Satiné opened her eyes, but everything spun before her, so she had closed them again. “Tomorrow,” she thought, unable to say the word aloud. She made herself breathe deeply. Despite all the craziness, she was alive, and someone would come for her. She had to believe it. For now, she just wanted to lie on this clean bed and sleep.
Later, she woke to complete darkness, but it was the room draped in black rather than her head. “Where am I?” she asked the emptiness. She searched her memory for what the man had told her. Allowing the moon to provide some light, Satiné forced her eyes to focus on her surroundings. She could make out a table and a chair close to the window, but little else. The room’s chill brought a shiver down her spine, and she groped for the blankets and wrapped herself tightly in a wool cocoon; yet, she did not close her eyes. When she could see better, she would venture from the bed. “Maybe there is a way out of this on my own.”
*
Marcus had led Cashé through a rough terrain far off the main road. He assured her that this route would save them at least twelve miles. Although it had required a slower journey, he had explained, “We will be in Leith by late afternoon, and we can canvass Charters’ household before we decide what to do.” Now, as Cashé followed him along a narrow path where three hills merged, she could not help but to enjoy the masculine form of his wide shoulders and the narrowness of his waist. “Do you need to rest?” he called over his shoulder, noting her distraction. But before she could answer, Marcus brought Khan to a halt and slid from the saddle to catch her horse’s bridle. “Easy, Boy,” he coaxed the gelding toward a nearby hedgerow. He looped the reins around a low branch and turned to assist her to the ground. “You are doing a magnificent job of handling Triton,” he told her. “Let us sit over under the tree.” As she gingerly took a few steps, she heard him snigger, but a deadly glare warned him not to say anything.
“How much further?” she asked as she lowered herself to the ground.
“Here, have a drink of this,” Marcus handed her a flask.
Cashé looked up at him. “What is it?”
“Brandy.” He smiled knowingly. “Little sips. It will warm you and numb you.” Cashé put the flask’s rim to her mouth and tilted the liquid toward her lips. When the brandy burned her throat, Marcus looked away when the tears formed in her eyes. Yet, he admired how she stifled her cough. “Stretch out your legs,” he had ordered. When she did, the earl began to massage her calves and thighs. Cashé took another sip of the drink and closed her eyes.
The combination of his hands on the inside of her legs and the hot liquid seeping down her throat had lured Cashé into a moment of desire. “Marcus,” she whispered, and he heard the shallowness of his breathing.
“Shush, Darling,” he rasped. He had started at her ankles and now worked the muscles on the inside of her thigh. The soreness had dripped away as he had caressed closer to her most private place. “Cashé,” he murmured when his fingers stroked her softness through the breeches.
The lighting shot through her as Marcus caressed her, and the heat from her chest lodged itself between her legs. Cashé opened her eyes to gaze into his desire-filled ones. “I love you,” she whispered as Marcus released the buttons of the placket and slid his hand into the tight quarters–his fingers stroking her wetness. When he pushed one finger into her opening, Cashé instinctively opened her legs further. His finger slid in and out as his thumb circled the nub at her apex. “Marcus,” she breathed his name but did not look away.
The earl’s chest rose and fell as she bucked, pushing herself into his hand.
“Let it happen, Darling,” he whispered. “It is ecstasy, and it is time you knew it.”
Cashé thrust forward again as he slid in a second finger. “Love me,” she begged.
“More than life,” he rasped, as he pinched her nipple through the loosely woven shirt. “I want to see you crackle with life; I want to see the desire in your eyes.” Then she broke: her body shivering with her first climax. She clawed at his arm as wave after wave coursed through her. Marcus ceased his manipulations as he gathered her into his arms. “You are so beautiful when you are in the throes of desire. Thank you for trusting me. When you are my wife, we will spend the first week as a couple in my bed.”
“Will we sleep, my Lord?” she asked dreamily.
Marcus chuckled. “Occasionally.”
“Sounds divine.” She snuggled closer. “Can we do that again sometime?”
Marcus found her mouth. “That and so much more.”
*
Having finally achieved the rendezvous point, Gabriel Crowden and John Swenton rode into the Sunset Inn’s yard. Hostlers scrambled to take their horses. “Let us see if the captain has arrived,” Swenton said as he dismounted.
“You go ahead; I will see to the horses.” Crowden led his own horse to the stable.
“Swenton.” Kerrington called, exiting the inn. “You made good time.”
“Crowden was not in the mood to rest for very long in any one place.” Swenton shot a glance over his shoulder where the marquis walked casually toward the barn.
Kerrington followed Swenton’s gaze. “I wish I knew what goaded him.”
“He will tell us when he is ready.” Swenton followed him into the inn’s private room.”
“We have made progress. Charters returned home late yesterday, but he did so on foot and alone. Lucifer is watching the house. I thought to stir things up by making an unexpected call on Averette. I thought you and Crowden might see if Jamot is involved somehow.”
“Let us take a room and find something to eat, and then we will be ready.”
Before letting the knocker drop, Kerrington made note of where every footman waited for Averette’s instructions. A proper butler responded immediately. “Viscount Worthing to speak to Lord Averette.” Kerrington handed the man his card, along with his hat and gloves.
“This way, Sir.” The butler showed him into a small drawing room. “I will inquire if His Lordship is receiving.”
“Tell Lord Averette that this is not a social call,” Kerrington cautioned.
“As you wish, Sir.”
The butler disappeared into the house’s depths as Kerrington surveyed the room. Very ornate, a bit too ostentatious for his own tastes. Worthing was contemplating the costs of such a display when Averette appeared in the doorway.
“Lord Worthing, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? You are a long way from Linton Park.” Averette gestured toward a cluster of chairs.
Kerrington took the suggested seat but remained alert. “I beg your forgiveness for not sending word of my arrival.”
“There is no need. You extended your hospitality to my family. It is appropriate that I reciprocate.” Averette played with his watch chain. “How may I serve you, Sir?”
Kerrington cleared his throat. “I fear I bring bad tidings.” Worthing paused to judge Averette’s reaction. “Miss Satiné has been kidnapped and Lord Lexford attacked.”
Averette shifted nervously, but his voice held no guilt. “I do not understand what Charles Morton’s problems have to do with me. Satiné is my niece, but I rarely see her. Now, Ashton has assumed the care of Cashémere. I have no contact with either girl.”
“Yet, Miss Satiné’s abduction appears to have been executed by someone you know.” Worthing pried for information and waited for a response.
“I am afraid I still do not comprehend. Who of my associates do you suspect?” Averette’s face offered no knowledge of the crime, and Worthing wondered if he had chosen incorrectly.
“Cashémere recognized the name of her former suitor Lachlan Charters among those registered at the Manchester inn. The magistrate traced a rental coach to Charters,” Kerrington shared. “We assume that the man did not realize that he had taken the wrong twin.”
Averette actually flustered with anger. “The idiot! I assure you, Worthing, I knew nothing of this! Charters called here nearly two weeks prior, demanding Cashémere’s return, bu
t I never expected him to attempt something so dastardly.”
Worthing sat forward to press his point. “I should tell you, Averette, that I have seen evidence, which implies a connection between you and Charters that should be severed immediately. You are my wife’s cousin, and I would have no disdain to fall upon your shoulders.”
Averette’s voice went up an octave, indicating his anger. “You listen to Charles Morton, Lord Worthing!”
Kerrington smiled knowingly. “I am aware of Morton’s beliefs, but others have similar thoughts. If there is any truth, it will be found out,” he warned. “However, that is not my concern with this journey. I want Satiné’s return, and I seek your cooperation in saving your niece’s reputation.”
“Of course,” Averette assured Worthing. “Tell me what you wish of me.”
“You will inform me if Charters calls upon you,” Worthing explained. “I await my colleagues. Charters attacked a peer. The English courts will not look positively on those who protect him.”
“I understand.” Averette rose to end the conversation.
Worthing followed Aldridge to his feet. “If you have no objections, Your Lordship, I will call again tomorrow to update you on the search.”
“Absolutely, Lord Worthing. We must fine Satiné as soon as possible.”
*
Jamot watched James Kerrington leave Aldridge’s home. With Lady Worthing residing with the baron’s household, Jamot had expected to see the Realm in the area. He had seen Kerrington depart, but he did not expect the viscount to go far.
Jamot withdrew, not wishing the buzz of activity stirred up by Kerrington’s appearance to take his notice. He knew exactly where he might find assistance with his efforts. Jamot would seek out his former drinking partner. The man could prove valuable after all.
*
Satiné had allowed the light to fill the small room before she had left the bed’s security, and then she had explored the space. The room was cramped, but, thankfully, it was clean. “I wonder how long my captor will keep me here,” she said aloud just to hear her own voice. She used the chamber pot, before discovering the clean clothes, towel, soap, and water. She said a prayer of gratitude for even that small kindness. “He will not treat me poorly any longer.”
Methodically, she stripped away the stained riding habit she had worn for days. “How many days?” she wondered aloud. “At least four.” Satiné knew how long it might have taken to reach her Uncle Samuel’s house, and she had assumed the man, who had taken her, lived near the Averettes. In fact, she had concluded that he was Cashémere’s Lachlan Charters. “I wish the water was warm” she commented as she poured some from the ewer into the bowl.
With clean clothes and feeling more human, she explored the basket of food left for her. Taking an apple from the basket, she sank her teeth into it and closed her eyes. She would eat slowly, not certain how long it had been since she had eaten. She remembered the man giving her the water that had kept her drugged. “Probably two days,” she reasoned, reaching for a slice of thick bread. “I wonder about the water.” She sniffed the pitcher, trying to smell the metallic taste from before. Smelling nothing unusual, she took a small sip and waited, but nothing occurred. Therefore, she drank her fill. Finally, replete, she looked out the window, surveying the area. “Nothing but trees and bushes.”
Nevertheless, she pulled the chair closer, where she might see the daylight. “What now?” Satiné reached for the small brush she had found on the mantel and began to work the tats from her hair. “What now, indeed?”
*
“Lord Averette.” Aldridge’s former groomsman stepped before the curricle to stop it along the road to Leith.
“Get out of my way, March,” Aldridge warned. “I have no time for your silly games. I have told you before that you are not welcomed on my land.”
“That may be, M’ Lord, but I have something ye’ll want.” March tossed a sheet of paper into Averette’s lap before disappearing into the underbrush.
Averette looked around suspiciously, wondering if anyone watched him. Slowly, he opened the folded paper to read...
Lord Averette,
I have taken several documents from Baron Ashton’s house that I am certain you will wish in your own possession. Meet me after midnight in your stables. Bring a thousand pounds, and they are yours.
Averette swallowed hard. Could it be true? When Worthing had departed from his home earlier in the day, Aldridge had thought that the world, as he knew it, had collapsed; but if this note was true, Ashton might not be able to prove anything. If he could break with Charters, he might still survive this mess. He first had to make certain this disaster fell on Charters’ head. He had to force the man’s hand in this sorted business–make the simpleton the guilty party. Setting the horse in action, Averette guided the curricle toward his friend’s home.
Kerrington observed the exchange between Aldridge and the scraggily looking groomsman. As the messenger departed, Kerrington abandoned his pursuit of Aldridge. He was well aware of Averette’s destination, and he knew Lucifer Hill would oversee what transpired between Lord Averette and Charters. Instead, Kerrington followed the groomsman.
*
Charters had planned to visit Cashémere at the small cottage on his land, but the announcement of Aldridge’s appearance had cut those plans short. “Lord Averette,” he said coming to his feet, “what brings ye to me house on such an overcast day?”
Aldridge accepted the seat to which Charters gestured. “We must have a serious talk, Charters. I have entertained a visit from James Kerrington, Viscount Worthing, this morning. The gentleman brings a report of your recent visit to Manchester.”
Charters fought hard to control his initial reaction to Averette’s words. He had thought that he had covered his tracks well. Rather than to respond, he waited to learn the whole story. “And?” he said quietly into the silence.
“And Lord Worthing makes a good case against you, my friend. His Lordship suggested that I remove your name from my list of associates...actually said that you might pay dearly in a British courtroom.”
Charters ran his finger under his collar. “Let us say that some of what you repeat be true, I sees no offense in my layin’ claim to me betrothed and to puttin’ an end to the English viscount’s advances toward Cashémere,” he declared.
Aldridge smiled broadly. “Then you admit your involvement?”
Creating time to weigh his words, Charters cleared his throat. “Cashémere be promised to me. Everyone for miles knows it be so. I settled a livin’ on her with you, and I be expectin’ the courts to not deny me rights.” He took a deep breath. “I found Cashémere in Viscount Lexford’s arms. The man be takin’ liberties that should be mine.”
Aldridge’s surprise showed. “Are you saying that you discovered the viscount and Cashémere in a compromising situation?”
“Seen it with me own eyes,” Charters assured. “Pulled the Brit off Cashémere.”
Aldridge sat forward, interested in the tale. “You removed the viscount physically and then did what exactly?”
“Carried Miss Cashémere to me carriage.” Charters watched Aldridge’s reaction. Years of dealing with Averette had told him to beware, but he could see nothing but concern in the man’s countenance.
“And my niece came without protest?” A raised eyebrow was Aldridge’s only show of disbelief.
Having experienced it before, Charters ignored the viscount’s superior attitude. “Of course, Cashémere be upset, but she will understand now that she has returned to Scotland.”
Aldridge sat back leisurely into the cushions. “It is to your benefit that you have compromised my niece by traveling alone with her from Manchester. That is all you did to compromise her, is it not?”
Charters’ face flushed with color. “I be gentle with her, even gave her some laudanum so she could rest for the journey be long. I would never hurt the gel. I mean to make her me wife.”
“Where have you kept
her?” Aldridge glanced around the room. “Somewhere in the house.”
“She be close by.” Charters said no more.
Aldridge shifted uneasily in the chair. “Then I suppose we must find a way to stymie Worthing’s investigation. It is not likely that the viscount will walk away from this search. Plus, the man indicated that his colleagues were to be expected soon. As a future earl, Worthing has powerful friends in the British government. This will not be easy to sweep away. You cannot keep my niece hidden for long.”
Charters’ anxiety showed. “What can I do? I will not tolerate their taking the gel from me.”
Aldridge removed his watch to check the time. “Worthing plans to call again in the morning. I would like to tell him that his search was in vain, but I am certain that the viscount will not agree unless he speaks to my niece.”
Charters used a handkerchief to mop his brow. “If’n the gel be compromised, she be mine.”
“Yet, she really is not truly compromised,” Aldridge suggested. “Traveling alone could be covered up with enough lies and enough money. Morton also has government friends, and he will spare no expense. In fact, they could say that Lexford’s actions preceded yours and give Lexford first claim to my niece.”
“What are you suggesting, Aldridge?” Charters demanded.
“I am not suggesting anything. I am just stating the facts. If Worthing finds my niece, he and his friends will create a story to explain her days away from her Manchester home, and then the viscount will see that you are prosecuted for her kidnapping. I witnessed how he and the Duke of Thornhill manipulated Sir Louis Levering’s death. Without a trial, the baronet was sentenced to transportation, and then he was mysteriously killed on the trip to Australia–all this with the blessing of the Prince Regent. It will take little for the man to do away with you. The only way that you might escape is to make my niece your wife today.”
Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere Page 27