Sherbrooke Twins

Corrie came down beside him, and pressed herself to his side. She stroked her hand over his chest, his throat, his face. “James, it’s all right. I’m here. I won’t leave you. Everything will be all right, I swear it to you.”

He stopped muttering. She believed that he slept.

Corrie counted James’s money. There was enough. She spoke to Mrs. Osbourne, then gave the money and directions to the Sherbrooke London town house to an excited Freddie. The earl and countess were in Paris, but Jason was there. He’d be here as soon as he could. There was nothing more she could do but wait.

The next days passed with terrifying slowness. James was delirious, then he was in a stupor, lying so still she thought several times that he’d died. Corrie prayed until she was out of words, and then she prayed feelings, swearing to God that she would become an excellent person if only He would spare James.

There was no sign of Freddie.

She and Mrs. Osbourne rubbed James down with cold wet cloths until their hands cramped and turned blue and wrinkled. Dr. Flimmy came once again, examined James’s armpits at greater length this time, and a

Corrie didn’t understand this, but she’d grab at any straw. “Will he live, sir?”

“He’s better, miss, but will he live?” He didn’t answer his own question, accepted a pound note Corrie gave him from James’s coat pocket, drank a cup of warm milk, and allowed Mr. Osbourne to take him back home, since there was still no sign of Freddie. Something must have happened to him, Corrie knew it. Mrs. Osbourne walked around, tight-lipped, shaking her head. It was interesting though how she smiled whenever she looked at James.

The next afternoon, Corrie fell asleep, her head on James’s shoulder, when a loud moo woke her. She jerked up, so exhausted that it took her a moment to realize that there really was a cow standing in the open doorway. She heard men’s voices from just outside.

Was it Dr. Flimmy? No, probably neighbors here to buy milk. She placed her palm on James’s forehead. He was cool to the touch. She nearly wept with relief. The cow mooed again. She came up on her knees when Douglas Sherbrooke appeared in the doorway, right in front of the cow.

If it had been God standing there, his sight adjusting to the dim interior, she wouldn’t have been more ecstatic.

“Sir!” She dashed to him, throwing herself in his arms. “You’re here! I thought you were in Paris, but you’re not. You’re really here. Thank God, thank God. I thought Freddie had gotten himself lost. I thought maybe someone had killed him.”

Douglas held her close, patted her back. “It’s all right, Corrie. How is James?”

She heard the fear in his voice, and leaned back, smiling up at him. “The fever broke. He’s going to be all right.”

She stepped away and walked back to where James lay in front of the fireplace, his bed for the past three days.

Douglas dropped to his knees beside his boy. He studied the heavy beard on his face, the pallor of his skin, the hollowness of his cheeks.

He placed his palm on his son’s forehead. Nice and cool. He sat back on his heels. “Thank God.”

“James!”

Jason dashed through the front door, smacked his head on the lintel, and nearly knocked himself out.

“Dammit, Jason, don’t make me worry about both of you.”

Jason, rubbing his head, cursing, weaved slightly as he walked to where his brother slept. “It’s very hot in here.”

“Yes,” Corrie said. “It’s supposed to be. He’s had the fever, been so cold-” She swallowed, stared at Douglas, then at Jason, and burst into tears.

It was Jason who drew her against him, stroking her back, patting her head. “That dress is a fright, Corrie,” he said against her temple.

She sniffled, swallowed, and managed a small smile as she looked up at him. “It’s been so long, and I knew he was going to die, and I didn’t know what to do. And I sent Freddie off to London, to your house, but he never came back and-” She sniffled, then gri

“Yes, thank God and your excellent nursing,” Douglas said. “Freddie arrived this morning, not twelve hours after Alex and I did. He’d gotten himself lost and robbed. When he came to the front door, Willicombe nearly fainted at the sight of him. All Freddie could say before he collapsed was ‘James’.”

“Is Freddie all right now?”

Jason nodded. He looked toward his brother, nearly jumped out of his skin when Mrs. Osbourne shrieked, “Lawks and Lordie! There are two of ye. Mr. Osbourne, come and look at this. There are two beautiful lads, not just one.” And she opened the door from the kitchen back to the barn and disappeared.

Corrie said, “Mrs. Osbourne has very much enjoyed taking care of James, particularly when it came to washing him down with wet cold cloths. It isn’t just his face she admires.” Then she giggled, actually giggled. She stared up at Jason.

He was gri

James moaned and opened his eyes to see his father looking down at him.

“Hello, sir. Why aren’t you in Paris?”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DOUGLAS SHERBROOKE WAS so relieved, so very thankful, that he could only stare down at his son as he stroked his hand over the thick black stubble on his face, and finally accept in his gut that he was going to be all right. It did worry him that James’s eyes were still a bit glazed, a bit unfocused, but he knew that would change, James just needed time and rest. He leaned down and said, “Your mother sends her love. I nearly had to tie her up to keep her from coming with us, but I knew, as did she, that you didn’t need the both of us hovering around you.

“The fact is, we never got to Paris. Your mother claims the Virgin Bride came wafting into our bedchamber in Rouen, said you were in danger. We just arrived back in London last night.”

“They kidnapped me to get to you, sir.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true, but I know in my gut that this is more complicated than we thought. There were three men who took you?”

“Yes. Augie is their leader, Ben and Billy the other two, who weren’t really very smart. They were from London, which means that they’ve got to be known. Just maybe Remie will find out all about them. Willicombe can send him into the stews and down to the docks to hire more lads to find out what this is all about.”

“I’ll pass that along as soon as we get back to London. Actually, by now I think that all of London is looking for you and Corrie. Ah, James, I recognize that look-you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

James thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I could eat one of those damned mooing cows. They moo all the time, sir. I swear I could hear them mooing in the middle of the night.” He saw Jason with his arm around Corrie. “Jase, I’m glad you came. But I don’t understand how-”

Jason said, “We’ll tell you all about it after you’ve had something to eat. Where is Mrs. Osbourne?”

To Corrie’s surprise, Mrs. Osbourne was standing in the door of the sitting room, knotting her apron in her veiny old hands, looking-well, looking utterly intimidated. Corrie couldn’t blame her. Douglas Sherbrooke standing in the small sitting room was surely akin to a cardinal standing in the village church. Douglas, not stupid, rose and smiled at Mrs. Osbourne. He walked to her, took one of her hands as gently as he would take a duchess’s and raised it to his lips, just as James had done. “Mrs. Osbourne, my wife and I are very grateful for your kindness.”

“Oh, sir. Oh, dear, oh dear, yer lordship, it wasn’t much of anything, now was it, sir? Would ye look at me, all dressed in this old apron, with this even older gown beneath it, but I couldn’t take my gown away from Corrie, now could I, because she was wearing a ball gown that was all ripped up, really quite a mess, it was. Why I-”