Catherine Coulter: Lyons Gate

She wanted desperately to go with him; she was his partner after all, but she knew deep in that well of knowledge she was convinced women were born with, that this was something he had to handle himself. She knew it was, simply, men dealing with men, drawing boundaries, meting out retribution for breaking rules.

“What about Elgin and Charles Grandison?”

“I’ll be sending a message over to Lord Grimsby, asking him to have them there when I arrive, if, that is, Mr. Clooney has answers for me.”

Hallie said, “I wonder if all three of them paid to have Kindred and Potter shoot Lorry.”

He smiled. “ Elgin doesn’t have any money. Would Charles do that? I wouldn’t have thought so.” She never looked away from his stern face, so beautiful in the morning sunlight streaking through the window that she wanted to weep. Or swoon, like Cook, and sing arias.

She said, “Will you take Potter and Kindred with you to confront Lord Grimsby?”

“No,” Jason said, “it’s not necessary.” He strode to her, leaned down to kiss her mouth, and gave her a blinding smile. “I’m going to nail his butt to the stable door.”

“Whose?”

Jason laughed, patted her cheek.

“Master Jason.”

“Yes, Petrie? You’re still here, watching everything?”

“Certainly, it is my duty. I wished to say that your boots shine much brighter this morning than the mistress’s.”

Jason looked at his face in his shiny boots presented to him that morning by Petrie.

“It is my opinion, sir, that her use of anise seed is overrated.”

Jason said to Hallie, “I told Petrie to write to Old Fudds and find out the exact measurement since I doubted you would tell him.”

“That’s true,” Hallie said. “Still, you did well, Petrie.”

Petrie preened.

“Ah, listen. I hear Cook singing, and that means she’s scrambling your eggs as we speak, with just a pinch of thyme, the way you like them. Are you coming back to eat them?”

“Hallie,” he said. “Do you know that last night I realized how simply saying your name-Oh, Petrie, are you still lurking? Go see to Mr. Clooney’s comfort. I will be along in a moment. Go. As I said-merely mentioning your name, even in passing, makes me feel warm all the way to my heels.”

“I’m very glad about that. Oh, the devil. I’ll tell you, why not? I love you, Jason Sherbrooke, even though Cook will never scramble eggs specially for me like she does for you.”

She loved him? It amazed him, nearly brought him to his knees, nearly pulled a shout of pleasure right out of his mouth. He said, “I don’t deserve it.”

“Possibly not, but what am I to do? It’s there, deep inside me, this love for you, and I know it will never go away. You don’t have to say anything, Jason. Tell Cook that you’re bequeathing your lovely scrambled eggs to me this morning.”

“It’s done.” He gave her another quick hard kiss on her mouth, and was gone.

When Cook came into the dining room a few minutes later, Hallie said, “Master Jason said I could eat his eggs.”

Mrs. Millsom nodded sadly. “Yes, the beautiful young master apologized to me, told me it was not to be.”

She looked ready to burst into tears.

“He is meeting with a man right this minute, Mrs. Millsom or I know he would be here.”

But Cook wasn’t listening. She carried the plate of scrambled eggs in her arms like a baby, walked to the windows and looked out. When she saw the master striding toward the stables, she shouted at the top of her lungs, “Master Jason, come back before your eggs disappear down the mistress’s gullet! Bring the scrawny little man with you!”

Hallie heard him shout back, “Mrs. Millsom, please let the mistress eat my eggs this morning. She’s very possibly with child and I want my heir to grow big and strong.”

Mrs. Millsom whipped about to stare at her.

Hallie shrugged. “One never knows. Give me the eggs, Mrs. Millsom. The last thing we want is a paltry heir.”

“Eat them all mistress. Soon now you’ll be puking up your innards in the mornings.”

“That is not a happy thought, Mrs. Millsom.”

Two hours later, Jason rode Dodger up the curving, oak-canopied drive to Lord Grimsby’s manor house, Abbott Grange. He imagined lengthening the drive to Lyon ’s Gate, perhaps adding a couple of curves for interest, and planting oaks like these. In twenty years or so there would be a canopy of thick green leaves over their heads as well. His father was right. The future looked remarkably fine to him too. He wondered if Hallie was indeed carrying his child. Very possibly, he thought, very possibly indeed. He grinned like a fool and whistled one of the duchess’s ditties.

It was a warm day, the sun bright and strong overhead, wild roses bloomed over stone fences, and sweat made his shirt stick to his back. He saw a single peacock sweeping about on the front lawn, tail feathers spread, and wondered where the recipient of all this glory was hiding. Peahens, he knew, were notoriously fickle.

He left Dodger in the care of a stable lad he’d seen at the Beckshire race. The lad looked nervous, understandably so, given he had to know Jason held Kindred. Jason leaned close. “You must be quite shorthanded since I have both Kindred and Potter. You’ll take good care of Dodger, won’t you, lad?”

“Oh yes, sir, yes I will. He’s a lovely boy, strong teeth he’s got, and the Devil’s eyes.”

“You mean he’s got mean eyes?”

“Oh no, sir, he’s got eyes that see every sin a man’s ever committed.”

“I trust he won’t see you commit any sins.” Jason patted Dodger’s neck. He watched the lad give Dodger a carrot while he hummed at him in a lovely deep voice.

Lord Grimsby’s butler, a droopy-eyed old man who looked ready to sink to the floor in a stupor, looked Jason up and down and said in the booming young voice, “I don’t see why my master is so afraid of you, young man. I imagine you smile and the angels sing, but who cares? Ever since the Beckshire races, you’ve fair to made him gibber like that idiot peacock.”

“Perhaps you will soon gibber as well,” Jason said, and gave him a smile meant to intimidate, which only made the old man say, “You’re right handsome, sir, too handsome, my master says. Lady Grimsby says his jealousy is pathetic.” He paused, cocked his head a moment. “Yes, I hear angels singing right this moment. Follow me, young sir, and let’s see if his lordship will see you.”

Jason grinned at the back of the butler’s bald head as he followed him to the drawing room. He lightly touched his hand to the old man’s arm. “You needn’t announce me. Allow me the pleasure.” Jason tapped once on the closed door and walked in.

He hummed with pleasure at the sight of Charles Grandison and Elgin Sloane, both sprawled in chairs, listening to Lord Grimsby. All three here and accounted for. Since they’d gotten here quickly, it meant they were worried. When they turned toward him, their expressions were identical-boys caught stealing the vicar’s sacramental wine.

“Good morning, gentlemen. I am pleased Lord Grimsby got you here so very quickly.”

“Yes,” Lord Grimsby said, not rising from his chair. He looked wary and ill-tempered. Well, in all fairness, he had been two stable hands short for nearly a week.

“Let me say first of all, my lord, that Kindred is fine, at least for the moment.”

“Kindred did you say? I fired Kindred a number of months ago. I don’t know who he’s working for now. But not me. Now see here, Jason-”

Jason smiled. “Hello, Charles. Elgin. I can see that the three of you are very intent on some project.”

Charles said, “May I ask what your wife is doing to poor Kindred?”