The Sherbrooke Bride - Catherine Coulter [8]
Douglas smiled at that, but nodded, again, comfortable with speaking aloud his thoughts and his plans to Sinjun. Yes, he had liked Melissande, found her careless ways fascinating, her clever manipulations intriguing. He’d also wanted to bed her very badly, had wanted to see her tousled and whispering endearments to him, adoration in her eyes for him.
Sinjun said quietly, “If Melissande is still available then you won’t have to worry about spending time in London to find another appropriate girl.”
“You’re right,” he said, rising and dusting off his breeches. “I will write immediately to the Duke of Beresford. If Melissande is still available—Lord, it makes her sound like a prize mare!—why then, I could leave immediately for Harrogate and marry her on the spot. I think you would like her, Sinjun.”
“I’ll like her if you do, Douglas. Mother won’t, but that doesn’t matter.”
Douglas could only shake his head at her. “You’re right. Do you know she’s the only one who’s never carped at me about marrying and providing the Sherbrooke heir?”
“That’s because she doesn’t want to give up her power as chatelaine of Northcliffe. The Sherbrooke dower house is charming but she disdains it.”
“You sometimes terrify me, my girl, you truly do.” He touched his fingers to her wind-tangled hair, then cupped her chin in his large hand. “You’re a good sort.”
She accepted this token of affection calmly, then said, “You know, Douglas, I wondered why the Virgin Bride would come at this particular time, but now it makes sense. I think she appeared because she knew you were planning to marry. Perhaps her coming is a portent; perhaps she is trying to warn you or your Melissande about something that will befall you if you aren’t careful.”
“Nonsense,” said the Earl of Northcliffe. “However, you are still a good sort, even if you are overly fanciful upon occasion.”
“ ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’ ”
“Ah, Sinjun, and I shall say back to you, “ ‘Rest, rest, perturbed spirit.’ ”
“You are sometimes a difficult man, Douglas.”
“You sulk because I out-Shakespeared you?”
She poked him in the arm in high good humor. “You are too earthbound, Douglas, but perhaps that won’t continue after you are wedded.”
Douglas thought of the immense passion he fully planned to enjoy when he bedded Melissande. “Sometimes, my girl,” he said, giving her a fatuous grin, “you are also delightfully perceptive.”
The earl wasn’t frowning when he returned to Northcliffe Hall. Everything would work out. He had the unaccountable Sherbrooke luck as did the first son of the Sherbrookes for the past untold generations. It would continue, for the Sherbrooke luck had never yet deserted him, and he would have no more worries.
He paused, standing next to his sister in the front hall, listening to the Northcliffe butler, Hollis, when their mother, Lady Lydia, swooped down on them, demanding that Joan come upstairs immediately and change her highly repugnant clothing and try, at least try, to appear the young lady, despite all the blocks and obstacles Douglas and his brothers—who positively encouraged the silly chit—put in her path.
“I gather we are expecting guests, Mother?” Douglas asked, after sending Sinjun a commiserating wink.
“Yes, and if the Algernons—Almeria is such a high stickler, you know!—if she saw this child in her breeches and her hair like—” She faltered and Sinjun said quickly, “Like Medusa, Mother?”
“A revolting witch from one of your dusty tomes, I dare say! Come along, Joan. Oh, Douglas, please refrain from calling your sister that absurd name in front of the Algernons!”
“Did you know that Algernon means ‘the whiskered ones’? It was the nickname of William de Percy, who was bearded when every other gentleman was clean shaven, and he—”
“Enough!” said the Dowager