Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet

by Regina Jeffers

  Worthing followed her to his feet. “I should be thanking you, Lady Eleanor, for tending to my wounds.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. “Hopefully, next time, our ride will be less eventful.”

  They bid Worthing farewell at the door and turned to the animals. Suddenly, Ella grasped Bran’s hand to secure his attention. “I left my gloves in Lord Worthing’s drawing room; I shall return momentarily. Help Velvet up. I will only be a moment.”

  Before he could object or send a footman instead, Ella quickly scurried up the steps and tapped on the door. The butler opened it immediately. Dutifully, Bran turned to the woman he loved. Placing his hands at her waist, he leaned in close, effectively pining her between him and the horse. “I apologize for being so short tempered,” he whispered. “You did not deserve my censure.”

  Velvet felt the heat of him up and down her body. One moment she wanted to rant at him for his foolishness, and the next she wanted to fall into his arms. “It is I who should apologize, Your Grace. I have refrained from being privy to your and Ella’s affairs. But now it appears that in my efforts to permit both of you privacy, I have failed to recognize some very pertinent facts about the life you led all those years you were away from us. I can see there is more to learn than I had anticipated. If you would consider taking me into your confidences, I would prove a worthy friend to you.”

  “I do not wish to put you into more danger than you may already be.” Bran looked very contrite; he truly did not want to hurt her.

  Velvet bit her bottom lip, showing her own indecision. “It pains me to not be a part of your life, Bran. To not be thought trustworthy enough to understand.”

  “Velvet...” he began. “I never...”

  What he never, would not be said this day? Ella came flying out of the house, flustered and flushed. “I am ready,” she barked as the footman assisted her to her seat.

  Reluctantly, Bran did the same for Velvet. Riding the mile to Briar House, all he could think of was whether he could trust Velvet with his most important secret: Ashmita’s child.

  *

  “You will not, at least, thank me for saving your life?”

  “Thank you?” the dark-skinned man exclaimed. “I should plant you a facer! I followed Worthing and the women yesterday. It was all planned. I would take one of the women and use her in exchange for the emerald. But before I could act, you fools shoot at them again, placing them more on guard. You are not even a good shot; you missed completely. If Worthing did not leap to save Fowler’s sister, you would not have hit anything.”

  The Englishman disliked the foreigner, but he hid it well. He wanted his share of the prize the tawny-complected man had offered. “We did not know you planned your own attack. We simply wanted to create a situation where Thornhill might require a new ally. I thought you were to keep us informed.”

  “I report to no one,” the intruder protested. “My orders allow me the freedom to make my own plans.”

  The Brit looked away in annoyance. “Then do not blame us if your plans cross with my friend’s.”

  *

  “Aunt Ella!” Sonali burst through the sitting room door, but seeing only Velvet she halted abruptly.

  Velvet looked up from her embroidery. “I believe Eleanor is with Aunt Agatha.”

  Sonali buried the toe of her shoe in the carpeting. She held out a rag doll. “Isana’s arm is loose.” Tears formed in the child’s eyes.

  Velvet sat her embroidery to the side. “Bring her here. Let me see if I may be of assistance.”

  Sonali moved tentatively forward to where she stood before Velvet. They had come to a truce of sorts the night Velvet had tucked the child in with tales of knights and princesses. “Can you repair the tear?” She laid the worn doll in Velvet’s lap.

  Velvet picked up the toy and the torn arm, cautiously judging the best way to rejoin the pieces. The doll was more than unusual by British standards. The porcelain face held a small crescent moon painted on the forehead between the eyebrows, along with a blue throat and a wound braid of matted hair. It had both a tiger skin and a snake skin patterned cloth for its dress. Velvet’s eyebrow rose with curiosity. “I think so, but I must add another piece of material. The arms will no longer match. Is that acceptable?”

  “Mama made Isana for me.” Sonali’s bottom lip trembled slightly.

  “Well then, we must make the repair immediately.” Velvet smiled to allay the child’s fears. “Hand me my sewing basket, and let me see what I have that we can utilize.” She gestured to the basket tucked under a low table. The child scrambled to do her biding. Velvet rummaged through the material scraps she kept in the basket. Choosing a dark brown muslin and appropriate thread, she took up the task. The child sprawled on the floor at her feet, watching Velvet’s every move.

  Since the revelation of Bran’s secret work following this morning’s ride, Velvet had considered how stupid she had been to accept everything at face value. She had planned to ask Ella what she knew, but why not ask others? “What do you remember of your mother?” she asked the child.

  “Mama died after I was born. Papa says she was sick for a long time.” The girl rose on her knees to inspect the work before sinking down again.

  Velvet took a close look at the child’s long, straight hair. Although Sonali’s complexion retained her Indian heritage, she and Bran’s daughter shared the same hair color. “I do not see much of Bran in you. You must look very much like your mother.” She wanted the child to tell her anything; she really knew nothing of Bran’s former life.

  “Papa says I am a mina...a mina...” she frowned.

  “A miniature,” Velvet supplied the word.

  Sonali nodded. “Of Mama. He says after Mama died he could not stand to see people who looked so much like her so we left Bombay.” The girl traced the carpet’s floral pattern with her finger.

  “Where did you go from there? I mean if His Grace did not want to stay in India any longer?” Velvet kept her tone nonchalant.

  The child frowned dramatically, but she finally said, “We lived in Brittany for a long time, but Papa wanted to return to England. He has business here.”

  “I have only lived in Kent and here. You are a very lucky child to see other places.” Velvet watched Sonali from her eye’s corner. “Did you like Brittany?”

  “It was colder. We had snow and made snow men.”

  “We have snow in Kent sometimes.” Velvet added. “What else did you and your Papa do in Brittany?”

  “Papa worked more. Sometimes he was gone for days.”

  Velvet’s voice rose with curiosity. “For days? Your Papa was gone for days? Did Mrs. Carruthers tend you then?”

  Sonali was on her knees again, watching Velvet’s needle pierce the material. “No. Sometimes Papa left with Uncle James or Uncle Marcus. Sometimes Uncle Aidan. One of Papa’s friends stayed with me. I have many uncles.”

  “Was that fun for you?”

  “Papa’s friends treated me like the princess in your story. They let me do things even Papa would not.”

  “I see.” Velvet did not really see, but she found it all very interesting. Evidently, Bran’s friends knew some of his secrets. If she followed through with her plan to make him jealous with Lord Godown, she might also reap the benefit of learning more of Bran’s wife. She threaded the needle again to make a second row of stitches. “How long were you in Cornwall?”

  “I was four when Papa quit working, and we moved to Cornwall. He still worked, but he did not go away anymore, and Mrs. Carruthers came to live with us.”

  Velvet did not want to ask, but she had to know if Bran had kept a live-in lover or if he gave his attentions to someone regularly while he lived in Cornwall. “Just you and your Papa and Mrs. Carruthers? No one else lived with you or came regularly to stay with you?”

  “Papa sometimes had guests.”

  Velvet felt her stomach clench. “Other women guests or men guests?” Jealousy made her act irrationally in questionin
g a child about her father.

  “Papa assisted some of the people who lived close by. Some needed a new place to live or needed some money. He let them stay with us until they were able to be on their own again. Papa likes to help people; he could be a knight like in your stories.”

  Velvet breathed deeper. Evidently, Bran kept no regular company with other women. “When I was a little girl, your papa used to play knights and princesses with me. He was always my dream knight.”

  “Really, Cousin Velvet? You thought Papa a proper knight?” Sonali now stood by Velvet’s chair.

  “May I share a secret?” Sonali nodded, anxious to hear what Velvet shared.

  “I still see your papa as my knight.”

  Sonali giggled. “Does Papa know?”

  “I think he does. Would you like to share my dream regarding your papa?”

  “Oh, yes, please. I want Papa as my knight too.”

  Velvet smiled largely. “Then we shall keep your papa close to our hearts as our own special knight. But it must be our secret. We can tell no one. Not even your papa.”

  “I can keep a secret.” Sonali’s eyes widened as she stared deep into Velvet’s.

  “Good.” Velvet knotted the thread and straightened the material. “I believe Isana is as good as new. She is an unusual doll.” Velvet squeezed the arms and legs. “What is inside her? More than cotton?”

  “Papa says its hulled rice.”

  “Not in her middle though. Something is hard in there.”

  Sonali took the doll, holding it close to her. “Mama told Papa it was an Indian tradition to put a smooth stone in the middle. It means Isana will last until the stone crumbles into small pieces. It means Mama’s loves me as long as Isana is with me.”

  “What an intriguing tradition! I would never have thought of such. It just shows how different people are.” Velvet stood and brushed off the loose threads. “However, I am certain your mother’s love will last an eternity. It is the way of mothers.” She reached out her hand for the child. “I imagine Mrs. Carruthers wonders where you have gone. Why do we not find her and have some tea?”

  “Chocolate tarts too?” Sonali took Velvet’s hand.

  They started towards the door. “Considering your papa loves them also, I imagine Cook has a supply of chocolate tarts already prepared.”

  During the tea, Velvet discreetly asked Mrs. Carruthers other questions regarding Bran’s life in Cornwall. It seemed he had spent a great deal of his time with investments and business, but he never left Sonali alone. He welcomed his former friends at his Cornwall home, but the gentlemen did nothing more than take in some sport or some fishing off the small yacht Bran owned. The lady reported that all of Bran’s former associates had returned to England to claim lives of the landed gentry–just as Lord Worthing had described earlier. Bran and Worthing had maintained the closest connection, but the other gentlemen Bran mentioned had come often to Cornwall.

  Mrs. Carruthers also “gossiped” about Bran’s efforts to help some of his neighbors. According to the woman, His Grace owned a reputation for coming to the aid of women. “Some of them of less than pristine character,” Mrs. Carruthers repeated prudently.

  “Really?” Velvet said in deep thought. “I guess it should not surprise me. His Grace always showed a great kindness to me and his sister, and his mother too, before she passed. It makes perfect sense.”

  “I agree,” Mrs. Carruthers added quickly. “His Grace is the most generous of employers–all his servants say so. They are most loyal.” Velvet said no more. As she listened to the governess speak of how Bran had helped her adjust to the differences between Cornwall and Kent and how he had allayed her fears regarding London’s intimidating nature, Velvet thought of the man she had always loved. Although she instinctively knew she required more information, she had learned a great deal about Bran. “A prince of a man,” Mrs. Carruthers asserted. “An absolute prince of a man.”

  *

  “Do you understand what I require of you?” Bran asked the Bow Street runner he had recruited to investigate Sir Louis Levering. He had wasted no time in putting his qualms to rest. He did not like the way Levering had effected Ella, and he would know why.

  “Yes, Your Grace.” The man prepared to leave.

  Bran stood to direct the man out. “Every detail,” he instructed. “Do you hear me, Newsome? I want to know who Levering considers his friends, his debt, his mistress...every detail of the man’s life.” Bran could have asked Shepherd for assistance, but this was a personal matter. It had nothing to do with the emerald or the attacks on his family; it had something to do with his father. He would bet money on it. At the park, Levering had even made a point of mentioning his parents’ friendship with William Fowler. Bran could not recall anyone calling the former duke a “friend.” His father had held many acquaintances, and more than his share of enemies, but the man was essentially a loner. He did not even make friends with his many liaisons. William Fowler used people and moved on. Only Amelia Braton, Bran’s mother, had ever seemed to be able to reach him; she humored and soothed and concealed her husband’s failings through all the years of their marriage–promoting his respectability simply by being his wife.

  “I will get right on it, Your Grace. I will have a full report within days.”

  *

  At supper, Bran relaxed into the familiarity of family at his table. Ella and Velvet and Aunt Agatha gave him a sense of contentment he had not expected. When he impulsively returned to claim Thornhill as his own, he had thought the “ghosts” might invade his days, as well as his nights. True. He had not allowed himself to take up residence in his father’s old chambers at Thorn Hall, but he had laid claim to the rest of the house. He had insisted that the staff rearrange the common rooms, taking down tapestries and removing carpets–moving furniture and paintings. Then he had brought some of his own furnishings from Cornwall. Essentially, he had created a new space, keeping his mother’s familiarity but obliterating his father’s memory. Even at Briar House, he had made subtle changes, which made his transition easier.

  He smiled broadly at Velvet. “I understand, my Dear, that you rescued Isana. All Sonali could speak of was how quickly you made the repairs.” Actually, Sonali spoke of much more–of how Velvet had asked about her mother, had asked about their time in Brittany, and had asked Mrs. Carruthers about his houseguests in Cornwall. When Sonali first “let it slip” about Velvet‘s questioning her, Bran had taken offense, but then he realized she did what he had told her to do. She had opened herself up to him and his lifestyle. The best of scenarios. It meant Velvet might someday accept Sonali and become the woman he desired–the woman he had needed her to be. Besides, it did not hurt to have her understanding Velvet of why he thought it so important to bring Sonali to England. When he finally told the complete truth of his time in service to Britain, then maybe she would accept the fact that he had done the right thing.

  Velvet looked up suddenly with his words. “It was nothing, Your Grace. Mrs. Carruthers was assisting the cook as the upstairs maid was ill today and did not remove all the trays, and Ella was in a fitting for her Presentation gown with Aunt Agatha.”

  “It may seem like nothing to you, but to a six-year-old child, it was quite devastating to have her favorite doll lose its arm.”

  “I am surprised,” Aunt Agatha’s many years as a social “sage” tinged her tone, “you have not replaced that doll with something more appropriate for a duke’s daughter, Brantley.”

  Bran controlled the retort, which sprang to his lips; he knew his aunt only meant well with her criticism. “I assure you, Your Grace, that I could buy the most expensive doll ever created, and Sonali would want Isana instead. In their early months together, her mother made it for her; it is all Sonali has by which to remember Ashmita.”

  “But your wife...” Ella began and quickly changed her words. In Cornwall, he had told her that Ashmita died in childbirth–a contradiction to what he now said. “I mean, Ashmita only
lived a short time after Sonali’s birth.”

  “Barely a month.” Bran stared off as if seeing something they did not.

  Velvet ventured softly. “That long? I thought it might have been sooner.” She shot a glance at Eleanor. They had discussed some of this when Bran first returned to Thorn Hall.

  “Ashmita thought if she could survive until Sonali was six weeks old–nurse her own child–that her baby might have a chance. It was a difficult time for both of them.”

  Ella noted Bran’s pensive mood. “And for you.”

  Bran shook his head, clearing away the memory in order to tell his version of the story. “Of course, for me.” He nodded to Ella–a silent signal of gratitude. “I lost my wife of less than a year, but I was able to bring Sonali out of India, and that is what is important.”

  Velvet noted his shift–before she might not have seen it–but now she was more tuned to the nuances of Bran’s speech when he spoke of his wife and his time in India–noted for a brief moment, truth’s shadow playing in his words. Now, he recited a story he had gladly shared with anyone who would ask. Velvet shifted with him. If Bran would not tell the truth of his wife’s death, then she would ask of something he had not rehearsed. “I thought it quite charming to find your wife’s traditions incorporated into the doll.” Velvet sipped innocently on her soup.

  “What traditions?” Aunt Agatha’s curiosity piqued.

  Velvet put down the spoon. “A stone–there is a stone inside the doll’s trunk. Sonali says the doll and her mother’s love will last until the stone crumbles into pebbles.”

  “Actually, the stone comes from the Bhooteshwar temple near Rajasthan. It was Ashmita’s home state,” Bran informed them.

  “Where is Rajasthan, Your Grace?” Aunt Agatha placed her cutlery on the table and motioned for a footman to remove her plate.

  “Rajasthan is in western India; it is a princely state under British rule. Ashmita was from Ulwar, its capital. Pratap Singh founded Ulwar in the latter part of the last century; it is a relatively new state governmentally. The people in that region have aided British troops against the Marathas. In fact, in 1803, Ulwar became Rajputana’s first state to sign a treaty of ‘Offensive and Defensive Alliance’ with the British East India Company. The Rajasthan residents take an interest in anything British.”