Catherine Coulter - The Sherbrooke Bride

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

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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 RAVENS PEAK
LORD OF FALCON RIDGE
THE SHERBROOKE BRIDE
THE HELLION BRIDE
THE HEIRESS BRIDE
SEASON OF THE SUN
BEYOND EDEN
IMPULSE
FALSE PRETENSES

To David,

The Good, the Sexy, the Humorist, the Competent.
I hope you laugh as much reading this novel as I did writing it. Do try it out on beautiful Lori.

I SAW HER last nightthe Virgin Bride!

Oh no, not really? Truly, Sinjun? You swear you saw the ghost?

There were two shuddering gasps and fluttery cries of mingled fear and excitement.

Yes, it had to be the Virgin Bride.

Did she tell you she was a virgin? Did she tell you anything? Werent you terrified? Was she all white? Did she moan? Did she look more dead than alive?

Their voices grew fainter, but he still heard the gasps and giggles as they moved away 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 fated to endure unlikely tales of this miserable young lady throughout eternity. He glanced down at the neat piles of papers, sighed, then sat himself down and looked ahead at nothing at all.

The earl frowned. He was frowning a lot these days for they were keeping after him, not letting up for a day, not for a single hour. He was bombarded by gentle yet insistent reminders day in and day out with only 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 future Sherbrookes, and this wondrous seed of his must be used legitimately and not spread haphazardly about, as warned of in the Bible.

He would be thirty on Michaelmas, they would say, all those uncles and aunts and cousins and elderly retainers whod known him since hed come squalling from his mothers womb, all those sniggering rotten friends of his, who, once theyd caught onto the theme, were enthusiastic in singing their own impertinent verses. He would frown at all of them, as he was frowning now, and he would say that he wasnt thirty on this Michaelmas, he was going to be twenty-nine on this Michaelmas, therefore on this day, at this minute, he was twenty-eight, and for Gods 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 wasnt a great age, just ample.

The earl looked over at the gilded ormolu clock on the mantel. Where was Ryder? Damn his brother, he knew their meetings were always held on the first Tuesday of every quarter, here in the estate room of Northcliffe Hall at precisely three oclock. Of course, the fact that the earl had only initiated these quarterly meetings upon his selling out of the army some nine months before, just after the signing of the Peace of Amiens, didnt excuse Ryder for being late for this, their third meeting. No, his brother should be censured despite the fact that Douglass steward, Leslie Danvers, a young man of industrious habits and annoying memory, had reminded the earl just an hour before of the meeting with his brother.

It was the sudden sight of Ryder bursting into the estate room, windblown, smelling of leather and horse and the sea, alive as the wind, showing lots of white teeth, very nearly on timeit was only five minutes past the hourthat made the earl forget his ire. After all, Ryder was nearing an ample age himself. He was very nearly twenty-six.

The two of them should stick together.

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

Douglas swung a brooding leg. Did you manage to stay on your horse?

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 after another moment of silence, if you insist upon these quarterly meetings, Douglas, I must do something to keep them going.

But Dorothy Blalock?

The widow Blalock is quite soft and sweet-smelling, brother, and she knows how to please a man. Ah, does she ever do it well. Also, shell not get caught. Shes much too smart for that, my Dorothy.

She sits a horse well, Douglas said. Ill admit that.

Aye, and thats not all she sits well.

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

Lets get on with it, Douglas said, but Ryder wasnt fooled. He saw the twitch of his brothers lip and laughed.

Yes, lets, he agreed, rose, and poured himself a brandy. He raised the decanter toward Douglas.

No, thank you. Now, Douglas continued, reading the top sheet of paper in front of him, as of this quarter you have four quite healthy sons, four quite healthy daughters. Poor little Daniel died during the winter. Amys fall doesnt appear to have had lasting injury to her leg. Is this up-to-date?

I will have another baby making his appearance 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 now correct?

Ryder lost his smile and downed the rest of his brandy. No. Benny died of the ague last week.

You didnt tell me.

Ryder shrugged. He wasnt even a year old, but so bright, Douglas. I knew you were busy, what with the trip to London to the war office, and the funeral was small. Thats the way his mother wanted it.

Im sorry, Douglas said again. Then he frowned, a habit Ryder had noticed and didnt like one bit, and said, If the babe is due in August, why didnt you tell me at our last quarterly meeting?

Ryder said simply, The mother didnt tell me because she feared I wouldnt wish to bed her anymore. He paused, looking at the east lawn through the wide bay windows. Silly wench. I wouldnt have guessed she was with child although I suppose I might have suspected. Shes already quite great with child. She may well give me twins.

Ryder turned from the window and swigged more brandy. I forgot, Douglas. Theres also Nancy.

Douglas dropped the paper. Nancy who?

Nancy Arbuckle, the drapers daughter on High Street in Rye. Shes with child, my child. She will have it in November, best guess. She was all tears and woes until I told her she neednt worry, that the Sherbrookes always took care of their own. Its possible she might even wed a sea captain for he isnt concerned that shes carrying another mans child.

Well, thats something. Douglas did a new tally then looked up. Youre currently supporting seven children and their mothers. You have impregnated two more women and all their children are due this year.