The Sherbrooke Bride

by Catherine Coulter

  “Dare I believe you are a lost lamb in search of an amiable shepherd?”

  That was an interesting approach, Alexandra thought as she turned to look at the gentleman who’d spoken it. He was tall, and well built, his linen immaculate, and very fair-haired. He was probably not more than twenty-five years old, but his eyes, a very dark blue, were so filled with unhappy wisdom and weary cynicism that he gave the impression of being older. He was handsome, she’d give him that, and he did indeed look dazzling in his evening wear, but that glint of too much knowledge in his eyes was disconcerting. And now he was offering to be her amiable shepherd?

  “I’m not at all lost, sir, but it is kind of you to inquire.”

  “You are Melissande’s little sister, aren’t you? One of the ladies pointed you out to me.”

  “Yes. You know my sister?”

  “Oh yes. She is most charming, a glorious creature. Is it true that she married Tony Parrish, Lord Rathmore?”

  Alexandra nodded. “It was love at first sight. They will be coming to London soon.”

  “I fancy Teresa Carleton won’t be overpleased to hear who snapped him up. Ah, you don’t know, do you? Tony was engaged to her, then suddenly, the engagement was no more. He didn’t say a word, just left London. Teresa let it about that she didn’t want him for a husband for he was proving to be unfashionably priggish in his notions. Ah, forgive me, my dear. I am Heatherington, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. What this lady said about Tony—if you are acquainted with him, you must know it is a clanker. Tony, priggish? It is too absurd. You know my husband, Douglas Sherbrooke?”

  “So that is true as well. All know Sherbrooke, or North, as many of his army friends call him. He is a man not easily dismissed. I shouldn’t like him for an enemy. And no one really believed Teresa. No, Tony is no prig.”

  “He is a great deal of fun and he and my sister deal well together. They are much in love.”

  He shrugged, staring at her intently. “What I find odd is you, my dear. You married to Douglas Sherbrooke. You appear warm and quite joyous, really, whilst your husband is a cold man, hard and severe, truth be told.”

  “My husband cold? Are we speaking of the same man, sir? Cold? It is too funny,” and Alexandra laughed.

  “Beecham, a surprise to see you.” Douglas neatly inserted himself between the man and Alexandra. She said, frowning at her husband, “I thought he was Heatherington.”

  Douglas was infuriated with the young man who was nevertheless a seasoned roué. The dog had the gall to flirt with his wife. He said, “It is Lord Beecham.”

  “Heatherington is my family name,” he said, giving her an intimate look. “I congratulate you, Northcliffe. She is charming. Very different from her sister. An original, I should say. I see that a quadrille is forming itself and I am promised to Miss Danvers, who fancies herself the soul of charm and discretion. I doubt she is worth your time, Northcliffe.”

  “No, she isn’t,” Douglas said.

  Heatherington managed a shadow of a grin. “I doubt she’s worth my time either.”

  “Keep away from that man,” he added to Alexandra as he stared after Baron Beecham, who was making languid progress toward Miss Danvers. “He’s known to have a woman’s skirts over her head before he even has learned her last name.”

  “He is so young.”

  “He is but two years my junior. But you’re right. His is a strange past. Keep away from him.”

  “He must have excellent fashion sense and a deep purse to have such success at such a tender age.”

  “It isn’t funny, Alexandra. I don’t like the way he was looking at you. Keep away from him.”

  “Very well, I shall, if you will keep away from that French hussy who had her hand on your sleeve and was practically speaking into your mouth.”

  “What French—” He frowned ferociously down at her. “Don’t gesticulate so wildly. I can see every white inch of you to your waist. I will have that damned bodice raised before you wear that gown again.”

  “You will not distract me, Douglas! Who was that wretched hussy?”

  He stared at her, surprise and satisfaction in his eyes, eyes that had grown darker if that were possible. “Good God, you’re jealous.”

  She was, and it was humiliating that he had caught her at it. “If I knew anyone, I would walk away from you and go conduct a well-bred conversation with that person. But if I walk away, I will be alone and that isn’t a good thing.”

  “Her name is no concern of yours. She is simply someone I know, nothing more.”

  “What was she telling you?”

  He lied, but it wasn’t clean and neat. “That her grandmother was ill.”

  “Bosh,” Alexandra said.

  “Very well. I went to France to rescue her and sent Tony to Claybourn Hall. The result wasn’t quite what either of us had intended.”

  “Ah, so that is that Janine person you told me about. She’s that bloody woman who offered herself to you.”

  “Your memory is beyond frightening. I won’t say another word. I beg you to dismiss what I said that day. It makes no mind now. Stick to your own affairs, Alexandra.”

  “Come along then and dance with me since I don’t wish to force you to more confidences, though the ones you gave me were meager indeed.”

  He danced with her, then took her into dinner, then introduced her to young matrons he hoped she would like. And he kept a wary eye open for Georges Cadoudal. Damnation, the last enemy he wanted on this earth was that maniac, Georges.

  Why the hell wasn’t the man in France where he was supposed to be? Maybe he was, maybe Janine was just hysterical. And that’s who he’d been speaking to, Janine Daudet, the woman he’d rescued in France.

  “I wish to meet Teresa Carleton.”

  “So, Beecham told you about her, did he? He enjoys making mischief. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he himself slept with the lady in question.”

  “Did she break off the engagement with Tony?”

  “She didn’t. He discovered she was bedding a friend of his. He nearly collapsed from shock and outrage. He came to Northcliffe to regain his mental balance and I looked upon him as my savior. He then went to Claybourn Hall and married my wife.”

  “Do you think, perhaps, Douglas, that you could rephrase that just a bit?”

  “Why? It’s the truth. Just because you pop out of the bottle doesn’t change the facts.”

  She sighed. “You’re right, of course. However, if you will change your words just a bit, I will reward you when we return home, if you don’t reward me first, which you always do. You don’t give me a chance, Douglas.”

  “Perhaps in fifty years I will.”

  That sounded like a fine commitment to Alexandra and she gave him a brilliant smile. Douglas, on the other hand, rethought his words, and wanted to kick himself. He cursed, drank too much brandy, then brightened. Too much liquor and it just might slow him down a bit. He was fuzzyheaded in the carriage. He was whistling vacantly on the way upstairs. Yes, maybe the brandy would work.

  It didn’t, but it had been worth a try. When finally he pulled out of her and rolled over onto his back, he crossed his arms over his head and concentrated on calming his breathing. “You will kill me,” he said finally. “A man cannot continue like this. It isn’t natural. It isn’t healthy.”

  “What about me?”

  He lowered an arm and placed his hand over her breast. Her heart was galloping. He grinned. “We’ll be buried side by side in the Northcliffe family cemetery.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “You must give me an heir first.”

  “I thought ladies were supposed to feel ill when they were pregnant.”

  “Most do, so I’ve heard.”

  “I feel wonderful.”

  “When was your last monthly flow?”

  It was dark and they had just made love and were now lying side by side on the large be
d, naked and sated, but still it was embarrassing.

  When her silence dragged out beyond his patience, Douglas said, “You haven’t bled since we were married, have you?”

  She shook her head and he felt the movement.

  He lightly laid his palm on her belly. “You’re very flat.” He extended his fingers to her pelvic bones. “You’re small, but not too small, I hope, to hold my child. But it is true that I am a big man, Alexandra. My mother complains bitterly even now that I nearly killed her with my size at birth. No, I don’t think you’re large enough. I will have a physician come and examine you.”

  “You will do no such thing!”

  “Well, fancy that, she can talk,” Douglas said.

  “Douglas, listen to me.” She came up onto her elbow and her hair fell onto his chest. “I am a woman and it is women who have babies. I won’t allow any man other than you to touch me. Do you understand?”

  “Who will deliver our child?”

  “A midwife. My mother was delivered by a midwife. She doesn’t care for men either.”

  He laughed at that, then skimmed his palm over her belly, down to cup her. He pressed her again onto her back. His hand was large and very warm. His fingers caressed and stroked her. She sucked in her breath. “You don’t care for me, Alexandra? I am a man.”

  “I know you’re a man, Douglas. What I don’t understand is why anyone would believe you a cold man. Why, just look at what you are doing, and how warm your voice is. Cold! Ha!”

  “Who told you that?”

  “That young man you said was bad. Heatherington.”

  “Ah. He was perhaps seeing if you were unhappy with me, thus his comment.”

  “Why would he care whether or not I was happy? Ah, Douglas, that is very nice.”

  His fingers stopped but the warmth of his flesh was still there, settled against her flesh, and she shifted slightly. “You will make me forget what I was saying, Douglas, if you continue doing that.”

  “Accustom yourself for I will touch you whenever and however I please. Now, heed me well, Alexandra. I am a cold man, you could say, if you spoke starkly. By that I mean that I am a man who endeavors not to be overly fooled by artifice or guile. I am a man who lives by logic and reason and not by—” He broke off, his fingers moving over her again, and then he cursed even as he kissed her, rolling over onto her and sliding into her. It was as it always was: fast and hard and deep and she fell into the pleasure of it, crying out and holding him, burrowing into him, wanting him more than she could imagine and the feelings were deeper than he was inside her, so deep she couldn’t remember how it had been before he had been with her. But she didn’t whisper the words to him. She moaned when she found her release, biting into his shoulder with the power of it. And Douglas, he simply took her pleasure into himself and gave her his own, holding her tightly to him after his release and into sleep.

  Alexandra came into the drawing room to see a slight, balding, middle-aged gentleman standing in front of the bow windows, rocking back and forth on his heels, staring at his watch, not across the street at the beautiful park. When he saw her he quickly put the watch back into his vest pocket and gave her a slight bow. She said, her head cocked to one side in question, “Our butler told me there was a gentleman to see me. It is odd since I don’t know many gentlemen yet in London. For a moment I thought it must be Beecham, but no, I vow he would not be so indiscreet. It would not be his style. Who are you, sir?”

  “I?” He stared at her, unblinking. “I? Surely, His Lordship said I was coming. Surely you must know who I am.”

  His astonishment at her ignorance was genuine and she smiled. “No, Burgess merely said there was a gentleman in here. Are you perhaps a playwright or an actor who seeks patronage? Perhaps a vicar who needs a living? If that is so, I regret to tell you that His Lordship’s young brother will doubtless—”

  “No! I am Dr. John Mortimer! I am a physician! I am one of the premier physicians in all of London! His Lordship asked me to visit you. As you know, he is concerned that you will bear his heir and that you are perhaps too small to complete the task successfully. He wished me to ascertain if this is true.”

  She stared at him, disbelieving. Douglas, curse his black eyes and hair, had been called out earlier in the morning and had not returned. So, he’d arranged for this man to come. Well, at least he hadn’t yet returned, so that meant she wouldn’t have to argue with him in front of Dr. Mortimer.

  “Dr. Mortimer,” she said, still smiling, but it was difficult, “I fear you have come for nothing. My husband worries overly. Besides, if I am already with child, then there is nothing to be done if I am too small, is that not true?”

  Dr. Mortimer, a man who knew his own worth, which was great, and a man unused to a lady speaking so forwardly, a lady who treated him with such presumption, drew himself up and smiled kindly down at her. She was embarrassed, that was it. It was the only explanation for her odd behavior, though she didn’t seem to be at all. Still, he chose his avuncular voice, one that always soothed nervous ladies, chuckled slightly at her foray into wit, and said, “My dear Lady Northcliffe, ladies, no matter their beliefs or what they think they believe—undoubtedly provided with good intent by their older female relations—don’t have the ability to discern what is or is not appropriate for them. It is why they have husbands, you know. I am here to examine you, my lady, as requested by your husband. I will then tell your husband what is best for you when you conceive his heir. His concern for your size is laudable. As a physician, I take all factors into consideration and then guide you into the proper steps during the months until the child is born. Now, my lady—”

  Alexandra couldn’t quite believe that this pretentious, thoroughly irritating man, physician or no, had walked into her drawing room and was treating her like a half-wit stray. But it was Douglas she wanted to cosh, not this specimen.

  She smiled sweetly. “Would you like a cup of tea, sir?”

  He smiled back at her, showing teeth. “No, thank you, my lady.” He fanned his hands in a gesture of spurious modesty. “My time isn’t always my own, you know. Why, in an hour, I must be off to see Lady Abercrombie. She is a cousin to the queen, you know, and I am her private physician. It was difficult for me to come and see you this quickly, but your husband is well-known to me and I decided to oblige him in this. Now, my lady, it is time for us to go upstairs to your bedchamber. If you would like to have your maid present, that is certainly fine.”

  “Sir, we will not continue anywhere. I am sorry that you made this wasted trip. As I said, my husband worries overly.” With that, Alexandra walked to the bell cord and gave it a healthy jerk. Her heart was pounding, she knew her face was flushed. Oddly, she still wasn’t particularly angry at this condescending little man, for he was what he was. Ah, but Douglas, he was another matter entirely.

  “My lady, really—”

  She raised her hand to cut him off. “No, sir, please don’t apologize. Do go along to Lady Abercrombie, the queen’s cousin, who doubtless is on her toes in anticipation of your coming, and as a result her heart is beating much too quickly for her good health awaiting you.”

  “I wasn’t going to apologize! Your husband pleaded with me to come here and—”

  “I beg your pardon, sir, but my husband wouldn’t plead with the king himself. It’s obvious you don’t know him well at all. Ah, Burgess, please see the good doctor out. He is in quite a hurry. He must see the queen, you know.”

  “No, no, it is Lady Abercrombie, the queen’s cousin. Surely you can’t wish me to leave!”

  “I am certain the queen would swoon to see you as well, Dr. Mortimer. Now, good sir, if you would excuse me—”

  Burgess was in an unenviable quandary. The earl had informed him of the physician’s impending visit. He knew the countess hadn’t been informed and that had bothered him. Knowing her just briefly, he still knew she wouldn’t be pleased with what His Lordship had done. And now Her Ladyship was evidently booting out th
e good doctor. Burgess knew his duty. He also knew what was good for him. He drew himself up to his full five feet four inches and said calmly, “Dr. Mortimer, if you could come this way if you please.”

  “Good-bye, sir. How very amiable of you to call.”

  Mortimer wanted to be insulted; however, he was more confused by what had passed. He didn’t understand how the young lady, countess or not, had managed to rout him, and thus allowed himself to be led out without a word by a butler who looked more like an ostler, bald, round of belly, needing only a large apron about his middle. He was also very short, not at all what Mortimer would have deemed proper in an earl’s household. He stood for a moment on the front steps, staring back at the front door of the town house.

  Douglas had hurried as quickly as he could to be here when the physician arrived. He imagined that Alexandra wouldn’t be too pleased to see the man, but he was concerned and he’d wanted the physician to see her immediately. He wanted the man’s word that she would be all right. The fact that he had no idea whether or not she was indeed pregnant didn’t matter. If she wasn’t now, she would be sooner or later. No, he was worried and he wanted his worries allayed by a man who should know what was what and Mortimer had been recommended by his own physician who’d tended him three years before when he’d been wounded.

  Thus, when he saw the physician, standing outside his town house, staring foolishly back at the closed door, his greeting stilled in his mouth, and he frowned. Oh God, something was wrong. She was too small, he knew it; she was with child now and she would die and it would be all his fault. His voice was hoarse and urgent, but he didn’t question it, saying, “Dr. Mortimer. Is my wife all right?”

  “Oh, my lord! Your wife? She offered me tea, you know. Your wife is fine. She is not at all what I expected. She isn’t as I am used to seeing in a lady. She is young, perhaps that is at the root of it. Most strange. I must go now, my lord. Ah, your wife, yes, my lord, your wife. I wish you all the best, my lord. Good luck. I dare say you will need it.”

  Mortimer continued in that vein as he walked quickly down the steps and into his waiting carriage.