Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet

by Regina Jeffers

  Tapping lightly on the bedroom door, Bran had waited impatiently for his sister or Velvet’s maid to answer. He realized that he pushed the limits of propriety, but he needed to see for himself that Velvet was not injured seriously.

  Ella edged the door open. As if she had expected him, she said, “Bran?”

  “May I speak with Velvet?”

  “Do you think that is best?”

  Bran swallowed the desire to roll his eyes. “I only want a moment, Ella. You may stay; I just need to see her well for myself.”

  Ella hesitated, but she swung the door open.

  Bran stepped into the room, but remained well away from the bed. Silly man! As if that would make a difference! Velvet’s shining ebony hair spread across the pillow, and the sunlight reflected from her pale skin. Desire shot through him, and Bran fought to control his breathing. “Are...are you well, Cousin?” he stammered.

  “Yes, Bran, thanks to you. The physician says I should remain abed for a few days to assure there is no infection, but a small scar will be my only reminder of this.” Her eyes rested purely on his countenance.

  He smiled, thinking he would gladly kiss that scar, but he said, “I am relieved.” He glanced at his sister and grinned largely. “I have assured Ella that I would not stay so I leave you to your recovery.” Bowing quickly, he turned on his heels and strode from the room.

  *

  “And you believe something unusual is happening at Thorn Hall?” James Kerrington sat in Brantley Fowler’s study, having arrived less than an hour earlier. They had spent the obligatory time catching up on where the rest of their unit had landed upon returning to England. Now, they did what they did best–pick each other’s brains for ideas–strategies to solve a mystery.

  Fingers interlocked so he might mindlessly tap his chin, Bran leaned into the chair’s cushions. “Besides the ledger’s ‘3L,’ each for several thousand pounds, three days ago, someone took a shot at either me or at my cousin Velvet. I assume Velvet has not accumulated any enemies.”

  “Whereas you have, Bran?”

  “Whereas, we all have, Worthing.”

  Lord Worthing tilted his head, acknowledging the truth. “Are you certain there is no way it could have been an accident?”

  “I considered hunters or poachers, but Velvet and I were in the open, standing along the riverbank. No one could have mistaken us for animals. Whoever did this, hit Velvet...just a graze, but it is now personal. I will not stop until I know who and why.”

  “And what do you require from me?” Bran’s friend asked the obvious.

  Bran leveled a direct gaze on Worthing, solidifying their understanding. “It is important to me to rid Thornhill of its negative reputation. That means I must tie up all the loose ends. So, besides enjoying your company, I could use another pair of eyes and a different perspective.”

  “Have you sown up your cousin’s affections? I thought that might be your first act upon returning home. The lady is not spoken for, is she?”

  “No, Velvet is unwed, but she is not taking well to Sonali and my marriage to Ashmita. I am certain that with you and Elizabeth already having an heir you understand some of the problems of finding a woman to assume the responsibility for the child you claim as your own.”

  Worthing chuckled. “I do not plan to marry except for convenience–love is not on my agenda, but I do hope to find a woman who would give Daniel some of the attention he has missed. As for your cousin, I cannot imagine your giving up so easily.” Bran knew Worthing’s story–how his best friend had fallen in love with Elizabeth Morris and married her after a whirlwind courtship, but the viscount lost his wife in childbirth. Worthing’s grief had driven him to seek redemption in the Realm’s service. Running covert operations against select targets, they had met and had become instant friends. Home now for nearly three years, Worthing had spent his time learning to run the family’s holdings and trying to recapture the years he missed with his son.

  “I do not plan to give up. Instead, as I am now Velvet’s guardian, I plan to provide her and my sister a Season. Once Velvet has a chance to find another, I will claim her at the end of the Season; then we will be equal–hopefully, she will see things are not always as they are in a fairytale or novel–dreams change.”

  “It is a bold move, Your Grace. You are risking a great deal, hoping your lady love will not choose another.”

  “It is the only thing I can think of doing. Do you believe it is a mistake?” Bran looked worried.

  “In the game of love, I suppose it is as good as any other move. What do I know? I keep Mary because love avoids me like the plague.”

  Before they could continue, a light tap on the door announced Sonali’s presence. “Papa,” she giggled as she ran to where he sat. “Look what I have.” The child cupped her small hands lightly together. She opened them enough for Bran to see what she held. “It is a baby frog. May I keep it?”

  “Does Mrs. Carruthers know of this, Sonali?” He manipulated her hold on the frog.

  She shook her head rapidly. “Myles helped me catch it.”

  “I see,” Bran took on a serious mien. “First, Child, say your good mornings to your Uncle James, and then you and I will speak to Mrs. Carruthers. As a frog is not really a house pet, I suspect it might be best to leave your catch in the pond where it can grow naturally.”

  “Uncle James,” Sonali squealed when she finally looked his way, starting to throw her arms around his neck.

  “Acht...!” Bran warned. “Frog!”

  Sonali froze in place before looking at Bran sheepishly. “Sorry, Papa.”

  “March!” he ordered good-naturedly, pointing towards the hallway. Watching her go, Bran turned to Kerrington, “I will return in a moment. Make yourself comfortable.”

  *

  Amused by his child’s innocence, several minutes later, Bran returned to the study to find his friend in a tight embrace with Ella. Ordinarily, he would not interfere with Kerrington, but this was different–this was Ella–his sister. “Unhand my sister, Worthing,” Bran warned from the open door.

  Despite the admonition inherent in Bran’s voice, Worthing stepped back slowly.

  Feeling suddenly very protective, Bran placed Ella’s hand on his arm. Her ears pinked at being caught in so compromising a situation. “I would introduce you, Eleanor,” venom crept into his words “except I am not certain that I wish to acquaint you with the Honorable Viscount Worthing as honor is lacking at the moment.”

  “I awkwardly stumbled,” his sister hissed with pure embarrassment racing through her. “Lord Worthing caught me before my footfall sent me tumbling to the floor. It was nothing more, Bran.”

  Worthing turned to face them. “Lady Fowler,” he bowed deeply, ignoring Bran’s and meeting only Ella’s eyes. “I am honored to be in your presence at last. Your roguish brother has spoken often of you; however, his Cambridge education shows its weaknesses. If he had attended Oxford, His Grace might have known just the right words to truly describe a woman of such incomparable beauty.” Bran did not approve of his friend’s intimate tone.

  “I agree with your estimation of Eleanor’s worth,” Bran gritted his teeth with annoyance. “But perhaps I do not see my sister as other men might. I assume, Worthing, that you will refrain from your usual loquaciousness and leave my sister to her status as a duke’s daughter.” A mild threat played through the words.

  Sophisticated superiority now rested on Kerrington’s countenance. “I shall treat Lady Fowler with the respect she deserves. Forgive me if I in any way offered an offense. It was never my intention.”

  “No forgiveness is necessary, Lord Worthing.” She gave him a quick curtsy before turning to her brother. “I came to ask you to join Velvet and me in the front parlor for tea. It is Velvet’s first day downstairs since her accident. She wished to express her gratitude again.”

  “Certainly, my Dear. You go ahead and pour; Lord Worthing and I will join you in a moment.” He patted the hand he still
held in his. Without another word, Ella nodded her farewell.

  Bran followed her to the door and closed it tightly behind her. “Forget it,” he turned to his friend. “I will not tolerate your playing with my sister’s heart, Worthing. Ella had an impossible task–dealing with my father alone. Despite her natural intelligence and her beauty, she is an innocent, and although I count you among my closest friends, my sister takes precedence. You and I will come to blows otherwise.”

  “Relax, Bran. I understand. I meant no harm. Your sister spoke the truth–she did stumble. I happened to be close and caught her–simple as that. I would never defile your family. You know my nature, but you also know that I am a man of my word. Lady Fowler is safe with me.”

  Bran’s loosened his frown. “As long as we understand each other.” He reached for the door. “Let us join the ladies in the parlor. It is time you met my Miss Aldridge.”

  *

  “Lord Worthing,” Ella pointedly asked as she passed a generous-sized slice of seed cake to him, “what brings you to Kent?” Bran noted that his sister’s hand trembled ever so slightly.

  Bran and Worthing exchanged a quick glance; they had not discussed what story they would tell the others. “When I heard your brother returned to his ancestral home, I had to see it for myself,” Lord Worthing said evenly.

  “Yet, my cousin took up residence less than three weeks prior,” Velvet protested. “How could anyone know so soon?”

  Worthing continued his tale. They had often improvised a back story. “His Grace placed an order for new equipment and made inquiries into the soundness of the house in Mayfair. It does not take the gossipmongers long to latch onto the least clues, especially in light of the recent news of the former duke’s passing.”

  “May I translate for you, my Lord?” Eleanor’s smile brightened at the group.

  Bran noted his friend’s easy nature with Ella.

  “I believe his Lordship means Cousin Horton bemoans his fate publicly.” Ella’s eyes sparkled in mischief, and Bran enjoyed seeing the young girl he so dearly remembered.

  “A lady of beauty and intelligence,” Worthing said softly.

  Bran carefully watched the interplay between his best friend and his sister. Despite James Kerrington’s promise, the man continued to eye Eleanor with interest.

  Velvet waited but a handful of heartbeats before she inquired, “Will you travel to London, Bran? Lord Worthing just mentioned the town house.”

  Bran took a sip of his tea, stalling before answering. “I have written to Aunt Agatha and have asked her to sponsor your and Ella’s Come Outs.”

  His sister gasped, “Oh, Bran, we cannot; it is too soon.” Ella’s voice quaked with anxiety. “The gossip will fly about our not maintaining a proper mourning period for Father, and besides, I thought I made myself clear about what I would choose for my future.”

  “I beg to differ, Eleanor. As to Father’s mourning period, blame that on me. I will simply say with Father’s extended illness, I have deemed it improper to deny you and Velvet a Season; if not for this house’s madness, you should have had one already. I can make such proclamations because I am a man and a duke. And as far as our earlier conversation, in order for you to be accepted in the manner you described, you will need Society’s approval. After Father’s shunning of prescribed propriety, your choosing not to accept normal conventions for a woman will never be tolerated. Before you choose your own lifestyle, you must demonstrate you did not find theirs pointless by conforming to the ton’s precepts. It is simply time you took your place in Society.”

  “I cannot bear a purposeful cut,” she protested. “Father’s reputation will follow us to town.”

  When Worthing made to depart, Bran motioned him to remain. They had served together for four years; they knew each other’s deepest secrets, especially Bran’s regarding the former duke. “Father will always have his critics, but the ton chases one scandal after another. No one from this family has been to London for years; the Fowlers will be old news. Besides, by the time we arrive in London, a different Thornhill will be introduced to Society. I have returned to Thorn Hall to obliterate William Fowler’s memory from the books. No one would dare to offer either of you a direct cut. Eleanor, you are a duke’s daughter and now a duke’s sister; in Society that means everything.”

  Velvet seemed to misunderstand. “You want us–Ella and me–to join the Marriage Mart?”

  Bran fought against his own angst at their entering the courtship known as the Season. Ella needed the confidence, and Bran firmly believed he would have to lead her through the process. His sister could run an estate, but to handle a personal relationship might be her most difficult battle. She had no models of what a marriage might actually entail.

  For Velvet, he held mixed feelings. She was an important reason he had returned to Thorn Hall, and he could not look at her without feeling the warmth shooting through him. But, he knew his marriage to Ashmita had hurt Velvet. Bran felt he must give her the opportunity to find someone else; however, he vowed privately if she found no one by her first Season’s end, Velvet would not know a second, for he would claim her. He gambled that even with all of London knowing of her beauty, Velvet belonged to him.

  Thankfully, Worthing turned the conversation. “Well, I, for one, am looking forward to the new Season. Two such lovelies will make it most interesting. I am thankful to have an in and intend to claim my share of your dance cards, Ladies.” He wiggled his eyebrows in an easy jest.

  Bran noted his sister’s disquiet, but she responded to Kerrington’s tease, “It shall be reassuring to recognize a friend’s name on my card.”

  “It would be my pleasure to be of service to both you and Miss Aldridge. When your brother is unavailable, please call on me, Lady Fowler, when you are in need of an escort.”

  Later, alone in his study, Bran’s thoughts rested on Velvet’s reaction to his arranging a Season for her. For the life of him, he did not know how to please her. There was a time–some eight years ago–when everything came uncomplicated between them. Now, nothing came easy. They remained in a perpetual estrangement. That day along the river he had felt they had taken a step forward, but today, they had taken three steps back. Sometimes, Bran wanted to shake her, rattling her resolve. Other times, he thought the best way to reason with her was kissing Velvet until she moaned his name. Velvet needed to choose him and all his “baggage” of her own free will so seducing her into acceptance could not be the way, although he sorely wanted to do so. “Velvet,” he said the word as if caressing her cheek at the same time. He could easily imagine her soft skin under his fingertips. He prayed he had made the right decision, or he would lose her forever.

  *

  When Bran entered the breakfast room the next morning, he found Kerrington and Eleanor already at the table. He had heard the timbre of their voices from the hallway. They spoke quite intimately for such a short acquaintance, and Ella’s face showed the remnants of a blush. Despite his warning to Worthing, Bran suspected something between his best friend and his sister changed over night. He would seek information on from where the changes came. “Ah, Worthing, you are up early,” Bran said as he poured himself a cup of coffee, a habit he had developed on the Continent.

  “I am, Your Grace. I thought I might prevail upon you to ride out with me and show off your new home.”

  “I regret I cannot; I have obligations to the estate this morning.” Bran took the chair held by the footman. “Maybe we could induce my sister to be your guide. I dare say Eleanor knows the land as well as I, and she is recognized as an excellent horsewoman.” He wanted to observe how Ella would take to the idea of his placing Worthing in her path.

  “Might you honor me with your company, Lady Eleanor?” Worthing asked respectfully.

  Bran noted how Ella shifted her weight, discomfited by both men’s countenances resting on her face. “That would be enjoyable, my Lord.”

  Her agreement seemed stilted to Bran, and he watched her t
hroughout the remainder of the meal. Eleanor picked at the eggs she had ordered.

  “And Crowden is in Yorkshire?” Bran said as he eyed his sister tentatively.

  Worthing, too, watched Ella. “Gabriel, as we knew he would be, is the new Marquis of Godown. I received a letter only last week from him. It gave me great pleasure to tell him of your restoration at Thorn Hall. I expect you will hear from him within days.”

  “Do you suppose we might persuade the marquis to join us in London for the Season?” Bran continued to eat his kippers.

  “Godown intends to establish himself as part of London’s society, as will you, Your Grace–claiming your seats in Parliament and all.”

  “Who would think,” Bran mused, “that the seven of us who fought so closely might all end up in Britain’s Parliament together?”

  “Of course, Lowery and Wellston are minor sons, but it appears Marcus will inherit. The Earl of Berwick is very ill, and Trevor is not of a right mind. Wellston will assume the title with his father’s blessings. The earl has seen to Trevor’s care under Marcus’s guidance. Lowery has taken a position in the Home Office.” Well aware of the type of missions in which they once participated, Bran’s attention piqued. He would ask Kerrington later how Shepherd might be involved.

  “If you will excuse me,” Eleanor stood as she spoke. “I shall retire to change into my riding habit. Might we say twenty minutes, my Lord?” Bran noted her reluctance.

  “I will have the stable saddle your favorite mount, Lady Eleanor.” Worthing stood to acknowledge her departure.

  Eleanor curtsied and prepared to leave; impulsively, Bran caught her hand. “Take one of the grooms, Ella.”

  She nodded in agreement. “Everything will be as propriety demands, Your Grace. I assure you, I want no more scandal associated with the Fowler name.”