Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere

by Regina Jeffers

  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.

  Chapter 13

  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.

  Marcus did not have to consider the matter. Breeson never asked for time away. If the man thought he must return home, Marcus would not question it. “How long will you need?”

  “A week, Sir.”

  “Are you certain that is enough?”

  “Yes, Sir. Longer than a couple of days takes its toll on us all. I have been away too long to take orders from anyone but you, Sir.”

  Marcus chuckled. Although he thought he would gladly take orders from his mother if only she were alive to deliver them, he understood perfectly. “Take as long as you require, Breeson.”

  *

  “May I be of assistance?” The butler held the door for Eleanor Kerrington.

  “I am Lady Worthing.” She removed her bonnet and gloves and handed them to the man. “Lord Worthing asked me to come and assist my cousin. Might I see Miss Aldridge?”

  The butler assisted Eleanor with her cloak. “The lady has not come down of yet, Lady Worthing.”

  Eleanor shot a glance at the grandfather clock. “It is after ten. Is this typical of Miss Aldridge?”

  Mr. Whitcomb blustered. “No, Ma’am; yet, Miss Aldridge saw Lord Worthing and his companions on their way well after midnight. I would assume the young lady required her rest after a trying day.”

  Eleanor understood the man’s loyalty to the Morton household so she ignored his chastising tone. “Is there word of Miss Satiné?”

  “Not of which I am aware, Ma’am.”

  Eleanor frowned with the lack of information. “And Lord Lexford?”

  “His Lordship has yet to awake, Ma’am.”

  Eleanor sighed deeply in exasperation. “I will see Lord Lexford while you send someone to my cousin’s room to inform her of my arrival.”

  “Yes, Lady Worthing.” The man reached behind him for a salver. “With instructions to de
liver it upon your arrival, Lord Worthing left this message for you, Ma’am.” He motioned to a waiting maid. “Lucy will show you to the viscount’s room and then seek Miss Aldridge’s presence in your name.”

  Eleanor inclined her head regally before following the maid up the main staircase. She carried her husband’s letter with her to read while she waited for Cashé to dress for the day.

  “This be the viscount’s room, Ma’am.” The maid opened the door and stepped aside. Another maid scurried to her feet upon Eleanor’s entrance.

  Seeing Aidan Kimbolt lying so helplessly upon the bed, Eleanor gasped. “The viscount looks so pale.”

  “The housekeeper, Mrs. Lacey, say that be expected, Ma’am.”

  “Would you ask the housekeeper to come to Lord Lexford’s room?” she addressed the attending maid. “I would like to hear what the surgeon had to say regarding His Lordship’s care.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Eleanor sat on the bed’s edge, taking up Kimbolt’s large hand. “I am here, Lord Lexford,” she whispered as she bent to kiss his cheek. Eleanor swept away the lock of hair drooping over his forehead. “I am not going to permit you to leave us, Aidan,” she declared. “Without you, my life would have disintegrated into Sir Louis’s evilness.” She stroked his cheek. “I never told you how safe I felt in your arms and how bereft I felt when we parted. I thought myself cleansed by your touch, and you restored my hope by sending me to James. So, you must understand, Lord Lexford, that I am determined to give you back your life so you might be as happy as I.”

  Before she might say more, the young maid came rushing into the room. “Lady Worthing, oh, Ma’am!” She fanned herself with her open hand. “She be gone! Miss Aldridge be gone!”

  Eleanor was on her feet immediately. “What do you mean...gone?” She took the girl by both shoulders, giving her a small shake.

  “Gone, Ma’am,” the maid bit out breathlessly. “There be clothes everywhere, and Miss Aldridge be leavin’ these two letters on her bed.”

  Eleanor snatched the papers from the girl’s hand. Scrawled across one was Baron Ashton’s name and the other held hers. Eleanor tore at the one addressed to her. Devouring the words, her hand shook, but she refused to allow the servant to see her concern. “Lucy,” she spoke evenly, “please have Mr. Whitcomb to attend me here.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “And Lucy,” she warned, “do not speak of this to anyone else.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  When the maid disappeared into the corridor, Eleanor allowed herself a moment of dismay. “Oh, Cashé,” she whispered. “Impetuous, fiery Cashémere.” She glanced at the note again. “If you ever take control of your impulses, you will rule the world.” In some ways, Cashé’s actions appalled her: The girl had put herself in danger. Yet, Eleanor admired Cashé’s resolve to find her sister.

  The Shadow had foisted the darkness upon him, but Aidan Kimbolt had clawed his way toward the light. He had argued with the Shadow. Had pushed aside his fears. Had managed to conceal the pain radiating throughout his body. Eleanor Fowler rested in his arms, and he had kissed her tenderly. The first time he had kissed any woman since.... Aidan did not wish to remember the pain. The devastation of his heart. All he wished to remember was those shared moments of intimacy with the woman Kerrington reportedly loved. He had not wanted her exactly, but he was sore to leave the warmth and the tenderness he had found with Fowler’s sister. How can I be whole again without that? He had asked himself, and the Shadow ominously responded, “You cannot.”

  *

  “Are you certain?” Jamot asked for the third time.

  The timid shopkeeper, Mr. Stanley, shifted his weight from side to side. “That is what I heard. The baron went to London on business, but he left the sisters under Viscount Lexford’s care. But someone attacked the gentleman, and it is rumored that one of the girls is missing.”

  “From whom does this information come?” Jamot formed the words carefully.

  “From no one. I heard it myself at the inn. The magistrate questioned the innkeeper.”

  Jamot automatically reached into his pocket to hand Stanley another payment. “Keep asking around,” he instructed. “I want to know everything. Inform me when the baron returns.” The man took the money cautiously. Jamot realized that Stanley hated serving a foreigner, but the Baloch took a certain satisfaction in having the Brit answer to his beck and call. “If anything else of note occurs, you come here first.”

  *

  As the post coach rolled along the country roads, Cashé stared out the window. She attempted to ignore her fellow travelers. She had worn her most common day dress. Luckily, she had anticipated people’s interest in her. Purposely, she had slurred her words and had pretended to be an upper servant off to tend an elderly relative. She had spoken as little as possible to the others. It would take, at least, four days of hard traveling to reach her destination. As the miles led her further from Chesterfield Manor, Cashé had prayed that her sister had not submitted to Charters’ rough ways. Satiné had never faced adversity before, and Cashé was not certain how an abduction might affect her twin. If Satiné could continue her pretense of being Cashé, her sister might survive this ordeal. The world would view Cashé as ruined, but there was no other way. She would see this through. She had to set things right.

  *

  Being rocked back and forth, Satiné woke on the floor of the carriage. The coach’s constant swaying had made her stomach lurch, and she had fought hard not to lose her breakfast. “Breakfast,” she formed the word without the sound. When had that been? she thought. And then the realization had hit her. Some man had attacked Viscount Lexford and had carried her off, thinking she was Cashémere.

  The recognition sent her insides a reeling more than had the coach’s rhythm. What in the world could she do to make the man release her? She had realized despondently that this incident would ruin her reputation before she had ever made her appearance in London. However, if she could convince her abductor to free her, she might still salvage some shred of decency; and she could delay her presentation for another year to allow the rumors to die away.

  Uncle Charles. Her uncle would search for her. That was a certainty. “But he was away from home,” she whispered. Was anyone looking for her? How long had she been unconscious? With an effort, she pushed herself up a seated position before leaning against the bench seat. The inside of the coach swirled about her, and Satiné gave herself a good shake to clear her mind. She had to find a means from this mess. “Surely, I can clarify the man’s misconception. When he understands that I am not Cashémere, he will permit my freedom,” she told herself, but as the coach rolled on, she doubted whether anything in her life would ever be the same.

  *

  Eleanor had read her husband’s letter and had completely understood the situation. Meeting with and demanding that the servants refrain from speaking of Lord Lexford’s injury, Satiné’s disappearance, and Cashé’s withdrawal to anyone outside the home, She had taken control of the baron’s household. All inquires were to come to her. After speaking to Mrs. Lacey, she had sent a note to Doctor Potter requesting his discretion in handling the viscount’s case. Finally, Eleanor had spoken directly to the magistrate. The man’s handling of the questioning of witnesses had opened Satiné’s reputation to censure. Depending on how quickly Lord Worthing was able to recover Satiné would determine what story they had spread throughout the neighborhood. Eleanor had plenty of practice in covering scandals, and now that she had powerful friends and family, she knew what to do to correct the locals’ bungling of the situation.

  She sent a rider to seek her husband with news of Cashé’s plan to save her sister, but Ella did not expect that the young groomsman would catch Kerrington. The Realm members would not stop until they had found Satiné’s abductor. There was nothing else she could do except to tend Lexford and to wait for Ashton’s reappearance, more likely some time later tomorrow–maybe even the day after.
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  *

  “What do you mean by no one is talking?” Jamot stormed across the sparsely furnished room.

  Despite his fears, Stanley had informed Jamot of his lack of progress. “I have asked repeatedly...from everyone, and I keep hearing the same thing: ‘I know nothing. If you want to ask questions about the family, ask their cousin. The lady is staying at Chesterfield Manor and is overseeing the house in the baron’s absence.’”

  Jamot tapped down his anger. “Who is this cousin?”

  “Again, I am not certain. It is almost as if someone had warned everyone away from the story. I did confirm the fact that Viscount Lexford has not regained consciousness.”

  Jamot stared out the small window. “And you say the baron is not in residence?”

  “No. Ashton was in London...probably arriving in Cheshire some time tomorrow or the next day.”

  Jamot nodded his understanding. Deep in thought, he added, “You need to find out more before you come here again.” Without looking at the man, he extended his arm for Stanley to take his payment. “I pay for information, not the lack of it, Mr. Stanley. Do you comprehend my meaning?”

  “Yes. Yes, I understand perfectly.”

  *

  Following the most obvious trail to Scotland, Kerrington led his men through the night. From what Cashé had told him, Charters had never traveled outside of his home land, and Kerrington assumed the man would stay to the main roads; but after finding nothing at the first three inns at which they stopped, he had changed his mind. “No one has seen Charters,” he said softly when he rejoined his friends in the inn’s common room.

  Gabriel Crowden shot a glance to the other customers. It was early, and most of the inn’s occupants broke their fasts. “What do we do next?”

  Kerrington frowned as he followed Crowden’s eyes. “This Charters character planned more fully than I had initially expected. I thought this an impulsive move for the Scot, but he has obviously thought this through. It seems we must split up. Crowden, I suggest that you and Swenton continue along the main road. According to Miss Aldridge, Charters resides in Leith, about three miles outside of Edinburgh. I will take Lucifer with me, and we will cut across country. I had hoped to overtake the man before Miss Satiné’s reputation lay in shreds, but that may not be possible. We will meet up at The Sunset Inn south of Edinburgh.”