Mad Jack (Sherbrooke Brides 4)

You won’t speak to him, Alexandra.”

“I believe,” said Helen Mayberry, “that I really should like to meet this debaucher. Is he tall, Douglas?”

“He is your height, Helen, no taller. I, on the other hand, am at least two inches taller than you are. You wouldn’t care for him at all. His is an exhausting life, filled with licentious entertainments that would surely make you blush.”

“Me, blush?” Helen laughed and lightly poked Douglas’s arm. Since he was still holding his wife over his head, he couldn’t react. Slowly he lowered Alex to the floor, brought her up against him, and kissed her hard on her mouth. “You won’t speak of these sorts of entertainments again, Alex. I will be your only shepherd. You will forget Heatherington. Helen, are you mocking me? Your eyes are rolling in your head, and your lips are pursed.”

“I’m making certain I won’t forget his name, Douglas. Heatherington. I wish to meet him. Perhaps I can convince Ryder to take me to a party where he will be present. Sophie still hasn’t come to London. Ryder’s still a free man.”

Alex stepped away from Douglas and walked up to Helen. She gently shook Helen’s arm. “Listen to me, you mustn’t think that you can just do as you please with Ryder. You don’t know Sophie. She becomes a termagant, an ill-tempered shrew, utterly loses her sweet nature, whenever another woman approaches Ryder. She isn’t kind and understanding like I am, Helen—although,” she added, a frown about her mouth, “I was ready to throw you into the Thames, and Douglas after you, because I didn’t see things clearly. Yes, I’ll admit it. I was jealous and it wasn’t well done of me, but when you’re married to a man as splendid as Douglas, it’s difficult not to believe that every other woman in the world isn’t just as much in love with him as you are. And of course they are, all except you, who managed to survive your infatuation with him.

“But I finally realized that Douglas hadn’t withdrawn from me because he was inflamed by your beauty. No, he finally admitted that he’s been to France twice in the past two months, on some sort of mission for the war ministry. That is why he was distracted. That is why he ignored me, despite my varied and wondrous attempts at seducing him.

“He felt guilty because he didn’t tell me that his precious life was in danger. He knew I would have locked him in a closet. When I finally accused him of infidelity, then he had to tell me the truth. I forgave him. He is to go on another mission in two weeks, and I am still deciding how I will react to this.

“I believe I will travel with him. My French is so excellent now—after eight years—that I, like Douglas, will be accepted as a native. Yes, Douglas, I will go with you and protect you.” And small, slight Alexandra Sherbrooke stood there, her hands clasped, beaming.

Douglas said to Gray, “Actually, she did break me. I had to tell her, although I knew it wasn’t a good idea. You see, I’m used to speaking to her of all things that occupy my mind, and thus when I didn’t, I changed toward her and she took it to heart in a woman’s way, which is never accurate in the least. Believing I was unfaithful to her. Ha!

“As to her French, the good Lord preserve us. It isn’t a whit better than when she shouted at Georges Cadoudal ‘Merde!’ And then something like, ‘I’m going to Paris tomorrow with my husband—Je vais a` Paris demain avec mon mari’—in Hookham’s eight years ago and hit him in the nose with a book. Heatherington overheard it and was mightily amused, the damned bounder.”

“Heatherington again?” Helen said, stroking her chin with long, slender fingers. “I must meet this debauched gentleman who appears to be everywhere of interest. I don’t believe I mind that he isn’t taller than I am, Douglas.”

“Forget Heatherington, Helen,” Douglas said “You might be big for your age and have a modicum of sense, but he is wily and cunning and knows how to make a woman—any woman—want to toss up her skirts for him.

“Now, Alex,” he continued, his voice suddenly soft and cajoling, “this is to be my last mission. The first two trips to France were preparatory to this final one. I am to bring out an old gentleman who has provided Wellington with excellent, perhaps even vital, strategic information over the years. It won’t be dangerous, Alex, I swear it to you. I’ll leave on Thursday and be back with you again by next Wednesday. All right?”

Alex was silent for a long moment, studying his face. Finally, she nodded slowly. “I will allow it, but only if I can accompany you to Eastbourne and wait for you there. You will also tell me all your plans so that I won’t feel utterly helpless. All right?”

Douglas cupped her face in his two large hands. “You are my torment and all that I hold dear. I will expect to see you waving to me from the beach when the boat returns from France.” He kissed her.

“Well,” said Gray, “it appears that we now all understand why Douglas wasn’t making love to Alexandra three times a day as was his wont before two months ago.”

Douglas raised his head. “I’ve a lot to make up for, don’t I?”

31

GRAY REALIZED in that moment that his entire staff was very likely enjoying this titillating performance by an earl and countess of the realm. He looked up to see Maude and Mathilda standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring benignly at everyone.

Jack said, “Oh, dear.”

Mathilda said, “What orgy?”

Maude said, “What Mathilda would say if she wished to tread further down that particular path is that—”

Mathilda said, “Eight men? A good number. Don’t bring Mortimer.”

Gray simply grabbed Douglas’s arm and said, “We’re going into the drawing room. Jack, bring Helen. Aunt Mathilda, Aunt Maude, won’t you please join us? Quincy, bring refreshments, but knock first. Don’t just come in with the tea tray, all right?”

Quincy said, “I could slither in, my lord, or I could creep in on mice feet. No one would even notice that I was in the drawing room with the tea tray. I could—”

“Be quiet, Quincy,” Mathilda said and walked quickly toward the drawing room. She called over her shoulder, “Tea, if you please, not manly brandy.”

Once everyone was gathered in the drawing room, Helen said to Douglas, who was still holding his wife close to him, “It’s a pity Alex didn’t realize that I have never fancied married gentlemen. They’ve been broken by another woman’s hand, you see. They carry her mark, her imprint, if you will. Yes, you are well taken, Douglas.”

“Helen, you are jabbering like a nitwit,” Douglas said. “What is this nonsense about breaking and imprints?”

“What I could have said instead,” Helen said, her lovely eyes twinkling with amusement, “is that you, Douglas, are obviously very much in love with your wife. I’m relieved that you finally told her the truth, regardless that it will worry her. A man should never keep things from his wife. It isn’t healthy for his innards. Imagine the discipline Alex would have to mete out if you were to do it again. Now you will once more be reasonable and trust her.”