property from your uncle Tysen. He was telling us about Squire Squid and how he’d spent so much money on the stables and paddocks. And Leo chimed in about the son, Thomas, who was a wastrel and a bully, and how he wanted to sell out to pay off all his creditors. Leo brought me here yesterday and I knew the moment I saw the stables I wanted it. He also agreed to escort me here today, but since he is a man, and since today he managed to drag Melissa along, he clearly had other things on his mind. Since Melissa would try to shoot the moon out of the heavens if Leo wanted it, you can be certain that he’s hauled her off to some private place in the woods to frolic.”
“Frolic?” Jason’s eyebrow was up, the sneer sharp. “What a blurry, watery-as-soup word that is, fit only for females who don’t like to speak clearly and to the point.” An infinitesimal pause, then, “Or they can’t be any clearer since they don’t know what they’re talking about.”
James eyed his twin. What was going on here? Well, it had been five years, and Jason had been living in a foreign country. Perhaps men in America insulted women in this fashion?
James cleared his throat, bringing both sets of eyes toward him. “The house is a disaster. Surely you don’t wish to be bothered with such a moldering ruin.”
“Who cares? It’s the stables, the paddocks, this beautiful breeding room and birthing stall that are important. Did you see the tack room? I will be able to work there with my head stable lad.”
Jason wanted to tell her he’d shoot her between the eyes before he’d let her buy Lyon ’s Gate, but instead, he turned to his brother. “Let’s go. I intend to buy this property immediately. You, Miss Carrick, are out of luck. Good day, ma’am.”
“We’ll just see about that, Mr. Sherbrooke,” she called over her shoulder as she galloped off down the drive.
“Leo getting married? I can’t imagine Leo married,” Jason said, laughing.
“I suppose no one mentioned it in their letters to you. You haven’t seen him in five years, Jase. He’s as horse-mad as you are, spent the last three years up at Rothermere stud with the Hawksburys.”
“Have you met the girl he’s going to marry? This Melissa who’s mad for him?”
“She’s quite charming, really. Very different as girls go, you could say. I hadn’t met her friend here, though.”
“Even being British by birth, she still acts like an American, more’s the pity. That means what I said before- she’s brash, overconfident, doesn’t know when to back down… Well, that’s neither here nor there.”
“She’s very beautiful.”
Jason shrugged. “Why isn’t Leo trying to buy this property? How old is Leo now?”
“About our age, maybe a bit younger. Actually, Leo has his eye on a stud up near Yorkshire, near Rothermere and his future wife’s family. Oh yes, we’re all going to the vicarage Saturday for the wedding, spending the night there, which ought to be an experience given that Uncle Ryder is bringing all the Beloved Ones. We’ll be piled to the rafters. Oh yes, Uncle Tysen is marrying Leo and Melissa.”
Jason had turned to watch Hallie Carrick ride away, that fat braid of hers flopping up and down against her back. She rode well, damn her. Could be she rode as well as Jessie Wyndham.
“I’m leaving for London within the hour. I will have this property. I will see Thomas Hoverton myself. It will be done before that girl can begin to sort out a plan of action.”
James doubled over in laughter. “This is simply too rich. Corrie isn’t going to believe this.”
He was still laughing when the two of them walked into Northcliffe Hall, Jason’s boots pounding up the front staircase to get himself packed and off to London.
Twenty minutes later when Jason was riding down the wide Northcliffe drive, James shouted, “Don’t forget to be at the vicarage on Saturday.”
CHAPTER 7
At first Jason didn’t recognize her. He heard a light, lovely laugh, and his head turned automatically in its direction. Was this the bride? No. It was Hallie Carrick. Gone were the old breeches, the ratty hat, the thick dirty braid, the boots as dusty as her face. In their place was a gown of pale lavender, with big billowy sleeves, a neckline that could be more modest, and a waist the size of a doorknob. Very tightly pulled stays, he imagined, but what he was looking at now was her hair. It was golden, no other way to describe the color, the exact same color as her father’s-shiny as the satin gown his aunt Mary Rose was wearing-woven into a thick, intricate braid on top of her head with little wisps and curls dangling artistically around her ears. Small diamond earrings sparkled through those myriad wisps, sparkled just like her laugh.
Jason smiled an easy, very masculine smile. She was a girl, despite her boasts and braggadocio. Why not admire her since Lyon ’s Gate was now his? He could afford to be gracious. He’d won. His ownership hadn’t ever been in doubt, even though Thomas Hoverton hadn’t been in London when Jason had gotten there. It had taken him only an hour to track down the Hoverton solicitor, Arlo Clark of 29 Burksted Street, who’d nearly broken into tears and fallen on his neck when he’d realized Jason was there to actually make an offer for the Hoverton property. Mr. Clark had the papers right there in a drawer, where they’d moldered for nearly two years. The offer was more than generous, though Jason realized the solicitor would never admit that. One had to play the game. The game was finished soon enough, and Jason had signed his name with a flourish and a sense of deep pleasure. Mr. Clark then signed in Thomas Hoverton’s place since he was his legal representative.
Yes, Mr. Clark knew Wily Willy Bibber, the Sherbrooke solicitor, and they would see to the transfer of funds. Everything was right and tight. Jason could take possession of Lyon ’s Gate as soon as he wished to.
Yes, Jason could be gracious to this American baggage with her British accent and British blood. Now he could even appreciate her virgin blue eyes, her golden hair that surely belonged to a fairy tale princess-an image that didn’t suit her personality at all-and a figure to make any man whimper. And that laugh of hers-too free, too easy, far too American-sounded like she didn’t have a care in the world. Well, she shortly would when she realized she’d lost to him.
He’d arrived no more than ten minutes before the ceremony and had instantly been surrounded by his huge family. For today at least, there would be no swirling tension in the air because he wasn’t the focus of everyone’s attention, thank God. No one would ask how he was feeling or if he’d yet gotten over the betrayal that had nearly destroyed his family. His uncle Ryder, a child sitting on each leg and a child on either side of him, had everyone press together so Jason could fit on the same pew. His aunt Sophie was seated between two older children, Grayson next, holding two small children on his legs. Grayson, a born storyteller, was his uncle Ryder and aunt Sophie’s only natural child, tall with the Sherbrooke looks, and eyes as blue as a clear summer sky.
Jason’s parents, Hollis, James, Corrie, and the twins, twitching and yawning and jabbering in twin talk, were in the pew in front of him. Jason saw that every adult was responsible for one child, including his grandmother, who wasn’t frowning at the small human being seated quietly beside her, surely a special gift from God. He saw his aunt Melissande, all of fifty now, seated two rows up. She was still so beautiful she stopped young men in their tracks. She looked more like his and James’s sister than their mother’s elder sister. Uncle Tony, her husband, was seated next to her, one arm resting on the pew behind her, his fingers playing with a strand of her beautiful black hair.
The church was filled to bursting since all of the groom’s relatives had come to Glenclose-on-Rowan for the wedding. The only missing relatives were Aunt Sinjun and Uncle Colin from Scotland and Meggie and Thomas from Ireland. Jason settled in on the pew next to a four-year-old boy who, Uncle Ryder whispered over the top of the child’s head, was named Harvey. He looked too old for his years, and he looked afraid, but that would change now that he was with Ryder. He was a very lucky little boy. He would eventually forget all the bad things that had happened to him. Harvey had large, very dark eyes, nearly as dark as Douglas Sherbrooke’s eyes, and straight, shiny, dark brown hair. His cheekbones were still too sharp, his body too thin, but that would change as well.
When Miss Hallie Carrick glided down the aisle to support Miss Breckenridge, strewing rose petals from Mary Rose’s garden, he caught her eye and gave her a cheerful little wave. Was there a sneer of triumph on his mouth? No, surely he was too well-bred to allow any sort of gloating to appear.
Evidently she didn’t consider his little wave and smile gloating because, funny thing was, she looked momentarily surprised, and nearly dropped the lovely bouquet of flowers she carried. Jason would swear she
