“I suppose it is also my fault that you speak so disgracefully, my lord? Just be quiet, and you too, Tony.”
“A wife isn’t a bad thing,” Tony said, falling into step beside Alexandra. “Always there, beside you, ready to be kissed and stroked and fondled.”
“A wife isn’t a pet.”
“Oh no, she’s much more than a pet. What do you say, Douglas?”
It seemed to Alexandra that Douglas was concentrating on the stairs, not listening to Tony. He was probably thinking of Melissande, the clod. He was frowning and said abruptly, “Are Uncle Albert and Aunt Mildred still here?”
Tony yawned and scratched his elbow. “I suppose so. It’s your house. You’re the bloody host. You should know who is residing under your roof.”
“You’re here and God knows I don’t want you to be.”
As a complaint, it lacked heat, and Tony was pleased. He said easily, “Now, now, cousin, I would have thought all would be forgiven this morning. After all, at last you took Alexandra the way a man takes his bride and from the looks of her and the looks of you, I’d say—”
“Don’t say it, Tony!”
“Sorry, Alex, you’re right. Now, Douglas, I fancy that I will take Melissande to Strawberry Hill on Friday. Does that please you?”
“That’s three more days of your damned company!”
“And my sister’s,” Alexandra said. “You should be pleased with half the bargain. You can sit about and brood and sigh and look melancholy.”
“I would be pleased if you would contrive to hold your tongue, madam.”
“I’ve never seen Douglas brood over any woman, Alex. Surely he would have more pride.”
“Hello! Good morning, Alexandra! Goodness, you look pale. Didn’t you sleep well? Is Douglas picking at you again? Good morning, gentlemen.”
Alexandra looked at her enthusiastic young sister-in-law, who looked healthy and vigorous and repellently fit, and sighed.
“Hello, Sinjun.”
“Good morning, brat,” Tony said.
Douglas grunted at his sister.
“Is your mother in the breakfast room?” Alexandra asked.
“Oh no, it’s far too early for Mother. She won’t rise until nearly noon. Come along, Alexandra, there’s no reason for you to dally. Only Aunt Mildred is there. She eats a lot, you know, so she won’t say much. Odd, isn’t it, and she’s so thin.”
Alexandra sighed again.
“Mother has the disposition of a lemon in the morning. Aunt Mildred is more like a prune.” Sinjun frowned, then remarked to her brother, “It is difficult to imagine a prune eating a lot.”
“You’re abominable, you know that, Sinjun?”
“You aren’t in a particularly excellent temper this morning, Douglas. Has Tony been twitting you again? Don’t pay him any mind. I am so glad you’re home and you’re married to Alex. Shall we go riding after breakfast?”
“Why not?” said Alexandra. “I wish to mark the closest road to London.”
Aunt Mildred was indeed occupied with two scones that dripped honey and butter. She gave Alexandra a look from beneath lowered brows but said nothing.
Alexandra felt Douglas’s hand on her elbow, pulling her to a halt. She paused, looking up at him. “It’s time you sat where you’re supposed to.”
She looked at the countess’s chair and actually shuddered. “But it isn’t necessary and—”
“And nothing. Be quiet and obey me. It will be a new experience for you. Here, sit down.”
“You look very fine in that chair,” Sinjun said. “Mother will gnash her teeth, but it is only right, you know, that Douglas’s wife take precedence. You are the mistress here now. And, according to Douglas, a Sherbrooke must always do his or her duty and be responsible.”
“A pity my cousin didn’t heed any of the famous Sherbrooke maxims, the perfidious cur.”
Aunt Mildred said to the table at large, “She is too small for that chair.”
Douglas smiled down the expanse of table to his wife. “Should you like to sit on a pillow?”
Sinjun said, “Actually, Aunt, this chair is quite the right size for Alex. I must say that Mother overflowed it a bit. It is the chair in the formal dining room that must needs be cushioned for Alex.”
“You’re right, Sinjun,” Tony said.
“No one requires your opinion, Anthony,” Aunt Mildred said. “You have behaved abominably. Really! Marrying two girls and handing over the wrong one to Douglas.”
“The scones are delicious,” Sinjun said, and offered one to her aunt.
“Don’t, I pray, say that to my wife, Aunt,” Tony said. “Why, she lives to breathe the very air I breathe, she pines if I am gone from her for even a veritable instant, she—”
“I believe we should buy Alex a mare today, Douglas,” Sinjun said, waving another scone in Tony’s direction. “Now, you can’t thrash Tony at the breakfast table. Oh, Douglas, I saw Tom O’Malley and he told me all about your and Alex’s visit and how you took excellent care of Alex and how you sent him a new bed the very next day. He said it was heaven, it surely was, the first bed he’d ever owned that was longer than he was. Ah, here’s Hollis. His Lordship is in need of coffee, Hollis.”
“I see that he is indeed in need,” Hollis agreed and poured coffee from a delicate silver pot. “Would Your Ladyship care for some coffee?”
Alex jumped. Ladyship! She looked into Hollis’s kind face. “Some tea, if you please, Hollis. I haven’t gotten the taste for coffee.”
“I believe, young lady, that you are seated in my chair!”
“Oh dear,” Sinjun said, “we’re in the suds now and it isn’t even close to noon.”
The Dowager Countess of Northcliffe presented an impressive portrait of outrage. “Be quiet this instant, Joan, else you will spend the rest of the year in your bedchamber. I can see how you encourage her. Now, as for you, you will remove yourself.”
CHAPTER
16
A SUDDEN THICK silence swallowed every sound in the breakfast room.
Alex looked toward Douglas. He was sitting perfectly still, his fork in his right hand, suspended still as a stone in the silence. He gave her a slight nod. So, he was leaving it to her. He was not going to intervene. She swallowed, then turned to face her mother-in-law.
She said mildly, “You know, my name isn’t ‘young lady,’ it’s Alexandra. To be more precise, it’s Lady Alexandra. I’m the daughter of a duke. It is strange, is it not, that if we were at Carlton House, I would take precedence over you. Even though I have taken a step down, nuptially speaking, I still would take precedence. However, you are now my relative, you are much older than I and thus I owe you respect. I have never understood why age demanded more respect, but it seems to be the way of things. Now, should you like to call me Alexandra or Lady Northcliffe?”
The Dowager Countess of Northcliffe wasn’t a twig to be snapped in a stiff breeze, yet she saw the steel in the girl seated in her chair—her chair—and was forced to reassess her position. Her son wasn’t saying a word. He wasn’t defending her, his own dear mother. The dowager drew in a deep breath, but she was forestalled by Hollis, who said very quietly, “My lady, cook has prepared a special nutty bun for you this morning, topped with frosted almonds and cinnamon. It is delightful, truly, and she is waiting breathlessly for your opinion. Here, my lady, do sit here in this lovely chair that gives such a fine view onto the eastern lawn. You can see that the peacocks are strutting this morning. I have always thought it the best-placed chair at the table.”
The dowager wasn’t certain what to do. It was her sham daughter-in-law who decided her. Alexandra said quickly, clapping her hands in excitement, “Oh, I should very much like to see the peacocks, Hollis. Are their tails fully fanned? How wonderful! Ma’am, would you mind if I sat there this morning so that I can look at them? I had remarked before that the placement of that chair was marvelous.”
The dowager said, all three chins elevated, “No, I wish to
watch them this morning. They are amusing. Well, Hollis, I am waiting to be seated. I am waiting for my nutty bun.”
Douglas was impressed, very impressed. He looked toward Alexandra, but her head was down. That impressed him as well. No crowing from her, no gloating at this small but quite significant victory. She’d managed, with Hollis’s help, not to turn the breakfast room into a battleground. He said then, “After breakfast, Alexandra and I are going to Branderleigh Farm to buy her a mare. Sinjun, would you care to accompany us?”
Sinjun had a mouthful of kippers and could only nod. It was Melissande who said gaily from the doorway, “Oh, how delightful! Tony, shouldn’t you also like to buy me a mare? I should like a white mare, pure white, I think, with a long thick white mane.”
She looked so exquisitely beautiful that Douglas’s fork remained for several moments poised an inch from his mouth. Her morning gown was of a soft pale blue, plain, truth be told, but nothing more was required. Her hair had a blue ribbon threaded through the thick fat black curls. She looked fragile, delicate, immensely provocative.
“And a new riding habit, Melissande?” Sinjun said. “Pure white with perhaps a bright green feather in your hat? Oh, how lovely you would look. And seated on a lovely saddle atop a white mare, ah, you would look like a fairy princess.”
“White makes her look sallow,” Tony said matter-of-factly as he stirred the eggs on his plate. “It was with great relief I realized she wasn’t required to wear any more white once she was married to me.”
“Sallow! I am never sallow! Doesn’t that mean that I would look a nasty sort of yellow? No, it is absurd. I am never, never sallow.”
“Are you not, Mellie? In this instance, your mirror isn’t telling you the truth. You must learn to trust your husband. I have exquisite taste, you know. Why, I was planning to toss away all your girlish nightwear. No more white. I was thinking of bright blues and greens—all silk and satin, of course—and slippers to match. What do you think, my love?”
Melissande was in something of a bind. “I am not ever yellow,” she said, “but I should much enjoy new things.”
“I thought you would. After we have visited Strawberry Hill for as long as I wish, why then, we will go to London and you will flail young male hearts with your incomparable beauty and your silks and satins.”
“But I want to go to London now, Tony!”
“Should you like a scone, my dear?” asked the Dowager Countess of Northcliffe.
Douglas was looking at Melissande. He was also frowning, Sinjun saw. She smiled into her teacup.
“You must show everyone your lovely watercolors, Mellie,” Tony said, watching his bride delicately tear apart a scone with beautiful slender fingers. “Douglas, she has done several of Northcliffe. I think you will be very impressed.”
Melissande dropped her scone and smiled brilliantly at her husband, leaning toward him, her eyes sparkling. “Do you really like them, Tony? Truly? It is difficult, you know, what with the ever-changing light, particularly near the maple copse. Shall I try to paint the peacocks that everyone wishes to watch?”
“I don’t know,” he said, looking at her thoughtfully. “Perhaps you can begin by painting the mare I shall buy you. Not a white mare, please, Mellie, perhaps a bay with white stockings. I don’t wish you to be trite.”
“Trite! I am never—what precisely do you mean?”
“I mean that you would lack originality. You would be humdrum, run-of-the-mill.”
Melissande frowned over this, then gave her husband a very beautiful smile. “Well then, my lord. You shall select a mare for me that is original.”
“Yes, I shall. You will contrive to trust me in the future to always do what is best for you.”
Melissande nodded slowly.
Sinjun shot Alexandra a wicked look.
The Dowager Countess of Northcliffe said in a very carrying voice to Aunt Mildred, “After breakfast, I wish to speak to you about Lady Juliette’s arrival. We must have a small soirée for her, don’t you think? Her importance calls for recognition and now that Douglas isn’t here to wed her, why then—”
Oh dear, Alexandra thought, staring at Douglas, who looked now ready to spit on his fond mother. She forestalled him, saying quickly, “I should like to meet all the neighbors as well. A party for this Juliette would be just the thing, I think, for all of us to get acquainted.”
“The party will be to introduce my wife,” Douglas said, his voice as stern and cold as a judge’s. “Lady Juliette, as our guest for as few a number of days as we can politely manage, will naturally be invited. Under no circumstance, Mother, will you intimate that it is a gathering in her honor. Do you understand me?”
“The peacocks have folded their tails,” said the Dowager Countess of Northcliffe, and rose from the table. Her departure from the breakfast room was majestic.
Tony very nearly choked on his coffee.
Lady Juliette arrived not an hour later, just ten minutes before they would have escaped to Branderleigh Farm.
Sinjun moaned behind Alexandra. Alexandra would have moaned but she was older and a wife and so she straightened her back and drew a deep breath.
“The broom handle is back, I see,” Douglas said, as he came to stand beside her at the top of the wide stairs that led to the gravel drive in front of Northcliffe Hall.
“What are you talking about?”
He waved a hand in dismissal and stared at the young woman who was being gently assisted from the ducal carriage by a footman in yellow and white livery. Another footman placed the steps beneath her dainty feet. A sour-faced maid followed her from the carriage, hugging a huge jewelry box to her meager bosom.
“Lady Juliette, daughter of the Marquess of Dacre,” the footman called out.
“Do we curtsy?” Sinjun said behind her teeth. “Perhaps request a boon?”
“Be quiet,” said Douglas.
The dowager countess was fulsome in her welcome. It was soon apparent that Lady Juliette was not only immensely beautiful, she was also immensely filled with her own importance. She also looked immensely pleased to be at Northcliffe Hall, until she saw Melissande. She was staring at the unexpected and unwelcome vision as the dowager was saying, “And, my dear Juliette, our Douglas here has gotten himself wedded. Such a surprise, but you will understand that—”
Lady Juliette stared blank-faced at the dowager. “He has married? Without seeing me?”
“Yes,” said the dowager.
Lady Juliette wanted to leave immediately. She felt humiliated. The wretched earl had married, without even seeing her, Juliette, the most beautiful young lady in three counties. She was closer now to Melissande and her vision was at its sharpest. She went perfectly still. In a spate of inner honesty, Juliette had to admit that this Melissande, the earl’s new wife, was possibly the most beautiful young lady in nearly all of England. Inner honesty led instantly to hostility and bone-deep hatred. He’d found and wed a lady more beautiful than she. It wasn’t to be borne. He was a cad. He deserved to be skewered on the end of her father’s sword.
“Where did Douglas meet you?” she asked, staring Melissande straight in the eye.
“Why he met me some three years ago when he was back in England because he’d been wounded in some battle. I don’t recall now which one it was.”
“Oh, then you married because of a family agreement? There was a prior entanglement?”
Melissande tilted her lovely head to the side in question. “No, we married because we were vastly suited to each other.”
“But that is impossible!”
Douglas and Tony both stepped forward at the same time. Tony said easily, “I fear, my dear Lady Juliette, that you have come to a hasty conclusion. Melissande is my wife. Alexandra, her sister, is Douglas’s countess.”
There was another moment of heavy silence, then a babble of voices. Douglas finally said loudly, “Everyone hush! Now, Lady Juliette, allow me to introduce you to my wife, Alexandra.”
Ju
liette looked at Alexandra upon the introduction and felt a good deal better. She said with a trilling laugh, “Oh dear, how very charming, my lord. You appear to have found yourself a wife in too short a time. This must have been the result of some old family agreement. Sometimes it is wise to take one’s time. But it is still delightful to visit Northcliffe.”
“Yes,” Sinjun said in a voice loud enough for her to hear, “it is true, isn’t it, what Tony said. Juliette is pretty but indeed a distant second to Melissande.”
Douglas wanted to box his sister’s ears.
Alexandra knew with chilling certainty that this houseguest would not add to any air of festivity.
She smiled when she heard Melissande say to Tony as they were turning to walk back into the hall, “Isn’t it the oddest thing! Why, she doesn’t like me and yet she doesn’t even know me. Tony, I know well enough that I am beautiful, but you know, beautiful perhaps isn’t the most important thing . . . well, even if it is, there are other things, such as a person’s character, that should be considered, isn’t that right?”
Tony kissed his wife in the full sight of anyone who happened to be looking. “You are wonderful and your character, in the not too distant future, should come to rival your beauty.”
Sinjun said to Alexandra, “Good. Douglas didn’t hear that. Tony is careful, you know, how he doles out the praise and the spurs. He’s doing just excellently.”
“Does nothing escape you?”
Sinjun looked startled. “Certainly, but this is important, Alex, very important. Douglas must be assisted to see everyone very clearly.” She giggled, just like a little girl. “That Juliette is clearly a twit. I wonder if she is stupid as well as conceited? Douglas would like to box her ears even more than mine.”
“Don’t count on it,” Alexandra said. “He is most appreciative of beautiful women.”
Sinjun gave her a severe look. “Now it’s you who act the twit. Don’t talk such nonsense. Do you think we’ll be able to leave Juliette to my mother and Aunt Mildred and go to Branderleigh Farm?”
“I sincerely hope so.”
The Sherbrooke Bride Page 21
