Sherbrooke Twins (Sherbrooke Brides 8)

“I wonder, should I like Devlin? Possibly, but he saw Corrie and it was all over for him.”

“Even the mention of his name drives my brother wild with jealousy, though he doesn’t realize yet that it’s jealousy he’s feeling and not repellent thoughts about fangs coming out of Devlin’s gums beneath the light of the moon.” Jason leaned down and kissed her, couldn’t stop himself. She was a lady, dammit, but he didn’t want to give her a peck on the cheek. No, he wanted a deep, wet kiss, his tongue in her mouth, and that is what he did. She was shy, her lips closed, and he felt her jerk in surprise when his mouth touched hers.

Was he the first man to kiss her? Obviously he was. She didn’t know what to do. Dammit, no tongue in her mouth as yet. The thought that he would be the man to teach her everything made him want to sing to the dimpled plaster cherubs that adorned the corners of the ceiling in the Arbuckle drawing room. When he forced himself to step back, he said, “I will write to your cousin at The Coombes. Perhaps he would like to see me sooner rather than later, since it seems that you and I might be drawing closer.”

“This drawing closer business-Jason, I am only recently arrived in town. What about that earl who surely must be waiting in the wings somewhere, just waiting to pop out onto my stage, doubtless reciting lovely verses to my eyebrows-”

He kissed her again, a light kiss on the tip of her nose, and left her, whistling. She stood there in the middle of Lady Arbuckle’s drawing room and listened to his boots striding solid across the marble entryway, heard murmured voices, then the opening and closing of the front door. Then there remained nothing but the soft silence of the early afternoon, soft drizzling rain pattering lightly against the windows. Did it always rain in England? Well, truth be told, it rained more in Ireland. She was alone. It seemed to her in that moment that she had been alone most of her life. She wondered what would happen. He had very nearly asked her to marry him, hadn’t he? She hugged herself. She knew it, felt it deep within her, and wondered at it. He’d all but asked her.

JASON ASKED HER for the exact direction of The Coombes that evening at a musicale at Lord Baldwin’s spacious town house on Berkeley Square. Judith gave it to him, and said, voice as demure as a nun’s, “I am considering visiting Italy whilst you are in Ireland with my cousin, studying his breeding methods, eyeing his horses, and attending races.”

Jason felt a sock of lust that nearly knocked him over; he knew he was getting hard, just standing there, for God’s sake, just looking at her.

He said in that easy voice of his, “I understand that Venice is lovely in the fall. Not too cold as yet, the winds still calm over the canal. My brother and I visited Venice some three years ago. And yes, both of us got drunk enough one night to fall into the canal.”

“I think perhaps I should prefer Florence. There are so many splendid artists working there. No drunken young gentlemen to disturb me.”

“There are drunken young gentlemen everywhere in the world to disturb you, don’t fool yourself.”

She giggled, shaking her head at him. “When you visit The Coombes, you will be attending the races with men who will surely try to fleece you.”

Jason said, stroking his chin, “I might do some fleecing of my own. Now, I’m not at all certain about Florence. All those splendid artists died out centuries ago. Unfortunately, I fear their thousands of paintings, all of the Madonna and Child, will endure forever. We will never be free of them.”

She was hiccupping she was trying so hard not to laugh. He patted her cheek, and left her, saying only over his shoulder in that offhand way of his that he was meeting with some friends.

She called out, serious now, “You mean there might be some information about your father?”

He only shrugged and left her again, this time without turning back.

Judith watched him until he was gone from the immense ballroom. She turned when Lady Arbuckle said, “He hasn’t asked you to marry him, has he?”

Judith said slowly, “No, not yet. He is very beautiful, don’t you think?”

Lady Arbuckle said matter-of-factly, “All consider the Sherbrooke twins to be the most handsome men in England. They will probably only grow more so as they get older, just as their Aunt Melissande has. She’s at least forty-five now, surely past any excuse for beauty, but it just isn’t so. Young men still swoon when she passes them on the street or see her across a room. The twins will be no different, for they are cast in her image, an odd thing, but there it is. Their parents have never been pleased about this miscarriage of heredity.”

“And o

ne of these perfect young gentlemen will propose to me. That is quite remarkable, isn’t it?”

Lady Arbuckle started to turn away, then stopped, searched Judith’s face, and said, “I have heard that the younger son, the one who you believe will propose to you, is not as constant as his brother, Lord Hammersmith. I have seen it myself. Jason Sherbrooke sees a young lady who pleases him-as you have pleased him, Judith-and he devotes himself to her entirely, for a short while-and then he is gone. Will he actually propose marriage? I don’t know, but I must doubt it. I suggest you take great care, Judith. He is a wild young man, more honorable than most, perhaps, but I was told that he keeps a mistress on Mount Street.”

“I did not know that,” Judith said slowly. “I wonder what she looks like?”

“I daresay it isn’t appropriate for you to know that. I daresay that you shouldn’t even admit to knowing what a mistress is.” Lady Arbuckle paused a moment, studied her face. “However, I doubt she has your looks or your charm.”

“I hope that is true.”

“I wonder,” said Lady Arbuckle slowly. “I wonder what will happen. I wish to leave soon, Judith. That soprano from Rome made my eardrums ache. I wish to write my husband, to see if he is well.”

“I am sure he is just fine. I’m ready, Aunt. Jason said that he was going to meet friends. I wonder if instead he was going to Mount Street to visit his mistress?”

“I would guess the mistress.”

“Do you think he wanted me so much he had to go to her?”

Lady Arbuckle laughed. “I don’t think a man ever needs stimulation in order to visit a mistress.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO