The Sherbrooke Bride by Catherine Coulter Page A

she expected? That he would look at her and fall into raptures at the gift Tony had bestowed upon him? That he would compare her to Melissande and decide straightaway in her favor?That he would fall instantly and madly in love with her? That he would sing hallelujahs and donate his wealth to charities for what Tony had brought about? Or rather what her father had convinced her to do? Ah, her father . . . She remembered exactly what he’d said, how he’d begged her, pleaded with her, used her own feelings against her, how . . . Alexandra shook her head. No, it was on her head, no one else’s, all of it. If she had wanted to toe the line, had really wanted to refuse, her father wouldn’t have forced her to wed Douglas by proxy. But the money, he’d needed it so desperately, and he actually believed that the addition of both Douglas Sherbrooke and Anthony Parrish to the family would force his fatuous heir, Reginald, once he returned to England, to curb his wild, spendthrift ways.
    Ha! She was doing it again, trying to find reasons to convince herself that what she’d done was right and just and really marvelous. When, in fact, there were no good reasons at all. Douglas had been betrayed by his cousin and by Melissande and by her father. And by her. She’d been hoping, desperately hoping that his reaction when he learned about her would be different, but now Douglas had come home and reality had presented a furious face. It will be all right. You mustn’t give up. It will be all right. Her silly litany, Alexandra thought, climbing the stairs. Stupid and immature and . . .
    Melissande was waiting at the top of the stairs, clutching her hands spasmodically to her bosom.
    â€œWell?” she said without preamble. “Have they started fighting again? Have they drawn guns or their swords? Will they fight for me?”
    â€œAre you palpitating?”
    â€œNo, don’t be silly. What does that mean?”
    Alexandra only shook her head. Nastiness toward the bone of contention between the two men was unworthy. “He told me to go to bed,” she said, forcing all emotion from her voice.
    â€œYou knew this would happen, Alex. I warned you; I warned Father, but he talked you into going along with him. I warned Tony. All of you knew that Douglas wanted me desperately, not you. How could he ever want you or any other lady once he’d seen me? He doesn’t even remember you, does he?”
    Alexandra shook her head.
    â€œIt isn’t that I mind you being a countess, Alex, though you certainly won’t be happy being one. If your husband hates you, if he can’t bear to look at you, if he leaves the room when you enter, how then can you be happy? No, I’m the one who should be a duchess or a countess, but here I am only a viscountess. But it is what I chose, isn’t it? I chose Tony and he had no choice once I’d chosen him. Poor Alex! Poor Douglas! Are you certain Douglas isn’t trying to kill Tony again?”
    â€œHollis will control both of them.”
    â€œA butler giving the orders,” Melissande said. “I wouldn’t stand for it were I mistress here. It is beyond strange.”
    â€œYes,” Alexandra said as she passed by her sister. She said over her shoulder, very quietly, “He wants you, of course, you’re quite right about that. He probably will always want you.”
    Melissande smiled. “I told Tony the earl wouldn’t forgive him. I told him, yet he chose to disbelieve me. I have found that men do not always accept the truth even when it is presented to them with sincerity and candor. They always believe they can rearrange things to suit themselves.” Melissandepaused a moment, then marred her lovely forehead with a deep frown. “I begin to think now that perhaps I made a mistake. Tony isn’t the man I married. He wants to order me about, to treat me like a possession. He even