Catherine Coulter the Sherbrooke Series Novels 6-10 (9781101562123)

by Coulter, Catherine

  Jason turned back to see her still standing where he’d left her, her face pale in the moonlight. He called out, “If I were a man who wished to marry, something I will never wish to do again in this lifetime, I would be strongly inclined toward Eliza Dickers. She is warm and kind and very funny.” He didn’t look back again.

  And she wasn’t.

  Well, all right, so perhaps she wasn’t warm and kind and funny all the time. She doubted strongly that Eliza Dickers was either. How could one be all those good things all the time? Surely even Mrs. Dickers had moments of pettiness. A pity her husband was dead, or he could be consulted. Surely she’d occasionally called him a bonehead or a fleabrain.

  Hallie turned and walked back to the east gardens. It took her a while to find the entrance even though she’d already been in there. She supposed it made sense to keep these awesome statues well hidden. She wondered at what age James and Jason had found them. She stood in front of the married woman’s favorite statue—if the husband wasn’t a clod—whatever that meant.

  The fact was, she was a jealous bitch. She shook her head. No, she wasn’t jealous, that was ridiculous, she was simply a bitch, no jealousy involved. She had imagined he’d bedded every woman he’d wanted to in Baltimore, that Eliza Dickers had been one of many. But maybe there hadn’t been a long line of women, and that he, like a sultan, had to merely crook a finger to the one he wanted for the night. Maybe she’d been wrong about him, and he only shared himself with Eliza Dickers. He was certainly fond of her. But the fact of it was, he was so beautiful, so finely fashioned, she couldn’t imagine him not taking what was offered. After all, he was a man, and her stepmother, Genny, had told her candidly that every man Hallie met would think of little else other than bedding her, that it was simply the way of the species, and that they couldn’t help themselves. But Jason, he’d never shown any lecherous tendencies around her, and how could that be? Surely she was pretty enough to warrant at least one interested look, wasn’t she? Perhaps he was simply very good at hiding what apparently all men wanted.

  “You’re a fool, my girl,” she said, looking up at the woman lying on her back, her mouth open on some sort of scream. Why was she screaming? Was the man hurting her? A woman would willingly allow her husband to embarrass and hurt her?

  She continued to study the statue. The man’s mouth was where she couldn’t imagine a man’s mouth being anywhere near, particularly not all settled in like he appeared to be.

  Well, no matter. Jason Sherbrooke never wanted to marry. That was good. That was fine with her because she didn’t want to marry either, ever.

  She ran back to the Hall, aware that she was feeling warm, but not all over. No, not all over at all.

  She found Martha curled up in her chair, sound asleep. She’d told her to go to bed, but naturally she hadn’t. Hallie led Martha into the dressing room where she slept, took off her shoes and covered her. She’d worked as hard as any of the women, jumping around, exclaiming over this and that, happy as a lark.

  Hallie wondered, as she lay in bed that night, exactly what had happened to Jason five years before.

  CHAPTER 17

  Two mornings later, all the male workers moved the furniture from the very clean stables into the house. They grunted and carped, stretched and sweated, but were stoic and nicely silent when Hallie asked them to move a piece more than once. Hallie seemed to be enjoying herself, so Jason didn’t say a word until he walked into the room as she directed the men to move the main sofa in front of the windows. He stared. Hallie called out, all delighted, “Yes, that is perfect, simply perfect. Thank you. Now, I’m thinking a chair should sit in front of the fireplace, perhaps that lovely brocade wing chair that Master Jason likes so very much. No reason to be cold, is there? Of course it’s very warm now since it’s summer. Oh, hello, Jason. What do you think, should the chair still be in front of the fireplace so visitors will know that they’ll be warm when the cold hits?”

  He was amazed and disbelieving, at what she had wrought, but he said in a straightforward voice, “There is something to be said for reassuring visitors, but I’m thinking the sofa and chair should be together, don’t you?”

  “But there isn’t enough room in front of the windows for both.”

  “Well then, why don’t we try the sofa and chair somewhere else. Perhaps to the left side of the fireplace.”

  Hallie heard one of the men say to another, “It’s about time the master got involved. The next thing she’d want us to do is block the doorway with a hassock.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t want a hassock in the doorway. A hassock can’t be separated from its chair. Everyone knows that.”

  The men shuffled their feet. They didn’t notice the twinkle in her eye.

  “They didn’t mean anything, Hallie,” Jason said. “However, you do have some rather curious notions about furniture placement.”

  Hallie sighed deeply. “The truth is, my father and Genny quite despaired of me six years ago when I tried to redecorate my own bedchamber. I selected lovely colors and furniture, but when it came to placement, I put my bed with its back to the one big window. At least I sometimes recognize when the furniture is placed correctly.” She sighed and stood in the doorway.

  After Jason had finished with the downstairs furniture, the men grinning, he said to Hallie, “Should we let Cousin Angela make decisions about her own bedchamber and sitting room?”

  “After she sees what you’ve done, she’ll probably beg you to do it for her.”

  “All right, I’ll arrange her furniture. If she doesn’t like it, I’ll change it myself. Now, don’t whine and act pathetic. Everyone has things they can do and things they can’t do.”

  “Oh yes? What can’t you do?”

  He stroked his fingertips over his chin. After a very long march of moments, he said, “Do you know, I’ll have to keep thinking about that.”

  She said something under her breath and stomped away.

  “What did you say?”

  She mumbled something else, something rather unpleasant, he fancied, about his antecedents. She turned at the front door to see him grinning after her, a lovely white-toothed grin that made her want to both smack him in the head and fling him to the ground. Now, where had that come from? So she flung him to the ground—what would she do then? She’d kiss him until he swooned, that’s what she’d do. How long, she wondered, eyes glazed, would it take him to swoon? Oh dear. She kept walking.

  After Cousin Angela’s bedchamber and sitting room were charmingly arranged, Jason went back downstairs to see Hallie standing in the open doorway looking off at something in the distance. He called to her, “Come back in, Hallie. Let’s take one final look.”

  “A storm is coming. Do you know when it will hit?” When he stood next to her, she pointed.

  “Any minute now. Those are fast clouds and black as a pit. Come, let’s look at our handiwork.”

  He’d even done a perfect job in her bedchamber. She started to sigh, but refused to give him the satisfaction. They walked into each of the other rooms, Jason telling her what an excellent job she’d done selecting the fabrics and design of the draperies. It didn’t take long before she was smiling and nodding.

  “Didn’t you select the hallway carpet?”

  She beamed. “Isn’t it lovely? It won’t show much dirt.”

  “No, indeed.” If someone had told him he would like a dark yellow rug with dark green vines, he would have puked, but oddly, it looked lovely running the distance of the corridor.

  When they looked into Jason’s bedchamber, at the opposite end of the house from hers, Hallie said, “And this carpet you selected is very distinctive. Very masculine.”

  “In short, very manly.” Actually, it was a lovely Aubusson his father had selected for him.

  The floors were buffed to a high shine, the furniture and fabrics light, making all the rooms look airier and larger.

  When at last they walked into the drawing room, Callie discovered
her throat was tight.

  “What’s wrong? You still want the chair in front of the fireplace?”

  “Oh, no, it’s just that this is my first home.” She blinked up at him. “My very own first home.” She whooped, grabbed Jason, and soon they were waltzing around the room and out into the entryway. They were laughing, then suddenly Jason stopped in his tracks. Hallie, looking up at him, saw something close to panic on his face, and quick as could be, she locked her arms around his neck. She was still waltzing in place when she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

  For an instant, he kissed her back. Then suddenly, he grabbed her hands and pulled them away from his neck. “No, no, Hallie, I will not dishonor you nor will I—Never mind, you’re a lady.” He paled, something akin to terror dilating his beautiful eyes, turned on his heel and left the house, nearly at a dead run.

  It began to rain, hard.

  After dinner, their final evening at Northcliffe Hall, Hallie found Corrie in the nursery, softly singing a lullaby to the twins, who lay like two small spoons, front to back. Hallie watched her lean down and kiss both of them, then pull a light cover over them. She straightened to see Hallie at her elbow. “Goodness, I didn’t hear you. What are you doing here, Hallie? Ah, aren’t they absolute loves?”

  Hallie said, “I’ve been watching them. Their fingers fell out of their mouths when they fell asleep.”

  “Yes, that’s always the giveaway. They’ve tried to fool me into thinking they’re asleep, but it’s the fingers that do them in. James will be here in a moment. What is it? There’s nothing wrong, is there?”

  “Oh no. Well, perhaps. Could I speak to you for a moment, Corrie?”

  Now, this was interesting, Corrie thought, as she motioned Hallie into a small sitting room down the corridor that overlooked the spectacular back gardens. They heard a man’s step in the corridor. “That’s James. He’ll probably pick both boys up and rock them. They always smile at him in their sleep when he rocks them. Now, tell me what this is all about.”

  Hallie sat forward in her chair, realized she wasn’t certain how to introduce the subject of Jason and what exactly had happened five years before. What came out of her mouth was, “Jason said the statue where the man is kneeling between the woman’s legs is your favorite. He also said it was every married woman’s favorite so long as her husband wasn’t a clod.”

  Corrie’s left eyebrow shot up. She laughed, couldn’t help it. “Well, that’s the truth. Oh, I see, forgive me. You don’t understand. But didn’t you look closely?”

  “Well, no, not really. It looked to me like the woman was screaming. It looked to me as if that sort of married thing was painful for the woman.”

  Corrie stared at a young woman who was only two years younger than she. Well, she’d be ignorant as dirt herself if she hadn’t married James. And thank the good Lord, James wasn’t a clod. She grinned. “No, there’s no pain involved. When you decide to marry, I promise I’ll have James make certain the man you’ve chosen knows what he’s doing. That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

  Hallie sucked in a deep breath. “That isn’t really what I wanted to ask you. The thing is, well, do you think you could tell me exactly what happened five years ago? Why Jason swears he’ll never marry?”

  Corrie’s face tightened, she tightened all over. She hated thinking of that awful time, and the memories were always there. She saw that Hallie wasn’t asking out of simple curiosity, that there was something else at work. But what? Corrie said, “Was it spoken of in Baltimore? What do you know?”

  “In Baltimore there were rumors that Jason and James had loved the same woman and she’d chosen James.” Hallie shrugged. “He gambled too much, he angered his father, anything you can think of. People talk and gossip because they must, I suppose. All Jason told me was that the girl he loved betrayed him and he was responsible for nearly getting his father and brother killed.”

  “I see.” Corrie fell silent. “I’m surprised Jason said that much to you.”

  “At the time, I told him that my betrothed was with another woman. I suppose Jason told me what he did to make me feel better.”

  Corrie was astonished. “You’re joking, surely. This idiot man was your future husband and he betrayed you?”

  “He must have believed I was very stupid. Actually, he was right. I found out he was marrying me for my money. When I confronted him, he admitted he’d been with this other woman, though only one time, the lying worm swore to me, and then proceeded to promise it would never happen again. I’m not that foolish. It was then that I told him I knew he was a fortune hunter.”

  “Did you shoot him?”

  Hallie sighed. “I would have enjoyed that, perhaps right through his ear, but instead I locked myself in my bedchamber and licked my wounds.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He married a rich merchant’s daughter last year. Poor girl.” She paused a moment. “And that’s why I don’t ever wish to marry.”

  Corrie rose and smoothed down her skirts. “Well, that’s bad enough. I’m sorry you had to care for a man of that ilk. You never suspected?”

  Hallie shook her head, saying as she did so, “Not for a moment. Goodness, I was naïve. However, Jason’s experience must have been much worse than mine. But the thing is, I can’t imagine any girl betraying either James or Jason. They’re both so beautiful and, well, they both appear quite honorable.”

  “Yes, they are. The fact is, I loved James from the moment I first saw him at the advanced age of three. Do you know that most people can’t tell James and Jason apart?”

  Hallie shook her head. “No, that’s not possible. They’re very different from each other. Please, Corrie, tell me what happened.”

  “It was a very bad time, Hallie, for all of us.” Corrie patted her shoulder. “I don’t think it’s right for me to say anything. You must ask Jason. Shall we go downstairs and play whist? Or perhaps we can waltz.”

  CHAPTER 18

  The move to Lyon’s Gate occupied a good three hours, an additional two to install both Martha and Petrie, who had begged Jason to allow him to be both his permanent valet and Lyon’s Gate’s butler, since Hollis had taught him everything over the past five years. Jason had to admit that occasionally he’d missed Petrie’s services in America. He agreed to Petrie continuing as his valet and Hallie agreed to Petrie as their butler. Jason knew she was accepting Petrie in all goodwill and innocence. Well, she’d find out soon enough what a misogynist he was. They hadn’t been in Lyon’s Gate more than an hour before Petrie told Martha she was a mouthy girl with no respect for his craft and skill. Jason had seen seventeen-year-old Martha, hands on hips, chin out, tell him he was an insufferable prune-faced old tick, and he wasn’t even that old yet.

  Old tick or not, it was nice to have someone looking after him again. Jason could always smack Petrie if he stepped over the line with any of the females in the house.

  Good God, he’d moved into a house with a woman he hadn’t known more than two months, and Cousin Angela, whom he’d known a week. His world had turned sideways.

  As for Martha, she was so excited she danced in and out of every room, saying over and over, “Our first ’ouse, er, house. Heavenly groats—ain’t—isn’t—it jest grand, Miss Hallie?”

  “It’s the grandest,” Hallie agreed, and realized she was moving into a house with a man who looked like a god. In the dark hours of the night, she knew she would be quite content to drop him to the floor, hold him down, and kiss him, forever.

  The house was quiet. Jason lay in his bed, the first time he and his new bed had been together. He stretched, pillowed his head on his arms, and stared up at the dark ceiling. There wasn’t much of a moon tonight, so little light came through the windows. Some minutes later, from downstairs, came twelve mellow strokes from the lovely Ledenbrun clock, a gift from his grandmother.

  His first home. Hallie’s first home. Oh yes, he’d heard Martha’s excited voice, anyone who’d been in the h
ouse at the time had, much to Petrie’s tight-lipped disapproval. Yes, the house was just grand. He smiled, but it soon fell away. She’d wanted to kiss him. She’d held on until he’d jerked her arms from around his neck.

  Their cook, Mrs. Millsom, so bosomy she could probably balance a vegetable or two quite nicely, had prepared them an excellent dinner—some fish and mutton, if he remembered right, but he’d been so wrapped up in sitting in the master’s chair at his own dining room table in his own dining room, that he really didn’t remember what he’d eaten. Perhaps there’d been some peas as well. He’d been aware of Cook watching him and so he’d complimented her extravagantly. Mrs. Millsom fluttered her fingers and removed herself back to the kitchen, singing if he’d not imagined it, and Hallie had said, “Oh no, not Mrs. Millsom,” but he hadn’t asked her what she’d meant by that.

  He frowned at one memory. Hallie had said as they’d shared a glass of port after dinner, “I’m so excited I can scarcely keep myself from bubbling over—my first home, my first dinner in my own home.”

  And Angela, seeing that he was ready to open his mouth, said quickly as she raised her glass, “I propose a toast: to yours and Jason’s first home and our first home together.”

  It was her home too, dammit. Her dining room table in her dining room. Not his alone. He’d seen her looking about, in tearing spirits, and he’d known she’d wanted to ask him to waltz again throughout the house with her. But she hadn’t, probably because of his blatant rejection of her—and that brought Judith McCrae from that hidden part of his brain out in front of his eyes, the girl who’d been a monster, the girl who’d nearly killed him. Yes, whenever he dredged Judith up, his mind settled back into its proper path.

  When he fell asleep, he dreamed of that afternoon again, saw himself jumping in front of his father, felt the bullet tearing into his shoulder, and the endless pain that had drawn him deep into himself, almost killing him. He jerked awake, breathing fast and hard, sweat covering him. He hadn’t had that dream for many months. Now, tonight, in his new bed, it had come and brought it all back. He didn’t want to go back to sleep. He didn’t want to fall back into that nightmare. When he fell asleep again, he slept soundly, nothing at all coming into his brain to break him.