The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5 (81 page)

Marrying Joan Sherbrooke was the most important thing he could accomplish. It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d had rabbit teeth, so long as her guineas were shining and numerous. Nothing mattered except smashing the cowardly MacPhersons
and saving Vere Castle and all the other Kinross properties. He had to move quickly. He tried to rise, gritted his teeth at the wash of pain through his thigh, and fell back again. Colin’s head began to pound. The next time Joan asked him to wed her, he’d ask that the preacher be brought in the next five minutes.

Douglas Sherbrooke very carefully folded the letter and slid it back into its envelope.

He began to pace the length of the library, then stopped, pulled the letter from the envelope, and read it through again. The big block letters were in black ink and carefully printed. He read:

Lord Northcliffe,

Colin Kinross murdered his wife. He will wed your sister and then do away with her. Doubt it not. He is ruthless and would do anything to get what he wants. The only thing he wants now is money.

It was the sort of thing that Douglas hated. An anonymous accusation that left one furious and disbelieving because it was anonymous, but still planted a seed of doubt despite what one felt about the one being accused. The letter had been delivered just an hour before by a small urchin, who simply told Drinnen that a cove bid ’im to deliver this letter to the lordship o’ this fancy ’ouse.

Drinnen hadn’t asked the lad to describe the cove. A pity. He assumed it had been a man. He paced again, now crumpling the letter in his hand.

Colin was mending rapidly. Sinjun was already dancing about, wanting to marry him by the end of the week. Jesus, it was already Tuesday.

What to do?

He knew deep in his gut that Sinjun wouldn’t care if the wretched letter accused Colin of murdering an entire regiment. She wouldn’t believe it. She would never believe it. She’d go to war with her entire family before she’d believe it.

Damnation. He knew he couldn’t ignore it, and thus, when Alex and Sinjun left the house to fetch Sinjun’s wedding gown from Madame Jordan’s, he didn’t put it off. He strode up to Colin’s bedchamber.

Colin was wearing one of his own dressing gowns, thanks to Finkle and several footmen, who had returned to his lodgings and packed all his clothing and brought his two trunks here. He was standing beside the bed, looking toward the door.

“Do you need some assistance?” Douglas asked as he stepped into the room.

“No, thank you. I’m endeavoring to prove that I can walk across this room and back three times without falling on my nose.”

Douglas laughed. “How many times have you done it?”

“Twice, at five-minute intervals. This third time looks to be the death of me though.”

“Sit down, Colin. I must speak to you.”

Colin sat gingerly in a wing chair near the fireplace. He stretched his leg out in front of him, wincing as he did so. He began to gently massage the leg. “You didn’t tell Joan, did you?”

“No, only my wife, although I don’t know why you care if Sinjun knows or not.”

“It would infuriate her and worry her and she wouldn’t stand for it. She would probably hire a Bow Street Runner and the two of them would go haring off to track down the man who did it. She would probably place an advertisement in the
Gazette
for information leading to his capture. She could hurt herself. She obviously needs to be protected, more from herself than anything else.”

Douglas could but stare at him. “You’ve known her such a short time and yet . . .” He shook his head. “That’s exactly what she’d do. I sometimes feel the good Lord doesn’t know what she plans to do until she does it. She’s very creative, you know.”

“No, but I suspect I’ll learn.”

“You have yet to tell me how you got knifed in the thigh.”

Colin didn’t meet Douglas’s eyes. “It was a little bully who wanted to rob me. I knocked the man down and he pulled a knife from his boot. My thigh was as high as he could reach.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No, but I probably should have, the damned blighter. He wouldn’t have gotten much from me had he succeeded in picking my pocket. I had no more than two guineas with me at the most.”

“I got a letter just a while ago, accusing you of murdering your wife.”

Colin became very still. It was as if, Douglas thought, he had pulled inside himself, away from pain or perhaps guilt? He didn’t know. Colin looked beyond Douglas’s left shoulder toward the fireplace.

“It wasn’t signed. The person who wrote it sent a boy around with it. I don’t like letters like this. They’re poisonous and they leave one feeling foul.”

Colin said nothing.

“No one knew you’d already been married.”

“No. I didn’t think it was anyone’s affair.”

“When did she die?”

“Shortly before my brother died, some six and a half months ago.”

“How?”

Colin felt his guts twist and knot. “She fell off a cliff and broke her neck.”

“Did you push her?”

Colin was silent, a hard silence both deep and angry.

“Were you arguing with her? Did she fall accidentally?”

“I didn’t murder my wife. I won’t murder your sister. I gather the writer of the letter warned you about that.”

“Oh yes.”

“Will you tell Joan?”

Douglas blinked. He still couldn’t accustom himself to Colin’s calling Sinjun Joan. “I must. It would be preferable, naturally, if you told her, perhaps gave her explanations that you’ve not given to me.”

Colin said nothing. He was stiff, wary.

Douglas rose. “I’m sorry,” he said. “She is my sister and I love her dearly. I must protect her. It is only fair that she know about this. I do feel, however, that before the two of you marry, this must be resolved. That is something I must demand.”

Colin remained silent. He didn’t look up until Douglas had quietly closed the door behind him. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He rubbed his thigh; the stitches itched and the flesh was pink. He was healing nicely.

But was he healing quickly enough?

Who, for God’s sake? Who could have done this? The MacPhersons were the only ones who came to mind, and it was a powerful motive they had, if they were indeed responsible. His first wife, Fiona Dahling MacPherson, had been the laird’s eldest daughter. But old Latham had supposedly absolved him, at least he had at the time of Fiona’s death. Of course her brother hadn’t, but the laird had kept Robert in line. During the past several months
Colin had heard that the laird wasn’t right in the head, that his health was failing rapidly, which was only to be expected, since the man was as old as the Gaelic rocks at Limner. Ah, yes, the letter had to be from the MacPhersons, the wretched cowards, there was no one else.

The damned letter paled into insignificance. He had to marry Joan, and quickly, or all would be lost. He closed his eyes.

He forced himself to rest. Several hours later Colin rose from the chair and walked the length of the bedchamber, two times, then three. He was gaining strength, thank God. He just prayed it was quickly enough.

It was during dinner that evening, Joan eating her own dinner beside him, that he made up his mind. He looked up from the fork bite of ham to realize that she was speaking.

“ . . . Please don’t misunderstand me, the wedding gown is lovely, truly, but it’s all such a fuss, Colin. My mother would probably display you like some sort of trophy, she’s so pleased that I’m finally to be yanked off the Spinster Shelf. Oh, I do hate the trappings of it all. How I should simply like to whisk you away from here so we can begin our lives together. All this other nonsense is just that, nonsense.”

His jaw dropped. Relief flooded him. Manna from heaven, all of it flowing from her mouth. He’d floundered and thought and thought some more, rejecting one idea after another, and here she was, giving herself to him, without reservation.

“I’m not yet very strong,” he said, concentrating on chewing the ham.

“You will be strong enough by Friday. Perhaps even sooner. Ah, if only you could be well right this minute.”

Colin drew a deep breath. “I must tell you something, Joan. No, please, listen to me. It’s very important. Your brother will forbid the marriage. He has told me he will, that he must, to protect you.”

Sinjun just looked at him, the peas on her fork, hovering above her plate. She waited, slowly ate the peas, then drank some of her wine. She continued to wait, saying nothing.

“Oh, the hell with it! Your brother believes that I killed someone. He will tell you about it if I don’t. He must protect you, as I said. He wants everything resolved before we marry. Unfortunately, there is no way to resolve any of it, ever. I didn’t tell him that, but it’s true. We won’t marry, Joan, I’m sorry. Your brother won’t allow it and I must go along with his wishes.”

“Who did you supposedly kill?”

“My first wife.”

Without hesitation, Sinjun said, “How utterly absurd. Not that you are so young and already once wed, but that you would hurt her or anyone for that matter, and certainly not your wife. Nonsense. How did he hear such a ridiculous thing?”

“An anonymous letter.”

“There, you see. Someone is jealous of you; that, or someone simply has taken you into dislike because you are so handsome and have cut such a dash in London. I will speak to Douglas and set him straight on this.”

“No.”

She heard the determination in that one word. She said nothing. She waited. Patience was difficult, but for once she managed it.

She was rewarded after an interminable wait when he said slowly, looking right into her eyes, “If you want to marry me, we will have to leave, tonight. We will go to Scotland and marry over the
anvil, but not in Gretna Green, for that would be the first place your brother would go. It will be done, and your brother will not be able to do a thing about it. We will stop at the Kinross house in Edinburgh and have a proper wedding.” There, he’d done it. Dishonor filled him. But what else could he do? There was no damned choice, and she had offered herself to him on the proverbial platter.

Sinjun was silent for a very long time. When she spoke finally, he nearly fell back against the pillow with relief. “I wasn’t weighing your suggestion, Colin, I was planning. We can do it. My only concern is that you aren’t at your full strength just yet, but no matter. I will take care of everything. We will leave at midnight.” She rose and shook out her skirts. She looked every bit as determined as her brother had. “This will hurt my brother, but it is my life and I must choose to do what I believe is best for me. Oh goodness, there is much to be done! Don’t worry. You must rest and regain your strength.” She leaned down and kissed him. He had no chance to respond, for she was already striding toward the door, her steps so long that the material of her gown pulled across her buttocks and thighs. She turned, her hand on the doorknob. “Douglas isn’t stupid. He will know immediately what we’ve done. I will plan an alternate route. We must throw him off. It’s a good thing that I’m tightfisted. I have a good two hundred pounds of my own. After we’re wed, Douglas will have no choice but to give you my dowry, and you won’t have to worry about losing everything anymore. He must do it quickly—we will make him understand that—I know that you must have the money very soon. I’m truly sorry about that letter, Colin. Some people are the very devil.” With that, she was gone. He could swear he heard her whistling.

It was all right. He’d won; against all odds, he’d won, and he was doing only what she wanted, after all. She’d been the one to push it, not he. Ah, but the guilt was there, deep and roiling inside him. Even having known Joan only a short time, Colin had no doubt that she would have them off exactly at the time she’d determined, in a very comfortable carriage that her brother would have a devil of a time tracing. He wouldn’t be surprised if she even had matching grays pulling the carriage. He closed his eyes, then opened them. He had to eat everything on his plate. He had to become strong again, and very soon.

My brothers will kill me, she thought as the closed carriage bowled through the dark night toward the Reading road. Colin was sleeping beside her, exhausted. She leaned over and lightly kissed his cheek. He didn’t stir. She tucked the blankets more closely around him. He was quiet, his breathing deep and even. Excellent, no nightmares. It still surprised her that the illness had so weakened him. But it didn’t matter now. He would be well again, very soon, particularly since she would be the one to see to him.

She loved him so much she hurt with it. No one would ever come between them. No one would ever harm him again. It is my life, she thought, not Douglas’s or Ryder’s or anyone else’s. Yes, it’s my life, and I love him and trust him and he is already my husband, my mate in my heart.

She thought of her mother and how she’d managed to grind poor Finkle under just that afternoon, and sailed into Colin’s bedchamber like the Queen’s flagship. Colin had grinned as he’d told Sinjun that her mother had stood there, eyeing him for the longest time, and then she’d said, “Well,
young man, I understand you want to marry my daughter for her dowry.”

Colin smiled at Joan’s mother and said, “Your daughter resembles you greatly. She’s lucky, as am I. I must marry for money, ma’am, I have no choice in the matter. However, your daughter is beyond anything I could have expected. I will take good care of her.”