Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet (39 page)

“What do you want from me?” It surprised Ashton that Averette did not deny his accusations; in reality, the baron had been fishing for information, spouting theories he had built over the years.

“I have not totally deduced why you are so outspoken against Thornhill, but I will,” the baron warned. “For now, you will withdraw your objection to His Grace’s plight to marry Velvet. You and I will give our joint permission for the union. Secondly, you will turn over guardianship of Cashémere to me. I have heard my sister’s child spout words of hatred and disdain, and I will have none of it.”

Averette stammered, “You mean...mean to take...to take Cashémere from me?”

“I mean to remove Chenille’s daughter from the sect that you choose to follow. We will tell everyone that you and I believe the twins should share a Season together and to expedite that you are allowing Cashé to stay with me.”

“And if I do not agree?” a twinge of coldness laced through his words.

“I have several options. I can turn over to the British government what evidence I have collected as a private citizen. I can support His Grace’s case involving Velvet’s guardianship: a British duke and a British baron versus a British-born Scottish citizen in a British court. Who do you suppose will win? Or I could go public with what I know of your business dealings. I am certain your parish might object to how much money you make off each of your charitable projects.”

“I believe this conference is at an end.” Averette stood suddenly, obviously upset with the baron’s accusations. He stormed to the door.

Ashton did not even look up. “As you wish, Aldridge.”

*

“Has anyone seen Viscount Averette?” Bran asked at the breakfast table. “The man is normally an early riser, and I have been up since seven–took Daniel riding at eight.”

Ella brought a fruit plate and toasted dark bread to the table for Lady Linworth. It had become somewhat of a tradition for them since the day Eleanor accepted James Kerrington’s proposal and broke the news at the breakfast table. “Thank you for seeing to Daniel, Bran.” Ella touched Lady Linworth’s shoulder in affection, and the woman patted the back of Ella’s hand.

Bran watched with satisfaction. Ella needed a mother, and from the beginning, Kerrington’s family had accepted his sister. “As Kerrington brings my child to Derby, it is the least I could do.”

Baron Ashton strolled into the room. He rejoined the party last evening, but Lord Averette had withdrawn. No one knew the results of the baron’s conversation with the Scottish viscount. “Good morning, Your Grace.” He bowed to the women. “Lady Linworth, you look well today, as do you Lady Worthing.”

“Thank you, Your Lordship. I hope you slept well.”

“I did, Countess.” He helped himself to a plate from the sidebar.

Within a quarter hour, the room streamed with life and conversation. Everyone enjoyed the repast. Velvet and Satiné spoke of new clothing and fashion. The baron and Lady Linworth discussed mutual friends and Martin Kerrington’s plans for a new mill. Carter Lowery filled Ella in on what happened in Cornwall. Bran, Wellston, and Lexford planned a hunting party for later in the fall. So, no one noticed Cashé Aldridge’s appearance in the morning room doorway at first, but then Velvet looked up and gasped.

Tears smudged Cashé’s face and her hair had not been combed for the day. It streamed down her back. As the room fell silent, she demanded, “Which of you did this?” She held a letter aloft. “Which one of you drove him away?”

Velvet came forward. “Cashé, of what do you speak?”

“This!” she accused.

Everyone else remained suspended, but Velvet slid her arm around her sister. “Come, sit down, and tell us what happened.”

Cashé shrugged off her sister’s hand. “Do not touch me. It is your fault–yours and the Fowlers. You drove Uncle Samuel away. He left for Scotland this morning.”

Bran breathed a sigh of relief: Viscount Averette had withdrawn. He and Velvet could marry without any more obstacles.

Tears consumed the girl. “He left me.” She wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “What will I do now?”

Baron Ashton approached and gathered the girl into his arms, sliding his handkerchief in her hand as he did so. “Once your sister marries the duke, you will return to Manchester with Satiné and me. Your Uncle Samuel did not desert you, my Dear. He and I spoke of a Season for you and Satiné in the spring. It was a practical move; plus, Samuel missed his wife and his daughter. Everything will be well, Child.” Cashé now sobbed audibly. “Let Velvet take you to your room and assist you in dressing for the day,” he whispered close to her ear. Without making an issue of it, the baron eased the letter from Cashé’s hand and slipped it into his pocket. Only Bran took note of the move. Everyone else simply observed the girl’s misery.

Once Velvet led Cashé away, the baron plastered a smile on his face and turned to the table. “I apologize; it seems my discussion with the viscount spurred the man to action. Unfortunately, it was not executed as I had hoped, but the result will remain the same. The girls are in my care now, and I most hardly agree to His Grace’s proposal for Velvet.”

Lexford and Wellston slapped Bran on the back, offering their immediate well wishes. Ella came around the table to hug him. Bran accepted all their congratulations, but he wondered about what the baron had done to convince Averette to leave, and especially to leave Cashémere Aldridge behind. For years, Bran had admired Ashton for his gentlemanly nature, but suddenly he saw the man as a worthy adversary. He thanked his stars that Charles Morton was on his side.

“Let us have a private party this evening,” Lady Linworth observed. “A celebration of my son’s safe homecoming and a recognition of another marriage at Linton Park.”

*

In the late afternoon, Thomas Whittington’s small coach rolled into the Linton Park circle, and Eleanor scurried down the stairs and out the door to greet her husband. It had been nearly a fortnight since he left with Carter Lowery to lead a rescue of their niece. Worthing unfolded his large frame from the carriage and turned to accept an open-armed Eleanor into his embrace. “Finally,” she breathed close to his ear. “Finally, you are here.”

Kerrington lowered his mouth to her upturned one. “I have missed you so much.” He kissed her again.

A split second behind her, Bran scooped his daughter from the carriage’s open door and swung her around in total disregard to her deportment.

“Papa,” she giggled aloud as she clung tightly to his neck.

From the steps, Velvet and Cashé waited together. “Such displays show a lack of good breeding,” Cashé murmured close to her sister’s ear. “Are you certain you wish to align yourself to such a family?”

“Such displays demonstrate love. And do I want love in my life? Absolutely!” Velvet walked away to join Bran and Sonali. He opened his arms and brought her into his circle.

“Cousin Velvet.” Sonali continued to giggle as Bran tossed her into the air. “I was as brave as Scheherazade.”

“So was I, Love.” She took Sonali from Bran to carry her into the house.

The girl slid her arms around Velvet’s neck. “Uncle James says you will be my new mama.”

Velvet caressed the child’s face. “I hope that is acceptable to you.”

“Oh, yes, I want a mama of my very own.” The girl clung tighter to Velvet.

Bran watched them go as he stopped to greet James Kerrington. “How do I thank you? You brought Ella happiness. Now, you risk your life to save my child. I am eternally in your debt.”

“It is nothing that you would not do for me. Having Ella as my wife is more than ample repayment, but we shall not keep tabs. You are family, and family takes care of each other.”

“I fear Ella and I are just learning to recognize what truly makes a family. We held no real models until we aligned ourselves with you, my Friend.”

Ella caught both men’s hands, walking between them. “Come, we have two events to celebrate and a houseful of guests.”

“The woman is ever practical,” Kerrington spoke to Bran over her head.

“You asked for a strong-willed woman,” Bran teased. Both men ignored her tug on their arms.

Kerrington smiled mischievously. “But could you not have taught her some spontaneity?”

“I shall show you spontaneity!” Ella took their bait: She twirled herself into his arms. “Let us dance, my Lord.”

Kerrington barked out a laugh. “As you wish, my Lady.” He stepped into a waltz and led her through a whirling rotation, spinning her into Bran’s arms, who took his sister through a complicated turn and through the open doorway before depositing her once more in Worthing’s embrace. Laughter filled the house as the three of them walked arm-in-arm to the nearest drawing room. They would know happiness at last.

*

Twelve adults and two children sat to supper that evening. A loud and boisterous group, they spoke over each other as they considered the events leading to the latest wedding at Linton Park. Finally, the earl tapped on the table to draw everyone’s attention. He stood shakily, but his voice remained strong. “Nearly a decade ago my son James suffered a great loss and required time to right his world. So, despite the fact that we feared for his safety, we allowed him to leave us, knowing keeping him at Linton Park would not serve James well. During those years that he remained away, he formed friendships of which we take pride this evening. Each of the men sitting at this table, with the exception of the baron and me served our country together in the worst of times, and each did so for his own private reason.

“That allegiance has blessed our lives by giving James his Eleanor, a woman who brings life to our son and to his son. Now, we weave the ropes that bind us further. Eleanor’s brother Brantley and her cousin Miss Aldridge have declared their love and will bring additional happiness to this house. If I am not mistaken, they will take their vows in our family chapel next week.”

A round of “Here–here” resonated throughout the room before the earl continued.

“I will extend the use of Linton Chapel to the rest of James’s unit when they are ready to follow in our son’s and His Grace’s footsteps.” He stopped to catch his breath, and both Ella and Camelia Kerrington automatically reached for him, but the Earl of Linworth prevailed. “So, tonight we celebrate the upcoming marriage of Brantley and Velvet. I wish you the kind of happiness I have known with my countess.” He clasped Camelia’s hand. “We also celebrate the continuation of the Kerrington line. We have our Daniel, and Georgina has her Baby Eleanor. In the early winter, Ella will give us the next of our family. I ask you to raise your glasses to James and Eleanor and to His Grace and Miss Aldridge.”

The men rose to their feet and each raised his glass of wine to his lips. They interwove their lives years ago when they chose to serve the Realm. Symbolically, that dedication was a cord unbroken by civilian life.

Chapter 20

The following morning, Bran rode to Nottingham to purchase the special license they had needed for the ceremony. Velvet spent the day with a local seamstress in a fitting for her wedding dress. The seamstress, thrilled to be fitting a future duchess, fawned over everything Velvet said or did. Bran ordered her a complete wardrobe as her best remained in Edinburgh. Baron Ashton, likewise, ordered new items for Satiné and Cashémere. The local village benefited greatly from the latest wedding at Linton Park. Bran sent word to their Aunt Agatha, who had retreated to her son’s estate some twenty miles from Linworth when Bran shut down Briar House during the Season. Everyone that he considered as “family” would witness his joining. Everyone else, especially the
haute ton
, did not matter.

*

Although he had previously partaken of some intimacies by sneaking into Velvet’s room after the rest of the household slept, for six long days and nights, Bran had waited patiently for his wedding. It had taken a Herculean effort, but he had waited, knowing it was important to Velvet’s sensibilities for their not anticipating their wedding night. Of course, he could have seduced her–her declaration to him said she would participate willingly, but he had felt the need to show her his devotion by waiting to consummate their love.

Despite avoiding thoughts of the possibilities, Bran had suspected that Kerrington and Ella had not waited, but he would never criticize his friend for “ruining” Eleanor. Ella had needed to know love to give herself freedom–to leave behind the life she had led as a child. She had thirsted for it–had craved love enough to make poor choices as a young woman. Kerrington knew Ella, probably better than Bran did, and the man had successfully taught Bran’s sister to become an integral part of the Linworth family–something that she had never known with their own namesakes. With James Kerrington, Eleanor had risen from the dead.

Yet, with Velvet he had needed a different approach. She would be his duchess–for those not born to the royal family, the closest thing to a princess found in English society. She had fantasized about the Cinder Maid and her prince–and like the maid of the story, Velvet had held a survivor’s instinct mixed with innocence. For many years, all Bran had seen was the innocence, but now he knew her to possess resiliency, as well. However, he also understood that she needed to come to him in all her purity, and he would wait to truly know her.

The night before the wedding, Bran met privately with Kerrington regarding his suspicions about Baron Ashton. “I do not think the baron has done anything wrong,” he told Worthing, “but he possesses information on Lord Averette. I have no idea how he managed to do in less than thirty minutes what none of us could do for all our reasonable arguments. And Averette left both Velvet and Cashémere behind; it does not add up. I am certain Ella told you of Cashé’s tearful breakfast entrance.”

“She did,” Kerrington confided.

Bran paced the room. “The baron took Averette’s letter from the crying Cashémere and pocketed it.”

“What do you want to do about it?”

“Let us bring Shepherd in. The baron knows something about Averette–something that sent the viscount hightailing it to Scotland, and I suspect something illegal is going on. I truly have nothing to go on but intuition.”

“And we have always listened to those instincts.”

“Exactly.”

Kerrington took up his pen. “Let me send something off to the Home Office right away. If Averette is involved in something not on the up and up, then we need to know, and if the baron plays a dangerous game, Wellston and Lexford should be made aware. They invest their interests in the Aldridge twins.”

In agreement with Worthing, Bran waited for his brother in marriage to begin the letter before asking, “Do you suppose one of them will follow us to the altar?”

Kerrington, engrossed in his writing, mumbled, “It would please me to see each of you settled.”

“You are the old man of us,” Bran teased.

“Old man!” Kerrington shot back. “I may be the oldest, but I am far from having a foot in the grave. I have many years ahead of me–years of loving your sister I might remind you.”

“That is not a picture with which I am comfortable–the concept brings satisfaction, just not the image of it,” Bran confessed before becoming very serious. “Would you have thought all those years ago–on the Continent–that any of us could have found happiness?”

“I thought happiness had come and gone for me when I lost Elizabeth, but I always imagined each of you would know a different life from the ones you left behind. There was a time I had thought ours an exclusive unit, unique in the way we met, and the way we came together; but then Thomas Whittington courted and won Georgina’s heart. On just this last adventure, we met Baron Ashton and Lucien Simms, both former Realm. We are many in number, and most have found their civilian lives fulfilling. We must remember that when we consider our futures.”

“Then it is time for me to follow the others into a new life.” Bran settled into one of the wing chairs.

“It is time, my Friend.”

*

The vicar, robed and regal, stood at the front of the church awaiting Velvet’s appearance, and then she was there on the baron’s arm and coming toward Bran. A pure white dress, similar to the one she had worn at her Come Out ball, clung closely to her deceptive curves. Fashionably high waisted, the dress cut low across her bust line; with short sleeves and a scalloped hemline, it sported a deep purple ribbon trim. White lace gloves and a bonnet trimmed with matching ribbons and a lilac mesh veil finished her look. She wore a strand of white pearls loaned to her by Lady Linworth and pearl pins in her coal black hair.

Bran felt himself gulp for air. For nights on end on the Continent, he had dreamed of this day–had seen her coming toward him before–had wanted her beside him from the time she came to stay with them at Thorn Hall. It was what he had wanted all his life, and now Velvet would be his. Thirty minutes later, they signed the registry: Brantley William Fowler and Velvet Elaine Aldridge Fowler–husband and wife.

A wedding breakfast, supervised expertly by Ella and Lady Linworth, brought the congratulations and well wishes of all their friends, except Crowden and Swenton, who were on assignment for the Home Office: a shipment of opium from the Orient and a trail to follow to the supplier. England was no longer at war, but it was still not safe from “invaders.”

*

Bran asked Lowery to escort Mrs. Carruthers and Sonali to Kent, and after an emotional farewell, he assisted Velvet into his large coach. They would travel to Bath before returning to Thorn Hall.

“Well, my Duchess,” he slid from the rear-facing seat to sit beside her, “are you happy?”

“Oh, Bran, it was a dream come true. The chapel was the perfect setting: beautiful stained glass windows and intimate company. I felt like the princess I always wanted to be. Thank you.” She tilted her head to rest on his shoulder. “I love you,” she whispered as she offered her mouth to him.

The intimacy of his hand sliding leisurely up and down her arm and the slow, tender kiss she offered created images of Velvet lying across his bed. He deepened the kiss, invading her mouth with his tongue, feeling the desire build in his chest. “You are mine,” he growled into her ear. “I am uncertain that I can wait much longer for those words to be completely true.” He nuzzled behind her ear. Raw desire raced through him. “We are stopping at the next inn.”

“Yes,” she agreed, a husky catch in the word.

He tilted her chin where he might kiss her again. Bran’s arms came about her–angling his head–his open mouth fully claiming hers–teasing Velvet’s lips apart–invading the soft recesses of her mouth. A groan escaped from the back of his throat.

Velvet leaned closer, pressing herself to him, her fingers creeping up Bran’s chest and around his neck. His kiss enflamed the fire. Bran had kissed her passionately before, but not like this. Now, he held nothing back. When he lifted his head, his eyes spoke of his need before his mouth spoke the words. “I have waited my whole life to make love to you.”

“Then tell Mr. Marshall where to stop.”

Bran rapped on the coach’s ceiling and gave the orders. Then he cradled Velvet in his arms and simply held her to him.

Within the hour, Marshall found a simple inn near Burton upon Trent.

“May I be of service, Sir?” The innkeeper rushed forward to greet them.

“My Duchess and I require a room for the evening.” Bran possessively placed Velvet’s hand on his arm.

“Certainly, Your Grace. Right away, Sir.” The innkeeper turned to the registry. “We are honored by your patronage, Sir.”

“We will require your best room and a bottle of wine and an evening meal. Hot water for a bath also.”

Velvet touched his arm. “Take the bath after the meal, Bran,” she said softly, a bit embarrassed with the idea of being alone in an inn with him.

“You heard the Duchess,” Bran perversely ordered, taking pleasure in seeing Velvet so honored.

“Absolutely, Your Grace. If you will follow me, Sir.” The man ignored a call from one of the locals for another drink as he led them to a room at the back of the inn, away from the noise–one with a private sitting room. “I will send up the wine immediately, Your Grace.”

“Tell the girl to leave it in the sitting room. I do not wish my duchess disturbed. She requires her rest.”

The innkeeper bowed from the room to which he conducted them. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Velvet audibly laughed at Bran. “If the innkeeper said
Your Grace
one more time or you said
my duchess
again, I would have exploded with mirth.” She walked about the room examining the accommodations, while removing her outerwear–tossing it on the nearest chair.

“I like saying
my duchess
,” he taunted. “Do not tell me you are ashamed of the title. Do you not want everyone to know of your status?”

She took on a seductress stance before sashaying towards him, purposely swinging her hips as she did that evening in Sonali’s room when she had danced with the silk veils. “I only care that you are aware of my status as your wife.” Velvet slid her arms around Bran’s neck and pulled herself into him.

Bran’s hunger grew as he watched Velvet move into his embrace–her derriere swished enticingly from side to side. Her closeness set his manhood into action. He could feel her warm breath caressing his cheek, and the violet, nearly translucent heat of her eyes, smoldered with desire. “I plan to make love to you,” he murmured. Velvet leaned into him, not understanding of what she asked. He lowered his mouth to hers, devouring her heat. When he raised his head again, he whispered, “Take down your hair.”

Although he did not release her completely, Bran loosened his hold. Velvet removed the pins and permitted her black tresses to drape over her shoulders. Bran’s fingers trailed through the thick locks, lifting the ends to his nose and inhaling the lilac she used as part of her soap. “I have thought of this moment for years.” Bran had always seen her as the most beautiful of women. “Exquisite,” he murmured. Her hair, thick and silky, was a midnight sky in the country.

As he kissed her neck and shoulder, he began to back Velvet toward the bed. “Will you let me undress you?” Both of her hands came into his possession.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He turned Velvet to unbutton the line of pearl drops down her back. His mouth followed his fingers, kissing and nibbling down her spine, feeling her shiver and relishing in his power over her. Bran lowered the garment from Velvet’s shoulders and let it slide to the floor. Then he loosened her stays and her corset, sending them somewhere behind him on the floor. Finally, she stood covered only in her chemise. “I repeat myself: exquisite.” He rested his hands on her upper arms and pulled Velvet backward against him.

Kissing her ear and her neck, Bran slid his hands about her, cupping her breasts in his large palms–lifting them upward to massage them tenderly. He nuzzled the point where her neck met her shoulder. She hissed in a sharp breath when his thumbs stroked her nipples, giving each a little squeeze. “I love you,” he sighed in delight. Bran reached down slowly to gather her chemise in his fists, pulling it upward, tantalizingly revealing her shapely legs, hips, waist, busts, and over her ivory shoulders and head.

Velvet stood before him, completely naked except for her stockings and garters–a very erotic picture. He was so hard he thought he might explode. Turning her to him, Bran lifted Velvet to the bed. A picture of her as such had played in his head for years, but that image fell short of the magnificence of the woman now before him.

He wanted to rip his clothes away, but by taking a few quick calming breaths, Bran managed to slow down his desperate need for her. Never removing his eyes from Velvet, he striped away his fitted coat and waistcoat, dropping them beside her dress. He unwrapped his neck cloth, tossing it behind him, and then pulled his shirt over his head. It followed the neck cloth.

Velvet watched him, totally engrossed with the picture. She had seen him thus dressed before, but the image of his muscular chest and slim waist now sent her breathing shallow–her chest rising and falling in anticipation. Her eyes grew wider as he sat to remove his boots and stockings and then lower his breeches and small clothes. Bran proudly stood before her–his erection an arrow with her as his target.