The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5 (132 page)

“Yes,” Gray said. “We can hope she vomited out all the liquid in her lungs.” He paused for a moment, his hand lightly stroking the little girl’s back. “I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

“I will give you anything you want, Gray,” Jack said, swung her legs over the side of the bed and leaned into him. He pulled her against him with his free arm. He kissed the top of her head, then kissed Georgie’s head. The little girl had black hair, just like her father. Her skin was as white as Jack’s.

He looked up to see Sir Henry standing in the nursery doorway, his mouth twisted in distaste, watching Dolly clean the mess off the floor. “Is she dead yet?”

“No,” Gray said. “She’s not going to die.”

Sir Henry grunted. “Waste of money, then, to bring Brace here again. If she’s going to live, why do we need him?” He turned on his heel and was gone.

It was at that precise moment that Gray decided how he would deal with Sir Henry Wallace-Stanford.

Jack was standing, her hand, now fisted tightly, on his shoulder. “I’m going to kill him.”

“No,” Gray said quietly. “There won’t be any need. Trust me, Jack. Now, I think there’s something else that might help Georgie.”

Ten minutes later, the little girl was wrapped snugly in a very hot towel.

Dr. Brace, a solitary young man who’d wanted very much to buy the Cit Palace from old Greeley for his mother and his grandmother, arrived to see Georgie heaving up more liquid. “Hot towels? My God, it’s working. How did you know to do that, my lord?”

“My grandmother wrapped me in hot towels when I was once very ill. I was all stuffed up and having a hard time breathing. Since I’m alive and in good health today, I didn’t think the same treatment could hurt her.”

Dr. Brace laid his palm lightly on Georgie’s forehead, then her cheeks. He leaned down to listen to her heart and lungs. “She’s nearly clear.” He smiled over at Jack, who was seated on the floor, her legs crossed.

“She’ll make it, Miss Winifrede. It’s true that I feared it could become an inflammation of the lung, but it didn’t progress that far. You’ve got yourself an excellent husband here.”

Jack looked at Gray with such naked gratitude in those
very blue eyes of hers that he winced. He wanted to tell her he didn’t want gratitude from her. Exactly what it was that he did want from her, he didn’t yet know. But not gratitude, never gratitude.

After Gray threatened to haul her over his shoulder and carry her down to dinner, Jack finally agreed to leave Georgie to Mrs. Smithers and a smiling Dolly.

She looked back once again, as if, Gray thought, she was terrified to leave her little sister. Georgie was sound asleep, wrapped in another warm towel. For the past three hours, when she woke up coughing, Jack had been there to rub her back, to clean her mouth, to whisper how much she loved her, and to tell her to spit and keep spitting. Every time, the little girl spit.

“Smile for me, Jack. You can do it. Just think of the divine Mrs. Finch and smile.”

Jack rolled her eyes.

20

O
N THE
way downstairs, Jack said very quietly, “I just realized that if you weren’t my husband, my stepfather would have me in his control again. He would be able to starve me and beat me, whatever he wanted to do. That surely isn’t right, Gray.”

“No, but on the other hand, Jack, you could always knot your sheets again and climb out of your bedchamber window. Oh, yes, Darnley told me how all the servants thought you were brave, what with your daring escape.”

“Mrs. Smithers tried to sneak me some food, but Sir Henry caught her. He threatened to dismiss her without a character if she tried that again.”

He caught her against his side and kissed the end of her nose. “Georgie’s sleeping, her lungs are clear, and it’s time to fill up that skinny little belly of yours.”

The antagonism between Jack and her stepfather was so thick in the air at dinner that one could have practically choked on it. The meal could have been a disaster. It wasn’t, only because Gray engaged Mrs. Finch, a very willing accomplice, in a charming flirtation. When Jack rose,
he said easily, “My dear, why don’t you and Mrs. Finch go to the drawing room? Sir Henry and I have a few matters to discuss.”

“No,” Jack said, and he knew that there would be no private talk with Sir Henry tonight. He didn’t blame her. She sat back down. Mrs. Finch stood beside her chair, and Darnley stood just a foot away from her, wondering what calamity would strike now.

“Very well,” Gray said. Sir Henry raised a thick black eyebrow. “Maria, my stepdaughter is showing her ill-breeding. Forgive her. I will see you home.” He flung down his napkin, nodded to Gray, and left the dining room with Mrs. Finch on his arm.

Gray looked across the lovely white tablecloth at Jack. He sighed. “I suppose you and I have a few matters to discuss as well.”

“Forgive me for not obeying you, Gray, but I don’t want you to deal with my stepfather, not alone. I thought about it. He’s a snake. I don’t trust him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled his stiletto and tried to stab you. No, I won’t leave you unprotected anywhere close to him. I can’t, not after you saved Georgie.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked immovable.

He took another bite of Mr. Potts’s Shropshire pudding. Mr. Potts had been generous with the brandy. His tongue was nearly numb. “I don’t want your damned gratitude, Jack.” He folded his hands over his stomach. “I guess you won’t understand this, but I’ll tell you anyway. Gratitude from a woman crushes a man, particularly if the man is her husband.”

“That’s unfortunate, because you’ve got it for life. I would be a very strange sort of person if I didn’t feel gratitude. My intent is not to crush you, Gray. Now, what do you want to say to Sir Henry?”

He sat forward, shoved his plate aside. “Will you trust me on this, Jack?”

“Only if I can give you a gun.”

He shook his head even as he laughed. “Yes, give me a gun and then leave me alone with your stepfather. I have a plan, but I doubt it would work with you in the room. It’s my only plan, there is no alternative plan waiting in the wings that would include the both of us. Now, will you trust me?”

“All right, but I’ll be worried until I know you’re safe and sound with me again.”

He rose, walked to her, and took her hand. “Come along. I’ll go back up to Georgie with you, then I want you to get some sleep. I’ll come to you when I’m through with your stepfather.”

“I’m worried,” she said. “You just don’t know him as well as I do. He’s capable of anything.”

He kissed her ear. “Give me a chance to deal with him, Jack. Trust me.”

Dolly was wrapping Georgie in another hot towel. The nursery smelled foul. Gray wanted to open windows but knew it wouldn’t be wise. He also knew if he had to sleep in this room, he’d get ill just from the smells.

Thirty minutes later Georgie was tucked once more into another hot towel and lying on a pallet in front of the fireplace in the Oak Room, a corridor’s length from the nursery.

“Yes,” Jack said, “this was a splendid idea, Gray. Now if she wakes up I’ll be right here to help her. I won’t have to worry.”

He left Jack sitting on the floor beside her sleeping sister, her arms wrapped around her knees. He’d kissed her left ear, lightly stroked his fingers over her neck, then turned to leave. “Don’t forget your gun,” she called out after him.
He was thoughtful as he left the Oak Room. He’d never before in his life had someone be concerned specifically about him. No one. He realized it made him feel very good, made him feel as though he was very important in another person’s life—and indeed he was.

He found Sir Henry in his library, drinking brandy, waiting.

“She’s still alive?”

“Yes,” Gray said. “She wasn’t ever in any immediate danger. Apparently you panicked, Sir Henry, but no matter. I’m glad that Jack and I were able to get here so quickly. Dr. Brace is pleased and sees a complete recovery.”

Sir Henry grunted at that, then steepled his fingertips and began tapping them together. “And you, my lord? Are you pleased as well?”

Gray shrugged and studied a fingernail. “The child has as much worth to me as she does to you.”

“According to Dr. Brace, you sped her recovery immensely, perhaps even saved her life, since she hadn’t managed to expel the liquid from her lungs on her own.”

“Jack expected me to do something. The little girl will be fine now. When I take Jack from her in a couple of days, she won’t be bowed by grief.”

Sir Henry was staring into the fire, a sullen blaze. He said finally, “I realize now that Winifrede fooled me quite thoroughly, pretending she didn’t care about Georgina. Ah, but that wasn’t at all true, was it? I didn’t realize until last night just how much she loves the child.” Sir Henry paused, then picked up a quill from his desktop and said, “Don’t you want to please your bride, my lord?”

Gray raised a sleek blond brow. “Please her? She’s my wife. That should provide her with more than enough pleasure.”

“No, you misunderstand me. She wants the child with
her. I would imagine you would have to drag Winifrede from her if you refused her the child. What do you think about that?”

“I certainly don’t mind if Jack wishes to visit the child once or twice a year. Doubtless in six months or so I will be sated enough to allow her to be away from me for a week or so.”

Sir Henry flushed. Gray knew he wasn’t mistaken, even though the candlelight wasn’t all that bright. “What do you mean, ‘sated’?”

“I mean,” Gray said, rubbing his finger over his signet ring, “that Jack is a lovely girl. I’m enjoying her youth and her innocence. In six months or so, she will have nothing new to offer me. Thus she can come here to visit.”

The library was suddenly much darker, and airless. It was difficult to breathe—the air was so thick. Gray looked at his boots. His valet Horace was a genius with boots. He could still see his reflection quite clearly even though it had been three days since Horace had nurtured them with his secret recipe. He waited, something he did well but didn’t like to do. Sir Henry seated himself behind a mammoth mahogany desk, leaning back so far that his head was nearly touching the bookcase behind him. He was still holding the quill, threading it through his fingers.

“Mrs. Finch doesn’t like Georgina,” Sir Henry said at last.

“Surely that isn’t terribly important.”

“I’m planning on marrying her. She doesn’t want that pathetic little scrap as a stepdaughter.”

“Ah.”

“Ah, what? Damn you?”

“It isn’t my concern, thank God. Now, I imagine that Jack won’t wish to leave until she’s certain her sister will
indeed be all right. We will see you in the morning, Sir Henry.”

Gray nodded and quickly let himself out of the library. He’d planted only a few seeds, watered them only a bit. But all in all, it appeared that Sir Henry wanted to be rid of the child more than he wanted revenge against Jack. He imagined that if Mrs. Finch weren’t in the foreground of the picture, it would be quite a different scene. Now he’d wait a bit, give Sir Henry an opportunity to come to him. Yes, the gift of Mrs. Finch was unexpected, and quite a stroke of luck.

He was whistling as he stepped into the hallway. Jack was on him in an instant, silent as a shadow, slamming her fists into his chest, kicking his shins, her breath harsh and low, saying not a word.

He managed to grab her hands and force them to her sides. He kept his voice low and said right into her face, “Jack, what the devil is the matter with you? Jack, dammit, stop trying to kill me. What are you doing here?”

“You bastard,” she said, breathing so hard she was wheezing. She went on her toes and bit his neck. He nearly yelled, but managed at the last minute to hold it in. The last thing he wanted was Sir Henry flying out here to gape at them.

“You miserable bastard. I should have known you were like all the other men in this benighted world. I hate you, Gray, I hate you.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back to him. He leaned down and kissed her ear. She was trembling she was so angry. “How much did you hear?” he whispered into the same ear he’d kissed.

“Bastard.”

“I suppose you came down because you were afraid that Sir Henry would stab me in the gullet?”

“Yes—I wish he would have.”

“Jack, I’m your husband. Didn’t you tell me that you trusted me? Just thirty short minutes ago? Up in the Oak Room? Didn’t you swear that you trusted me?”

“I was wrong.”

He squeezed her more tightly. “Let’s find some privacy. I don’t want Sir Henry to come out and witness this. He’s not stupid, Jack. Now, for the moment, I’ve got him right where I want him. Actually, he put himself right where we want him. Come along, Jack, let’s go upstairs.”

“Bastard.”

He whistled all the way up the stairs.

She turned every few steps, shook her fist in his face, and continued with her refrain. “Bastard.”

He pulled her into the Oak Room. She immediately jerked away from him and walked over to Georgie’s pallet. She went down on her knees and lightly touched her palm to the child’s forehead. She sat back on her heels. She said, not turning to face him, “I won’t leave Georgie.”

“No, naturally you won’t.”

She jumped to her feet and ran back at him. He managed to snag her wrists in midair. “What do you mean you won’t want me after six months?”

He pulled her against him and kissed her closed mouth. She nearly bit him, but he was fast. He held her so tightly against him that he could feel the small tremors in her body. “Ah,” he whispered in her ear, “your innocence and youth. An erotic and seductive combination.”

“But not for longer than six months. Then I’ll be old and used up and you’ll be bored with me and not mind a bit if I leave you for weeks at a time.”

“Jack, at the rate we’re proceeding with the physical part of our marriage, I daresay you won’t be used up and ready to leave for a good twenty years.”

“Why are you laughing at me? I heard what you said to my stepfather. You don’t want me and you certainly don’t want Georgie. You said you’d be sated.”

“You’re wrong about that.”

“Bastard.”

He scooped her up in his arms and tossed her onto the bed, then followed her down. “No, don’t yell at me, you’ll disturb your sister. Just lie there and give me a magnificent frown.” He kissed her, moving quickly when she tried to bite him again.

He pulled her arms over her head, holding her wrists against the pillow. “Tell me something, Jack. What do you want more than anything in the world?”

“Georgie.”

He nodded. “Good.” He waited. She said nothing. “No ‘bastard’ for me?”

Her eyes were narrowed and mean as she said slowly, “I’m considering this carefully. It will take me a while to go back over your conversation with my stepfather and filter out all my anger at you.”

“Please do.”

Suddenly her frown washed away. She actually smiled up at him, then stared at him in wonder. “Goodness, Gray, you’re the shiftiest man I’ve ever met. You’re trolling in very deep waters. You’re playing as low a villain as Sir Henry.”

“It took you long enough to recognize my great acting skills. However, I think what will really set everything right is your stepfather’s desire to marry Mrs. Finch. She doesn’t want Georgie, you see, and thus any revenge against us hasn’t got a top ranking in Sir Henry’s brain anymore.”