Realm 07 - A Touch of Honor

by Regina Jeffers

  Despite his best efforts to introduce Satiné to some of London’s best families, his wife continued to gravitate toward those who treated life as a fast race to the end. John did not understand his baroness’s need to know those whose reputations would taint hers.

  He glanced into his wife’s sitting room. All her callers had departed except Lady Kelley. With a sigh of resignation, he entered. Every time John came in contact with Viscount Kelley’s wife, the woman made a point of touching him: a caress of his arm or a brush of her palm across his back. “Pardon me, my Dear,” he said with a bow. John remained by the door. “I have received a message from Sir Carter. He has asked that I call on him. I shan’t be long. I will return in plenty of time for us to enjoy this evening’s opera.”

  Lady Kelley smiled prettily at him. “You are most fortunate, Lady Swenton, to have such an attentive husband. Please, my Lord,” she said with a well-practiced pout, “promise me you shall speak to Kelley and convince him not to abandon me so often.”

  “If the opportunity arrives,” John said noncommittally.

  “Perhaps this evening,” Satiné disclosed. “I have asked Verity and Lord Kelley to join us in your box.”

  John stifled his groan of disapproval. He had come to the conclusion his baroness made her choices simply to vex his resolve. “I will be delighted for the viscount’s company. Now, if you will excuse me…”

  “Wait,” Lady Kelley called out. “I have just this minute recalled a previous appointment. You will see me out, Baron?”

  John bit the inside of his jaw. “Certainly, Lady Kelley. Say your farewells to my wife while I ask a footman to summon your coach.” He stepped into the hall to motion his man to do the lady’s biding. He leaned heavily against the dark paneling, while steadying his breathing. He was not built for all the games his wife’s companions played. He was a simple man, with simple dreams, not a strutting peacock.

  Reluctantly, he returned to the sitting room. “Your coach awaits, Lady Kelley.” He extended his arm to the woman, who was most certainly his elder by half dozen years. The viscountess laced her arm through his, and John fought the urge to flinch.

  “We shall see you at eight,” Lady Kelley called over her shoulder to a trailing Satiné, who meant to see her friend to the door. “Oh, please, do not bother. Your husband is the perfect escort.” The woman discouraged Satiné’s efforts.

  “As you wish, Verity,” his wife said obediently. John wished his baroness were of sterner stuff with those who would manipulate her.

  “Lord Swenton?” John looked up to note Miss Neville’s approach. He had seen very little of the woman since the evening he had gone to her room. Satiné had agreed to dispense with Miss Neville’s services in the evenings, leaving the girl to her own devices.

  “Miss Neville. Do you set out on an errand?” The woman wore her bonnet and shawl.

  She smiled when she observed Lady Kelley’s possessive hold on his arm. “Just to the lending library, my Lord. Afterwards, I have an obligation for the baroness.”

  He winked at her. “Then come along. I am to show Lady Kelley to her coach. I have another arm for my wife’s companion.”

  “You are most kind, my Lord.” The lady’s hand had not touched his arm, but John had felt her heat just the same.

  “How blessed am I?” he spoke over his shoulder to his wife. “I have a beautiful baroness and the company of two fine ladies.” He turned the viscountess’s steps toward the main entrance. “Very blessed indeed.”

  *

  “Of what do you accuse me?” John growled. All that had remained of his good humor had evaporated. After handing Lady Kelley into her carriage, he had walked Miss Neville to the lending library some three streets from his townhouse before mounting his waiting horse to call in at the Home Office. When he had entered the baronet’s office, the scent of a unique woman still clung to him, and John had known contentment. Yet, no longer. Sir Carter and Pennington meant to know the details of how his mother had come by the emerald and diamond pieces he had presented to Satiné upon their marriage.

  The fact his wife had thought so little of the gift that she had sold his mother’s brooch gnawed at John’s soul. Was nothing sacred to Satiné Swenton? How had he gone so astray? Among his associates, he was the one known for his astute judgments–the one whose inner voice always knew what played best.

  Pennington said calmly, “No one is making accusations, Swenton, but we would be remiss in our duties if we did not make inquiries.” John grudgingly sat again. “Now, could you please answer Lowery’s question: Do you have knowledge of how Lady Fiona came to own the emerald pieces your baroness wears regularly when out among the ton?”

  “So you have followed my wife about London!” John accused. “Was an interest in Lady Swenton’s jewelry the reason behind Barrows and Northam’s appearances at Lady Cowper’s ball?”

  Both Lowery and Pennington ignored his observation, which meant John had seen through the Realm’s manipulations. “Simply answer the baronet’s question,” Pennington reiterated.

  John hissed, “Lady Fiona never accepted any gift of value I offered, whether it was my devotion or a mere trinket. My mother preferred the ‘love’ of her gentlemen artists than to that of her only child, and as to her jewels, Lady Fiona came from a wealthy family; she could easily afford whatever she wore. I neither inquired into who shared the former baroness’s bed nor who paid for her purchases. Although I fooled myself into believing Lady Fiona held me in regard, ours was not an intimate relationship. She accepted me only as a distant cousin who attended her fetes upon occasion. We never spoke of father or of what had occurred between them. I was simply another of her guests when Lady Fiona entertained. She directed beautiful women into my path, but she never inquired whether I partook of the offerings.”

  Lowery placed the emerald brooch before John. “There are rumors that Jamot has been asking similar questions about you. The Baloch has developed a cache of informants. Unfortunately for Jamot, many of his informants also work for us. He knows of your marrying Lady Swenton and of the baroness’s selling the brooch. We assume he had followed Lexford to Town and witnessed the viscount’s acquaintance with your wife at the jewelers. The baroness’s actions have brought the Baloch’s attentions to your door.”

  John palmed the brooch, his finger repeatedly tapping the pointed end of the pin. It bothered him he must learn of Satiné’s encounter with Lord Lexford second hand. “What else should I know?” he complained resentfully.

  “The Baloch has expressed the obvious,” Pennington responded. “You are the last Jamot has sought. Unless he has made a mistake, which he would never admit, only your guilt remains.”

  John was shocked by what the Realm’s leader did not say. “You have realized I was the one not in Mir’s tent when Fowler initiated his rescue of Ashmita. You think I stole the emerald during my absence!” His emotions raged. “Bloody hell, Lowery. I considered you my friend. Thought you trusted me! Thought we have given a bit of ourselves to the other. A brotherhood! I have been a fool!” John stood to exit. “My time with the Realm is finished. Call on me no more. As far as our connection is concerned, consider me dead to you.” Without a backward glance, he had stormed from the room.

  Mounting outside the Home Office, he had ridden toward the shore, away from London and all those who had betrayed his loyalty. John was a good five miles beyond London’s outskirts before he reined in his lathered mount. “My apologies, Kratos,” he whispered into the stallion’s ear, as he patted the animal’s neck. “I have taken my anger out on you.” The horse turned his head to nuzzle John’s gloved palm. “No treats,” he said, “but a full bucket of oats when we return to the mews. Your strength and power has never failed me.” He sighed heavily. “I wish I could say the same of those who walk on two legs.”

  Turning the horse toward the Capital, he set an easy pace. John required time to order his thoughts. To determine how best to protect his foolish wife. He had attempted diplomacy
with his baroness, but he had failed miserably. They were no closer to discovering happiness than they had been two months prior when they had exchanged their vows. However, John meant to change that particular fact when he reached Swenton Hall.

  *

  Isolde knew the instant she had laid eyes upon Lord Swenton his day had not gone well. “Please ask my wife to attend me in my study.” His stance spoke of complete dejection.

  “Certainly, my Lord.” Isolde hesitated. “May I be of service instead of the baroness? You appear troubled.”

  John shook off her offer. “I must speak to my baroness.”

  “As you wish, Sir.” Isolde turned to the main stairs. It ate at her soul how Baron Swenton suffered in his marriage. Entering the baroness’s rooms, she again became aware of the girl’s extremely thin appearance. “Permit me, Lady Swenton.” Isolde laced the back of her mistress’s gown.

  “Has Lord Swenton returned? I thought I heard his voice below.” Lady Swenton adjusted her sleeves, ones which disguised the baroness’s weight loss. Isolde chastised herself for not taking note of this particular fact earlier. The baroness’s obsession with maintaining a small waistline was another issue with which the baron should be made aware, and she feared the task of making him aware of the danger his wife courted would fall upon Isolde’s shoulders.

  “Lord Swenton wishes to speak to you immediately in his study.” Isolde tightened the laces.

  The baroness scowled. “Did the baron indicate his reasons for my presence?”

  “No, Ma’am.” Even if she knew Lord Swenton’s grounds, Isolde would never have disclosed them to the baroness. Isolde’s constancy to the man remained in tact. The baron’s defeated demeanor had signaled another change in the house’s dynamics. The thought of what had occurred to upset Lord Swenton sent a shiver of dread down Isolde’s spine.

  *

  John had purposely chosen his study for the war of words he was to conduct with his wife in order to force her into his world. In their previous disagreements, he had gone to her quarters. Today, he meant for her to know the disorientation of an unfamiliar setting.

  After sending Miss Neville in search of his baroness, John had written a hastily scribbled apology to Lord Kelley, begging off this evening’s entertainment. He had handed Peter the message and had sent the footman on his way just as his wife entered the study. “You asked to see me, my Lord.” She stepped tentatively into the circle before his desk.

  John did not rise to seat her, a purposeful statement of his displeasure. “Please close the door and then have a seat, Baroness.” He gestured to a nearby chair.

  “You frighten me, my Lord.” She shifted her weight nervously once she was seated.

  John spoke without inflection. “I should frighten you, Satiné. My patience has been broken. Soundly destroyed.”

  His wife’s spirited defiance had arrived. “Of what am I accused?”

  John reached into his pocket, removed the brooch, and placed it in the middle of the desk. He said not a word, just watched Satiné’s mind search for an explanation. When she offered none, he said, “I wish I knew why you find everything about me so contemptible. From the moment I lifted you over the lip of the glass cone, I have desired nothing but your happiness.”

  “I never meant to leave it at the jewelers,” Satiné said on a rush of nonsense. “I simply required funds to open Swenton Hall in your absence.”

  “Then why not speak of your selling your wedding gift so I might retrieve the piece?” he accused.

  She watched him in indecision. “We have come to a peaceful coexistence in the past week. I did not wish to displease you.”

  The soft disdain of his words had rattled her. It was the first time John thought he could win the battle of wills. “It is odd you considered the prospects of displeasing me. In the two plus months of our joining, I have failed to recognize when you have set yourself the task of pleasing me. I must beg your forgiveness, Baroness.”

  “Do not think, my Lord, I do not recognize the feigned exculpation in your speech, while, in truth, you deliver an insult,” his wife said waspishly.

  Her tone was a slap to John’s cheek. “You sold my mother’s jewelry,” he blamed. “Where is the money, Satiné? Upon what did you spend it?”

  Satiné employed her favorite tone of woe, the stricken voice with which John was all too familiar. “You were estranged from Lady Fiona since childhood! The piece could hold no sentimental value. Moreover, you have managed to have the brooch returned to you.”

  “At a high cost,” he growled. John regretted having cut ties with his Realm associates. They had been his salvation when he had lost his way in the world. “And I do not speak of the money the jeweler charged for the return of the brooch.”

  His wife huffed. “Then tell me how my actions have shamed you.”

  “You foolish girl!” His words sounded brusque even to his ears. His carefully crafted emotions had shattered. “Your greediness has brought Murhad Jamot’s notice. You do recall how dangerous the Baloch can be, do you not? He hung your eldest sister from a warehouse roof, and he left you and Lady Yardley stranded on a thin ledge to tumble to your deaths.” John was exhausted from pretending all would be well if he could be patient. His life was not well. It might never be well again. “Jamot has spent the past three years searching for a missing emerald reportedly belonging to his tribal leader! He has staged kidnappings and attacks upon those of my acquaintance in order to force my compatriots to trade the stone for their loved ones.

  “The Baloch has systematically eliminated each of the others,” John hissed. “Only I remain to be proved guilty of stealing Shaheed Mir’s emerald. The Baloch will not cease his torment or his search until he knows success. Recovering the emerald is Jamot’s voyage home.”

  Satiné wrinkled her nose. “Jamot believes your mother’s brooch holds the missing emerald?”

  “No. The Baloch’s emerald was fist sized, but the brooch caught Jamot’s attention when Lexford retrieved it from the jewelry. Your wearing the matching necklace, bracelet, earrings, and ring to please your new Society friends has led Jamot and the Home Office to the conclusion I stole Mir’s emerald to please Lady Fiona.” John emphasized, “The Baloch will come for the jewels, Satiné, and I may not be in a position to protect you.”

  “Surely, Thornhill and Berwick and the others will rally around you, as you did with them,” his baroness protested.

  His wife really thought it could be so simple to summon forth such well-trained agents, but John knew otherwise. “Thanks to your inanity, they believe I have betrayed them…that I have placed those they most affect in danger…that my greed ruled my heart and my mind.”

  “Why did you not warn me?” Satiné accused.

  “Warn you of what?” John’s jaw had gone tight. He breathed through his angry response. “How was I to know you would think so little of my gift that…”

  Satiné interrupted, “None of the blame rests at my feet. If you are to name those at fault, it is your mother’s vanity and the Baloch’s singularity!”

  John shook his head in disbelief. “I suppose I should be grateful you did not name me as a culprit.”

  His wife said snidely, “You are all that is praiseworthy.”

  John returned the brooch to his pocket. “We must alter our plans if I am to safeguard you. First, we will return to York in two days. I would withdraw from the Capital sooner, but I require time to set up a perimeter of protection about my home.”

  Satiné’s eyes rolled upward in shock. “Why must we leave London?”

  “Quite simply, London is too open. I cannot secure the house.”

  His wife snorted her disagreement. “But you promised me a fortnight!” she huffed petulantly.

  “It is a promise I cannot keep, Satiné. I know Jamot; he will not rest until he knows for certain whether Lady Fiona’s emeralds were once Mir’s. You have experienced the Baloch’s cunning; he will risk everything and everyone to know success. At a b
all or the theatre, you will be an easy target, and I have no doubt Jamot will use you to taunt me. The Baloch would enjoy the revenge. He left you and Lady Yardley on the glass cone shelf fighting for your lives because you and your twin perpetrated a hoax on him in Liverpool. You must be realistic, Satiné.”

  “You do not understand,” she protested.

  “Understand what?” he said in exasperation. “You would risk your life to enjoy a few dances at a ball? No, I am sorry, my Dear, I do not understand such logic. Our absence from the Capital will not be forever. Just until Jamot satisfies his curiosity. We will return to London soon enough.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek, and John’s regret had returned. “Soon enough? Soon enough may be too late.”

  *

  When he told her he had cancelled their plans to attend the theatre with the Kelleys, his wife had stormed to her room and had locked the doors. Silly as it may sound to admit aloud, John had placed a footman in the hallway leading to his wife’s quarters and another outside in the garden. He half expected Satiné to sneak from Swenton Hall to join her friends.

  “You wished to speak to me, Sir.” After dining alone in his study, John had sent for Miss Neville. In consideration of his responsibilities to Satiné, he had come to the conclusion he must permit Miss Neville her freedom. Jamot’s ultimate attack could place the lady in peril.

  “Yes, Miss Neville, please join me.” He waited for the woman to assume the chair his wife had occupied earlier in the day. “A situation has developed of which you should be made aware.”

  “Have I acted in a manner to displease the baroness?” The lady presented a suspicious frown.

  John shook his head in the negative. “On the contrary. The fault lies with Lady Swenton.” His head lifted. “I shan’t waste time with niceties. You and I do not hold the type of relationship that requires us to dance around the subject.” Miss Neville nodded her encouragement. “Some time after Thornhill’s announcement of his return to Kent, my baroness took it upon herself to sell my mother’s emerald brooch.”