"From Jeremy. It just arrived an hour ago. He is well and enjoying his studies." She picked up the two pages to look at them again.
Ryder grabbed them and began to read. Soon he was nodding and smiling. "Good. He thrashed that wretched little bully, old Tommy Mullard's son. Tommy was always a coward, big mouth and all threats, until one simply slammed one's fist into his lard belly. You see, Sophie, I was right to teach Jeremy how to fight mean and dirty. I even taught him how to kick with his lame foot. Lord, did he ever become good. Sinjun even played his adversary, poor girl. She had many bruises on her shins before he left for school. And don't be fooled, boys at school can be cruel. It's encouraged, unfortunately, you know, the old theory of toughening up our young aristocrats, making real little stiff-lipped soldiers out of them. But Jeremy is holding his own. It helps that he's the best rider at Eton." Ryder rubbed his hands together, such was his pleasure.
Sophie thought she would burst with love for him at that moment. He was a remarkable man, but the hint of someone actually saying it, giving him even a modicum of praise, made him turn red with embarrassment, and defensive to the point of yelling. She said only, "It also helps that he's part of the Sherbrooke family."
"Of course," Ryder said, and continued reading.
He had barely finished the letter when the door burst open and Sinjun came dashing in. The room seemed to lighten with her presence.
"My dear," Sophie said and quickly rose to give her sister-in-law a hug.
"Ah, Douglas and Alex are right behind me. I raced ahead so I could see you first. You both look wonderful. Is that a letter from Jeremy? I got one three days ago. He told me all about how he beat the stuffing out of this dolt bully, and—"
"Enough, brat! Hello, you two."
The Earl of Northcliffe strode into the room, his wife on his arm. "You won't believe what I have to tell you, Ryder. Oliver has quite impressed my steward and all my tenants. I took him around and introduced him to everyone, and you wouldn't believe his questions—intelligent and thoughtful, all of them. Jesus, I was so proud of him. And now he has no limp at all. Oh, hello, Sophie. You look well. Here's Alex."
Sophie could only laugh as she watched the shifting and myriad expressions on her husband's face.
"Oh, another thing," Douglas said before Ryder could vent his spleen, if venting were indeed what he had in mind, "Alex is pregnant. We will have a babe in May. What do you think about that?"
No one had time to think about anything. Alex turned suddenly very white, gasped, and looked helplessly up at her husband. "I can't believe you did this to me. I'm going to be sick."
She ran from the room. Douglas shook his head. "I hope she misses that beautiful Aubusson carpet," he said, and turned to run after her.
Ryder and Sophie looked at each other. Sinjun stared after her departed brother and sister-in-law. "Goodness, I don't know if I wish to ever have a babe. Alex is always being sick at the most inopportune times. I think I would prefer having another Bedlam House, like yours and Sophie's, Ryder."
"It's Brandon House," Ryder said. "After dear departed Uncle Brandon. Sophie says that it will speed his way from the depths of hell. She thinks he might even gain purgatory, but only if we use his money and not the money we earn ourselves."
"Alex is pregnant," Sophie said, bemused. "Just fancy that."
"It happens, you know, particularly when one and one's wife perform all the proper rituals. Oh yes, Sophie might be pregnant too," Ryder said, turning to his sister.
"That leaves only Tysen," Sinjun said. "Oh dear, he plans to marry that girl you can't stand, Ryder, you know, the one with two names—Melinda Beatrice— and no bosom. Then there's only me left."
"You have all the time in the world, brat."
They heard the unmistakable sounds of someone being vilely ill. "Yes," Sinjun said fervently, "I do have all the time in the world, thank God. Do you know that just last week Alex got ill right in front of Hollis. He never turned a hair. He said in that royal way of his, 'My lady, I do believe you should carry a handkerchief in the future.' He gave her his. Then he instructed that a covered chamber pot be placed in every room. He conducted Alex on a tour to show her where each one was located. Oh, congratulations, Sophie. You feel all right, don't you?"
"Of course. I won't get sick on your slippers. Thank you, Sinjun. But we don't know yet if it's true or not. Ryder is just being optimistic."
"Not optimistic. Her monthly flow is late, by four whole days."
"Ryder! Sinjun isn't yet sixteen!"
Sinjun only shrugged and looked very world-weary. "I have three brothers, Sophie, and two of them are outrageous. I can't be shocked, I don't think."
"As for you," Sophie said, turning back to face her husband, "you will mind your tongue in front of your sister."
"But I was going to tell her the story about the eccentric Mr. Hootle of Bristol who wed every woman who would have him. He had this compulsion, you see, and every time a woman smiled at him, he lost all judgment, and dropped down to his knees to propose."
"That," Sophie said with approval, "is quite a proper tale. You may continue. One hopes it becomes more edifying."
"Then one day when he was on his knees, one of his other wives came upon him and his soon-to-be-betrothed. The two women compared what they knew and were not pleased. They took him away to a small room, took all his clothes and locked him in. Then they sent in all these other women, two at a time, all naked as sin, to prance and parade in front of him, and the poor man was tied down so he couldn't fall to his knees and propose or do anything else—"
"Enough! You are dreadful." Sophie fell against him, laughing and kissing his chin.
Ryder looked fondly at the writing desk behind him. Sinjun sighed. "Well, I see I shan't get any more sensible conversation from either of you. I shall go see Jane and the children."