Lyon's Gate

Home > Suspense > Lyon's Gate > Page 9
Lyon's Gate Page 9

by Catherine Coulter


  “Sign over your half to me. I will pay you for it, naturally. I will even give you a profit.”

  “You managed to get more money from your bankers?”

  “Oh yes. I went to Mr. Billingsley’s house on Berkeley Square. Mr. Billingsley tried to hem and haw, but his wife has known me since I was born. She told him to hie himself into his study and write me out a bank draft. I was smart, she said, and wasn’t my father always telling him how very smart I was?”

  “Sometimes I don’t like fate,” Jason said. “I’m going riding in the park. Hopefully I will gain some inspiration from the swans in the Serpentine.”

  It was dinnertime on that drizzling May evening when Jason opened his bedchamber door to find Hallie Carrick standing there, her fist up to knock, a determined look on her face. “Mr. Sherbrooke, I have a solution. You will sleep in the stables. We can fashion a lovely suite of rooms there for you off the tack room. It will be no problem. You can take your meals with me in the house.”

  He didn’t move, didn’t look away from her. “No.”

  “We can’t very well share the same bloody house, you know that.”

  “You can have the stables then. You can have your meals with me in the big house.”

  “If you were to inhabit the big house, you wouldn’t do a thing to make it beautiful again. I will get rid of the mildew, I will put new draperies on the windows and new carpets on the floors. I will buff those floors and replace what is necessary to replace.”

  “Wherever did you get this blighted notion that men don’t care about their surroundings?”

  “My stepmother told me that men would be perfectly content to live in a cave. Throw them a meaty bone and give them—Well, never mind that. The stables are perfect for you.”

  At his hoisted eyebrow, she said, “Very well. Step back.”

  She nearly walked over him, her hand out, pressing against his chest. He backed up in her wake. She came to a stop in the middle of his bedchamber and waved her hands. “Just look. A monk could be living in here. The only reason this lovely room isn’t covered with dust and muddy boot prints is because of the servants’ diligence. This is pathetic, Mr. Sherbrooke. This is how Lyon’s Gate would continue to look were you to live in the big house.”

  “May I remind you that I haven’t been here in five years, Miss Carrick?” He should tell her that he’d selected most of the furnishings for the Wyndhams, chosen the fabrics for the new drawing room draperies, and arranged every single interior item.

  She thought he was defeated, and she laughed. “I’m right, admit it. You will do just fine in the stables, Mr. Sherbrooke.” She nearly danced out of his bedchamber. Jason stood in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, wondering what was going to happen next.

  CHAPTER 12

  Northcliffe Hall

  End of May

  “We should have brought blankets,” Jason said and vigorously rubbed his arms with his hands. In addition to being cold, he was beginning to think the ground was a graveyard of rocks. James considered this warm?

  “You’ve become soft in your years away,” James said. “This is the first perfectly clear night we’ve had since you arrived home. Would you look at Orion’s Belt, Jase—it looks like diamonds sparkling.”

  They were lying atop the cliff above the Poe Valley, James’s favorite star-gazing place. Jason said, “You’ve been showing me Orion’s Belt since we were six years old. I remember you used the word sparkling each and every time.”

  “And I remember I nearly had to tie you down so you would hold still long enough. At least you’re nice and quiet now, except for the complaining.”

  “If I don’t move, maybe I won’t freeze to death.”

  James laughed, came up to a sitting position, and turned to look down at his brother, lying on his back, his head now pillowed on his crossed arms. “Jase, are you certain you want to actually share your house and your stables with this girl? You scarcely know her. She could be a harridan.”

  “She is.” Jason’s face was calm, and he looked nothing more than sleepy.

  “You’re telling me that you’re knowingly going to share a house with a disagreeable female who will make your life miserable?”

  “That’s it. Think of it as an arranged marriage.” Jason came up to clasp his arms around his legs. “What other choice do I have?”

  “You tried to buy her out?”

  “Oh yes. She very nearly gulleted me.” Jason suddenly smacked the side of his head. “Come to think of it, maybe I could still have her kidnapped and taken to the West Indies. What do you think?”

  “Mother wanted to send her farther away. She’d do it now in a flash. I remember Father left the room, telling her over his shoulder that he believed there was a ship in port bound for Charlotte Amalie.”

  Jason laughed. “She would. He would.” He rubbed his arms again. “Come to think of it though, Hallie’d probably be running the island within five years. Damn, James, I can’t believe you think this is warm. Has my blood thinned that much being in America?”

  “It would appear so. However, you were bred from hardy English stock, you’ll get used to it again. I’m wondering what Miss Carrick’s aunt and uncle—not to mention her father—will think about this arrangement, sharing a house with a man who isn’t her husband.”

  “If there’s one thing Miss Carrick does well, it’s argue. Interesting you should bring up the earl of Ravensworth. I don’t believe she plans to tell her aunt and uncle until we’ve actually split the house in half, her far-removed great-cousin Mrs. Tewksbury is installed, and the three of us have moved in. A fait accompli, as it were.”

  “She’s not twenty-one until the end of the year. I suppose her aunt and uncle could order her to move back to Ravensworth Abbey.”

  Jason arched his left eyebrow. “That is possibly the stupidest thing you’ve said since I’ve been home, James. Can you honestly imagine giving Miss Carrick orders to do anything she doesn’t want to?”

  “Well, where do her aunt and uncle think she is?”

  “I believe she’s allowing them to assume she’s still with Melissa’s parents in London. I don’t suppose they realize that Melissa’s parents have already returned north. And now we’ll have Miss Carrick for a guest until Lyon’s Gate is ready for us. She arrives tomorrow.”

  James brooded on that awhile, then said, “Speaking of Melissa and Leo, did I look as besotted as Leo when I married Corrie?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  James moaned. “Don’t ever say that in Corrie’s hearing. She’d lock me in a small room with the twins.”

  “You looked like you wanted to rip off that lovely wedding gown she was wearing and take her right there in the central aisle of the church.”

  James’s head jerked around to face his brother, an eyebrow arched a good inch. “Well, then. You can tell her that.” He paused a moment, took the plunge. “That was a time, wasn’t it?”

  Jason said nothing, continued to rub his arms.

  James felt his brother withdraw, though he didn’t move a muscle. He backed off. “All right, you puny lad, let’s go home. I don’t want you whining to Mother that I tried to freeze you to death.”

  After the twins rose and dusted themselves off, James took one final long look at the heavens. Jason felt the pull of it in his brother, something he couldn’t begin to understand. On the other hand, present James with a stud farm to run and he’d probably stare at you, baffled.

  James said as he mounted Bad Boy, “Corrie is wonderful, Jason. She’s a brick, you can always count on her, and the good Lord knows she makes me laugh. She gets along famously with Mother, Father adores her, only Grandmother maligns her, but that doesn’t upset her overly. Do you know that she and I lie on the cliff looking up at Andromeda and find myself blessing all the stars that circumstances threw us together?”

  “I heard the two of you yelling this morning.”

  “She does have a knack for making me so
mad I want to lock her in her armoire. In the next instant, I’ve got her pressed against the wall and she’s got her legs around my waist and—Well never mind the details. Hmm. I’ll never forget over a dinner of buttocks of beef she thanked Father for educating me so splendidly.”

  “Don’t tell me he knew what she meant?”

  “He pretended he didn’t.”

  Jason tapped his boot heels into Dodger’s muscular sides. “Just as you will teach the twins.”

  “That boggles my brain. Here they were this afternoon, left alone for but a moment. When Corrie came back into the room, they’d stuffed three apple tarts in their mouths. They looked up at her, innocent as angels, all the while filling dripping off their chins.”

  “I wish I could have seen that. I imagine we did the same thing at their age. Are you and Corrie thinking of more children?”

  James paled, making Jason reach out his hand to grab his brother’s arm. “What’s the matter?”

  James drew a deep steadying breath. “Corrie had a very bad time of it with the twins. I don’t want her pregnant again. It could kill her. She squeezed my hand so hard she broke a bone.”

  “You stayed with her?”

  “Oh yes. She said since I got her into this mess I could very well see her through it. Then she cursed me, but she didn’t know that many curses, so she had to keep repeating herself. Between the contractions, I taught her meaty new ones. She uses them today—usually on me. It was scary, Jason. You would not believe the number of good deeds I promised if she would survive, and I’ve done every single one of them.”

  “I didn’t know. She appears so sturdy, she glows with good health.”

  “Yes, but the twins were big. It—it was terrifying, Jason. As terrifying as when I thought you were going to die and there was nothing I could do about it except pray. If you hadn’t survived, I probably would have curled up next to you. It was the same with Corrie.”

  Jason never turned in the saddle to acknowledge his brother’s words, though they struck him deep. He felt the old rancid pain filling his throat, the bitterness of it making his belly churn. His head began to ache because his brain didn’t want to think about the past, simply couldn’t.

  Jason said, “Damn, the wind’s come up—a cold wind. Don’t you dare claim that you’re still as warm as the back of Father’s knees when Eleanor the Third is tucked there at night.”

  James forced a laugh, but it was difficult. He had to give his twin more time. At least he was home, and that was the most important thing. “Just a nip in the air, nothing more. Eleanor the Third now has a brother, William the Fourth, a big black tom who keeps the back of Mother’s knees warm.”

  “I saw the two of them trotting into our parents’ bedchamber, tails high, ready for the knees. Any racing cats around?”

  “Mother had hopes for William, but the truth is, all he likes to do is eat and sleep and allow Eleanor to wash him, which she does, endlessly.”

  “I’d like to have a racing cat. I remember all cousin Meggie’s triumphs.”

  James laughed. “Remember Ellis Peepers, who’s now our head gardener? He’s all wiry and long, red-haired, full beard that’s so bright it looks like his face is on fire?” At his brother’s nod, James went on, “He was schooled by the Harker brothers in training techniques and how to select good racing cat owners. Maybe he’ll deem you worthy.”

  “Ellis will find me to be the most responsible of racing cat owners. But I suppose it will have to wait. Just now, what with my partner coming tomorrow, there’s simply too much to do.”

  “So you and Miss Carrick will be spending all your days at Lyon’s Gate, repairing the house and the stables.”

  “Yes,” Jason said, voice now grim. He turned to face his brother as they drew in their horses at the stable. “Can you begin to imagine the fights we will have? And unlike you, I won’t be able to kiss her until she forgets her own name.”

  “Or until she’s wearing a silly grin and forgotten why she wanted to rip your throat out.”

  “Now there’s a thought.” Jason laughed and smacked his brother on the arm. “It would be so much easier were she a man.”

  Late the following afternoon, Jason was pleasantly tired after working all day at Lyon’s Gate. The stables were nearly ready for their tenants. Perhaps he could list out for Miss Carrick the joys of being close to her horses, both day and night. Or perhaps not. He’d just placed his boot on the first step of the ten broad, deeply set front steps of Northcliffe Hall when he heard a carriage rolling up the long drive. He stepped back down, knowing it was Miss Carrick.

  Despite the fact she was a thorn in his flesh, and that fate had planted her right in front of him with no rhyme nor reason, Jason realized he felt good. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched Miss Carrick lean out the window, waving to him. He hoped she didn’t leap out before the driver stopped the carriage. He watched the coachman draw in smartly right next to him. Jason saw it was a rented carriage, an expensive rented carriage. There were two outriders.

  He started forward when the door flew wide and Miss Carrick jumped down before either he or the coach driver could assist her. He wasn’t particularly surprised.

  “Mr. Sherbrooke! I’m here. How nice of you to be waiting out here for me to arrive.”

  CHAPTER 13

  She was the height of fashion in a dark hunter green gown with wide sleeves tapering to fit snugly at her wrists and a belted waist that looked the size of a man’s fists bunched together. Her hair was tucked up under a bonnet of the same dark green, several curls lazily floating down in front of her ears. And in her lovely little ears were sparkling diamond studs. “I see that you are, Miss Carrick. Both you and your equipage look quite grand.”

  “Yes, the carriage cost me very nearly all the money my father’s banker would give me, the dolt. I must write my father and have him send instructions.”

  “Unlimited funds for you, Miss Carrick?”

  “Don’t be a knothead. Oh, thank you for the compliment to my person as well as to my carriage. The gown is from Madame Jordan, who tells me that your father selects all your mother’s clothes, and your brother selects all of Corrie’s. I’ve never heard of gentlemen dressing women. Isn’t that rather odd? Is it some sort of tradition in your family?”

  “To be honest, I’ve never thought about it, although the men in this family have excellent taste—Hmm, now that I think about it, I don’t know that I would have selected such a very dark green for you, Miss Carrick. I could, of course, be mistaken—perhaps the late afternoon sun shining too brightly in my eyes—but is bilious the right word?”

  She let the bait dangle in front of her nose for a moment, then laughed aloud, a bright, quite lovely sound. “That was well done.” She turned to the carriage. “Come along, Martha. We’re here at Northcliffe Hall. Isn’t it beautiful? Look at all the colors.”

  Her maid hopped out of the carriage, landing lightly on very little feet. She couldn’t be more than seventeen, Jason thought. She was very small, her pointed chin trembling in excitement. “Oh yes, it be glorious, more than glorious. So many thick trees, jest like in the park. I didn’t know you was acquainted with such grand folk, Miss Hallie.”

  “Only the grandest folk for me, Martha.”

  Jason laughed as Hallie rolled her eyes. “Let me see to your coachman and your outriders.” Jason turned to the coachman. “Any problems?”

  The coachman gave Jason a smart salute. “None, milord. Benji and Neally, our outriders provided by Miss Carrick’s banker, well they wanted a highwayman or two to break the monotony, but nary a rascal showed hisself.”

  “He’s twenty-eight minutes too young to be a lord, John,” Hallie said. At Jason’s raised eyebrow, she added, “I overheard Melissa telling her mother about how close in time you and James were born.”

  Hallie turned when Martha lightly tugged on her sleeve. “Yes, Martha?”

  Martha whispered, “Who is that god, ma’am?”

  �
�God? What god?”

  “The young gentleman, ma’am. Oh Lordie, is he ever a beaut. I’ve never afore seen such a glorious young gentleman, meybe more than jest plain glor—”

  “Yes, yes, I understand, Martha. We will look into getting you spectacles.”

  “But I gots eyes wot can see birdseeds, Miss Hallie.”

  So both he and the Hall were glorious? He saw Hallie open, then shut her mouth. Routed by her maid. He said to the coachman, “That is Hollis standing in the front door. He will see that all three of you have dinner and beds for the night. Thank you for taking such fine care of Miss Carrick.”

  The three men stood gazing up at Northcliffe Hall and Jason knew what they were seeing. One of England’s great houses, three stories, with three wings coming off the back of the house, making it look like an E. The first earl of Northcliffe had built the Hall, quarrying the lovely gray stone at Hillsley Dale some three centuries before, mellowed now to a soft cream color in the late afternoon light. Northcliffe would look utterly stark and coldly formal like so many of the other great houses of England if not for the current countess who’d planted oak, lime, larch, and maple trees all along the drive and throughout the grounds more than twenty-five years before. As for the myriad bushes and flowering plants, they crept close to the stone walls, softening the lines of the house even more, and presented so many colors and blossoms in the summer that the Northcliffe gardeners would find small groups of strangers on the grounds staring at the incredible summer foliage. It looked like a great house conjured up in a fairy tale.

  “Thank ye, milord,” the coachman said and turned when Hollis called out, his old voice firm and steady, “Come along, lads, Bobby here will take you to the stables to see to your horses and the carriage, then you’ll go to the kitchen.”

  The three men, leading the horses, with Bobby three strides ahead of them, disappeared around the side of the house. Hollis said as he came down the deep, wide steps to stand beside Jason, “You are Miss Carrick?”

 

‹ Prev