Cashé ignored Satiné’s embarrassment. “Might you tell us whether Lord Yardley suffered in any way? What of his brother Trevor?” Cashé knew neither had been injured, but she thought Lexford might have additional information.
Lexford accepted the seat to which Cashé gestured. “Yardley cornered Jamot in Trevor’s room, and there was a scuffle, but no one in His Lordship’s family sustained injury. Jamot made a fast retreat through a preset exit. Unfortunately, two of His Lordship’s tenants lost their lives in the mill fire. Lord Yardley takes such losses personally.”
In her desire to know every fact of Marcus’s life, Cashé had unconsciously taken over Satiné’s position as the hostess. “His Lordship has spoken of Trevor on several occasions. I assumed from what Lord Yardley has shared that his brother might not handle such an invasion very well.”
Kimbolt explained, “Trevor Wellston never developed properly. His mother was well past her prime when she delivered Trevor, and although he is the oldest son, he is not capable of running the estate. Lord Yardley holds the title as Trevor’s regent.”
“Then His Lordship and Trevor are from different mothers?” Cashé pressed, although she knew speaking so familiarly of Marcus’s family was unacceptable in social circles.
Kimbolt smiled indulgently. “Lord Yardley’s mother was much younger than the former Earl of Berwick, but she succumbed to a typhoid infection when Yardley was ten. His Lordship’s older brother Myles, who should have inherited, fell from his horse and broke his neck while Wellston and I were in Persia. That is when Lionel Wellston made arrangements for his youngest son to succeed him.”
“How awful,” Satiné remarked.
Cashé could not stifle her curiosity. “And Maggie? What happened to His Lordship’s twin?”
Kimbolt’s brow rose in a question. “I believe Lord Yardley should share those details when he is ready.”
Cashé fought back the frustration before feigning disinterest. “I was just curious because of having a twin myself. I should not have prodded.” She looked about expectantly. “Let me see to the tea and to Lord Lexford’s room.”
“You will rejoin us?” Satiné pleaded.
“Of course.” Cashé smiled at both of them. “I shan’t be long.”
*
Using his maternal grandfather’s name, Lachlan Charters registered at the inn. It was his first journey into England, and he had ridden across the Scottish southern border to Manchester. He had spent the last week constructing a plan to reclaim Cashémere Aldridge. He considered Averette’s weaknesses intolerable, and he would resolve the situation his way.
*
“As me, are you prepared to spend time with Lord Lexford?” Cashé asked as she helped Satiné into her riding habit. They had spent the last two days in the viscount’s company–sometimes as themselves and sometimes as their twin. Although they found constantly switching clothes to keep him confused on their personality differences had been exhausting, the viscount seemed none the wiser. During those switches, the twins had laid the basis of their farce.
Satiné took a deep breath, attempting to steady her nerves. “What if today Lord Lexford discovers our ruse?”
Cashé rolled her eyes in exasperation. She had repeated her answer every time they changed places. “He will not,” Cashé insisted. “If Uncle Charles did not recognize the differences, His Lordship will not.” She straightened Satiné’s collar. “Just recall, I am not the horse woman you are. Perhaps you should ask the viscount to assist you in becomin a more proficient rider.”
“Then I could pretend to master riding thanks to his attention. You are brilliant, Sister,” Satiné declared, giving Cashé a spontaneous hug.
Satiné’s ever changing moods irritated Cashé. There were moments when she considered doing her twin bodily harm. “Has His Lordship made any advances or said anything of promise?”
“Lord Lexford told me last eve that he thought I might make an excellent mistress of my own home now that I had spent time with Satiné,” she laughed ironically. “It is nice to hear myself praised, even as a secondhand compliment. I politely told the viscount that with her experience in the baron’s household, my sister Satiné was superior.”
Cashé brushed her sister’s ego aside and said, “Allow the viscount to hold your hand or to kiss you.”
“I could not!” Satiné protested.
“You can!” Cashé insisted. “Do you not want the viscount’s kiss?” She almost said first kiss, but she would not purposely begin another argument.
Satiné blushed, but she whispered, “Dare I encourage such familiarity?”
“Do you wish this man’s attentions? Can you see him as your husband? The father of your children?” Cashé charged.
Again, Satiné blushed. “How can you ask such personal questions?”
“Satiné,” Cashé nearly growled. “If you are not serious about Lord Lexford, then why are we performing this switch? The purpose is for you to capture the man’s heart. Yet, do not do so if you truly do not wish it. The viscount deserves better than a woman who cannot return his regard.”
“Listen to you. What would you do about Lord Yardley if I did not wish to earn Lord Lexford’s attentions?”
Cashé bit her bottom lip. “I do not wish to bring the viscount additional pain, but my heart dwells elsewhere.”
Satiné looked on. “You are serious? You will only settle for the earl?”
“I am quite serious.” Cashé walked to the window. “I cannot explain it, but I belong to Yardley even if I never see him again.”
Satiné sighed. “Then I should set about truly winning the viscount’s devotion.”
Thirty minutes later, the trio rode sedately away from the manor house. Within a few minutes, Cashé, as Satiné, had pretended a problem with her horse’s saddle. “No, I insist,” she had told a worried Lexford. “Cashé requires a riding lesson. I will rejoin you when Mr. Stewart makes the repair. Mulvanney will accompany me to the stables.”
“Are you absolutely certain, Miss Satiné?” Lexford questioned. “Your sister and I would not wish to be without your company.”
“Do not be foolish. I ride daily, but Cashémere is not so fortunate. Uncle Charles just recently arranged a new saddle for her. I would not deprive my sister of your good company.”
“As you wish then.” The artifice had worked just as Cashé had predicted. Lexford had played the perfect gentleman, but she had outmaneuvered him and then had watched with some satisfaction as he and Satiné rode off. With the groomsman close at hand, Cashé returned to the house to await her sister’s triumphant appearance.
*
“Would you care to rest for a few minutes, Miss Aldridge?” Lexford asked as they approached an outcropping overlooking a waterfall.
“That would be pleasant, Your Lordship.” Satiné kept Cashé’s dislike of riding ever in her mind. She even stepped gingerly before straightening to walk toward the rocky overhang. Untying the ribbons of her hat and spreading the material of her skirt around her, she took a seat and waited for the viscount to join her.
Lexford tied the horses nearby and came to sit beside her. Removing his hat, he leaned back on one elbow and stared at the sunless skyline. “We will know winter soon,” he said as he tilted his head to take in more of the expanse. “When I was in Persia, the night sky seemed darker and the daylight brighter, but I yearned for this.” He gestured to the wispy clouds. “I yearned for England with all its miserable weather–yearned for green grass and not brown vastness.”
“Was it horrible, my Lord?” Satiné asked, turning to face him.
Lexford frowned. “Occasionally. But mostly it was not England. I had run away from my responsibilities to forget England, but it had haunted me and called to me every day I was away.”
Satiné paused, afraid to ask. “What about England did you shun?”
Lexford sat up suddenly and took her hand in his. “I would prefer not to revisit those times. They were too painful then, a
nd although time has lessened the emotions associated with the events, they are still too raw.” Lexford paused. “I hope to find someone with whom I could find solace and learn to accept life again.”
“And have you seen such a person?” Satiné asked flirtatiously.
Lexford laughed lightly. “Are we seeking a compliment, my Dear?”
Satiné blustered, “Of course not, my Lord.”
“You have nothing to fear. I know none to rival your excellence.” Satiné wondered if the viscount could not tell her and Cashé apart, who was the excellent one?
Wiggling his eyebrows playfully, the viscount removed one of her riding gloves. One finger at a time, he withdrew each slowly, and then he rotated the palm to face upward before kissing the inside of her wrist.
Satiné gasped, “My Lord!”
Lexford’s lips turned up in a smile. “I realize at Linworth that I promised you to keep my pursuit at a minimum until your Come Out, but I must tell you that I am enjoying the changes I have observed in you since your becoming a member of Ashton’s household.”
Satiné played it coy. “I thought you preferred me as I was, Your Lordship.”
“You know that is not what I meant. You, my Dear, are trying to twist my words.” He traced a finger down her cheek. “I see a more relaxed Cashémere Aldridge, a woman who has allowed her vulnerability to show, something not found before.”
“It is my sister Satiné’s influence,” she whispered, wanting him to see her and not Cashé.
“Your sister has many admirable qualities,” Lexford began. “I admit I had not noticed Miss Satiné as much until of late. I see your influence on your twin and hers on you.” He pulled her hand closer to his body, bringing her to rest against his shoulder.
Satiné remembered Cashé’s advice: to make Lexford desire her. “Maybe it is my twin you want, my Lord. Have you ever considered that as a possibility?” She lowered her eyes demurely.
“I would never consider such an action, especially as Lord Yardley has expressed an interest in Miss Satiné.” Lexford traced circles across her palm.
Satiné brought her chin up to meet his gaze. “I can assure you, Lord Lexford, that the earl has withdrawn his attentions from Satiné.”
“I was unawares,” he confided. “Is Miss Satiné overset?”
Satiné smiled shyly. “I would say with some degree of certainty that Satiné has not considered Lord Yardley as a possible suitor for several weeks, even before our departure from Linworth.”
“And the lady has identified a replacement?” he said teasingly.
She brought her chin a bit higher, welcoming his kiss. “Absolutely. Satiné has identified a superior choice.”
*
After sending Satiné off with the viscount, Cashé had returned to the estate. She had a dual purpose in finding time alone: giving her sister the opportunity to entice Lord Lexford’s attentions and finding her Uncle Samuel’s letter. Since recalling how her Uncle Charles had manipulated Samuel Aldridge’s speedy exit, the need to know the truth had become a bit of an obsession. She had replayed the scene over and over in her mind, but there were annoying gaps in her memory that were driving her a bit mad. She had thought Lord Yardley would find her frustrations amusing, but even thoughts of the compelling earl could not replace her need to discover an answer.
Sending her mount to the stable with the groomsman, Cashé had made her way to the house’s rear and along the servants’ staircase to her uncle’s study. By stepping into empty rooms, she had avoided the household staff before sneaking into the baron’s sanctuary, closing the door, and quietly locking it.
“Where should I look?” she mumbled as she stepped further into the room. She had thought of searching the study during the night, but she had assumed someone would see the light under the door. During the day, that was not an issue. Light streamed in through the high windows and the patio opening.
She first searched the desk, shifting quickly through the stacks of correspondence arranged neatly on the surface. She did the same for the stacks on the table behind her. Finding nothing, she sat in her uncle’s chair and began to open the drawers. In the third one, she found a folder bound by string and holding letters and receipts, some of which included her parents’ names, as well as references to Samuel Aldridge. Impulsively, she slid the bundle under her jacket to read later. She would return it somehow before the baron’s return.
Finding nothing else in the desk, Cashé made her way about the room, lightly touching items. She quickly realized she could not look through everything; Uncle Charles collected too many artifacts and books for that to be a possibility. She would need to use her insights into the baron’s personality. He prided himself on his stratagems. Where would he hide Uncle Samuel’s letter? Then it came to her: The baron would hide the letter in plain sight. Turning slowly to take in every item on display, her eyes came to rest on a book on an end table. Obvious, but secretive at the same time, she realized. Cashé removed the book and laid it upon the cushions of a nearby chaise before opening it. The first page held an elaborate family tree, tracing the Mortons back through some five generations. Instinctively, she found her mother, along with the line indicating Chenille Morton’s joining with Edward Aldridge and the births of her sisters, as well as her own name. Uncle Charles had continued the lines with Velvet’s marriage to Brantley Fowler. A sob nearly escaped–for her parents and for the real possibility that the baron might never record the earl’s name beside hers.
Opening the Bible to where the folded paper lay, Cashé chuckled at her uncle’s deviousness. She realized, unexpectedly, that she was probably more like him that any of her sisters. She would have thought of something similar to hide her secrets. In fact, His Lordship’s letter rested in a folded scarf on her bureau. “A very nice touch of irony,” she whispered. “You hide Uncle Samuel’s letter in First Samuel. Which section, Uncle Charles?’ She let her eyes scan the page. “Chapter three: the curse on Eli’s house. More irony!”
Cashé left the Bible lying open, arranging two loose pillows over it to mask her perfidy from prying eyes. Taking the letter with her, she released the door’s lock and latch and then made her exit through a floor to ceiling window, which she left ajar in case she needed it again. Casually, she made her way around the house to the garden, purposely stopping periodically to pull away a dead leaf or to enjoy the last of the blooms. The grounds keepers had seen her do so hundreds of times over the last few weeks. Finally reaching the main entrance, she greeted Mr. Whitcomb, the baron’s butler and hurried to her room.
*
Her boldness had taken Lexford by surprise, but not in a bad way. He had flirted with Cashé Aldridge on and off for months, but this was different. This time a tingle of excitement coursed through his veins, and a pure lust squeezed the air from his lungs. Her gaze mesmerized him, and Kimbolt found himself slipping into an abyss. She had attracted him from the first time he had laid eyes on her at Linton Park, but now Miss Cashémere held him in a hardy grip of emotions. He had noticed the difference when he had unexpectedly met the baron and called for tea. The intensity lessened at the evening of entertainment he had shared with the Morton family. Even over the last two days sometimes he had felt an energy when in Miss Aldridge’s presence, and other times Lexford experienced the simple comfortableness he had known from the beginning of their relationship.
“Miss Aldridge,” he breathed her name as she closed her eyes, anticipating his kiss.
*
Cashé had rushed to her room, locking the door behind her. Her heart had pounded out a staccato from the moment she had found the letter hidden in full view. Kicking off her shoes and removing her riding jacket, she curled up on the bed, looking for the secrecy the draped four-poster provided.
First, she removed the letter. The morning of Samuel Aldridge’s departure, she had read only the initial paragraphs before storming from her room to confront those who had destroyed her known world. Cashé had felt Uncle Samuel’s b
etrayal for leaving her behind–felt the caustic manner in which each of the other household members would welcome her defeat–felt the anger of how little she had meant to any of them. She had been left behind, again. First her parents. Then her sisters. Then her sometimes loving, but often-dreadful grandmother. And just as she had found her place, her Uncle Samuel had joined the exodus. This time she would read each paragraph carefully, attempting to discover the unknown. From her Uncle Charles, Cashé had learned how the Mortons and the Fowlers had paid the Aldridges for the twins. At the time, she had thought that the Aldridges had chosen her above her sisters, but over the last few weeks, Cashé’s identity had suffered as she had learned more about those early years. Apparently, the Fowlers had chosen Velvet because her older sister was closer in age to Eleanor Fowler, providing a ready-made companion for the girl, while Uncle Charles and Aunt Louisa had chosen Satiné because of her youngest sister’s propensity for female activities: tea and lace and pretty gowns.
So, where did that leave her? Unwanted. Tolerated. She was the middle sister, the one unnoticed by anyone. Velvet, even before their parents’ deaths, had been coddled, held with the highest esteem. Cashé had always thought Satiné a bit self-centered and pampered, but it was she, the one discarded, who had possessed the greatest variety in her traits–in opposition to either of her siblings. Cashé had viewed herself as independent and generous. She had recognized how others thought her emotionally withdrawn and distant, but Cashé considered herself social and knew, despite a quick temper, she could be a strong negotiator. “Then why did no one want me?” she murmured, her chest constricting with the hurt.
Unfolding the letter, she took a deep breath and read what she had not seen several weeks prior. Although addressed to her, Aldridge’s letter was actually an attack on Uncle Charles. He told her he was leaving her in the care of a “pernicious braggart.” Lord Averette referred to Thornhill as “the spawn of a black-hearted degenerate.” He offered a prayer for her and Velvet’s future. Her uncle had disparaged Charles Morton, Brantley Fowler, and Lord and Lady Worthing. In fact, the letter said very little about or to her. Uncle Samuel did not even apologize for leaving her behind.
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