Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere

by Regina Jeffers

  Breeson looked pleased. “I must say, Sir, it is about time.”

  His former batman often spoke too frankly, even when he had served Marcus on the battlefield, but the man had displayed absolute devotion, and Marcus had blessed the day Richard Breeson had walked into his life. “The lady is an identical twin so be certain you speak to the correct woman.”

  “A twin?” Breeson mused with delight.

  “Keep your observations,” Marcus warned with a wry grin.

  Breeson reached for the letter. “Is the lady pretty, my Lord?”

  Marcus remembered such conversations throughout their relationship. The older man had taken a fatherly attitude towards Marcus. “Very pretty, Richard. You may judge for yourself when you meet her.”

  “It will be my pleasure, my Lord.”

  *

  Discovering that Lord Yardley’s lady could often be found alone had surprised Breeson. The lady’s sister and uncle regularly rode out, leaving Yardley’s love interest to her own devices. Unexpectedly, the baron’s staff had readily provided the details. Breeson quickly understood His Lordship’s concerns and why the earl would risk contacting the lady. The baron had not schooled his staff on how to handle a questionable situation.

  Yardley’s estate had sustained an attack. Breeson knew Wellston’s personality: The earl had felt compelled to protect a woman for whom he cared, and this woman was a twin. It spoke of the earl’s nightmare–his not being able to save his own twin.

  Breeson waited patiently for the baron’s and his niece’s departures. Within a few minutes, as predicted by one of the grounds keepers, the earl’s lady appeared in the upper garden alone. Breeson paused long enough to be certain of her solitary endeavors, and then he approached. “May I speak to you, my Lady?” he asked from some distance–aware he might frighten her.

  Surprisingly, the girl rose to confront him. “If this is something to do with the estate, you must wait for my sister’s return. I am Cashémere, not Satiné.” She sounded as if she had said the words many times.

  Breeson offered another bow. “Then I have chosen the correct sister. I have a message for Miss Aldridge from Lord Yardley.”

  A smile exploded on the girl’s face. “Lord Yardley?”

  “Yes, Miss. I am Richard Breeson. I served His Lordship on the Continent, and when I sustained an injury at a Frenchie’s hands, Lord Yardley provided me a position on his estate.”

  Her face lit with happiness. “Lord Yardley sent me a message?”

  “Yes, Miss.” When the girl did not move, Breeson suggested, “Might we step inside a moment? I would prefer others did not see us together.”

  The girl blushed in embarrassment, but she found her reason and motioned Breeson to the open patio door. When they entered the room, the lady closed and locked the library door. “Tell me,” she said as she rushed to the man’s side, “that His Lordship is well.”

  “Lord Yardley is safe, Miss. We had a bit of trouble, but His Lordship can handle himself quite well.”

  “Trouble?” the girl asked anxiously.

  “I am certain my Lord explains everything in his letter,” Breeson assured. “The earl is not injured, so rest your worry.”

  “Do you have a moment so I might read what His Lordship says before you leave? I may have a return reply for him.”

  Breeson smiled indulgently. “Yes, Miss.”

  The lady broke the seal and walked away to read in semi-privacy. Breeson watched her carefully. The girl did not resemble any of Wellston’s former lady friends, but the batman supposed that was why the earl, obviously, favored this one. He could never imagine Yardley risking contacting an unmarried woman without a serious tendance existing between them. The girl sighed heavily and then refolded the letter. Yardley must have said what she wanted to hear.

  “Thank you, Mr. Breeson, for riding all this way and for bringing me His Lordship’s message.” She impetuously caught the man’s hand.

  “It was my pleasure, Miss.” He laughed nervously.

  The girl shot a glance toward the locked door. “I realize you have little time, but would you tell me how you served His Lordship in the war?”

  “I was his batman. Do you know the term, Miss?”

  “Yes, I am familiar with it.”

  “He is a fine gentleman, Miss–one of the finest I have ever known.”

  She giggled self-consciously. “You have no need to convince me, Mr. Breeson.” She bit her bottom lip nervously. “Would you take a note to His Lordship?”

  “If you make it a short one,” he agreed.

  The lady nodded and rushed to the small desk in the corner. She removed foolscap, ink, and a pen. Again, Breeson watched her. She was a bold one, a good match for Wellston. His Lordship was always one of the first ones into a battle or a scuffle. Breeson had always thought the young lord had wanted to punish himself for not saving his own sister. And despite the man’s compulsion to save others, Wellston had matured into an honorable man. Tweed Hall had suffered from multiple tragedies, which had polluted the family for years, but Breeson had always believed it would be Marcus Wellston who would change the family’s luck.

  Folding the single sheet of paper, Miss Aldridge rushed to where His Lordship’s messenger waited. “I will trust you will refrain from reading my note,” she warned.

  “Of course, Miss.”

  She led Breeson toward the patio entrance. “I thank you again, Mr. Breeson. Assure His Lordship that I will practice caution.”

  “Yes, Miss.” Breeson presented an awkward bow. “For my part, Miss Aldridge, I would see you at Tweed Hall soon.”

  Cashé blushed. “Yet, you know nothing of me, Mr. Breeson.”

  “But I know Lord Yardley, and the man would not choose a woman without merit. It is not of His Lordship’s nature.” The man smiled knowingly. “And might I add, Miss Aldridge, that Lord Yardley’s comment regarding your beauty was perfectly correct.”

  “Lord Yardley described me as beautiful?” she gushed.

  “He did, Miss.” Mr. Breeson squeezed her hand with his one good one. “Make the man happy, and you will earn my devotion.”

  “Tell His Lordship I expect him in London.” Cashé laughed with a renewed spirit. “You have no idea how happy you have made me, Mr. Breeson–even with Lord Yardley’s warning of danger.”

  “Farewell, Miss.” The man cautiously looked about before exiting.

  “Mr. Breeson.” She caught his upper arm. “Give His Lordship this.” Cashé went on tiptoes and kissed the man’s cheek.

  “Lord Yardley may strike me, but I will deliver your message, Miss Aldridge.” He laughed lightly before slipping into the landscaped hedgerows.

  Clinging to the doorway until she could see Mr. Breeson no longer, Cashé watched his departure; then she rushed to her chambers so she might read Marcus’s letter again. He had called her his “Dearest” and had said she carried his heart in her hands. Deliriously happy, she locked her chamber door and flopped on the bed. He had broken with convention to warn her because he cared for her, and Marcus had told Mr. Breeson that she was beautiful. Cashé could not stop the image of Marcus’s desire-filled eyes from forming. The thought budded her breasts’ nipples, and she groaned audibly. “London,” she whispered. “It cannot come soon enough.”

  *

  “What is it, Uncle?” Satiné asked, noting the baron’s brows furrowing in dismay.

  “This letter asks me to come to London.” He looked up, taking in both girls’ countenances. “It is from the man known as Shepherd, the one currently overseeing the Realm.”

  “Is something amiss, Sir?” Cashé asked innocently. She had pretended no knowledge of Lord Yardley’s attack.

  Morton frowned again. “I am not certain; but as it is a matter of the British government, I feel I must concur. Possibly, there is new information on Velvet’s abduction.”

  “Would they not simply send you some sort of updated report?” Satiné asked.

  The baron reasoned,
“Maybe it is too sensitive to risk losing the information.”

  Satiné looked uncomfortable. “Why not ask Viscount Lexford to deliver it?”

  “I am uncertain.” The baron folded the letter and placed it in an inside pocket. In his doing so, Cashé suddenly remembered his taking Uncle Samuel’s parting letter and doing the same thing. She had never finished reading Samuel Aldridge’s farewell, but she recalled her uncle’s accusations against Charles Morton–how the baron had planned to ruin him and how she was not to believe anything her mother’s only brother had to say about her parents’ deaths.

  Cashé considered questioning her uncle about Samuel Aldridge’s charges, but she bit back the words. Instead, she said, “Viscount Lexford is to call on Friday. Shall I send word for him to delay his visit?”

  “No.” Her Uncle Charles appeared nervous. “I would like to think Lexford was in the house if some renewed danger is the issue. You girls can serve as each other’s chaperone. I trust that Satiné can oversee Lexford’s courtship. I will return by Monday at the latest, especially if I leave on the morrow. Ask the viscount to stay until my return.”

  Satiné shot a quick glance at Cashé. “Yes, Uncle. You will be careful, Sir?”

  “Have no fear, my Dear. I am not some green boy who has not seen the world’s evils. Nothing of consequence will occur. I will send Lexford a note explaining my departure and asking his protection extended to my home.”

  Distracted by her own thoughts, Cashé kept playing in her mind the scene of Uncle Charles taking her in his arms at Linton Park. Something was different, but she could not remember all the details. While the baron was away, and Satiné secured the viscount’s affections, she would look for the letter. Her Uncle Samuel had addressed it to her, and Cashé wanted it–she had a right to it.

  Chapter 11

  “Did you speak to Miss Aldridge?” Not waiting for Mr. Spear to announce the man, Marcus met Breeson in the main foyer.

  “Have you ever sent me on a journey where I did not complete your wishes, my Lord?”

  Marcus ignored the smugness playing across his friend’s face. He led the man to his study, closing the door and pouring Breeson a much-deserved brandy before seating himself across from the man. “Tell me everything,” he said.

  Breeson took a long swallow of the brandy. He had known Wellston since taking on the position as his “man” when the young Marcus bought a commission. He had seen the boy become a man. “First, I should tell you that I found the baron’s staff too willing to share the household secrets with a complete stranger. With a few well phrased questions, I knew the comings and goings of Baron Ashton and both nieces.”

  That news brought Marcus new qualms. For the last two nights, he had dreamed of Cashé being in danger and his not being able to reach her in time. He would send Kimbolt a carefully worded letter suggesting that the viscount do a survey of the baron’s ability to protect the Aldridge sisters. Everyone thought he preferred Miss Satiné; hopefully, he would not betray his true feelings. “I will see what I can do. Thank you, my Friend.”

  “That being said,” Breeson took up the tale, “I waited for the baron and the one known as Satiné to leave for their daily ride, and then approached your Miss Aldridge.”

  Marcus prayed she was his Miss Aldridge. “No one observed your entrance?” Marcus asked anxiously. Marcus would not have Cashé’s reputation ruined.

  “No one saw me, my Lord. Each day, while her family rides, Miss Aldridge spends time in the garden. When the lady appeared, I approached and asked to speak to her privately in your name, and the lady led me into the library away from prying eyes.”

  “Did Miss Aldridge welcome my letter?” Marcus pressed.

  Breeson winked. “The lady affects you, my Lord. Have no fear in that manner.” He took another sip of the brandy, obviously, relishing Yardley’s eagerness. “Miss Aldridge’s first wish was to know of your well being.”

  Marcus breathed easier. “Was the lady in health?” he asked deep in thoughts of Cashé.

  Breeson grinned knowingly. “The lady is quite well.” He paused, elongating what he would share next. “Miss Aldridge is quite as beautiful as you said, my Lord. I observed both young ladies, and although the women appear identical on the surface, Miss Cashémere is the superior choice.”

  Marcus chuckled. “The world believes I prefer Miss Satiné.”

  “How could anyone who knows you think as such? I would not disparage Miss Satiné, but even from my brief observation, I recognized that the lady is too biddable. You require a challenge. Just the fact that Miss Aldridge risked being caught accepting a letter from you tells me she is of the nature that most suits you, my Lord. I thought her quite bold.”

  Marcus confided what he had not voiced to anyone else. “Viscount Lexford staked a claim to Miss Cashémere months ago. How do I deny my interests to advance my friend’s happiness?”

  Breeson noted the pain on Wellston’s face. “Would it make the viscount happy to know he had brought torment to you and Miss Aldridge? What I know of the man says Lord Lexford would step aside. Besides, the lady prefers you, my Lord. Miss Aldridge asked me to remind you that she expects your presence in London.”

  “I want nothing to come between Lexford and me. We pledged a bond to protect each other. The viscount has saved my life on numerous occasions,” Marcus reasoned aloud.

  Breeson countered, “As you have done for him.”

  “Yes, I suppose.” Marcus looked off, seeing something Breeson did not. “Lord Lexford has known a great loss.”

  “As have you, my Lord.” Breeson paused. “It would seem the thing, which bonded you to your friends, was the common feeling of loss. The empathy created a brotherhood. And although I wish His Lordship his own happiness, I disagree with the idea that you do not deserve felicity.”

  Marcus did not respond for several minutes, lost in his own revelry. “Thank you, Breeson, for taking on this task in my name.” He shifted as if to stand.

  “Then you do not wish the lady’s note?” Breeson teased. “After I risked my good name as your courier?”

  “Miss Aldridge sent me something?” Marcus sat forward, extending his hand.

  “I thought so.” Breeson rose to his feet and pretended to search his pockets for the single sheet of paper. “Now, what did I do with it?”

  “Not humorous.” Marcus followed Breeson to his feet, gesturing for his man to find Cashé’s note.

  “Ah, here it is.” Breeson made a grand flourish of pulling the paper from an inside pocket of his coat and keeping it out of Marcus’s reach.

  “Hand it over, Breeson, if you value your position on this estate,” Marcus growled.

  Breeson barked out a laugh. “You really affect the girl. Well, that is a good thing.” He delivered the note. “Because the lady asked me to give you this.” Without ceremony, he placed a peck of a kiss on his master’s cheek before casually strolling away from a totally flustered Wellston. “Enjoy your day, my Lord,” the former batman called over his shoulder.

  Marcus blustered as his fingers wiped the unexpected kiss away, but then the reality hit him: Cashé had sent him a kiss, and, instantly, a smile spread across his face. “You deserve a raise, Breeson,” he called good-naturedly after the man’s retreating form. Then Marcus collapsed in his previously vacated chair, ignoring what his actions did to his clothing. He took a deep breath to slow his rapidly beating heart. Slowly, he unfolded the paper to read Cashé’s hastily written response.

  My dearest Marcus,

  You have brought me the greatest happiness today, and although I grieve for the pain you have experienced and the danger you have endured, my heart embraces only the knowledge that you have thought to protect me. I wish I had the time to tell you everything, but know that my plan of a switch has progressed to a point where, over tea this week, Satiné and I fooled Aunt Charlotte, Uncle Charles, and Lord Lexford. Soon, Satiné will win the viscount’s heart, and we may be together without guilt or regret. B
elieve in me, my Lord, for I believe in you. Yours forever,

  Cashémere

  “Forever,” Marcus murmured. “Dare I think in terms of forever–of knowing contentment–of knowing only her?” He chuckled softly. “The lady will likely drive me insane with her manipulations and demands.” Marcus sighed, realizing he held no hope of forgetting the pleasure of being with Cashé. “But what a way to go mad!”

  *

  “Lord Lexford,” Satiné greeted the viscount, “thank you for coming to Manchester earlier than planned. Uncle Charles will be pleased to know you offered your protection so freely.”

  Kimbolt bowed properly. “I am at the baron’s command in such a matter. I would not wish you or Miss Aldridge to experience real danger.”

  Cashé entered the room and curtsied. “Lord Lexford,” she intoned.

  “Miss Aldridge,” Kimbolt bowed in turn.

  “Did you speak of danger, my Lord?” Cashé ignored the required civilities.

  Kimbolt grimaced. “I received a message from Lord Worthing yesterday, several hours prior to your uncle’s request. I regret to inform you that Murhad Jamot broke into the earl’s home several evenings ago.”

  Satiné gasped, and although Cashé already knew of the events, she rushed forward to grasp her sister’s hand. “Tell us, my Lord,” Cashé demanded.

  “It is Lord Yardley’s belief that Jamot started a fire at the mill on Yardley’s property, and while His Lordship and his men fought the blaze, Jamot entered the manor house and found the easiest access to the structure. Later, the Baloch returned to search Yardley’s house for the emerald Mir believes one of us has in our possession.”

  “An emerald?” Satiné questioned. “What emerald?”

  “Did you not realize Jamot held Velvet as ransom?” Cashé declared. She wondered if she had ever been as sheltered as her sister.

  Satiné appeared insulted, but she said, “I suppose it never occurred to me that the man had a motive other than Thornhill’s past.”