Mad Jack (Sherbrooke Brides 4)

Only Jack heard the pain in his deep voice. She came down beside him and looked up at his mother. “My lady? My name’s Winifrede. Gray and I were married just a short while ago. We wanted to come and tell you about it.”

Alice St. Cyre, dowager baroness Cliffe, sucked in her breath, and raised her hands to her face, covering her eyes. “No,” she said, her voice nothing more than a die-away whisper. “Not you. Oh, God, go away. I don’t want to see you.”

“Mother? What’s the matter?”

“No! Go away!”

She kept her face covered with her hands. She was crying now, deep, gulping sobs.

Gray slowly rose, then pulled Jack to her feet. “It’s no use. I’ll get Nella.”

Jack trailed out of the lovely bedchamber after him. She looked back once over her shoulder. The dowager baroness was staring toward her, her face filled with—what? Fear? Hatred?

Jack didn’t know what to make of it. She felt herself shudder. She followed Gray from the room.

He wasn’t in their bedchamber. Jack felt a moment of panic, then realized he would be as far away from her as he could. This was the last place he would willingly be.

Jack sighed as she walked to the fireplace and lifted her hands to warm them over the flames. She’d just kissed Georgie good night. She was quite content to sleep with Dolly, particularly with Nella just down the hall and Jack only two rooms away.

Where was Gray?

He’d been so silent after they’d left his mother’s room. It was now ten o’clock at night. Was he brooding? Was he planning how he would annul their marriage?

She simply didn’t know. She began to pace the length of the beautiful bedchamber with its autumn colors. The big downstairs clock stroked twelve long times.

Midnight?

She wasn’t at all sleepy. She wanted Gray. If she but knew where he was, she would have gone to him in an instant. She wanted to hold him, kiss him, even though she knew he would fight that with all his strength.

More time passed until at last she simply couldn’t bear it. She picked up a candle and left her bedchamber. She walked down the dark corridor to the end of the east wing. She raised her hand to knock at her mother-in-law’s door, then slowly lowered it.

What if she were sleeping? It was after midnight. Then she saw the light shining from beneath the door. She gently twisted the doorknob. If Alice was asleep, with candles lit against the gloom, she would simply leave.

Alice St. Cyre was sitting in the same chair, not moving. There was a branch of lighted candles at her elbow. There was a book in her lap. Her eyes were closed, her head resting against the soft cushions of the chair back.

Jack didn’t know what to do. She just stood there, staring at the beautiful woman who wasn’t moving. She read books? If she did, then surely she wasn’t all that mad, all that unaware of the world.

“Why don’t you just come here?”

Jack nearly jumped a foot off the floor at the sound of that soft, feathery voice.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Come sit in that chair so I may see you more easily.”

Jack brought the chair closer, then sat down.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am.”

“You’re not at all sorry. You’re bristling with energy. What do you want?”

Alice still hadn’t looked directly at her, even though she’d said she wanted to. No, she was looking down at that slender volume of Voltaire.

A madwoman read Voltaire?

“You couldn’t bear to look at me when you first saw me this afternoon. You covered your face with your hands. You said you didn’t want to see me. You told me to go away.” Jack paused a moment, then said something she didn’t want to say, “You recognize me, ma’am? Do I look familiar to you?”

Alice said nothing. She was utterly still. The beautiful Norwich shawl, all varying shades of blue, fell off her shoulders.