Sherbrooke Twins (Sherbrooke Brides 8)

After James bid his host and hostess good-bye and gave Corrie the tolerant look he bestowed on his grandmother’s pug, he was outside, circling trees, looking behind bushes, and even peering down into a rain barrel.

“He worries,” Douglas said. He walked to Corrie, cupped her chin in his palm, and studied her face a moment. He slowly nodded. “You’ll do,” he said, and then he smiled down at her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

’Tis safest in matrimony to begin with a little aversion.

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN

THE DOWAGER COUNTESS of Northcliffe said, “Corrie is a misfit, a ragamuffin, a disgrace to her parentage. Hollis, where is my dish of prunes?”

&n

bsp; Hollis said, “I have frequently noted, my lady, that even the Norman church bells that chime so beautifully in New Romney need a bit of polish on the outside.”

“Corrie Tybourne-Barrett isn’t an old bell, Hollis, she is a new bell with excessive rust. Not acceptable. I would have nothing rusted in my house. What is wrong with you, Hollis? You are paying no attention to what is important, like my dish of prunes.”

Hollis merely smiled and made his way to the sideboard to fetch the prunes. He was humming under his breath when he poured Douglas some tea.

“At least you will be dressing her, Douglas, and that must certainly help.”

“It will,” Douglas said. “Who knows what we’ll find beneath those absurd costumes she wears.”

The dowager said, waving a slice of toast, “I have often wondered at Maybella and Simon. Why would they let the girl run around like a tart in breeches?”

Douglas realized he now knew the answer to that question, but he merely shook his head and smiled. Their strategy had worked-no budding fortune hunter would ever look in her direction-but at what cost to a young lady who’d never been a girl?

Douglas waited until his mother was concentrating her full attention on her prunes, then said quietly, “Hollis, when will we meet this paragon Alexandra saw you kissing in the butler’s pantry?”

“Ah, I thought I saw a shadow of movement, sniffed the lightest of perfumes.”

“Yes, it was her ladyship on a mission to discover what had happened to me. You routed her.”

“I will introduce you to Annabelle very soon now, my lord.”

“Annabelle?”

Hollis nodded and moved a small jug of milk closer to his lordship’s elbow. “Annabelle Trelawny, my lord. A very fine young lady, one of immense good will and fine taste.”

“Why don’t you bring her by this afternoon? I believe my mother will be off to visit some of her cronies.”

“That would be premature, my lord. Annabelle hasn’t yet agreed to be my wife. Can you imagine? Indeed, I fear that I may have to resort to seduction to bring her to the mark.”

There was a tic in Douglas’s left cheek. “Seduction, Hollis?”

“Yes, my lord. I realize it is indeed a grave step to consider, but I believe it to be one I may have to undertake.”

“I wish you luck.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“You have never before been married, Hollis. My father said once that you’d been the victim of a tragic love affair. Was he correct, or didn’t you appreciate the fairer sex until now?”

Hollis saw that the dowager countess was still concentrating on her prunes, but still he moved a bit closer to Douglas. “I was a victim of a love, my lord, and a sad time it was. Her name was Miss Drucilla Plimpton, and I worshiped the very air she breathed. It is an amazing stroke of circumstance-Annabelle actually knew my own dear Miss Plimpton. Ah, so many years ago it was.

“Ah, my lord, I have always appreciated the fairer sex. But after I lost my precious Miss Plimpton, I came to view wedlock as not enough wed and perhaps too much lock.”

“No wonder. You lived here.”