slices, desperately. He forced himself to turn to the young lady who was trying to see that platter. James knew this was Miss McCrae, the young lady who’d managed to snag Jason’s attention a second time-which was amazing-and then even a third time, something no girl had managed before. She was licking her fingers now, humming with pleasure. James, who knew all about the immense power of the Twyley Grange cinnamon bread, said, “You’re right, sir, I’m a positive stoat. I’m not here to gorge on bread, although I would probably wish to, if I weren’t so fat. Actually, I’m here to take Corrie riding in the park.”
Corrie jumped to her feet, one eye on her uncle and the other on Judith McCrae, who was rising slowly, staring at James.
Uncle Simon swallowed and-it seemed like magic-another slice of bread seemed to appear in his hand and was fast moving toward his open mouth. “Take her,” Simon said, and bit down, nearly shuddering with delight. “Now. Before she tries to nab the last slice.”
“This is quite remarkable,” Judith said, her head cocked to one side, thick black curls nearly hitting her shoulder. “I’ve been told that you and Jason are quite identical, but here, up close, I don’t think you look a thing like your brother.”
“I myself have been told that,” James said. He took her hand, looked into those dark eyes of hers, and said, “You are Miss Judith McCrae, and I am James Sherbrooke. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Thank you,” Judith said. “I am pleasured as well.” She stared up into those incredible violet eyes. “Perhaps Jason is a bit taller than you are, my lord, and now that I am standing only three feet from you, I do believe Jason’s eyes are more violet than yours.”
“That is ridiculous, Judith,” Corrie shouted. “James has the most beautiful violet eyes in all of England, everyone has remarked upon that, and since Jason is said to be his exact twin, then how could you possibly believe that his eyes were more violet?”
“I suppose,” Judith said slowly, never looking away from James’s face, “that I could be wrong about the eyes. But Jason is taller, no doubt about that at all. And perhaps he is also broader in the shoulders.”
James burst into laughter. Corrie whirled around to frown at him. As for Miss McCrae, James knew that she was trying to keep a straight face.
But Corrie, still hooked on Miss McCrae’s line, leapt at that. “Broader in the shoulders? That is absurd, ridiculous! Even though James has been quite ill-nearly dead he was so ill-even so, his shoulders remained exactly the same, and that means he’s perfect. Look at him-I’ve never seen more perfect breadth in the shoulders in all my life! The idea that Jason’s-”
“Corrie,” James said, reaching out to touch her arm, “thank you for defending me, the obviously inferior twin. Now, Miss McCrae has nearly pulled your leg clean off. Let go of the bait now, Corrie.”
“But, she-”
“Let go.”
Corrie stared from Judith to James, reviewed Judith’s outrageous comments, her own responses, and felt like the village idiot. She said, looking down at her slippers, her voice soft, a bit sad, “I fear you might be right, Judith. I have been thinking, actually for some time now, that perhaps it is Jason I prefer, not James here, with his meager shoulders.”
“You may not have Jason! Do you hear me?”
Corrie looked up and grinned like Uncle Simon when he found a new leaf.
“Oh,” Judith said, gasping a bit, “I know when a table’s been turned on me, and this one just flattened me. That was excellent, Corrie. You got me right in the nose.”
Corrie was preening, James laughing, when Judith turned to Lord Ambrose and said, “And now, my lord, perhaps you would like to see the leaf I was unable to identify? Or James, I understand that you have an inquiring mind. Perhaps you would like to see my unidentified leaf?”
Simon jumped out of his seat, outraged. “Excuse me? What is this, Miss McCrae?” He waved the platter, that now held one lone slice in its center, at her, “You told me about the leaf, not anyone else, particularly James, who knows nothing at all about leaves, only what’s hanging about up in the heavens. Besides James is nearly out the door, to take Corrie riding. I wish to see that leaf, Miss McCrae.”
Judith grinned, fluttered her lashes at Simon, and said, “Perhaps if I could have that very last slice, sir, the leaf could be guaranteed to be yours.”
Simon looked at that slice, thought about the three he’d already consumed, thought about the unidentified leaf that might be the brother to the one he’d found in the park, looked back at the slice, and said, “Show James the leaf.” He ate the last slice, dusted his hands on his trousers, nodded to the three young people, and took himself off, humming.
“You, Judith, are quite amazing,” Corrie said. “Now we know what’s more important to Uncle Simon. I will have to tell Aunt Maybella.” She slanted a look at James. “Maybe on a honeymoon, eating cinnamon bread would be the activity of choice?”
He laughed. “Possibly. We’ll see, won’t we?”
They heard the front door open, heard Aunt Maybella’s voice suddenly ring out in outrage. “I smell it! Simon, where are you? You’ve eaten the entire loaf, haven’t you? I will hide that unidentified leaf of yours, you miserable loon, you’ll see! I want some cinnamon bread!”
“Let’s get out of here,” James said, and offered an arm to each young lady.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
JAMES GAVE CORRIE a leg up. Once she’d settled herself on Darlene’s back, he mounted Bad Boy. “Both of them look like they’ve been eating your uncle’s cinnamon bread. They need more exercise, Corrie.”
Corrie only nodded. She was looking at Judith McCrae, who’d insisted on walking back to Lady Arbuckle’s house only two streets away. Since it was a sunny day for early October, James had agreed.
“May I perhaps meet you at the Mayfair for an ice, say tomorrow?” Judith had asked Corrie. The date made, Judith walked away, her step bouncy, infinitely graceful.
“She wants Jason,” Corrie said.
“Well, it might be that he wants her as well, but the truth is, you never know with Jason.”
“I think she’s as beautiful as Juliette Lorimer.”
“So you don’t like her?”
Corrie said, “Yes, I’m afraid I do,” and said nothing more until they’d guided their horses through a gate into Hyde Park. It was too early for the fashionables to be out and seen, which was fine with her. She wanted to gallop. However, James lightly laid his gloved hand on the reins. “Not yet,” he said.
“Oh, goodness, you’re still not well enough, are you, James? I’m so sorry, thinking things were like they used to be before-well, of course we’ll walk the horses.”
He reached out his hand and laid it over hers. “Will you marry me, Corrie? No more excuses about me making this dreadful sacrifice, no more whining about missing out on sowed oats.”
“You don’t think I should do well as a barmaid in Boston? It’s in America.”
“No, you would be a miserable serving girl. You would clout any man who was stupid enough to pinch your bottom.”
Her chin went up. “That’s not true. I could do anything I had to do in order to survive. If you were ill and it were up to me, I could drive a dray. I could make meat pies and sell them. James, I would keep you safe and well. You could always count on me.”
He cocked his head to one side, staring at her. He studied the face he’d known for more than half his life, first the child and now the young woman. “You know, Corrie, I believe you would,” he said slowly, and then he reached out and clasped her hand. “We will do well together. Trust me.”
She sighed, shook off his hand, and click-clicked Darlene into a canter along Rotten Row.
