked him off to a waltz.”

“I like that counteroffensive,” Corrie said. “I’ll try it when James and I attend our next party.”

Alex said, “Hallie, other than Lucille admiring my son’s neck, didn’t you find she has exquisite taste?”

“Well, the inside of her armoire—it smelled quite fragrant, but that’s not important, now is it?”

Alec Carrick choked.

Hallie’s mother-in-law leaned over and smacked him between his shoulder blades.

James said, “Mother, why should Hallie have remarked on Lady Lindley’s taste in particular?”

“She sings beautifully, her voice has much the same rich tone of Hallie’s. But it’s louder, much more volume.”

“But what does her voice have to do with her taste?” Angela asked.

Douglas said, a dark brow raised, “She manages to shatter a crystal glass at each of her concerts, so I’ve been told.”

Alex said, “The goblet she broke when we were last there was made specifically for her by the Waterford artisans.”

Jason said, “Lady Lindley did sing for the group, so I heard later. Hallie and I didn’t happen to be in the drawing room at that particular moment to witness the goblet shattering. Grandmother, what are you and Angela fighting about this evening?”

Angela said, “She is more selfish than my one and only husband who would stick out his hand for a plate of food, never looking away from his bloody Greek textbooks.”

“He was a very learned man,” Alec Carrick said. “He was also a demanding tyrant.”

“Hear, hear,” said Angela. “I do wonder sometimes where he resides now.” As she spoke she lightly tapped her slipper against the floor. “I will not speak more about my husband, his spirit is still too near. You will not believe this, my dear,” she continued to Hallie, “but this withered old bat”—she waved a hand toward Lady Lydia—“allows that in certain lights, she just might look younger than I do, and here I am young enough to be her daughter, almost.”

“Ha!” said Lady Lydia. “Unlike her, I still have beautiful hands, elegant hands, look at my hands, lovely blue veins, so close to the surface. They’re of remarkable beauty, don’t you agree, dear boy? My sweetest Hallie?”

“I was remarking to my wife that you had extraordinary veins, Grandmother.”

Alex marveled at the meaty insults, all given and accepted in high good humor. She wondered what her mother-in-law would say if she called her a shrunken old bat.

“You’re both amazing,” Hallie said, looking from one to the other.