Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet

by Regina Jeffers

  “If you are certain, Cousin.” Velvet did not believe a word of Ella’s assertions. Something had happened, and like Bran, she wanted to know what.

  They reached the Duchess’s side. Ella stood tall, daring any of her family to speak ill of her actions. Velvet judiciously gave Bran a warning shake of her head as they approached, and, fortunately, he swallowed his objections and made no comments, but she could read Bran’s ire rising by the second.

  *

  Aunt Agatha burst into Bran’s study in the late afternoon. “Brantley, you must do something immediately.”

  Bran rushed forward to steady her agitated step. “What troubles you, my Dear?”

  She fanned her face. “It is...Ella,” she stammered. She rides out with that awful man–during the fashionable hour.” She permitted him to assist her to a nearby chair. “I shall not have it.” Aunt Agatha raised her chin in defiance. “Do you hear me, Brantley? I shall not have that...that man in my family!” Pure contempt rang through her words.

  Bran fought to control his own disdain. “I understand, but should we not trust Ella to do the right thing?” He had his own plans to rid the world of Louis Levering, but he would not voice them aloud.

  “But she had James Kerrington in her palm,” the Duchess complained. “Ella could be his Countess–a man from an exemplary family,” she bemoaned.

  “Trust me, Aunt Agatha, I am aware of Sir Louis’s shortcomings, but I sincerely believe if we force his hand, the man will hurt this family. I cannot explain how I know this for it is nothing Levering has said or done. It is just my instinct speaking, but do you not think it unusual that Levering was the one who saved Ella? Could he have staged the attack, I ask myself? For now, I have no answer; we must sit tight, and permit Sir Louis to play his hand.”

  “Then you feel as I do?” she scanned Bran’s countenance for his words’ truth.

  “I need you to support Ella even when you question her reasoning. Ella must not suspect that I am maneuvering Sir Louis into betraying his motives. I love Ella, but she is no actress; she will not be able to maintain the ruse. Can you do that for me, my Dear?” Bran knelt before her, calming Agatha’s concerns, but also pleading for her assistance.

  Agatha touched his cheek with her fingertips. “Your mother always said you were the devious one and Ella the charitable one,” she teased. “Now I see what she meant. Of course, I shall assist you. Ella is my most dear child; I had such great hopes for her and Kerrington.”

  “Hold onto those hopes, my Dear. We will see it so, but we will need some time to remove Levering from the scene. Can you be patient?”

  “I can be patient.” She rose and brushed at her skirt before again raising that defiant chin. “However, I am not above using a sword to make my point.”

  Bran followed her to a standing position. “Neither am I, my Dear. Neither am I.”

  Bran brooded after his aunt’s departure. He should increase the pace of Sir Louis Levering’s investigation. “Time to involve Shepherd,” he grumbled. “And time to pull in the resources of the Realm.” He sat down to address a note to Shepherd asking for an appointment. Somehow he must discover what “motive” Levering used to make Ella accept his attentions, and he needed to discover the motivation quickly before Ella found herself in a compromising situation.

  Chapter 10

  “Your Grace,” Velvet tapped on his study door several hours later, “may we speak?”

  Bran rose immediately, leaving behind the ledger books upon which he worked. “Certainly, come in.” He noted how she quietly closed the door behind her. “Come sit with me.” He led her to a nearby settee. “May I send for some tea?”

  “Not unless you require some.” She seated herself on the cushion’s edge.

  Bran sat beside her. They had spoken little since her comment about requiring privacy and her disclosure of what she had heard on the Donne’s balcony. In fact, the issue of Ella and Levering had quickly obliterated all other thoughts from his mind, but now her closeness called to him. “How might I serve you?” he said at last.

  “Actually, it is quite embarrassing to ask this of you,” she began, keeping her eyes lowered.

  “You may ask me anything.” He brought her hand to his lap before lifting her chin with his fingertips. “As your guardian, I will see to your needs.”

  Velvet nearly jumped with delight. As she had planned her next assault on Bran, she had considered using his guardianship as part of her reasoning. “That is it exactly, Your Grace.”

  “Bran,” he corrected.

  Velvet smiled innocently. “Bran.” She took a deep breath and delivered her rehearsed speech. “As my guardian, I require your advice. I considered asking the Duchess, but Aunt Agatha would surely have an apoplexy.”

  Bran grinned, thinking her a pure innocent. “You may exaggerate, my Dear. Aunt Agatha is made of sterner stuff than one might imagine.”

  “I assure you, she would...well, it is a very personal request.” Velvet quietly lifted her eyes to his. “You shall forgive my impertinence, will you not, Bran?”

  Bran felt his breathing constrict. They were close–very close–closer than he realized. “I would forgive you anything, Velvet.” He reached instinctively to caress her cheek.

  She licked her lips–a movement his eyes traced. “As you know, Ella and I are having a very successful first Season.”

  Bran, mesmerized by her eyes and mouth, simply nodded.

  “Because of our success, we are being pursued by several fine gentlemen.” She brushed her lips with her tongue again.

  Bran frowned with the mention of her potential suitors. “I must approve of any gentleman you might choose to accept, and I will not permit you to choose below your rank.” He thought that might eliminate a good portion of his competition, but he knew, in reality, he could never enforce such bonds on her. After all, Ella now kept company with a mere baronet.

  “And I have all the confidence in your judging well.” Velvet nodded several times in affirmation of what she said.

  “I will not fail you.” Bran’s declaration held meanings beyond the actual words.

  Velvet sighed deeply, accenting her nervousness. “I suppose I should just come out and say it.”

  “I will keep your confidences.” He nearly leaned in to take her lips. Velvet smelled of jasmine–a scent, which had driven him crazy in the East. It always reminded him of her.

  “I wish to learn to kiss properly!” she blurted out and then dropped her gaze, assuring the appearance of pure innocence, as if she had not arranged their entire encounter.

  Caught in his own fantasy, her words took him by surprise. “You wish to what?” he demanded.

  Keeping the smile from her face, Velvet tried to sound contrite. “When I make a choice, I am sure my betrothed will expect a kiss to seal our engagement. I do not want to appear to be a schoolgirl–naïve and incompetent.”

  “Neither do you wish to appear a wanton.” He stood to pace; he thought better on his feet.

  She looked up with a bit of rebelliousness. “I never asked you to teach me to be a wanton.” Although the idea is quite salacious.

  A picture of Velvet lying naked under him flashed through Bran’s sex-driven brain.

  “I simply wished you to teach me how to react with my first kiss. I thought if I had my first kiss or first kisses–depending on how many it takes to do it correctly–with you, then I would be able to please my future husband better when the time came. And it is not as if I can ask Aunt Agatha. And I tried to ask Ella as I was certain Lord Worthing has kissed her several times.”

  “Lord Worthing has done what?” Bran’s imagination went from bad to worst. “I will kill him!” he growled.

  Velvet appeared before him, stopping his pacing. “I did not say that I knew absolutely that Lord Worthing had kissed Ella, but I am certain he plans to kiss her. Eleanor does not worry about such trifling things, but I have always assumed my first kiss would be magic.” She purposely leaned towards
him, rising slightly on her tiptoes.

  Bran thought about it–envisioned taking her in his arms and possessing her mouth. His voice became raspy. “I do not think I want to know any more of what may or may not be Kerrington’s intentions towards my sister. But, Velvet, you must see how impossible–how improper–this is. I cannot teach you how to kiss.”

  Velvet frowned, but she did not move away. “Then I suppose I shall have to petition the marquis for assistance.”

  “Damn you will!” Bran grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into him–taking her mouth in a possession he had never dreamed possible. Velvet fell hard against his chest, but she did not attempt to free herself. Instead, she pressed her breasts against him, and Bran felt the fiery heat as her body softened.

  He forced himself to lessen the pressure of his mouth on hers, but he did not withdraw. His tongue skimmed along her mouth’s line, suggesting with its urgency for her to open for him. When she did, Bran’s tongue delved into her wetness, exploring the recesses of her warmth. A moan escaped as his hands cupped her hips, and he lifted her to his arousal. His erection throbbed from the excitement of her closeness.

  Finally, sensibility returned, and Bran eased her from him. “Velvet,” he murmured, wanting to begin all over again. She shivered, the desire coursing through her. Then he brushed his lips across hers–her mouth swollen from his earlier madness. Understanding his intent, her mouth opened ever so slightly, and he drank slowly from her lips–warm and inviting–having wanted to do so for years.

  When he lifted his head, the flame still burned between them. “Magic,” she murmured. She attempted to gather her wits–the result of her plan more than she had ever conceived.

  Bran stared at her–their gazes remained locked upon each other–the depth of his desire muddying the brown pools. Making to breathe, he rasped out, “Obviously, some men will choose the first response. Others the second. You should be prepared for any possibility.”

  “Then you shall show me the other ways?” She clung to his jacket’s lapels.

  Bran swallowed hard. “I am not certain I should,” he mumbled. “Was this not lesson enough?”

  Velvet leaned in to kiss his chin. “This was an excellent preamble, but I really require more practice.” She purposely released his jacket and willed her knees not to buckle when she stepped away. “We can discuss this later. Would you like to schedule a definite time for my practice?”

  Bran appeared confused; her words baffled him–left him strangely dissatisfied. “Schedule kissing lessons? Like one would schedule time at the pianoforte or with his oil paints?”

  “Why not?” Velvet reasoned. “Is not seduction–I mean, love–an art?” She relished his look of annoyance. Not intimidated, she continued, “It was not so unpleasant, was it?”

  Bran ran his fingers through his hair. “Of course, it was not unpleasant.” Velvet had turned the tables on him, rendering them both breathless with desire. How can I extract myself from regularly kissing her without declaring myself on the spot? Do you want to kiss her again? Bloody hell! Of course, I want to kiss her again. I want to kiss her witless. “It is...it is hard,” he stammered, thinking of his own obvious erection, “to schedule something such as a kiss. It requires spontaneity.”

  “But we will kiss again?” Her mouth curved in amusement. It gave her a sense of the future–realizing the truth of what she always knew.

  With an exaggerated sigh, he agreed. “We will kiss again, Velvet. When the moment is right.”

  She thought, moments, not moment, but Velvet said. “Good.” As she left the room, she wanted to skip or to jump for joy; instead, she emphasized the gentle sway of her hips as she walked away. After all, Bran was watching.

  *

  Adding to Bran’s frustrations, each day Eleanor rode out with Sir Louis. Equally frustrating, he had no new leads on either the Baloch emerald or on Levering’s hold on his sister. When Levering presented himself at the week’s end, Bran cringed, wanting to wipe the satisfied grin from the man’s face. “And my sister has agreed to your proposal?”

  “She has, Your Grace. I came today to seek your permission and to discuss the terms of Lady Eleanor’s dowry.” Sir Louis took the lead in the conversation.

  Bran eyed him warily. “May I ask, Sir Louis, about your affections for Lady Eleanor?”

  “Do I love Lady Eleanor? I believe that is your question, Your Grace.”

  “It is, Sir Louis.”

  “I hold an affection for Lady Eleanor, but love is not part of the equation. I offer Lady Eleanor my home and title and accept her dowry in recompense. Ours will be one of convenience.”

  Bran frowned with deep skepticism. “Lady Eleanor is a duke’s daughter and now a duke’s sister. Her dowry is substantial, but that is a discussion for another day. As my sister is not of age to marry without my consent, Levering, you will tolerate my need to speak to her first regarding this speedy courtship.”

  He noted how Levering’s brows snapped together in suppressed anger, and Bran took some pleasure in vexing the baronet. “I assure you, Your Grace, that Lady Eleanor will confirm my words, but I understand your indulgence. I will call again in two days to discuss our settlements.”

  Bran controlled his desire to rip out Sir Louis’s tongue for even speaking Eleanor’s name; he bit back the constriction tightening his chest. “In two days, Sir Louis, we will speak again.” Bran stood to end the conference; he could not tolerate being in the same room as Levering any longer. “As I have a previous appointment, I must curtail our conversation.”

  “Certainly, Your Grace.” Sir Louis gathered his gloves as he stood. “It will be a pleasure to continue our negotiations on this matter.”

  *

  “You wished to see me, Bran?” He had summoned Ella to his study after calming his temper from Levering’s earlier call.

  Bran rose. “Come in, Ella.” He led her to the chairs before the hearth–more personal than the desk chairs. “I wish to consult with you on a matter of importance.”

  “I suppose I know of what you speak.” She did not look at him directly, which was a sign that she would not risk his disappointment.

  “Sir Louis called earlier. He tells me that he has made you an offer of marriage, and you have accepted. Is that correct, Ella? You accepted Louis Levering?” Bran worked to hide his incredulity.

  “I have, Bran. It is acceptable to me in every way: Sir Louis is agreeable, and he expresses a growing affection.” Evidently, Ella had not discussed what she would say with the baronet. Her words contradicted his. “I believe he and I will get along well together. However, the main reason I have seriously considered the baronet’s plight is Huntingborne Abbey is our nearest neighbor to Thorn Hall. I might see you regularly–daily if I like. Our children will grow up together. We were separated for so long, Bran; I cannot bear it again, and if you and Velvet resolve your differences, we might all go on as before.”

  Bran watched his sister; he instinctively knew she had rehearsed these answers. The question was why? For some unexplained purpose, Eleanor had switched her allegiance from James Kerrington to Louis Levering on the night of the Donne’s party. Sir Louis spent an inordinate amount of time with his sister that evening. Bran needed to delay this union until he could solve the mystery. “What of Lord Worthing?”

  “His Lordship is nearly ten years my senior. We have so little in common; I was unaware of the discrepancy until I became more acquainted with Sir Louis. The baronet and I have many similar experiences.”

  “You explained this to Lord Worthing? He has expectations.”

  “I never promised anything to the viscount. Even now, I refuse to answer his letters. I do not wish to give him false hope.”

  Bran had no legitimate reason to deny the baronet, but he could not honestly give Ella his blessing. “It was my wish, Ella, for you to enjoy a Season. Your devotion to Thornhill denied you that experience. Like you, I do not want us to part so soon after our reunion. May I make a compromise
? Your relationship with the baronet appears a bit impetuous. I would prefer that you wait until the Season’s end to announce your engagement. It will give us time to become familiar with Levering and to welcome him into our family.”

  Ella, he noted, suddenly looked very frightened. “I am certain Sir Louis will insist on a speedier course of events. He would like the announcement next week and the banns called immediately afterwards.”

  Bran smiled, trying to assure her he understood and would cooperate. “Eleanor, you are the daughter and the sister of a duke; your wedding will not take place in some country chapel. You will marry at St. George; your family will plan a magnificent wedding. One cannot do that in a matter of weeks. You know what Agatha will do if we ignore our responsibilities. Having you gloried is the Duchess’s motivation for coming to Town this Season.”

  Ella looked away nervously. “I have never desired such opulence.”

  “It is your birthright, Ella. I will not have you denied it.” Bran worked to appease her objections.

  “Sir Louis will insist on, at least, an understanding being apparent between us.”

  Bran stood to end the conversation. “I will speak to Levering personally and explain what it means to marry into the dukedom. The connections will benefit him; therefore, the baronet will accept what I say as the final conditions to your union. He is a sensible man and will agree once I explain things to him.” As she departed, Bran noted the defeat in her shoulders. “I will make it right, Ella,” he whispered to her retreating form.

  *

  “You convinced the baronet to wait?” Crowden asked as he sipped a brandy, casually extending his leg across a hammock.

  Bran snarled his dislike of the subject. “Levering is most anxious to finalize his marriage. Considering he asked three times the conditions of Eleanor’s dowry, I suspect he is spending her settlement before the nuptials are read.”

  “Has Lady Eleanor told Kerrington of her change of heart?” Crowden looked worried. Everyone associated with the Fowlers recognized Worthing’s obvious affection for Eleanor. They all despise the idea that the man would again know a broken heart.