The Sherbrooke Bride by Catherine Coulter Read Online

  Contents

Affiliate 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER five

Chapter half dozen

CHAPTER vii

CHAPTER eight

CHAPTER nine

Affiliate 10

CHAPTER 11

Affiliate 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

CHAPTER sixteen

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

Chapter 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

Chapter 24

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the writer's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely casual.

THE SHERBROOKE BRIDE

A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 1992 by Catherine Coulter

This volume may non be reproduced in whole or part, past mimeograph or whatever other means, without permission. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could bailiwick the infringer to criminal and civil liability.

For data address:

The Berkley Publishing Grouping, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Broad Web site address is

http://www.penguinputnam.com

ISBN: 978-1-1012-1408-four

A JOVE Volume®

Jove Books offset published by The Jove Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

Jove and the "J" design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.

Electronic edition: May, 2002

Titles by Catherine Coulter

THE EDGE

THE COURTSHIP

THE TARGET

THE MAZE

THE WILD Baron

MAD JACK

ROSEHAVEN

THE COVE

THE WYNDHAM LEGACY

THE NIGHTINGALE LEGACY

THE VALENTINE LEGACY

LORD OF HAWKFELL Island

LORD OF RAVEN'S Acme

LORD OF FALCON RIDGE

THE SHERBROOKE Helpmate

THE HELLION Bride

THE HEIRESS Bride

SEASON OF THE SUN

Across EDEN

IMPULSE

Faux PRETENSES

To David,

The Good, the Sexy, the Humorist, the Competent.

I hope you express joy every bit much reading this novel equally I did writing it. Do try it out on cute Lori.

CHAPTER

1

Northcliffe Hall

Almost New Romney, England

May 1803

"I SAW HER last night—the Virgin Bride!"

"Oh no, non really? Truly, Sinjun? You swear yous saw the ghost?"

In that location were ii shuddering gasps and fluttery cries of mingled fear and excitement.

"Yes, it had to exist the Virgin Helpmate."

"Did she tell you she was a virgin? Did she tell you anything? Weren't you terrified? Was she all white? Did she moan? Did she look more dead than alive?"

Their voices grew fainter, but he yet heard the gasps and giggles as they moved abroad from the estate room door.

Douglas Sherbrooke, Earl of Northcliffe, closed the door firmly and walked to his desk. That damned ghost! He wondered if the Sherbrookes were blighted to endure unlikely tales of this miserable young lady throughout eternity. He glanced downwardly at the slap-up piles of papers, sighed, and so saturday himself downwards and looked ahead at nothing at all.

The earl frowned. He was frowning a lot these days for they were keeping afterward him, non letting up for a twenty-four hour period, non for a single hour. He was bombarded by gentle however insistent reminders 24-hour interval in and solar day out with merely slight variations on the same dull theme. He must needs marry and provide an heir for the earldom. He was getting older, every minute another minute ticked away his virility, and that virility was being squandered, according to them, for from his seed sprang hereafter Sherbrookes, and this wondrous seed of his must exist used legitimately and not spread haphazardly most, equally warned of in the Bible.

He would be xxx on Michaelmas, they would say, all those uncles and aunts and cousins and elderly retainers who'd known him since he'd come squalling from his mother's womb, all those sniggering rotten friends of his, who, once they'd defenseless onto the theme, were enthusiastic in singing their own impertinent verses. He would frown at all of them, every bit he was frowning at present, and he would say that he wasn't 30 on this Michaelmas, he was going to exist 20-nine on this Michaelmas, therefore on this 24-hour interval, at this minute, he was 20-eight, and for God'south sake, it was only May now, not September. He was barely settled into his twenty-eighth year. He was just now accustoming himself to saying he was twenty-eight and no longer twenty-seven. Surely his wasn't a cracking age, just aplenty.

The earl looked over at the golden ormolu clock on the mantel. Where was Ryder? Damn his brother, he knew their meetings were always held on the commencement Tuesday of every quarter, here in the estate room of Northcliffe Hall at precisely three o'clock. Of course, the fact that the earl had only initiated these quarterly meetings upon his selling out of the army some ix months before, simply after the signing of the Peace of Amiens, didn't excuse Ryder for beingness late for this, their third coming together. No, his brother should exist censured despite the fact that Douglas's steward, Leslie Danvers, a young homo of industrious habits and annoying retentiveness, had reminded the earl but an hour before of the meeting with his blood brother.

It was the sudden sight of Ryder bursting into the estate room, windblown, smelling of leather and horse and the ocean, alive as the current of air, showing lots of white teeth, very nearly on time—it was only five minutes past the hour—that made the earl forget his ire. Later all, Ryder was nearing an ample age himself. He was very nearly 20-six.

The two of them should stick together.

"Lord, but it's a beautiful solar day, Douglas! I was riding with Dorothy on the cliffs, nothing similar it, I tell you, nothing!" Ryder sat down, crossed his buckskin legs, and provided his brother more of his white-toothed smiling.

Douglas swung a heart-searching leg. "Did yous manage to stay on your equus caballus?"

Ryder smiled more widely. His eyes, upon closer inspection, appeared somewhat vague. He had the look of a sated man, a look the earl was becoming quite familiar with, and so he sighed.

"Well," Ryder said later on another moment of silence, "if you lot insist upon these quarterly meetings, Douglas, I must practice something to keep them going."

"But Dorothy Blalock?"

"The widow Blalock is quite soft and sweetness-smelling, brother, and she knows how to please a man. Ah, does she ever practise information technology well. Also, she'll not get defenseless. She's much too smart for that, my Dorothy."

"She sits a horse well," Douglas said. "I'll admit that."

"Aye, and that's non all she sits well."

Only through intense resolve did Douglas go on his grin to himself. He was the earl; he was the head of the far-flung Sherbrooke family unit. Even now there might be another Sherbrooke growing despite Dorothy'southward intelligence.

"Let's get on with information technology," Douglas said, but Ryder wasn't fooled. He saw the twitch of his blood brother'south lip and laughed.

"Aye, let'south," he agreed, rose, and poured himself a brandy. He raised the decanter toward Douglas.

"No, cheers. Now," Douglas continued, reading the summit sheet of p

aper in front of him, "as of this quarter you accept iv quite healthy sons, four quite healthy daughters. Poor lilliputian Daniel died during the winter. Amy'due south autumn doesn't appear to accept had lasting injury to her leg. Is this up-to-appointment?"

"I volition accept another baby making his advent in August. The mother appears hardy and healthy."

Douglas sighed. "Very well. Her name?" As Ryder replied, he wrote. He raised his head. "Is this at present correct?"

Ryder lost his grinning and downed the residue of his brandy. "No. Benny died of the ague last week."

"You didn't tell me."

Ryder shrugged. "He wasn't even a year old, merely so bright, Douglas. I knew yous were busy, what with the trip to London to the war office, and the funeral was pocket-sized. That's the mode his mother wanted information technology."

"I'm pitiful," Douglas said once more. Then he frowned, a habit Ryder had noticed and didn't like one chip, and said, "If the infant is due in August, why didn't you tell me at our last quarterly meeting?"

Ryder said merely, "The mother didn't tell me because she feared I wouldn't wish to bed her anymore." He paused, looking at the east lawn through the broad bay windows. "Silly wench. I wouldn't have guessed she was with child although I suppose I might have suspected. She's already quite smashing with kid. She may well give me twins."

Ryder turned from the window and swigged more than brandy. "I forgot, Douglas. There's also Nancy."

Douglas dropped the paper. "Nancy who?"

"Nancy Arbuckle, the draper's daughter on High Street in Rye. She's with child, my child. She will have information technology in Nov, all-time approximate. She was all tears and woes until I told her she needn't worry, that the Sherbrookes always took care of their own. It's possible she might fifty-fifty wed a body of water captain for he isn't concerned that she's carrying another human being'southward child."

"Well, that's something." Douglas did a new tally then looked up. "You're currently supporting 7 children and their mothers. You have impregnated two more women and all their children are due this twelvemonth."

"I think that's right. Don't forget the possibility of the twins or the possibility of Nancy marrying her sea captain."

"Can't you keep your damned rod in your pants?"

"No more than you tin can, Douglas."

"Fair enough, but why can't y'all remove yourself from the woman earlier you fill her with your seed?"

Ryder flushed, a rather remarkable occurrence, and said, his voice defensive, "I can't seem to keep my wits together. I know information technology isn't much of an excuse, but I just can't seem to withdraw once I'chiliad there, so to speak." He stared hard at his blood brother and then. "I'm not a damned cold fish similar yous, Douglas. Yous could withdraw from an angel herself. Doesn't your heed ever run off its track, doesn't it always turn into vapor? Don't y'all ever want to only keep pounding and pounding and the consequences simply don't come up into it?"

"No."

Ryder sighed. "Well, I'm not so well disciplined as yous. Do yous nevertheless have only the two children?"

"No, the babe died whilst I was in London. In that location is just Cynthia left now, a sugariness child, four years one-time."

"I'm pitiful."

"It was expected and just a matter of time so the doctors kept telling his female parent. I went to London not just to see Lord Avery in the War Office but also to see Elizabeth. She'd written me most the infant'due south condition. His lungs never really properly developed." Douglas drew out a clean sheet of foolscap and adjusted last quarter's numbers.

"Your lust becomes more plush," he said later a moment. "Damned costly."

"End your frowns, Douglas. You're encarmine wealthy, as am I. Great-uncle Brandon would be pleased that his inheritance to me is being put to such fantabulous apply. He was a lusty old fellow until his eightieth year, as least that's what he told me. Bragged similar a bat he did.

"Y'all're always saying that our bastards are our responsibility and so I hold with you. I as well agree with this programme of yours, for it ensures we don't miss any. What a general y'all would take fabricated! A pity you had to sell out when you were but a major."

Ryder was chuckling when the estate room door opened. He looked up to run into his youngest brother come somewhat diffidently into the room. "Ah, if it isn't Tysen. Come in, brother, our meeting is about done. Douglas has already told me my lust must soon poke holes in my bag. Now he is completing his mathematics, truly a meager number, particularly when one considers what i could exercise with more available fields to turn and sow and tend."

"What meeting?" asked Tysen Sherbrooke, coming into the estate room. "What numbers? What fields?"

Ryder shot a look at Douglas, who just shrugged and sat back in his chair, his artillery folded beyond his chest. He looked ironic, and if Ryder hadn't known him then well, he would have idea him annoyed rather than obliquely tickled.

Ryder said to Douglas, "Await, brother, Tysen wants to be a vicar. It's important that he understand male person frailties and that, without mincing matters, is basic lust. Attend me, Tysen, this is our quarterly coming together to determine the current number of Sherbrooke bastards."

Tysen stared, then turned an agonized eye toward Douglas. "Your what?"

"You lot heard me," Ryder said. "Now, you're nearly twenty-one, Tysen. It's time you come to our meetings. Isn't it time we included him, Douglas? After all, we don't want him sneaking in a bastard all unknown to u.s.a., do we? Think of our reputation. All right, my lad, have yous gotten whatever of the local girls with kid?"

Tysen looked apoplectic. "Of course not! I wouldn't ever do annihilation so despicable! I volition exist a man of God, a vicar, a shepherd who will atomic number 82 a righteous and devout flock and—"

Ryder rolled his eyes. "Please, stop! Information technology boggles the mind that a Sherbrooke could speak thusly and believe it. It makes i want to puke. Ah well, information technology'southward too bad that yous are what y'all appear to be, Tysen, simply i always hopes, specially if ane is of an optimistic nature."

"Does optimism get mitt in rod with animalism?" Douglas said to the room at large.

Ryder laughed and Tysen looked stunned. He knew his brothers were men of the world, that they understood many things that he'd scarce thought nigh, merely this humor? A meeting to count up their bastards? Sweat broke out on his forehead. He began to inch toward the door.

"At least grinning, Tysen," Douglas said. "A vicar can have a sense of humor, you know."

"Oh no," Tysen said. "It'due south just that—of course I tin smile, it's just that—"

"Y'all're not finishing whatsoever of your sentences, Tysen," Ryder said, his tone utterly irreverent. "You lot're repeating yourself."

"Well, a homo of God tin too share his boundless dear with a specific sort of dearest. You know, I can likewise honey a lady, and, well, I practice!"

"Oh Jesus," Ryder said, turning away in amused cloy. "Do you want some brandy now, Douglas?"

"That'southward nauseating," Douglas said, "and I probably couldn't proceed the brandy down, then no, Ryder." Then he took some compassion on Tysen, whose lean cheeks were alarmingly red. "Who is the chit, Tysen? Surely as yous're a future vicar, she's no extra or store girl?"

"No," Tysen said, his vocalisation strengthening, at present adjoining on very unvicarlike worship. "Her name is Melinda Beatrice and she'south Sir Thomas Hardesty's daughter."

Ryder cursed. "I know the wench. She'south featherbrained, Douglas, and she simpers, for God'southward sake, and she acts every bit if she'south better than everyone else, and she'south got no breasts to speak of. Her optics expect watery, her elbows are bony, and she's got two names and her parents use both of them. It'southward beyond also much. Ii names!"

"She will make a fine wife for a man of God!" Tysen would have further dedicated his goddess, merely he stopped abruptly as Douglas slowly rose from his chair, staring at him. Ryder's insults were forgotten under Douglas's look, an expression that was alarmingly identical to their at present-dead father'south. Tysen began to step back, slowly, slowly, unti

50 he was hard against the closed door. Douglas said ever and then softly, "Y'all mean to tell me that at 20 years of age you've decided to fancy yourself in dear with a girl who is your equal in nascency and fortune? We are speaking of the Hardestys of Blaston Manor?"

"Yes," Tysen said. "I'm nearly twenty-i."

"Young fool," Ryder said dispassionately, flicking a dust mote off his sleeve. "He'll get over it inside the month, Douglas. Think how you idea you wanted that duke's girl? When was that—yeah, some three years ago, yous fancied yourself tip over arse in love. Y'all were home with that shoulder wound. Now, what was her name? Melissande—yes, that was it."

Douglas sliced his manus through the air, silencing Ryder. "You haven't spoken to Sir Thomas, take you?"

"Of course non," Tysen said. "Y'all're the head of the family, Douglas."

"Don't forget it, no one else allows me to. At present, just promise me you lot'll non declare yourself when the chit smiles at y'all, or gives yous a glimpse of her ankle. I've determined that girls must be born knowing all sorts of tricks to entice the unwary male, so you must be on your guard, all right?"

Tysen nodded, and so said quickly, "But not Melinda Beatrice, Douglas. She'south kind and honest. She has a sugariness about her, a goodness, that will make her a wonderful shepherdess to my flock, a helpmeet to cherish. She would never—" He saw that both brothers were on the verge of incredulous laughter. His jaw tightened, his brows lowered, his dorsum stiffened, and he said, "That's not why I came in, Douglas. Aunt Mildred and Uncle Albert are here and want to speak with you."

"Ha! Preach to me is more similar it. I suppose you told the servants to purse it and volunteered yourself to come find me then as to escape their hawkeye eyes?"

"Well, yes." Tysen paused when Douglas groaned, and so went on in an apologetic vocalization, "Yes, yous're correct about their visit. I heard them speaking well-nigh the Marquess of Dacre's eldest daughter, Juliette, a diamond of the showtime order, Aunt Mildred was saying, and merely perfect for you."

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