Sherbrooke Twins (Sherbrooke Brides 8)

So light and graceful she was, utter perfection, truth be told. But she couldn’t tell him apart from his brother? That hurt. The moment the waltz was over, he led her back to her mother. He bowed, retreated. The air in the ballroom was heavy, the weight of all the ladies’ perfumes filling his nostrils, making him want to sneeze. He saw Corrie wave at him. He wanted to leave since Lord Ponsonby had probably told all his cronies that James was a miserable liar and they should hold him down and beat the truth out of him, but there she was, looking quite acceptable except for those breasts of hers that would make a man swallow his tongue and want to dive his hands into her bodice.

He walked up to her, flicked his fingertip over her cheek, and said, “The cream has done wonders. I do believe this is soft skin I feel.”

He smiled and turned to Lady Maybella, who was wearing a blue silk gown that James wanted to tell her needed to have at least three flounces sheared off.

“You’re here to dance with Corrie? You’re in luck. I’ve scarce had her to myself this evening, so many young gentlemen wanting to dance with her.”

“Please don’t exaggerate, Aunt Maybella. There’s not been more than a dozen or so,” Corrie said, making James grin.

Maybella said, tapping him on the arm with her fan, “Not more than two dances, James. We don’t want people to get the wrong idea. Besides, look at that hoard of young men coming this way.”

James didn’t see a hoard, but there were two gentlemen, one of them old enough to be Corrie’s father, on a march toward her.

James gave Maybella a charming smile and led Corrie to the dance floor, aware of her fingers tapping against his arm, and eased her into the throng of dancers. “You’re going to wear a hole in my sleeve. Whatever is the matter with you?”

“I want to help you,” she said.

An eyebrow arched up.

“Your father. I can’t bear the thought of anyone hurting him, James. Whatever would I do without him to tell me what to wear? Come, don’t get all stiff on me. I’ve known your father all my life. I want to help find out who’s trying to kill him. I’m smart. I’m fast. Let me help.”

James sighed. He didn’t even wonder how she’d found out. What with all their friends investigating, it was bound to be all over London in fifteen minutes. Fact was, he was willing to wager that everyone in the ballroom was speaking about it. And mayhap that was good. He wanted to tell her that there was absolutely no chance he was going to allow her to get within one hundred yards of any danger, and so he said, “You’ve always been able to tell me and Jason apart.” That distracted her, but good. She scoffed. She sneered. “I’ve always told you that you are yourself, very different from your brother.”

“Miss Lorimer can’t tell us apart, evidently.”

“There, you see, you can’t marry her, James. She doesn’t even know who you are.”

She had a point there.

Then the devil stuck his elbow in James’s ribs and said words right out of his mouth. “Speaking of the Angel, Miss Lorimer looks so heavenly this evening, don’t you think? She’s wearing lilac, not purple.”

“Angel?”

James nodded. “That’s the name selected for her.”

“By whom?”

He shrugged. “By the gentlemen, I suppose.”

“Maybe she started the name herself.”

“Who cares if she did? Don’t you think it’s accurate?”

“If you like perfection, then yes, I suppose so. I wonder what name I should select for myself. I know, how about calling me Miss Cream?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Miss Cream? That’s rich, Corrie.”

“And that was a bad pun.”

“How about Devil?”

“No, I’m not wicked enough, at least not yet.”

“You will never be wicked,” he said, stiff now, looking down at her breasts. “Well, you won’t be if you’d just hoist up your gown a good two inches.”

“This is the style, James. If I can get used to heaving myself out there, then so can you. Stop dwelling on it. Now, if I can’t be wicked, then you can call me the Ice Princess. I heard that a Miss Franks was called that some five seasons ago. She married a duke who was eighty years old and almost dead. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Heavenly Lord Jesus,” James said, and whirled her about, making her laugh, distracting her yet again. “You’re getting better at this. Forget this Ice Princess. That will make the gentlemen want to teach you all sorts of things you’re not going to learn for a very long time. Now, you’ve obeyed me, haven’t you?”