Realm 07 - A Touch of Honor (3 page)

“As the world looks on Lady Fiona as a distant cousin, my claiming extended mourning rights would only confuse the situation further. I arrived in Austria to tend to my mother’s health; yet I was too late; therefore, I have claimed Lady Fiona’s remains. I mean to return her to my home and the family cemetery. There is no cause to postpone our exchange of vows. When we arrive in England, we will quietly escort the baroness to her final resting place. No one needs to be the wiser.”

For some unexplained reason instead of looking to Miss Aldridge for her reaction to what he had disclosed, John’s eyes sought Miss Neville’s countenance. The woman’s lower lip trembled with emotion as she swallowed the tears silently streaming down her cheeks. Although she held only limited knowledge of the situation, the lady mourned for a woman she did not know. From beside him, Miss Satiné said defensively, “Is this another secret we must remember not to disclose?”

John drew his gaze from Miss Neville to rest upon the wearisome expression of his betrothed’s countenance. “As I keep your confidences, I would expect my wife to keep mine. We will be a family, Satiné, and we will protect each other.”

She blushed thoroughly from his mild chastisement. “Certainly, John,” she murmured. “I meant no offense.”

Instantly John knew regret. He had never meant to bring her pain. “It is I who have spoken too forcefully,” he said by way of apology. “It has been a frustrating day. Say you will forgive me.”

She pursed her lips prettily. “You are too kind to me.”

“If I were kind, I would not require your forgiveness,” he admitted.

“Let us not quarrel over the blame. Instead, speak to me of your frustrations.”

He swallowed a steadying breath. “The ship upon which I had earlier booked passage has no more accommodations; therefore, I have chosen a smaller vessel; unfortunately, the change of ships will delay our departure by two days.”

Miss Aldridge caught his hand, and John savored the feel of her fingers intertwined with his. “If you approve of the ship, I will trust your judgment, and another two days will provide us more time for the arrangements and the journey to the coast.”

“I must remember you look for the goodness while I see only the negative,” he said as he kissed the back of her hand and permitted his lips to dwell a few seconds longer than necessary. Lust shot straight to John’s groin. He desired this woman beyond all reason.

“What else should I know?” Miss Satiné said calmly, and he was disappointed she did not display the breathless wonder he did.

John cleared his throat of the rasp and with several deep breaths, brought his passion under control. “Your man of business should call tomorrow with the settlement papers.”

She giggled softly, and John thought it an intoxicating sound. “You termed your day frustrating. It appears to me you have accomplished everything except for conquering the world,” she taunted.

John’s frown lines snapped together. He was unaccustomed to females teasing him. He had never known whether the women spoke condescendingly or not.

“I imagine if you required a champion to conquer the world, Miss Aldridge, Baron Swenton would be your knight,” Miss Neville said sweetly, and John celebrated how she had come to his rescue. She had prevented his making a cake of himself.

John grinned. “I believe without exaggeration, Miss Neville, that Miss Aldridge could tell you of how her eldest sister married a ‘knight,’ who specializes in rescuing damsels, fair or not. I am not of the caliber of the Duke of Thornhill.”

Miss Satiné said brusquely, “My sister, the duchess, writes often of her husband’s solicitousness.”

“The duke has his heir. From what I have heard, Thornhill is quite content with his life. I suspect Lady Yardley has presented the Earl of Berwick with his first heir. Lord Yardley spoke of an early March delivery.”

Miss Satiné scowled dramatically. “My sisters have taken well to their responsibilities to their husbands.”

John noted the disapproval in her tone.
Did Miss Aldridge not believe in a loving relationship
? He realized his lady did not love him, but John held hopes she would count herself fortunate to know him as her husband. He meant to capture the lady’s heart.

“And what of the others?” Miss Satiné asked politely, but without any real interest. “What of the Marquis of Godown? Of my cousin, Lady Worthing?”

John enjoyed speaking of his steady companions. Their successes had convinced him he, too, could know contentment in his life. “As I am certain one of your sisters has shared, Lord and Lady Worthing have welcomed a daughter Amelia some two months after your retreat from British shores.” He hoped his mentioning her speedy departure would not bring more pain to Miss Aldridge, but as his wife, Satiné would regularly interact with the people he described. It was important for her to understand how the dynamics had changed since her withdrawal. “The child celebrated her first birthday before Christmastide. The marquis and his lady welcomed a son in early June.”

She appeared disappointed when she asked, “Whom did Lord Godown choose as his bride?”

“Your Uncle Samuel’s former governess, Miss Nelson,” he explained.

“But…” Miss Aldridge began but quickly stifled her objections.

John assured, “You may speak your protests to me, my Dear. I will not judge.”

Miss Satiné blushed thoroughly. “I was just considering the couple’s mismatched appearances. Everyone would claim Lord Godown a magnificently beautiful man. From what I recall of Grace Nelson the lady is quite plain.”

It was John’s turn to frown. He had expected his lady to protest the differences in the marquis’s and the former Miss Nelson’s social standings. Instead, she had spoken of physical beauty. “Many would say your handsome countenance should be claimed by a man of a finer bearing than mine,” he said with self-effacement. “Yet, I assure you the marquis is passionately devoted to his wife.” He had hoped his betrothed would defend him with a soothing assurance, but Miss Satiné held her tongue. Her silence stung John’s pride.

He continued, “I missed the baronet’s joining with Mrs. Lucinda Warren in order to travel to Europe. Theirs was a contentious courtship, but I was pleased when Sir Carter claimed Mrs. Warren as his wife. Lady Lowery is the niece of the Earl of Charleton and will serve the baronet well in his governmental position, as well as complementing his disposition.”

Miss Satiné said cautiously. “You have avoided speaking of Lord Lexford. I assure you, John, I possess no illusions of retaining the viscount’s attentions.”

“Lord Lexford has not recovered his memory from the attack by Lachlan Charters, but the viscount has claimed a remarkable woman.” He caught Miss Aldridge’s hand again. “Lady Lexford is the former Miss Mercy Nelson, the marquise’s sister, as well as sister to Baron Geoffrey Nelson of Lancashire. The Kimbolts will welcome their first child about the same time as will your twin and Lord Yardley.” He paused for her comment, but Miss Satiné’s countenance displayed only a look of pure regret. “Even Lucifer Hill has claimed Lady Eleanor’s maid Hannah some nine months prior.”

She smiled sadly at him. “You are truly the last of your associates to seek a wife.”

John attempted to flirt with her. “I chose to wait for the superior choice.”

“And you think your friends chose with less aplomb?” she teased.

John nodded aristocratically. “I believe my companions have chosen their ladies to harmonize with their varied personalities.”

She said softly. “It grieves me you have accepted a less than agreeable situation.”

John brought her knuckles to his lips. “I assure you, Miss Aldridge, claiming you was always my intention. The situation is not ideal, but we will find our way together.”

*

Satiné stared out her bedroom window upon the shared gardens below. Before looking in upon the boy, Miss Neville had seen John out. Satiné had yet to hold her son. Even when the midwife had placed the boy into her arms, she had not embraced the child. For well over a fortnight, she had convinced herself her lying in had been a nightmare. Before the pain of the delivery had subsided, Miss Neville had whisked the child from Satiné’s room and had made little or no comment on Rupert’s existence since.

Satiné had been a fool to accept Prince Henrí’s attentions, but she had thought Henrí had meant his words of endearments. “I burn for you.” and “I have never known a woman of such exquisite beauty.” and “A man must have a woman of your grace and intelligence by his side.”

She had held aspirations of claiming the prince as her own–of returning to England as Henrí’s princess. After the scandal she had encountered in Scotland, Satiné had seen their relationship as an opportunity to claim a superior place in English Society: To prove to both Velvet and Cashémere that she was equal to her sisters.
Naught
did not describe her years of training to be a lady of distinction. Only after Satiné had succumbed to Henrí’s charms had she discovered the prince possessed a wife, and not only a wife, but also an expected heir.

When she had confronted him, Henrí had spoken of a loveless marriage. Of an arranged joining, but also of his duty to his country and his people, and, without rancor, Satiné had forgiven him. She had continued to accept his attentions. That is, until she realized she carried Henrí’s child. At the time, he had been in Rintoul and she in Vienna, and she had cursed him with every vulgar name she had ever heard uttered by her Uncle Charles’ stable hands.

In a panic, she had withdrawn from Society and had prayed for her nightmare to disappear, but it had not. Earlier, Satiné had argued with her only ally in Vienna. Lady Fiona had discovered Satiné’s secret relationship with Henrí and had thoroughly disapproved.

“You think yourself the perfect choice for Henrí, but the prince has desires you can never fulfill with your proper English manners.” At the time, Satiné has searched for Henrí to deny the former baroness’s spiteful accusations, but, as was customary, he was with his male companions in the card room, playing deeper than was necessary for a man of his position.

“How would you know what Henrí requires in a woman?” she had asked innocently.

Lady Fiona laughed heartily. “How Johnathan thought you worthy of my notice, I shall never understand.” The baroness had snarled, “You may practice your manipulative ways upon the
beau monde
, but Prince Henrí possesses more stylish tastes.”

“And what of you?” Satiné had fumed. “You flit around younger men hoping to retain your youth. You think Viennese society awaits your command, but you are nothing more than a bitter old woman.”

“Remove yourself from my sight!” Lady Fiona had hissed, while the veins in her neck had turned dark blue. “Heaven help you if you ever cross my path again!”

Now, in frustration with her lack of choices, Satiné leaned against the window. With her situation, as well as Henrí’s being recalled to his country, she had spent the previous five months behind doors, and she longed to be among the fashionable set again. “I wonder,” she asked her reflection in the glass, “what the baron would say if he knew his mother had ruined my reputation, as easily as had Lachlan Charters?” With a discreet whisper in the ear of key players in Viennese society, Lady Fiona had managed to have Satiné snubbed by the majority of the fashionable set. If he knew, would Baron Swenton withdraw his proposal? Would he agree with his mother’s estimation of her?

“None of them know how difficult it is to be a woman alone in a cruel society. To be at a man’s beck and call.” Of course, she was as
manipulative
as Lady Fiona had pronounced her to be. If not, she would never have survived.

Satiné turned to face her room. “Only a few more days, and I will escape this self-imposed prison. Baron Swenton is certainly not the man I would have chosen for myself, nor does his title hold strength, but it is enough. More than I could have expected after my fall from grace.”

As she crawled back into bed to continue her ruse of vulnerability, a light tap on the door drew her attention. “Come!” she called as she straightened the counterpane across her lap. The door opened to expose the downstairs maid. “Yes, Marguerite?”

“A message, Miss. Delivered by a uniformed messenger.”

Satiné’s heart raced. She motioned the girl forward. “Thank you.” She scooped the letter from the tray. Flipping it over to read the directions, she said to the maid’s retreating form, “Tell no one of this, Marguerite.”

For a third day, John knew disappointment when he called on Miss Aldridge. “I fear the mistress is not at home, Sir,” Miss Neville shared very businesslike, a fact which rubbed John raw. He had been at sixes and sevens since he had released the knocker on Miss Satiné’s door–his emotions waxing and waning.

“I am more than pleased my betrothed has recovered enough to venture out.” He knew his expression was dour, but John could not shake the feeling of uneasiness that skimmed down his spine. “However, I wish Miss Satiné had waited for my escort. Do you know Miss Aldridge’s destination?”

“No, Sir, but I would imagine her speedy return.” A familiar knot tightened in John’s stomach. “Please come into the sitting room. I will send for tea, or would you prefer claret?”

John smiled easily. “Neither for now. I am content to wait.”

Miss Neville uttered a small sound of relief. “That is excellent, Baron Swenton.” She giggled nervously, and John thought it the first purely feminine characteristic she had displayed. He wondered if Miss Satiné’s laugh would be as enticing. John had never heard his lady laugh. He would make it a point to bring her happiness so she might laugh regularly: His fiancée had known enough strife in her short life. “I suspect we are out of both the tea and the claret. I thought we would depart on Friday, and I did not wish to waste the purchases.”

“I assure you, Miss Neville,” he said without thinking, “my pockets are deep enough to withstand the expense. I cannot have Miss Aldridge’s household looked upon as miserly.” He accepted the chair to which she gestured, but another thought brought a scowl to his forehead. “Are there other expenses of which I should be made aware? Has Miss Aldridge overspent the allowance her uncle allotted?”

Primly, Miss Neville straightened the seams of her dress. “I do not think, Baron, these are questions I should answer regarding Miss Aldridge’s household.”

John sighed gustily. “You are correct: I have again treaded into dangerous waters. It is simply that I wish to remove all impediments to Miss Aldridge’s happiness. I suppose it is quite foolhardy. A man of my age and all…”

Miss Neville’s eyes closed briefly in soft relief. “Few women would criticize a man who means to treat his wife properly. We of the feminine nature always hold great hopes to find a man who will appreciate our idiosyncrasies.” She chuckled lightly. “I pray Miss Aldridge realizes the wonderment she has in store.”

Before the conversation could continue, the main door opened, and the sound of petite footsteps announced Miss Satiné’s return. John scrambled to his feet to greet her. “Ah, John,” his betrothed said with an expression of disapproval upon her lips. “I had hoped to return before your arrival.”

He had a hard time containing his irritation, and, in defense, his expression closed down. “Did you think to prevent me from knowing of your renewed energy? I am sorry to disappoint you with my promptness.”

Miss Satiné appeared mystified by his response. She said placatingly, “I meant only to call upon my man of business, as you suggested, Baron. My hopes of returning early rested in my desire to freshen my appearance before your arrival.”

John knew instant regret; he swallowed his earlier ire. “I am accustomed to the company of men,” he said by means of apology. “You must forgive my less than pristine behavior. It has been a long time since I claimed the company of a beautiful woman. I will depend upon you to define my faults.”

“You will not think me ill-tempered?” Miss Satiné asked suspiciously.

The glint of a smile touched his lips. “As I know you to hold a sweet nature, I would never accuse you of waspish ways.” He bowed properly. “Although I cannot imagine improvement required of your perfection, it would be my pleasure, Miss Aldridge, to wait until you have completed your transformation.”

Her eyebrow rose in curiosity. “You are a true flatterer, Baron Swenton. I must keep such knowledge in mind as we deal together.” Before he could respond, Miss Satiné turned to the silent Miss Neville. “Would you assist me, Isolde?”

“Certainly, Miss.”

John watched as the two ladies made their exits. He enjoyed studying a woman’s form. Miss Satiné’s well-endowed body gave her the look of the carved statues he had observed on several of the Mediterranean islands. From the beginning, her emerald eyes, as green as the overhang of the thickest forest, had mesmerized him. During their short acquaintance, he had known delight when the slightest bit of color had shown beneath her ivory skin. He was the shortest of his Realm friends, but he was more than a head taller than his intended.

Miss Neville, on the other hand, was tall for a woman. She reminded John of Eleanor Kerrington and Grace Crowden. His betrothed’s companion had a soft complexion and lovely blood red hair, which he imagined would lie in ringlets about her shoulders if the lady released it. Her curves were less noticeable, likely not more than a handful for her breasts, but her waist was trim and her ankles noticeably slim when she lifted her skirt to climb the stairs. To judge by the sound of their whispers, Miss Satiné was issuing urgent instructions.

*

“Release the strings!” Satiné demanded as she sucked in a breath.

Isolde’s fingers pulled the strings from the eyelets as quickly as possible. “Why would Rizzie place you in such pain?” she asked in disbelief. “Does your maid not understand a woman’s body requires time to heal after child bearing?”

Satiné admitted, “I asked Rizzie to assist me into one of my former gowns.”

Isolde shook her head in disapproval, but she swallowed the chastisement on her tongue’s tip. In her unspoken and unsolicited opinion, Miss Aldridge’s obsession with her appearance could not be healthy. She glanced to the girl she had served for some six months. When Isolde had taken the position, she had counted herself fortunate. Miss Aldridge had welcomed her as another of the staff the girl’s uncle, Baron Ashton, had provided his ward, and her new mistress had treated Isolde fairly. Obsessed with her own consequence, Miss Aldridge had never recognized the fact Isolde held a comparable rank to hers. Miss Satiné simply assumed Isolde a member of the English gentry class rather than the daughter of an Irish baron.

Having accepted the fact she was to conceal her heritage from Miss Aldridge, Isolde had felt no remorse at hiding the fact Baron Swenton, rather than Baron Ashton, was her true employer. Since claiming the baron’s acquaintance, Isolde had thought often of the man. She doubted Miss Aldridge would ever appreciate a husband cut from such high standards. He wanted nothing more than to protect the woman he affected. In many ways, the baron’s actions were quite romantic, and Isolde had always possessed a quixotic heart. Her admiration for the baron had grown naturally; the man had paid Isolde quite well for her service, and he had even set up a “dowry” of sorts to aid Isolde when she departed Miss Aldridge’s service, but now her thoughts of him had taken a turn to the man behind the honorable attentions shown to Miss Aldridge and her. Thankful for the monetary advantage, Isolde had planned to use her employment and the settlement to finance another investigation into the disappearance of her father. Eoghan Neville had vanished while in service to the 7
th
Earl of Elgin.

“Look at the front of my dress!” Miss Aldridge said with disgust. “It is ruined.”

Isolde’s practical nature wished to rebuke her mistress’s silly expectations, but instead she said, “I am certain the maid can remove the stain. You must take precautions. Did not your mother provide you any instructions regarding child rearing? Were you never in a household with a new mother?”

Miss Aldridge’s chin rose in defiance. “My mother and father passed in a carriage accident when I was a mere child, and as for another seeing to my female education, I assure you Uncle Charles hired the finest of governesses; however, in a proper English household, such matters are never discussed.”

Isolde knew both immediate remorse at having reminded Miss Aldridge of her familial loss and instantaneous resentment at the poorly veiled chastisement. “I held no knowledge of your family tragedy,” she mumbled. “My deepest commiseration, Miss Satiné.”

Ignoring Isolde’s apology, Miss Aldridge’s eyes narrowed on her. “How is your knowledge of female ways so extensive?”

Isolde declared proudly. “In my mother’s home village, the women often consulted my grandmother during their lying ins, and I was an extremely curious child.”

With a bit of a pout, Miss Satiné asked, “Then what should I know regarding my body and how it has marred my gown?”

Isolde purposely chose to disregard Miss Aldridge’s snide tone. The girl had a long way to reach maturity. “Over the next few weeks, the milk from your breasts will decrease as long as you are not to nurse Rupert. Until then, you must add a bit of cloth to the inside of your chemise and corset to absorb the moisture. Surely you have noticed the dampness previously?”

“Of course.” Miss Satiné said with a blush. “But I…well I… It is of no significance,” she assured with a snit. “I shall follow your advice. For now, I must hurry. I cannot leave the baron to wait so long.”

Isolde said honesty, “Your intended is a fine man, who is incessantly devoted to you.”

Miss Satiné frowned with uncertainty. “The baron displayed great kindness when my twin and I fought off an evil, conniving man, but I had not thought to accept his attentions beyond a form of familiarity. Two of the baron’s closest associates are married to my sisters. I could never have thought to avoid him, but I had hoped he might choose another.”

Isolde argued, “The gentleman does you a great service. Not many men would risk scandal to their titles.”

Miss Satiné countered, “With Lady Fiona as his mother, the baron has likely known his share of scandal. My downfall is but a handful of snow, while Lady Fiona’s lifestyle was a storm upon Dark Peak. Yet, I am grateful for Baron Swenton’s offer.” Somehow, Isolde thought her mistress spoke the necessary words without giving credence to the emotions. “I had hoped for a higher position in Society, but I shall endeavor to bring notice to the baron’s position.”

In Isolde’s opinion, Baron Swenton was not of the nature to desire notice to either himself or to his title. Rather than to comment, she removed a gown from Miss Satiné’s wardrobe. “Shall this be acceptable for your outing with Baron Swenton?”

“Yes. If you would assist me, I would appreciate it.”

A quarter hour later, Isolde watched from the top of the stairs as Baron Swenton proudly placed Satiné Aldridge on his arm and escorted the girl through the main door to the street. She did not know why she persisted on thinking of Miss Aldridge as a girl. After all, at two and twenty Isolde was but a little short of two years older than Miss Satiné. And it was not a matter of experience. True, Isolde had likely seen more of the world than had her mistress. As the daughter of a famous archaeologist, she had traveled often with her father; yet, the difference between their positions was in the learning, not in the experience. Miss Satiné had experienced what had evidently been a scandalous situation before the lady had sought refuge upon the Continent, but Miss Aldridge had not learned from her ordeal. Instead, the girl had embraced a lifestyle that had led her into a more outrageous role. “I shall never understand the English,” she whispered with a thick accent, which she only permitted when others were not within hearing. “Assuming the lady does not squeeze it so hard that it breaks, Miss Aldridge has a world of happiness within her grasp.”

*

“What is our destination?” Satiné asked sweetly as she purposely clasped the baron’s arm more tightly. It was important to permit the baron the illusion of her devotion. Satiné held no great dislike for the man at her side. Baron Swenton possessed a pleasing countenance when he smiled, but she certainly would not term him as handsome. Although not as tall as his associates, he was tall in comparison to her petite stature. He was a “large” man, but not heavy with weight. Her Aunt Charlotte, Ashton’s sister, would have termed Baron Swenton as “big-boned.” His shoulders were solidly straight and forbidding, and his very white teeth gleamed in a tanned face. His dark eyes were rimmed with concern for her, a fact that rubbed raw against Satiné’s nature. She appreciated his offer of protection, but Satiné had wished for more than a baroness for her title. It had always been her desire to meet a duke, who would sweep her from her feet to carry her away to his ancestral estate. She had never disclosed her dream to anyone; even when she had thought to earn Lord Yardley’s attentions and then those of Lord Lexford, Satiné had held out hope that once she had made her Come Out, she would claim a better title. Although she hid it quite well, it had physically pained her to watch her eldest sister place the Parson’s noose about a duke’s neck.

“It has come to my attention,” her fiancé said with a tease, “I have been so occupied with the details of our speedy joining, I have neglected to present you with a proper ring to symbolize our commitment.”

Satiné’s heart raced with each sedate step she took. A ring would mark her joining with the baron and the end of her aspirations. Swallowing her sigh of resignation, she coyly said, “I require no elaborate display to acknowledge our agreement.” For some unknown reason she preferred the word “agreement” to “commitment”–less emotions involved.

The baron scowled; yet, he said, “However, I insist. If you hold no objections, I thought we might call on Lady Fiona’s man of business. Mr. Eggers prepares my mother’s personal effects for shipping, but I mean to take her jewelry with me. I had hoped you might consider it an honor to choose from the former baroness’s pieces. Lady Fiona owned several exquisite items.”