Lyons Gate

CHAPTER 13

She was the height of fashion in a dark hunter green gown with wide sleeves tapering to fit snugly at her wrists and a belted waist that looked the size of a man’s fists bunched together. Her hair was tucked up under a bonnet of the same dark green, several curls lazily floating down in front of her ears. And in her lovely little ears were sparkling diamond studs. “I see that you are, Miss Carrick. Both you and your equipage look quite grand.”

“Yes, the carriage cost me very nearly all the money my father’s banker would give me, the dolt. I must write my father and have him send instructions.”

“Unlimited funds for you, Miss Carrick?”

“Don’t be a knothead. Oh, thank you for the compliment to my person as well as to my carriage. The gown is from Madame Jordan, who tells me that your father selects all your mother’s clothes, and your brother selects all of Corrie’s. I’ve never heard of gentlemen dressing women. Isn’t that rather odd? Is it some sort of tradition in your family?”

“To be honest, I’ve never thought about it, although the men in this family have excellent taste-Hmm, now that I think about it, I don’t know that I would have selected such a very dark green for you, Miss Carrick. I could, of course, be mistaken-perhaps the late afternoon sun shining too brightly in my eyes-but is bilious the right word?”

She let the bait dangle in front of her nose for a moment, then laughed aloud, a bright, quite lovely sound. “That was well done.” She turned to the carriage. “Come along, Martha. We’re here at Northcliffe Hall. Isn’t it beautiful? Look at all the colors.”

Her maid hopped out of the carriage, landing lightly on very little feet. She couldn’t be more than seventeen, Jason thought. She was very small, her pointed chin trembling in excitement. “Oh yes, it be glorious, more than glorious. So many thick trees, jest like in the park. I didn’t know you was acquainted with such grand folk, Miss Hallie.”

“Only the grandest folk for me, Martha.”

Jason laughed as Hallie rolled her eyes. “Let me see to your coachman and your outriders.” Jason turned to the coachman. “Any problems?”

The coachman gave Jason a smart salute. “None, milord. Benji and Neally, our outriders provided by Miss Carrick’s banker, well they wanted a highwayman or two to break the monotony, but nary a rascal showed hisself.”

“He’s twenty-eight minutes too young to be a lord, John,” Hallie said. At Jason’s raised eyebrow, she added, “I overheard Melissa telling her mother about how close in time you and James were born.”

Hallie turned when Martha lightly tugged on her sleeve. “Yes, Martha?”

Martha whispered, “Who is that god, ma’am?”

“God? What god?”

“The young gentleman, ma’am. Oh Lordie, is he ever a beaut. I’ve never afore seen such a glorious young gentleman, meybe more than jest plain glor-”

“Yes, yes, I understand, Martha. We will look into getting you spectacles.”

“But I gots eyes wot can see birdseeds, Miss Hallie.”

So both he and the Hall were glorious? He saw Hallie open, then shut her mouth. Routed by her maid. He said to the coachman, “That is Hollis standing in the front door. He will see that all three of you have dinner and beds for the night. Thank you for taking such fine care of Miss Carrick.”

The three men stood gazing up at Northcliffe Hall and Jason knew what they were seeing. One of England ’s great houses, three stories, with three wings coming off the back of the house, making it look like an E. The first earl of Northcliffe had built the Hall, quarrying the lovely gray stone at Hillsley Dale some three centuries before, mellowed now to a soft cream color in the late afternoon light. Northcliffe would look utterly stark and coldly formal like so many of the other great houses of England if not for the current countess who’d planted oak, lime, larch, and maple trees all along the drive and throughout the grounds more than twenty-five years before. As for the myriad bushes and flowering plants, they crept close to the stone walls, softening the lines of the house even more, and presented so many colors and blossoms in the summer that the Northcliffe gardeners would find small groups of strangers on the grounds staring at the incredible summer foliage. It looked like a great house conjured up in a fairy tale.

“Thank ye, milord,” the coachman said and turned when Hollis called out, his old voice firm and steady, “Come along, lads, Bobby here will take you to the stables to see to your horses and the carriage, then you’ll go to the kitchen.”

The three men, leading the horses, with Bobby three strides ahead of them, disappeared around the side of the house. Hollis said as he came down the deep, wide steps to stand beside Jason, “You are Miss Carrick?”

“Yes,” Hallie said, staring at the old man with his sharp blue eyes and his flowing thick white hair. “I saw a painting of Moses once. I would accept your Ten Commandments before I would accept his, Hollis.”

Hollis gave her a lovely smile, showing a mouth still filled with sufficient teeth to chew his mutton.

Jason, serious as a judge, said, “James and I believed he was God. You never corrected us, Hollis.”

“You and his lordship never disobeyed me when you believed I could smite you both with but a flick of my finger.”

“James and I feared more than smiting, Hollis. We feared you would give us pustules all over our bodies.”

Hollis looked thoughtful. “Pustules. Hmm. That never occurred to me. I suppose it is too late now?”

“It’s perfect for the twins. Ah, would you please see to Miss Carrick’s maid, Martha? I will take care of the disposition of Miss Carrick.”

Hollis, who’d been studying Hallie, said in a low voice that Hallie could hear perfectly well, “You will not cause her bodily harm, will you Master Jason?”

“You mean as in tossing her into Reever Lake? No, I’m too tired to do away with her today.”

He heard a gasp from young Martha and smiled down at her. “I won’t strangle your mistress. Don’t worry.”

Hallie said, “I’ll tell you when to worry, Martha. Go with Hollis now.” She watched small Martha walk very slowly up the stone steps next to the ancient butler, her hand ready to steady him if he faltered. Both Hallie and Jason saw Martha look up at him, and heard her whisper, “Ye’re glorious, Mr. Hollis, meybe even more than glorious.”

Hallie laughed, couldn’t help herself. She was still very nervous. “And here I wondered if Martha and I would suit.”

“Since she makes you laugh, she’ll suit you well enough.”

“I didn’t meet Hollis when I came here after Melissa and Leo’s wedding.”

“I believe he was in his bed nursing a cold. He is quite well now, thank God.”

When Hollis and Martha had negotiated the steps and disappeared into the house, she looked up at Jason. “I don’t know about glorious, but you are a beaut. Such a pity that you know it too well.”

An eyebrow shot up. “You are something of a beaut yourself, Miss Carrick. However, unlike you, I am not vain. I do not array myself in such a way to draw attention to my attributes.”

“And what would you do if you wished to draw attention?”

She had him, and she knew it. She grinned up at him shamelessly. “You really couldn’t push your chest up and out, now could you? Hmm. As for rice powder on your face, I daresay you’d sweat it off in the middle of your first waltz.”

He quickly took the opening she gave him. “And ladies don’t sweat off their rice powder?”

“Certainly not. Ladies are made of fine porcelain, not porous mud.”

Since that was exactly what he felt like at the moment, Jason threw back his head and laughed. He realized in that moment he’d missed that fast brain of hers, not to mention her tongue.

“Ravensworth Abbey is as grand as Northcliffe Hall, but it’s very different. You have a beautiful home.”

“ Lyon ’s Gate is now my home.”

“Our home, Mr. Sherbrooke. Our home.” She lightly patted his white sleeve. “Twenty-eight minutes. Not even half an hour and your fate is decided.”

“Please believe me, Miss Carrick, I would rather share a house with you than one day be the master here.”

She noticed then that he wasn’t dressed like a son of the house. Odd that she hadn’t noticed how sweaty and dirty he was, his old boots scuffed, his white shirt open at the neck and a bit down his chest, and she wasn’t about to stare, not when all that lovely dirt meant he’d been at Lyon’s Gate and she hadn’t. “You’ve been spending the past three days at Lyon ’s Gate, haven’t you?” Her voice rose an octave. “What have you done?”

He’d have to have been dead not to hear the outrage, and was tempted to string her along. No, better not, since her eyes were already bulging in her head. Besides, his precious mother might hear her shouting at him and come down and shoot her. “Nothing you would disapprove of,” he said mildly. “I hired three men from the village to help me clean out the stables. We nearly finished today. I’ve already spoken to the man who will decide what is necessary to repair the house and he and his workers will begin tomorrow. You can speak to them then. Oh yes, my mother sent over a half-dozen gardeners, who are all pulling the ivy from the house and getting rid of the weeds. It begins to look much better.”

Hallie chewed this over a moment, nodded. “All right. You are lucky you didn’t paint any rooms, Mr. Sherbrooke.”

“Paint, you say? I was picturing a lovely bright crimson for the drawing room, perhaps one wall a pale blue. What do you think?”

She looked up into those incredible lavender eyes of his and said, “You surprise me, sir. An excellent choice. And lovely crimson draperies, don’t you think? Or perhaps the pale blue?”

“Crimson, with thick braided gold tassels looping them up. Velvet would be utterly charming. How nice. We should have no arguments at all.” He offered her his arm. “Let me take you inside to greet everyone. I imagine they should be assembled by now.”

She laughed as she walked beside him up the steps. “May we leave early tomorrow to go to Lyon ’s Gate? I want to see everything.”

She was as excited as he was. He hated it that she lusted after Lyon ’s Gate as much as he did.

He called out, “Hello, Mother. Look who’s arrived.”

Alex stood just inside the imposing front door, eyeing the young woman who’d had the gall to ruin her son’s dream. She knew her duty, gulped once, and presented a smile. Sometimes being well bred was the very devil. “Miss Carrick. How very lovely to see you again.”

Hallie curtsied. “Thank you, ma’am, for having me. It is very kind of you.”

What to say when she’d really had no choice in the matter? Best to keep her mouth shut.

Hallie gave her a shameless grin. “I do hope you don’t have a gun behind your back.”

Alex felt an unwanted tug of liking. “Hmm. Be very deferential to me, Miss Carrick, nod in modest agreement at everything I say, and you might survive.”

“Sorry, Mother. Even if she tried, I can’t see that happening,” Jason said.

“In that case, then you must come into the drawing room, Miss Carrick. My dear mother-in-law, Lady Lydia, the dowager countess of Northcliffe, is here for her weekly visit. You can meet her and have a lovely cup of tea.”

Jason groaned.

Hallie looked suddenly wary.

Jason tried to catch his mother’s eye, but she’d taken Hallie’s arm and was steering her in a straight line toward the drawing room. He’d rather be tossed on the back of a wild two-year-old, with no bridle, perhaps even boiled in oil. A firing squad was a good option.

His grandmother hated every female in the known universe except for his aunt Melissande, including his mother and Corrie, and that was why his father had finally moved her into the dowager house at the end of the lane five years before.

He said from behind them, “Mother, perhaps you should reconsider this particular course of action. She’s a lamb to the slaughter.”

“Nonsense. You are a bit on the dirty side, dearest, but your grandmother won’t mind. And Miss Carrick surely is a well-enough behaved girl to sail smoothly through, don’t you think?”

“No. Miss Carrick, do you know Wilhelmina Wyndham?”

“Oh dear.”