The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5 Read Free Page B

sort of brotherly sermon, or at least a caveat on her reading habits. Before hecould think of anything relevant to say, Sinjun continued thoughtfully, “When I went upstairs around midnight, I saw this light beneath the door to the countess’s chamber, next to yours. I opened the door as quietly as I could and there she was, standing by the bed, all dressed in white, and she was crying very softly. She looked just like all the stories have described. She was very beautiful, her hair long and straight to her waist and so blond it was almost white. She turned and looked at me, and then she simply vanished. Before she vanished, I swear that she wanted to say something.”
    “It was turnips,” Douglas said. “You forgot you ate them. I cannot credit the ghost. No intelligent person would credit a spiritual phenomenon.”
    “That is because you haven’t seen her and you don’t trust a female to report the unvarnished truth. You prefer vegetables for an explanation.”
    “Turnips, Sinjun, turnips.”
    “Very well, but I did see her, Douglas.”
    “Why is it that only women see her?”
    Sinjun shrugged. “I don’t know if it is only women she’s appeared to. All past earls who have written about her have claimed it to be only women, but who really knows? In my experience, gentlemen aren’t inclined to admit to anything out of the ordinary. They won’t take the risk of looking foolish, I suppose.”
    Douglas continued, as sardonic as could be. “Your experience, hm? So you think our Virgin Bride was standing over the bed, bemoaning the intactness of her maidenhead, knowing that her bridegroom would never come? Thus she was doomed never to become a wife and a mother?”
    “Perhaps.”
    “More likely the chit remarried within a year, bore sixteen children like every good sixteenth-century woman did, and died of old age, hair straggly and gray, and no teeth in her mouth.”
    “You’re not at all romantic, Douglas.” Sinjun turned to watch a hawk fly close overhead, its wings wide and smooth, a beautiful sight. She then gave Douglas a smile that was dazzling in its pleasure. It shocked him. She was a little girl, only fifteen, and this wondrous natural smile gave promise of the woman she would become. Actually, he realized, it scared the hell out of him.
    “But I did see her, Douglas, and others have as well. You know there was a young lady whose husband of three hours was murdered and she killed herself when she heard the news. She was only eighteen. She loved him so very much she couldn’t bear to live without him. It was tragic. It was written down in full detail by Audley Sherbrooke, the First Earl of Northcliffe. Even Father wrote of her once.”
    “I know, but you can be certain I shan’t write a word about that nonexistent phantom. It is drivel and all reported by hysterical females. You can be certain that your Virgin Bride will end her ceaseless meanderings with me. Doubtless all our ancestors did their recounting during long winters, when they were bored and sought to amuse themselves and their families.”
    Sinjun merely shook her head at him, touching her fingers to his coat sleeve. “There is no reasoning with you. Did I tell you? My friends—Eleanor and Lucy Wiggins—they’re both in love with you. They whisper and giggle and say in the most nauseating way imaginable that they would swoon if only you wouldsmile at them.” Then, after that girlish confidence, she added, “You are a natural leader, Douglas, and you made a difference in the army just as you’re making a difference here. And I did see the Virgin Bride.”
    “I hope that may be true. As for you, too many turnips and lewd Greek plays. Oh, and give Eleanor and Lucy another couple of years and it will be Ryder who will draw their female swoons and sighs.”
    “Oh dear,” Sinjun said, her brow furrowing. “You must make Ryder promise not to seduce them for he’ll find it an easy task because they’re so silly.” Sinjun fell