Alex said, “You don’t know your history, Gray. You’re thinking the way most men think.” She looked at her husband, then loudly cleared her throat. “Actually, King Edward—unlike most men—loved his wife, Eleanor, more than anyone on this earth. It’s said that when she was dying, he was frantic, offering himself in her place, anything to spare her—unlike most men, I daresay. He, I might add, also adored his wife physically, sometimes even leaving his counsel chamber in the middle of the day to go to his wife. Unlike you, Douglas, who haven’t come out of your estate room to hunt me down in more days that I can count, at least on those days that you’ve even been home and not out spending weeks away from me and refusing to tell me where you’d been or where you were going the next time. It is clear that you no longer love me. It is even clearer that you prefer to forget that I even exist.”
“Bosh,” said Douglas. “You’re hugging conclusions to your ample bosom that have no more reality than a bad dream.”
Alexandra Sherbrooke, small and delicate as a Dresden shepherdess, as sumptuously endowed as a Rubens model, topped with red hair more vibrant than an Irish sunset, yelled at the top of her lungs to her large, dark husband, who towered over her like a prize bull over a heifer, “You want a blond hussy who’s as big as you are, Douglas? You want to feed Gunther’s ices to a brawny trollop who can look you right in the eye? You’re weary of someone half your size? Well, you don’t have to be.”
Alex pulled a chair up right in front of her husband, jumped on it, and stared down at him. “There, does this give you pleasure, Douglas? Am I tall enough for you now?”
“I can look straight ahead right into your damned cleavage,” the earl of Northcliffe said, his wife’s bosom at his eye level.
“Er, Jack, can I get up now?”
“If you keep your distance, perhaps it will be safe enough.” Jack gave him her hand, her eyes never leaving the spectacle of the earl and countess, who were waging a very interesting war in her drawing room. Then she drew her hand back. “No, Gray, I believe you’d best remain there a while longer. It’s probably the safest spot in the room. Do you think I should order some tea or something?”
But Gray wasn’t listening to her. He was staring at Douglas. “No, Douglas,” Gray said under his breath, “no, don’t do that, Douglas. I strongly recommend you forget that idea immediately.” It was going to happen. Gray yelled, “No, Douglas, don’t do that.”
But the earl paid him no heed.
He leaned forward and kissed the top of his wife’s breasts.
23
ALEXANDRA SHERBROOKE screeched, flew at her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck. She hung off him until he clasped his hands about her waist and gently set her on the floor.
Jack said, louder now, “Would you like some tea, Alex? Douglas?”
Douglas Sherbrooke looked over at his host and hostess and began to laugh. “Do forgive us. Normally we are quite comfortable guests.”
Alex grabbed her husband’s big hand and bit his thumb. “You may laugh, and jest about all of this, even try to shove me under the carpet, Douglas, but it won’t work. I will not allow you to betray me with that dreadful Helen woman. I won’t change my mind on this. You will not consider it, Douglas. I don’t care how big and how beautifully strong she is.”
“For God’s sake, Alex, I didn’t betray you. I wouldn’t betray you.” This time he did pick her up, bringing her nose to nose with him. “You will cease this jealous display.”
“And after you took her to Gunther’s and fed her two ices—yes, two!—you took her in your phaeton all around the park.”
“Who the hell told you that?”
“Heatherington told me. He wanted to know who the blond goddess was who was laughing and sitting nearly on your lap and had you ready to lick her palm, blast you.”
“Heatherington,” Douglas said to Jack, “is a man so steeped in debauchery he isn’t happy unless he can claim another man is just as low as he is. Alex, he was baiting you, nothing more.” He finally set her down. “He enjoys baiting you because you won’t ever let him seduce you. It’s a game with him, nothing more.”
Alex took a step back. “I have decided what to do,” she said, flinging her arms out to include both Gray and Jack. “Yes, I have decided that I shall go riding in the park myself this afternoon. No, it’s already afternoon. I shall ride tomorrow morning in the park. I won’t be by myself. I shall be accompanied by a gentleman who will look ready to lick my palm. I will spend the remaining part of this afternoon searching out such a gentleman. I will discover where Heatherington lives. I wonder if he’s as knowledgeable in matters of the flesh as you are, Douglas. Good-bye, Gray, Jack. Congratulations on your marriage. I’m sorry that marriage is the very devil.”
Alexandra Sherbrooke grabbed her cloak and her small straw bonnet with a cluster of grapes cleverly perched on the edge of it and marched out of the drawing room.
They stood frozen, listening to Quincy, who was rushing to the front door, gasping, he was speaking so quickly, “No, my lady, surely you don’t wish to leave just yet. Why, I haven’t been asked yet to fetch tea or other interesting delicacies from Mrs. Post. She makes a marvelous almond pastry that would make you smile if you took but a single bite and—”
The front door slammed and Quincy trailed off into silence.
“Yes,” Douglas said slowly, “congratulations on your marriage.”
Gray, who was still sprawled on his fallen chair, said, “Thank you, Douglas.”
“I believe I’ll go home now and see my little girl. She looks exactly like me. She’s nearly three years old now and adores me, unlike her twin brothers who look exactly like Melissande and adore me as well. That’s Alex’s sister,” Douglas added to Jack. “She’s so beautiful your teeth ache and your tongue falls from your mouth just looking at her. And now my two bright boys must share that same appalling beauty. They will be uncontrollable when they become men. No female will be safe from them.”
Douglas sighed, looked thoughtfully toward the dark afternoon sky beyond the bow windows, and said over his shoulder as he was leaving, “I hope Alex doesn’t find Heatherington today and bully him into taking her to the park. It will rain soon. Actually, he would go willingly with her. I hear that Heatherington prefers the weather to be dreary so it will match his dark soul.”
“Goodness,” Jack said so
me moments later, after Douglas Sherbrooke had left. “That was an adventure. It was much more exciting than a play. And it was free, right in our drawing room. Do they perform such spectacular dramas often?”