Sherbrooke Twins

across the park. “He hurled himself into a hackney and the driver whipped the horses up, fast. We had no chance to catch him.”

“Well, we have three of his men. I’ve decided that we’ll let Corrie and Judith speak to them tomorrow.” He smiled at James’s look of utter horror. “The young ladies claim they will make the villains tell us all. But now, let’s try our hand at breaking them.”

James rubbed his hands together. “Let’s do it. Freddie, go fetch Master Jason, tell him we’re going to have a chat with our villains.”

Douglas said, “If none of us has any luck, I will send off my note to Lord Gray. He can send one of his men here to take them away. At least they won’t be of any further use to Georges’s son.”

Two hours later, Douglas had to admit defeat. The men were being paid extremely well to keep their mouths seamed. Indeed, it was more than money, James thought, since he’d offered them five hundred pounds and been refused. There was real fear in their eyes. They simply said over and over that they didn’t know nothin’, that they’d just wanted to snag the rich bloke’s purse, no, no, they didn’t know any cove what called hisself Douglas Sherbrooke-a young man? No, they knew no young men. And on and on it went until Douglas called a halt. James and Jason wanted to bash their heads together, but Douglas allowed that he didn’t want two dead men buried in his stables. He would turn them over to Bow Street, let Lord Gray’s men bust heads and bury them in gaol.

All three men were depressed, but were forced to smile because Alexandra had invited Lady Arbuckle and Judith as well as Lord and Lady Montague and Corrie to dine with them that evening. Her reason, she admitted to her husband, after he’d nibbled on her neck, forgetting for a good long while that he was supposed to be fastening her ruby necklace, was to see the two young ladies with her sons.

“I want to observe how they treat each other, how they behave with their relatives, and with us.”

“You’ve known Simon, Maybella, and Corrie forever. You know how they relate to us.”

“Ah, but don’t you see, Douglas? I don’t know how they’ll deal with Lady Arbuckle and Judith McCrae, and that’s important. Also, I want to see if I like Judith. I’ve never before seen Jason so drawn to a young lady. Maybe she’s rotten to the core, maybe she wants him for his looks, maybe she has a terrible sense of humor.”

Douglas shook his head, patted her cheek, looked down at her breasts, swallowed a bit, and turned to straighten the cravat that his valet had pronounced perfect ten minutes before. He said over his shoulder, “Poor James. He had no chance to see if there was a young lady out there to win his heart. Now he’ll never know.”

Alexandra looked at her husband’s broad back, watched his nimble fingers twitch his cravat this way and that. “You had to take me on, if you will remember, Douglas. You had no chance to find the love of your life either.”

“Ah, there is that, isn’t there?” He brought her against him, pressed up her chin with the lightest touch of his fingers. “We turned out all right, didn’t we, Alex, what with you wanting to make love to me whenever you would pull me behind a door or clear off a table or-”

“How very odd, my lord,” she said, her fingertips stroking his jaw, “I seem to remember that it was you who couldn’t keep your hands off my fair person. Now, I must say that you didn’t see James stick his tongue down Corrie’s throat. He looked utterly absorbed, Douglas.”

“Down her throat? Now, that’s something that a gentleman much enjoys. Naturally he enjoyed it. What man wouldn’t? But there’s Juliette Lorimer and-”

“No,” Alexandra said firmly. “Were James to prefer her, I would travel to Scotland and move into Vere Castle with Sinjun and Colin. I think Juliette might be tolerable until she realized that James got more admiring looks than she did. And her mother-oh dear-”

Douglas laughed, hugged her, careful not to disarrange her lovely hair, as he lightly bit her earlobe. “It was Juliette’s mother who alarmed me as well, truth be told. All right, let’s see how our respective young ladies behave toward their elders. Corrie and Judith, two lovely names.

“Ah, it was you, Alex, you, who were always after me, always lurking around corners, waiting to nab me and-”

She gave him a comfortable fist in the belly.

Truth be told, the young ladies behaved splendidly, but the fact was that all conversation was centered around the person out to kill Douglas.

“A madman,” Simon said as soon as he’d swallowed the bite of vermicelli soup. “A very nervy madman. Did you say you think he’s young? Well, young madmen are the nerviest, but that doesn’t mean they’re frothing at the mouth. You know that, Douglas.”

Douglas, looking down at his own soup, said, “I know, Simon. Also, this young madman is very probably the son of Georges Cadoudal. For whatever reason-be it mad or not-he is committed to killing me. Is he truly mad? I wonder.”

Maybella, who was eyeing Lady Arbuckle’s emerald bracelet with a bit of envy in her heart, said, “Georges Cadoudal’s son. His father died when he was only ten years old. That means he’s festered with hate for fifteen years. How very odd it sounds, and frightening.”

“I agree with you, Aunt,” Corrie said and took a spoonful of codfish au gratin from the footman’s proffered dish. “There was also a daughter. We haven’t yet been able to find out about either son or daughter.”

“It’s evil, evil,” said Maybella.

Neither twin spoke.

Lady Arbuckle finally cleared her throat, looked at Judith, and announced, “I believe it is all nonsense. There is no revenge at work here. I am convinced it is some foul Frenchman from a secret French society bent on destroying the very fabric of English society. Killing one of the premier noblemen of the realm, it is their opening salvo.” That announcement made, Lady Arbuckle returned to her fillet of whiting a la maitre d’hotel. She drew a deep breath, and for an instant, she closed her eyes, her fingers clutched around her knife.

Corrie said, leaning toward her, “Are you all right, my lady?”

“What? Oh, yes, Miss Tybourne-Barrett. The whiting is perhaps a bit too rich for me, that’s all.”

Judith lightly patted Lady Arbuckle’s hand. “I myself find it a little rich, Aunt. Why don’t you try some fricasseed chicken? I have found it quite tasty.”

Lady Arbuckle accepted the chicken and nodded as she chewed a small bite. “Yes,” she said, “it’s an excellent fricassee. Thank you, my dear.”

James said, “It’s a pity that Lord Arbuckle must remain in Cornwall, ma’am.”

“Ah,” said Judith, waving her fork, “my uncle adores being close to the Irish Sea. He is happiest when he is breathing in that salty air, feeling the sea winds ruffle his hair. Besides, the estate needs constant attention. He will not hear of another seeing to his responsibilities.”

Douglas, who didn’t know Lord Arbuckle well at all, was frankly tired of all the talk of his assassin, and was eager to learn more about this girl who might become part of his family. “I understand you come from Waterford.”

She nodded, giving him a dimpled smile that Douglas found charming. “Yes, my family raises Arabians. It is a fine country for horses, you know, and Waterford is an excellent area.”

“Who is there now?” James asked. “Jason told me that your father and mother were dead.”

“My cousin Halsey manages things now. In any case, Halsey was next in line when my father died. The farm is called The Coombes and Halsey is Baron Coombes.”

Jason picked up her fingers and squeezed them. “Judith has been alone too much of her short life, but Lord and Lady Arbuckle are seeing to her nicely.”

“Yes, they are,” Judith said, and leaned over to kiss Lady Arbuckle’s powdered cheek. “My very first season. I never thought it could happen, but my dearest aunt-” She broke off, tears sheening her dark eyes.

Jason squeezed her hand again, then launched off on one of his favorite topics-horses. He wanted to visit The Coombes, see the farm’s operation, examine the stock.

The conversation continued to James and Corrie’s wedding, which was to take place at St. Paul’s in three weeks’ time. Douglas shrugged. “I know the Bishop of London, Sir Norton Graves, a fine man who officiated at your christenings. He gave me a cocked eyebrow when I informed him that time wasn’t in great abundance, and thus I had no choice but to tell him exactly why your marriage was on the prompt side. It turns out, naturally, that he’d