The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5

by Catherine Coulter

  Sophie gave out a loud snort, then settled into snoring.

  “Very well, you don’t as yet appreciate my stories. Tomorrow night I’ll continue with my tale, and you’ll learn what Belle and Goosie and Brassy all did to this poor one-legged pirate.”

  He kissed her forehead, and whispered against her damp flesh, “Perhaps tomorrow night you might like to put the cream on your hand and slick it over me. What do you think?”

  She said quite clearly, “No. I would rather cosh your thick head and heave you and all your damned women into the sea.”

  “On the other hand,” he continued, pleased as a rooster turned free in the hen yard, “perhaps tomorrow night we won’t need the cream. I’m an optimist, and I’m your husband.”

  “How many women do you have? How many mistresses?”

  “More than three, at least I did. They’re all in the past now.”

  She stiffened.

  “That was the first thing I heard when I arrived in Montego Bay. You had three lovers. Well, I have known more women than you were reputed to have known men. I won’t lie about that. It was before I’d met you and wanted you and married you.”

  “I don’t care if you keep them all.”

  It was such an obvious lie that he merely leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  “You’re the one who is myopic, not your damned brother.”

  “Ah, a bit of vinegar, a dab of testiness. Let’s get some sleep. I fancy that I will wake you up early in the morning. You’ll be all sweet and warm with sleep, Sophie, and I’ll come inside you, and it will be slow and gentle and you will enjoy it. At least a bit.”

  She said not a word. Ryder didn’t despair.

  When he awoke the next morning and reached for her, she was gone. Well, hell, he thought. He wouldn’t tell her of his fond plans again.

  “Alex,” Ryder said to his sister-in-law the following morning at the breakfast table. “I would appreciate you taking Sophie around to meet our neighbors. As for a ball, let’s wait a while for that.”

  “Ah, so you realize this girl won’t do well with all our illustrious friends.”

  Ryder merely smiled at his mother. She had come armed to the breakfast table, and she’d fired her opening salvo immediately. “No, not at all,” Ryder said easily. “On Friday, Sophie and I are going to our own home, to Chadwyck House.”

  There was instant pandemonium at the table.

  “You can’t mean it!”

  “Goodness, Ryder, you just got home! This is your home!”

  And from Douglas, nothing, merely a smile, nearly hidden as he slowly sipped his coffee.

  Alex said slowly, her voice instantly quieting the voices, “That gives us two days, Sophie. There is also the matter of clothes for you. We don’t have much time.”

  It was at that instant that Sophie realized Jeremy wasn’t smiling. He was staring down at his plate.

  Again, Ryder, the bounder, seemed to know exactly what was going on. He knew exactly what to do. He said easily, “Well, Jeremy, I hope you don’t mind staying for a couple of weeks here at Northcliffe Hall. I know Sinjun can be the very devil, a veritable nodcock, but if you think you can abide her for a while, then you may remain here.”

  Jeremy shot a guilty look at his sister. Sophie forced a smile. “It’s up to you, Jeremy.”

  “Sinjun’s going to take me to Branderleigh Farm to buy a pony,” he burst out, half guilt, half unmistakable excitement.

  And that was that. Sophie found out from Sinjun that Ryder was paying for the pony.

  During that day and the next two days, while Sophie was meeting all their neighbors, and being fitted for new clothes, Ryder was visiting his former lovers. Of course they all already knew he was married. Bea had called a meeting. Three of the five women were interested in marrying. He presented the names on his list and left them each to ponder the good points of each man. Emily was still in bed, recovering from childbirth, but she would mend and he even made her smile twice. The other two wanted to go try their luck in London. He gave them money and wished them luck. As for Bea, he simply shook his head when she opened the door of her cottage to him just after luncheon.

  “Busy Bea,” he said, and hugged her. “I swear you would do me in if you weren’t so fond of me.”

  “Good thing for you that I am, Master Ryder!”

  She loved to call him master, it was one of her favorite fantasies. Bea had great common sense and the most unusual preferences of any woman he’d ever known.

  “I hear you’ve visited all your women and presented them with possible husbands.”

  Ryder rolled his eyes as he followed her into her small pristine drawing room. “Would you care to peruse the list for yourself?”

  “Oh, not me, sir. I’m off to London to make my fortune, just like Laura and Molly. Actually, I think I’ll ask Emily to come with me. The last thing she needs to do is fall into a decline. That’s when a female is most vulnerable. I’ll make certain she doesn’t fall into the clutches of another despotic man. It’s a boardinghouse I’m thinking about, Master Ryder, all my own. I’ve saved enough money, you know. You’re a generous man, but still a man. I will remain my own woman and I will find another lover as polished as you are.”

  She ground to a halt and he picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. “There are no other men to be found who are as polished as I am.”

  She laughed and punched his arm.

  “Now, my dear, I don’t want you owning just any boardinghouse, no, I want you to buy a property in a very good section of London. I will give you the name of the Sherbrooke solicitor in London and he will see to it for you. Also, you will get a boardinghouse dowry from me.”

  “You will miss me, Ryder.”

  “Oh yes. I most certainly will. Wish me luck with my new wife, Bea.”

  “You need luck with a woman?”

  “More than you know. I’ve met my match.”

  As Ryder rode away from Bea’s cottage, he wondered if perhaps Sophie would enjoy playing slave girl to his master. Perhaps he could bring her around to it by November. Yes, the days would be shorter then and it would be chilly outside. It would mean long hours in front of the fireplace. He pictured her wearing soft veils, her hair long down her back, teasing him, and he would have her dance for him, like Salome. It would lead to laughter, this kind of play, and to passion. Then he wondered what the ghost had meant by “when they come...”

  CHAPTER 17

  RYDER’S LAST STOP of the afternoon was at Jane Jasper’s spacious three-story house just outside of the small village of Hadleigh Dale that lay seven miles east of Northcliffe Hall. The house and drive were surrounded by oak and lime trees, thick and green now. He heard his children yelling and laughing before he saw them. He smiled in anticipation as he turned Genesis onto the short drive and dug his heels into his stallion’s sides.

  Jane and her three helpers, all young women with immense energy and goodwill, all of whom he’d selected himself, were standing in the front yard watching the children play. There were four boys and three girls, all between the ages of four and ten. They were well clothed, clean, loud, and Ryder felt such pleasure at the sight of them that he wanted to shout.

  He saw Oliver standing a bit off to the side, a tall, thin boy of ten, leaning on his crutches, but there was a grin on his face as he shouted advice to Jaime, all of six years old and full of male bravado, on how to smash the grit out of Tom, a cherub-faced little boy who could curse more fluently than a Southampton sailor. John, the peacemaker at only eight, a barking spaniel nipping at his heels, was trying to keep them from coming to blows.

  Jaime spotted Ryder first and let out a yell. The instant Ryder dropped Genesis’s reins and turned, he was nearly brought to the ground by flying arms and legs, and three dogs all leaping and barking madly.

  They were all shouting, laughing, all of them talking at once, telling him what they’d done during his absence
, all except Jenny, of course, who hung back, her thumb in her mouth. Her mop of dark brown curls shadowing her small face, her ribbon long gone. Ryder gave his full attention to the children, trying to answer all of them at once. He grinned at Jane over Melissa’s small head as the little girl took her turn and hugged her skinny arms around his neck until he yelled with imagined pain, making all the children shout with laughter. He was listening to Jaime’s near brush with a sunken log while learning how to swim when Jane and her helpers brought out glasses of lemonade and plates of cakes and scones. He sat in their midst, drinking his lemonade, tossing bits of scone to the dogs, listening to their stories, their arguments, all in all, enjoying himself immensely. Jenny sat quietly, two children away from him, slowly and methodically eating a small lemon cake.

  After Ryder had distributed all their presents and stepped back to witness them attack the wrapped packages with ill-disguised greed, he walked over to Jenny. She raised her small face, and her blue eyes—Sherbrooke blue eyes, light as the blue of a summer day—were wide and not quite so blank as he remembered. She smiled and he saw joy in her expression, he knew he wasn’t mistaken.

  “My little love,” he said and kneeled down in front of her. He pulled her thumb from her mouth, ran his fingers through her soft hair, and then, very gently, brought her against his chest. The little girl sighed softly, and her arms crept around his neck. He kissed her hair, then closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet child scent of her. God, he loved her, this child of his loins and of his heart.

  “She does better, Ryder. She is learning. She is more a part of things, she is more aware.”

  He didn’t release his daughter as he looked up to see Jane standing just behind her.

  “She misses you dreadfully whenever you’re gone for any length of time, even more this time, which is a very good sign. She asked about you every single day.”

  “Papa.”

  Ryder froze. Jane smiled. “That is her surprise for you. She’s been practicing. She has said ’papa’ for the past two weeks, each time I’ve showed her that small painting of you.”

  “Papa.”

  For a moment, he felt his throat close. Then he buried his face against her neck and felt her soft mouth against his face and she said again in a very satisfied voice, “Papa.”

  “I’ve brought you a present, pumpkin.”

  Her eyes lit up when he pulled the brightly wrapped package from his coat pocket.

  Inside was a gold locket. Ryder showed her how to open the locket. On one side was a miniature painting of her and on the other a painting of her mother, who had died birthing her. Ryder remembered the birth, remembered his fear and the endless pain. He also remembered his joy when the small girl child finally came from her dead mother’s body, and she was alive. Not completely whole, but alive, and that was all that had mattered to him.

  Jane fastened the locket around Jenny’s neck and immediately Jenny ran off to show her prize to Amy, a little girl of six who smiled a lot more now than she had five months ago. He heard Jenny yell, “Papa give! Papa give!”

  “You’re doing very well with her, Jane. You’re doing well with all the children. God, I’ve missed them. I see Oliver’s leg is much better. What does Dr. Simons say?”

  “The bone is mending and he doubts Ollie will have a limp. He’s a very lucky little boy. As for Jaime, the burn marks on his legs and back are completely healed. He’s a smart one, Ryder. He reads every book you send over. He spends every shilling of his allowance on even more books. He is well known to Mr. Meyers, who owns the bookshop in the village. As for Melissa, she’s got quite a talent with watercolors. Amy wants to be an Italian soprano, God forbid.”

  Ryder nodded and smiled. He followed Jane to the wide porch and the two of them sat down, watching the children. He listened carefully as she told him of each child’s progress, of each child’s needs.

  He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Jenny, who was now proudly displaying her locket to Melissa, who’d gotten a French doll and wasn’t in the least jealous. Ryder knew the children understood that Jenny was his real child, but he doubted it meant much to them, even to Oliver, who sometimes seemed to Ryder to be older than he was.

  “I hear you married,” Jane said abruptly, her eyes searching his face, and he knew she hoped it was a false rumor.

  He smiled. “Yes, I did. Her name is Sophie.”

  “It’s a surprise. To me. To your other women as well, I imagine.”

  “You’re wrong about that. Bea has a very busy tongue. I have visited with all of them.”

  She arched a thick black brow.

  “I’m married now, Jane.” His voice was austere as a vicar’s and she marveled at it.

  “And the children?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She looked off toward a small knot of boys, craned her neck and her ears, then shouted, “Tom, stop saying that horrible word! Oh Lord, where do they hear such things? Don’t curse! Particularly at John—you know he hates it.”

  Ryder, who knew Jane’s worth, wasn’t at all surprised when Tom shut his mouth, shrugged with a show of sublime indifference to keep his male pride intact, then turned to throw a ball to Oliver, who hit it expertly with one of his crutches. John, yelling, ran after the ball.

  “What does your new wife think about the children?”

  “I haven’t told her.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve told your brother or your family yet either.”

  Her voice was tart but he just grinned at her. “It’s none of their business,” he said easily. “My sister knows, has known for a long time now. She keeps quiet though, for the most part. She refers to the children as my Beloved Ones.”

  “How did she find out?”

  “The brat followed me here once, well over a year ago, and watched from the branches of that oak tree over there. Sinjun’s smart. She will also keep her mouth shut.” Ryder shrugged. “But as for the others, I’ve always felt that it’s my business and mine alone, and that’s how I will continue to feel. There is no reason for them to know. At least now since I’m married and made it clear to my brother that I will be the most faithful of husbands, I won’t have to endure any more of his quarterly bastard meetings.”

  “Are you really certain about all this, Ryder? Fidelity just because you’re married? It’s not the way of your class, I understand.”

  “Perhaps that is true for many, but not for me. Ah, Jane, the earl has more faith in me than you appear to. He knows I will be faithful to my wife because he is besotted with his own and is firmly in the constancy corner. Thus, no more children, at least the way he looks at things. Poor fellow.”

  “At last you can quit your damned playacting.”

  “Now, Jane, not all of it is playacting.”

  “Ha, do I ever know that. Sara told me about a woman she’d met in the village. The woman knew who she was, asked how you were, and then proceeded to tell Sara that she’d first met you when you were sixteen. Then she gave Sara this vacuous smile. Just when did you begin, Ryder?”

  Ryder frowned. “You will find no pot filled with gold at the end of that rainbow, Jane. Forget her, forget all of them. As for my wife, she will come around to believing me a faithful hound soon enough, I daresay. But not just yet. Actually, she’s already met Sara and Tess, quite by accident.” Ryder looked off toward the very green rolling hills in the distance, smiling. “She stews quite nicely. Sharp tongue in her mouth that I quite like. A wealth of curses that even Tom would appreciate. Hopefully I’ll hear more out of her in the near future.”

  Jane gave him an odd look, saying slowly, “So, you don’t see any reason for your family to change their opinion of you?”

  “No reason at all. Why should I? They are all quite fond of me.”

  “You are purposely being perverse, Ryder. I don’t understand you. You enjoy the reputation of a Lothario? You like being known as a womanizer, a satyr?”

  “Haven’t I earned it?”

 
“Yes, but that’s not what I mean.”

  “I enjoy women, I always have. It’s no secret. I know women, how they think, how they tend to feel about things. Ah, yes, Jane, even you. No, no, don’t call me cynical again. But the children, well, that’s quite different, as you well know. I have a feeling that what you really want to ask me is if I will forget about them now that I have my own family.”

  “You wouldn’t do that precisely, but perhaps you wouldn’t come to see them as much as you do now, which would be understandable, of course. It’s just that I would hate to see them hurt.”

  “The children are my responsibility, and I love them. Nothing will change. I am taking my wife to the Cotswolds to my house there on the morrow. If there is any emergency, simply send a messenger to me there. It’s quite near to Lower Slaughter, and only a day and a half away. Oh, incidentally, my wife has a little brother who’s lame. Isn’t that rather an odd coincidence?”

  Jane just shook her head at him. If she were ten years younger, she herself would have very much enjoyed frolicking in Ryder Sherbrooke’s bed. He had a way about him that drew women, a manner that had nothing to do with his good looks and well-formed body, a way that assured a woman he wouldn’t ever be selfish or unheeding of her needs or of her wishes. As it was, they’d been friends since he was twenty years old, a young man wild as a storm wind, a young man who hated cruelty toward children even more than he loved making a woman scream with delight. Jane had been thirty at the time, filled with sorrow at the death of both her children in a fire, and frankly uncaring about her future. Ryder had, quite simply, saved her. He’d given her a year-old baby—Jaime—to care for. A baby, he’d told her in an unemotional voice, he’d happened to find dumped in a pile of garbage in an alley. He’d just chanced to hear a mewling sound and found him. A year later, he’d brought her Jenny, his own child. It was the first time she’d seen a sorrow to match her own.