Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere (28 page)

Cashé thought to lie to him, but she needed an ally. “You will not tell anyone else?” she pleaded.

“As long as what you say does not put anyone in danger, I will keep your confidence.”

She swallowed hard. “Satiné and I came to an understanding of sorts before we departed Linton Park. Despite, Lord Lexford’s and Lord Yardley’s initial interest, we found ourselves attracted to the other suitor. As few can tell my twin and I apart physically, we devised a switch where we could learn more of each other. We have since traded places several times in the last few weeks, fooling everyone, even Uncle Charles.” She noted that Kerrington fought back a smile, which gave her confidence. “Today, Satiné pretended to be I. We thought Lord Lexford only found me attractive physically, but Satiné is my equal in that manner. If we could convince him to lost his heart to Satiné in my name, she and the viscount share much in common.”

“Poor Lexford,” Kerrington shook his head in disbelief. “Did he not suspect the apparent contrasts?”

Cashé smiled deviously. “I am afraid our ruse worked perfectly, which only proves His Lordship to be besotted in name only.”

“Is the earl aware of this plan? Has Wellston given his approval, or do you plan to fool him also?”

Cashé flushed in embarrassment. “I would not say that Lord Yardley approves, but His Lordship is aware of our scheme.”

“I cannot imagine Wellston willingly would seek to displace Lexford.”

“Of course, the earl would not betray his friend,” she defended Marcus. “He has expressed a resolve to remove himself from the situation rather than to hurt Lord Lexford. It is I who will not permit him to do so. Only Lord Yardley engages my heart.

“What an interesting twist of fate,” Kerrington remarked. “But it explains what I read in Yardley’s sudden concern for your well being.”

Again, Worthing’s words sent a shiver down Cashé’s spine. “His Lordship sent Mr. Breeson to warn me of Jamot’s household invasion. I knew before anyone else,” she confided.

Before Kerrington could respond, a knock announced the return of Mr. Lloyd. “Excuse me, Miss Aldridge.” The magistrate remained in the open doorway.

“Come in, Mr. Lloyd,” Cashé motioned as she came to her feet. “Mr. Lloyd, permit me to present my cousin Viscount Worthing.”

Kerrington rose stiffly. “My Lord,” Lloyd bowed. “I am pleased to see that Miss Aldridge’s family has come to her assistance.”

Kerrington returned the bow. “I assume, Sir, that you have news of importance to share.”

“Yes, my Lord.” He stepped further into the room. “I found a witness who saw the coach turning from the access road onto the main one.”

“A witness?” Kerrington gestured the man to a seat.

The magistrate removed his handkerchief to mop the sweat from his brow. “Mr. Tolley, the coachman for the late morning run, recalls the carriage. Said he noticed it because as his coach passed the small road, that he had worried that the man driving the other carriage might turn his coach into Tolley’s.”

“Did Mr. Tolley recognize the driver?” Kerrington questioned.

“Not that he recalled, Sir.” The magistrate appeared in his element. “Said the driver was a big man–not only tall, but with big shoulders.”

Kerrington shot a quick glance at Cashé. “Was he British?”

The magistrate appeared confused. “Do you mean did the driver appear to be an Englishman?” Kerrington nodded his affirmation. “Well, I do not likely know for certain, Lord Worthing. I did not think to ask, but I am relatively certain that if the man were a foreigner, Tolley would have mentioned it. Besides, I have discovered a name. The man rented the carriage at the inn.”

“And the name, Mr. Lloyd?” Kerrington pressed.

“Boyd Livingstone.” The man read from a piece of paper he removed from an inside pocket.

“Sounds British,” Kerrington remarked. Unable to control her response, Cashé blanched, turning completely white. She briefly met Worthing’s inquiring eyes before looking away. “At least, you have a solid lead, Mr. Lloyd. I assume you have sent riders to trail the coach as far as possible. We need to confirm that my wife’s cousin Miss Satiné was not on the coach.” Kerrington stood to bring the conversation to a close. “Mr. Tolley did not by some chance take note of Miss Aldridge’s sister, I presume.”

Mr. Lloyd rose also. “No, my Lord. Tolley said the coach appeared empty.” He bowed to Kerrington and then to Cashé. “I will see to the riders immediately, Lord Worthing.”

Kerrington walked the man to the door. “My cousin and I appreciate all you have done today. I plan to speak to the surgeon regarding Lord Lexford’s recovery and then to Ashton’s staff. I will call upon you, Mr. Lloyd, a bit later, if that is acceptable. It is coming up on nightfall.”

“Certainly, Lord Worthing.” The magistrate made a speedy exit.

Kerrington turned to find Cashé swaying in place–a tight grip on her chair’s back keeping her knees from buckling. Worthing caught her about the waist and assisted her to a seat. He knelt beside her. “Tell me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Who is Boyd Livingstone?”

“It is the name of Mr. Lachlan Charters’ grandfather. Mr. Charters’ mother came from the Livingstone clan in central Scotland.” Tears formed in the corner of Cashé’s eyes. “Mr. Charters once told me that the man’s parents named him Boyd because he was a tow-headed child. Boyd is a Gaelic word for blond. The man who took Satiné is the one to whom Uncle Samuel once promised me. Mr. Charters thinks Satiné is I.” Cashé began to visibly shake with dread. “He came after me,” she whispered.

“What does Ashton know of Viscount Averette? Why did Lord Averette leave you behind? Help me to assist Satiné.”

Silent sobs shook her shoulders. “I did not know until today,” she murmured. “I returned from the ride to discover for myself why Uncle Charles took Lord Averette’s letter. I only recently recalled the incident, and it has haunted my days.” Cashé looked deep into Kerrington’s eyes. “The baron believes Uncle Samuel had something to do with my parents’ death.”

Kerrington muffled his curse. “Will you show me what you found?” he encouraged. “Whatever Ashton knows has put your sister in danger. You must realize, Cashémere, that I want only to protect Satiné.”

“But Mr. Charters will not hurt Satiné,” she protested. “He will release her when he discovers my sister is not I.”

Kerrington caught her hand in his. “Satiné is ruined. Too many people know of her disappearance. Our only hope is to rescue her as quickly as possible, but I cannot do that if I do not know what I am facing.”

“Satiné will be devastated; she has looked forward to her Come Out for two years.” Cashé rose quickly to her feet. “Follow me,” she said, taking Worthing’s hand. “The papers are in uncle’s study.

As Lord Worthing read the letter first and then returned it to its place in the family Bible, Cashé impatiently paced the open space before the desk. Finally, he had read through the bundled file. “Well, tell me.”

“You shan’t like it,” Kerrington warned.

Cashé stopped suddenly. “Nevertheless, I must know.”

“This is a statement from a wheelwright. There is evidence that the spokes on your parents’ carriage had been cut. Each broke at the same precise angle,” he explained.

“That does not mean Uncle Samuel was to blame,” Cashé challenged.

Kerrington continued, “That is true, but the baron found other clues leading to a group of men, among them one Lachlan Charters. These men once enthusiastically followed the teachings of Thomas Chalmers, but they have found a way to make money from the parochial system Chalmers advocated to service the poor.”

Although Cashé knew quite well that Lord Worthing spoke the truth, she vehemently declared, “That is impossible!” She had read the file herself, but now it made perfect sense. Cashé stood completely still. In defeat, she asked, “How do we stop them from hurting Satiné?”

Some time later, Cashé withdrew to Lexford’s bedside. Lord Worthing had sat about contacting several of the other members of his unit: Baron John Swenton, and the Marquis of Godown, Gabriel Crowden, along with Lexford’s man, Lucifer Hill. Although Charters had a substantial head start, Kerrington assured her that they could overtake the carriage before it reached the Scottish border. The land was rough going in a carriage, especially with a man at the reins who was unaccustomed to driving a coach. Worthing expected they could travel north by midnight.

As she watched over him, she caressed Lexford’s cheek before pushing away that arrant curl that forever fell over his forehead. “I wish I could tell you how deeply sorry I am for placing you and Satiné in danger.” She had once told Satiné how annoying she had found it, but Cashé would give anything if the viscount would open his eyes and reach to replace the curl for himself. “I promise to make this right for you and my sister. You will know happiness with Satiné. You must.” Her throat cramped with an uncontrollable sob. “I want to see you and Satiné with a houseful of children. I want to hug my nieces and nephews and to see you grow old together.” The tears fell upon the hand she held. “Please come back to us,” she whispered hoarsely. “For Satiné. For Marcus. For your future, and for mine.”

He was floating somewhere between the familiar voice of Cashémere Aldridge and the abyss leading to Heaven. All around him the sun caused his eyes to squint against the glare, and Aidan Kimbolt tried to delineate the form of the approaching shadow before it overtook him. Warm fingers gently removed the lock of hair, which forever graced his forehead, but a different reality now called to him. The shadow had begun to take shape, and Aidan’s mind filled with regret and shame. The apparition did not retreat, nor did the blackness. He had never run from a fight in his life, but he wished to run now. Yet, his feet refused to move. Although he pulled frantically at his legs, he could not loosen the sucking hold of the muck beneath his boots. Angry words. A sharp pain in his side. His arms wrenched behind him. A blow to the side of his head. Tasting his own blood, and then blackness again. There was no way out.

A little after midnight, Worthing and his companions prepared to leave for Scotland. Lord Godown had ridden in from his estate in Staffordshire, Lord Swenton from Yorkshire, and Mr. Hill from Lexford’s estate in Cheshire. “I have sent word to Eleanor,” Worthing told Cashé. “She will come tomorrow to stay with you. I suspect it will be another two days before Ashton arrives. I will send word as soon as we know anything.”

Feeling very uncomfortable, Cashé murmured, “How may I thank you, my Lord?” For unexplained reasons, she wished that she had not betrayed her uncle by showing Lord Worthing the files on Samuel Aldridge. She had made a mess of everything. When Uncle Charles discovered her deceit, he would send her away; he would never forgive her, and she held no hope of returning to her Scottish home. Cashé had thought of Velvet, but her sister would not welcome her after everything Cashé had said before Velvet’s nuptials and everything she had done wrong since that time.

“You will repay me by tending to Lexford. I should wish to see the viscount up and about upon my return.” Worthing kissed the tip of her nose. “You are quite remarkable,” he whispered close so the others could not hear. “You will be very good for Wellston.”

*

Cashé had returned to her room after checking on the viscount’s slow recovery. Sleep evaded her. In fact, she might never sleep again. “How will Uncle Charles react?” She paced the narrow chambers she now considered to be hers. Despite being at Chesterfield Manor for barely a month, she knew she had found a home within these walls. “What will Satiné think of me? If I had not insisted, my sister would be safely in her bed and not on some crazy trek across the northern shires. Satiné will refuse our kinship.” Cashé flopped down upon the bed, clutching a pillow to her and uncurling into a fetal position. “Who will want me now? Even Lord Yardley will likely turn me away.” A shiver of regret shook her.

Like a swirling snowflake in the wind, these thoughts of the misery she had caused bombarded her. She saw the faces of each of those she had hurt with her brashness. “I cannot simply lie here.” Cashé sat up suddenly, slamming the pillow against the mattress. She glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantle. “Half past two,” she announced to the empty room. “There is still time to set all this right. Lighting an additional candle, she strode to her wardrobe. Within three-quarters of an hour, she had packed a traveling bag with several serviceable gowns before robbing both her sister’s and uncle’s rooms of stashed away coins and paper money, along with several cheaper chains and costume jewelry she might sell if she needed them.

By four she was slipping from the kitchen into the damp morning chill. The northbound mail coach would leave the village inn at five, and Cashé planned to be on it. She had an hour to walk the three miles to the coaching inn. Cutting across the back lawn, she set a steady pace. Cashé understood what she must do to save her sister and to hold onto a chance for a family who would love her.

Marcus raised his head when Breeson tapped on the door. “Come,” he called and then returned to his ledgers to finish his calculations. Breeson waited patiently for Marcus to complete the sums. When the earl laid his pen to the side, his former batman cleared his throat. “What is it, Breeson?” Marcus’s euphoria at having received a note from Cashé had lessened over the past few days. Her missive had told him that Lexford had planned a visit to Chesterfield Manor, and a message from Kerrington had informed him that Shepherd had extended an invitation to Ashton to come to London to answer some questions; therefore, despite her assurance that she would redirect the viscount’s attentions to Satiné, Marcus had imagined Lexford and Cashé together. He had tried to control his unreasonableness, but Marcus lacked rationality regarding Miss Cashé.

“I was wondering, my Lord, if’n I might have a few days to visit my mother. She is not well, Sir.”

Marcus pushed his annoyance aside. “Is Mrs. Breeson suffering?”

“Just age, my Lord, but my sister thinks my presence would do our mother well.” Breeson rotated his hat through his fingers.