A Touch of Honor
(Book 7 of the Realm Series)
By Regina Jeffers
White Soup Press
Copyright © 2014 by Regina Jeffers
Cover Design by Sarah Callaham
Interior Text Design by Sarah Callaham
All rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any manner (electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system) whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
White Soup Press
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1496000514
Table of Contents
Cast of Characters
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Children of the Realm
Historical Notes
Other Books by Regina Jeffers
Coming Soon
“Did you know?” the baron asked in accusatory tones. He stood beside his wife’s bed, his hands fisting and unfisting, arms akimbo.
Isolde’s fingers released the clasp of the baroness’s necklace and turned her mistress to her stomach so she could unlace Lady Swenton’s gown. Out of breath, she asked testily, “Did I know what?”
Lord Swenton’s voice had turned cold. “When you convinced me to escort my mother’s remains to York, did you know Lady Swenton meant to remain in London to meet her lover? Or was it your purpose for me to encounter Prince Henrí tonight? You did say this evening would be a monumental event.”
Isolde’s fingers froze in their task. “Have you taken leave of your senses?” Her hands wildly brushed away his allegations. “I have been nothing but loyal to you. Other than Lord Morse, I am ignorant of a potential lover, and I have never heard of Prince Henrí.”
“What of a heated spat between your mistress and Lady Fiona?” he accused.
“Nothing!” Isolde said defiantly. “When I came to Miss Aldridge’s service, the baroness was some four months with child. She withdrew from her social engagements shortly after my taking the position. I never held the pleasure of an acquaintance with the former baroness.” With a huff of exasperation, Isolde returned to Lady Swenton’s unconscious state. “If you will pardon me, I must attend to your wife.” Despite her best efforts, a soft sob escaped. He had never spoken to her harshly.
Within a heartbeat, the baron had circled the bed and had caught her to him. He drove Isolde backward until her spine was pressed against the interior door and his hard body plastered her front. “Forgive me,” he whispered roughly against her temple. “I never meant to harm you. Please Isolde, I have acted a fool.”
Some dark, inexplicable passion rushed through her, and Isolde instinctively pressed her center to his manhood. The white-flare of need ripped the breath from her chest, and she buried her face into the crook of his neck. “We should not…”
“Should not what?” His voice sounded as breathy as did hers. “Should not claim one moment of happiness?”
Isolde could not dismiss how aware she was of this man’s masculinity. “One moment would never be enough.” She could taste the salt upon his skin, and Isolde ran her tongue along the crease of his neck. A groan of desire rewarded her efforts.
A rush of silence followed before Lord Swenton placed his hands against the wall on either side of her head and lifted his body from hers. Immediately, she experienced the bleakness of his withdrawal. “Some way,” he rasped as he gently cuffed her cheek. “I mean to finish this. For now, please assist me with Lady Swenton. I cannot fathom what the future holds, but please know somehow my soul will find its way to you.”
Cast of Characters
Members of the Realm and Their Ladies
James Daniel Kerrington, Viscount Worthing (Future Earl of Linworth) – the group’s “unofficial” leader (resides at Linton Park in Derbyshire)
Lady Eleanor Agatha (Fowler) Kerrington, Viscountess Worthing – Kerrington’s wife; Brantley Fowler’s sister [James and Eleanor’s story is found in The Scandal of Lady Eleanor – book 1 of the Ream series.]
Brantley William Fowler, the Duke of Thornhill (resides at Thorn Hall in Kent)
Velvet Elaine (Aldridge) Fowler, the Duchess of Thornhill – Brantley’s wife and cousin [Bran and Velvet’s story is found in A Touch of Velvet – book 2 of the Realm series.]
Marcus Alexander Wellston, the Earl of Berwick (Lord Yardley) – resides at Tweed Hall in Northumberland)
Cashémere (Aldridge) Wellston, the Countess of Berwick (Lady Yardley) – Velvet’s younger sister; twin to Miss Satiné Aldridge [Marcus and Cashémere’s story is found in A Touch of Cashémere – book 3 of the Realm series.]
Gabriel Luis Crowden, the Marquis of Godown – resides in Staffordshire
Grace Anne (Nelson) Crowden, the Marquise of Godown – a former governess in Samuel Aldridge’s household [Gabriel and Grace’s story is found in A Touch of Grace – book 4 in the Realm series.]
Aidan Colin Kimbolt, Viscount Lexford – resides at Lexington Arms in Cheshire
Mercy Elizabeth (Nelson) Kimbolt, Viscountess Lexford – Grace Crowden’s younger sister [Aidan and Mercy’s story is found in A Touch of Mercy – book 5 of the Realm series.]
Sir Carter Stephan Lowery – a baronet; resides in London and Kent; will be the future leader of the Realm
Lucinda Isabella (Rightnour) Warren Lowery – the baronet’s wife; a soldier’s daughter and wife [Carter and Lucinda’s story is found in A Touch of Love – book 6 of the Realm series.]
Johnathan Parnell Swenton – a baron from Yorkshire; often uses the defunct title of Baron Shannon, as well as his proper title of Baron Swention
Isolde Daireann Neville – daughter of an Irish baron; her father is an archaeologist, who goes missing while assisting with bringing the Elgin Marbles to England
Other Characters Important to the Story Line
Aristotle Pennington – the Realm’s leader; the group refers to him as “Shepherd”
Murhad Jamot – a Baloch warrior, who has been sent to England by the tribal leader, Shaheed Mir, to recover a missing emerald, which Mir claims the Realm has stolen from him
Rahmat Talpur – Jamot’s partner in England; was killed by James Kerrington
Sonali Fowler – Brantley Fowler’s daughter by his first wife, Ashmita
Baron Charles Ashton – the maternal uncle to the Aldridge daughters; Satiné Aldridge’s guardian (resides at Chesterfield Manor outside of Manchester)
Satiné Aldridge – Cashémere Aldridge’s twin siste
r and the youngest of the three Aldridge sisters; departed England for the Continent in order to avoid the scandal associated with an attack by Lachlan Charters
Lachlan Charters – a Scotsman who kidnapped Miss Satiné, thinking her to be Cashémere; struck Aidan Kimbolt a mighty blow, causing the viscount to lose his memory
Baroness Fiona Caroline Swenton – John’s mother; deserted her husband and son
Baron Jeremiah Swenton – John’s father
Prince Vinzens – John’s host at Auersperg Palace in Vienna
Rupert – Satiné’s son by Prince Henrí
Eoghan Neville – Isolde’s father; an archaeologist; went missing while preparing to travel with Giovanni Luscieri
Thomas Bruce, 7th Earl of Elgin – real life character; ambassador to the Ottoman Empire; with his own funds he removed many of the sculptures of the Parthenon
Lord Randolph Morse – younger brother and heir of the Duke of Falkenberry; a rake, known for his multiple conquests about London
Adam Lawrence, Viscount Stafford – the heir to the Earl of Greenwall; a renowned rake, but friend to the Realm [Adam’s story is found in His: Two Regency Novellas – “His Irish Eve.” He also played a major role in the Austenesque novel, The Phantom of Pemberley.]
Chapter One
The greatest way to live with honor in this world is to be what we pretend to be.
- Socrates
John Swenton released the knocker to the apartments in a less than stylish section of Vienna. It tore at his heart she had fallen so low. A year had passed since he had last laid eyes upon her–actually sixteen months, one week, and four days–and John’s heart quickened with the possibility. He had dreamed of her every night since he bid her farewell upon the docks at Hull.
He had come to Vienna, not to call upon her again, but to say his farewells to Baroness Fiona Caroline Swenton, his mother; unfortunately, he had been too late. As she had always done, the baroness had made her exit with no regard for how her doing so might affect him. Another woman would have fought her illness until her only child had arrived upon her doorstep, but Lady Fiona had never known maternal heartstrings.
With his mother’s untimely passing, rather than dutifully sitting by her sickbed, John had made arrangements to have his mother’s body exhumed. He meant to see her remains buried in the Swenton family cemetery behind Marwood Manor. He was certain Lady Fiona would not appreciate the gesture, but John knew his father’s spirit would approve. Jeremiah Swenton had died, figuratively, the day his wife had walked away from the former baron and their young son. She had performed her duty of producing an heir, and the lady wished nothing more of their company. John had often imagined the late baron had simply held onto life until John had come of age and could assume the barony without legal complications. It had not been an easy life for either of them, but somehow they had survived the shame and the scandal brought on by Lady Fiona’s desertion.
“Yes, Sir?” A striking red headed beauty appeared as the door swung wide. She was dressed as a lady, rather than a servant, and for a moment, John wondered if he had the wrong directions. Her skin was pale and creamy, with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose, and despite his purpose in calling upon the household, John felt an unusual twinge of awareness.
Swallowing hard against his unconscious response to the woman, he bowed stiffly. “Baron Swenton for Miss Aldridge.”
“Baron Swenton?” The girl’s smile widened. “Please come in, Sir.” She stepped back to permit him access. Closing the door behind him, she said, “I am pleased for the acquaintance, Sir. Miss Aldridge speaks kindly of you.” John liked the idea of knowing Baron Ashton’s niece occasionally thought of him, and in a positive manner. He had thought of her every day and every night. “Please permit me to accept your hat and gloves, Baron.” John obediently obeyed. “I am Miss Neville.”
Realization dawned. This was the lady he had employed to keep him informed of Miss Aldridge’s needs. She was reportedly of good family, but had been left alone due to family mishaps. His man of business had made the arrangements, and upon initial impression, John had approved of the hire. As requested as part of her settlement with his man of business, the lady had unquestioningly sent him two letters in the previous five months outlining her employment and sharing many of the “secrets” of Miss Aldridge’s household. He did not think kindly on his actions in this matter, but as propriety had kept him from corresponding with Miss Satiné directly, he had chosen the only course available to him to protect the woman he loved. The reminder of the woman’s loyalty to her position had John wondering if Miss Neville had sent more than two letters. He had been from Marwood for some three months–first, with the art theft investigation, and then with travel during the winter across the Continent. It was exhilarating to have a face to accompany his image of the very articulate Miss Neville.
“Ah, Miss Neville,” he said with a second bow of respect. “I was not expecting Miss Aldridge’s companion to act as man servant.” He relaxed, his smile without humor. “I was in the city,” John explained, “on family business, and I had hoped to have the company of Miss Aldridge. Please excuse my forwardness.”
A flare of panic crossed Miss Neville’s countenance, and John wondered if he had overstepped the lines of propriety beyond reason. Naturally, his fascination with Satiné Aldridge did not mean the Baron Ashton’s niece would return his regard. “I fear, Baron, Miss Aldridge is not receiving.”
John felt the pang of disappointment. “Of…of course,” he said through tight lips. It had been foolish of him to pin his hopes on this visit. “If it is acceptable, I will leave my card. I should have thought…” He paused to collect his composure. “If you would ferry my message to your mistress, I would be most appreciative. I mean to depart for England at week’s end. Please ask Miss Aldridge if I might call upon her before then. You may reach me at Auersperg. Prince Vinzens has extended his hospitality.”
The lady appeared decidedly intrigued, but with an equally noticeable wary expression, she responded, “I am certain Miss Aldridge would enjoy having Prince Auersperg’s acquaintance, but I should have explained more adequately: Miss Satiné has taken to her bed. I do not expect her to be available for visits or for social events for several weeks to come.”
John drew in a deep breath to disguise the tension clutching at his chest. Was Miss Aldridge seriously ill? Could he lose her before he had had the opportunity to declare his intentions? “Has a physician seen to the lady’s care?” he pleaded. He struggled with the desire to know what had occurred and balance it against Society’s strictures.
Miss Neville gestured him to a nearby sitting room. Tactfully, she closed the door to assure their conversation remained private. Neither of them chose to sit. The lady wrung her hands anxiously. “I am at sixes and sevens, Baron.” Mixed with the fretful overtones in her voice, Swenton noted the twinge of an Irish accent. Many in York held Irish roots, and he was accustomed to the soft roll of the vowels and a few of the consonants. “Although I serve Miss Aldridge, I am aware you are most assuredly my employer, and I am indebted to you for your generosity.” John had pretended to act with Baron Ashton’s approval when he had placed Miss Neville in Miss Aldridge’s household. He fully understood others would not approve of his presumptuousness, but it was the only means he had possessed for information on Miss Aldridge. Miss Neville presented him a rueful shake of her head. “I hold an allegiance to both you and Miss Aldridge.”
Swenton’s mouth thinned with displeasure. “I will not sack you if you keep your mistress’s confidences, but you must know I hold Miss Aldridge with great regard. If the lady has need of my protection, I would perform my duty gladly.”
The deep cinnamon of her eyes flashed. With annoyance or admiration? She worried her bottom lip in indecision. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, she explained, “When first I came to Miss Aldridge, all appeared well, but as I confided in my last letter, over the past three months, Miss Aldridge has become more withdraw
n, barely leaving her rooms. Her appetite has become nonexistent.”
John stilled. “I have not received your most recent post,” he confided, “as I was away from my home.” His eyebrows rose in anticipation. “Was there nothing to be done for the lady?” He sucked in a deep breath and mentally braced himself for Miss Neville’s next pronouncement.
Anxiety sounded in Miss Neville’s tone. “Miss Aldridge’s illness was not one medicine could cure. Only time will do so.” She pressed her fingertips to her mouth as if she wished to snatch back her words. Averting her eyes, she continued, “This is not a conversation for strangers, especially strangers not of the same gender.”
He responded in a tight voice. “Yet, I insist, Miss Neville.”
She regarded him intently, and John cursed his weakness: The one in which he had always sought love where none existed. He had hoped this visit would lay the basis for Miss Aldridge’s return to England, as well as preparing the way for him to woo the woman with a proper proposal. To date, he was the only one among his associates who had yet to claim a bit of happiness, and John meant to right that particular situation with a woman he had cherished from their first meeting.
Miss Neville momentarily glanced away before meeting his gaze with her firm one. “Miss Aldridge’s lack of appetite was self-imposed,” she explained. “My mistress worried for her figure.”
A barbed smile formed on his lips. “I cannot imagine Miss Aldridge’s stature would tolerate anything less than perfection,” he declared with confidence.
“And I am certain Miss Aldridge sought perfection when none was to be had,” she countered.
His voice had a harder edge than he intended. “Perhaps you had best explain without all the niceties, Miss Neville. I tend to be a plain spoken man.”
Her expression sobered before the woman nodded curtly. “Miss Aldridge has kept a scandalous secret from all her dear friends and family. Her withdrawal was to disguise the fact she was enceinte. Miss Satiné delivered a son a fortnight past.”
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