Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet

by Regina Jeffers

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” Levering stood and bowed. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

  *

  Bran sent word immediately to Lexford regarding Levering’s plans to retreat to Kent. Two days later, the viscount presented his findings to a very anxious Duke of Thornhill.

  “Did you experience any difficulty?” Bran asked as he poured Lexford a drink.

  The viscount smiled with satisfaction. “Let us just say the baronet sports a few extra bumps and bruises.”

  “I wish you had slit the bastard’s throat,” Bran grumbled.

  “I thought I would leave that to you.”

  Bran came to sit across from Lexford. “I anticipate the pleasure.” He took a sip of his wine. “What should I know?”

  The viscount spent some time describing the baronet’s hiding place for the diary. “He showed me a passage from the book. Fowler, you definitely want to secure it. It would ruin your sister. I doubt if you mind your father’s reputation, but Lady Eleanor does not deserve such censure.”

  “That bad?” Bran’s eyebrow rose is curiosity.

  “It was quite lascivious,” Lexford spoke quietly, but seriously. “Crowden should also know there are two volumes. He must retrieve both of them. I am to join Levering and his cohorts tomorrow evening for cards and other entertainment. I have told the baronet my man of business would call on him. I will send Lowery in that role. Levering’s debt to me will come due one week from the day that he marries your sister.”

  Bran’s sarcasm played through his words. “The baronet has a long wait.”

  Lexford turned serious again. “You should know, Fowler, that Sir Louis bragged of having someone on your Thorn Hall staff who keeps him informed of your comings and goings. He has gone to Kent to discover whether Lady Eleanor sought refuge there.”

  “That explains the attack on Velvet and me, as well as the one on Eleanor and Worthing.” Bran tapped his interlaced fingers on his chin in contemplation. “I will find out immediately who the traitor is and send him packing.”

  They spent the next hour just enjoying each other’s company. Both men had considered the happiness displayed on Worthing’s face and the possibilities of such contentment finding them.

  “Sometimes I cannot imagine such a moment. I thought I found it with Susan, but I was sorely wrong. My wife’s mental state should have been more evident before I married her. I suppose I will eventually settle on someone appropriate. All of us have a responsibility to our titles to marry and set up a nursery. It is envious what Kerrington has found with your sister,” Lexford offered.

  “Worthing and Ella connected without preamble.” Bran stared off for a moment. “At least, a man can pray for a loving relationship. I do not relish marrying only for my title. I have seen enough death; I want to experience life.”

  “We all do,” Lexford whispered.

  *

  “I will go tomorrow night,” Gabriel Crowden told Bran.

  Although he instinctively knew the answer, Bran asked, “Why not tonight?”

  Crowden leaned back in the chair, a mischievous smile turning up his mouth’s corners. “Too easy.” He propped his Hessians on the corner of Bran’s desk. “No one there tonight but the servants. Levering’s plan for a little card party tomorrow is more to my liking. I prefer a challenge.”

  “I just want the diary; I do not personally care about the thrill you receive when you break into some place.”

  “You will have the diary, Your Grace; I will warrant it. I just hate that no one will know until much later.”

  Bran handed Crowden a package. “The Viscount has made a guess on what the second book looks like. The black one is what he believes Lady Levering used for the one he saw in Sir Louis’s possession. We have written creative passages in place of the ones Lexford saw. It should be amusing anyway.”

  “So, I will place these inside the box Levering used.” Gabriel took the package from Bran’s outstretched hands. “As soon as we have the diary, are we still off to Derbyshire?”

  “Eleanor and Worthing will marry on Friday. I want to present her the diaries before then.”

  The marquis thumbed through the fake books. “How do you feel about their marriage?”

  “Although I know she is more than capable, I am having some difficulty in picturing my baby sister as old enough to be the mistress of her own house.” Bran traced his finger around the glass’s rim.

  “I thought you were going to say something about picturing her with child, knowing how she got that way.”

  Bran frowned, pursing his lips. “I could have gone all day without the Captain’s image in bed with my sister. That is certainly not fair, Godown.”

  Lord Godown laughed when his friend blushed. “Worthing is the first of us. Who do you suppose is next?”

  Bran paused, debating on whether to answer. “I had suspected that you and my cousin might be considering a joining.” Bran hoped to sound as if the possibility would not bother him.

  The marquis lowered his heels and prepared to stand. “I was thinking, Your Grace, about retiring to Gossling Hill.”

  Bran swallowed hard. “Alone?”

  “Alone, Your Grace.” Godown stood and adjusted his clothing. “I thought I might leave from Derbyshire.”

  “You must wait until after Prinny’s party. It would be a shame to miss what happens with Levering.”

  “Then after the Prince Regent’s little soiree. I require the wildness of Staffordshire. London is too constraining.”

  *

  “What is all this?” Bran stood in the door of the nursery watching Velvet and Sonali dancing around the room while wrapped in yards of blue silk. Laughing so hard, their voices drowned out his question, so he stood mesmerized by the image of the two women in his life enjoying such wild abandon. Crowden’s words of withdrawal had haunted him all day. The Marquis had insisted that Bran should make Velvet his own.

  Suddenly, Sonali’s eyes found him, and she broke into a run to greet him. “Papa, look what Cousin Velvet brought for me!” She scampered into his waiting arms.

  Velvet finished her swirling turn and greeted Bran with a beguiling smile. “Your Grace, would you care to join us?”

  “Please, Papa!” Sonali’s arms tightened around Bran’s neck.

  Bran answered his daughter, but his eyes remained on the woman with the rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. “What are we playing?”

  “The thousand and one nights,” Sonali declared.

  “How many nights?” Bran stepped into the room.

  Hips circling slowly, Velvet sashayed toward him. “The story of Scheherazade from the Thousand and One Nights. I bought Sonali the book when I was out today. I know the character is not from India, but the cultures are similar, are they not?”

  “Persia is not India, but some things are the same.” Bran placed Sonali on her feet as he advanced on Velvet. “What brought this on?”

  “No reason, Your Grace. It is just that Sonali enjoyed the stories of knights and princesses. I hoped the Arabian stories would please your daughter.”

  “Obviously, they do.” Out of his eye’s corner, Bran caught a glimpse of Sonali twirling around and around. “And the silk?” he mused.

  “Strips of material left from mine and Ella’s fittings.” Her eyebrow rose in surprise.

  Bran smiled at her. “And what part do I play in this story?”

  “You are the prince, Papa.” Sonali caught his hand and pulled Bran toward the nearest chair. “And we will be Scheherazade and dance for you.” She shoved Bran to make him sit. “Come, Cousin Velvet.”

  The girl caught Velvet’s hands, and they circled around and around, holding on and laughing as they did so. Then Velvet started snapping her fingers, setting up a definite rhythm while Sonali twisted and turned in a swaying color. Bran soon joined with the rhythmic counts, watching his child making a memory with the woman he loved. Velvet began to sway to the rhythm herself, gamboling about in a gypsy abandonment. Bran�
��s eyes locked on her gyrating hips, hypnotized by their freedom. He clapped out a beat as Velvet cavorted about the room, enticingly increasing his desire.

  Sonali finally collapsed in a heap of colorful silks, but Velvet swayed on for a few more alluring moments before she followed the girl down in a swirl of material. A flush of color brought happiness to both female faces.

  “Would you read the story, Papa?” Sonali asked as she crawled toward Velvet and rested her head in the woman’s lap. “We have read about the City of Brass and the first voyage of Sindibad.” Bran fully appreciated the pleasure of the domestic scene.

  “Where is the book?” he asked, looking around the room.

  Velvet smoothed Sonali’s hair from her face. “On the table.” She motioned with a nod of her head.

  Bran moved to retrieve the book. Reseating himself in the chair, he began, "But when it was midnight Scheherazade awoke and signaled to her sister Dunyázád who sat up and said, "Allah upon thee, O my sister, recite to us some new story, delightsome and delectable wherewith to while away the waking hours of our latter night."

  "With joy and goodly agree," answered Scheherazade. "If this pious and auspicious King permits me."

  "Tell on," quote the King who chanced to be sleepless and restless and, therefore, was pleased with the prospect of hearing her story."[1][i]

  *

  Thirty minutes later, he lifted a sleepy child from the floor, where she rested curled up beside Velvet. Balancing Sonali against him, he extended a hand to assist Velvet to her feet. When she stood before him, he lovingly caressed her cheek with his palm. “Would you join me in the library, my Dear?”

  “It is late, Your Grace.” She unwrapped the silk strips from around her waist and began to fold them.

  With his fingertip, Bran traced a line from her temple to her mouth’s corner. “I will not force you, but I would enjoy your company.”

  Velvet held his gaze for a few heartbeats before nodding her agreement.

  A quarter hour later, he walked casually into the library to find Velvet waiting for him on a nearby settee. “Thank you, for what you did tonight,” he said as he seated himself beside her.

  “It was nothing, I swear, Your Grace.” She blushed and looked away.

  “Bran,” he corrected. “I am Bran to you.” He took Velvet’s hand in his, turning it over to trace her life line with his finger.

  Velvet audibly caught her breath. “Sonali’s mother must have been quite beautiful,” she whispered as she watched Bran’s finger stroke her palm.

  “May I tell you something personal?” His voice came out raspy as his eyes fell on her bottom lip’s fullness.

  “Anything, Bran.” Her voice sounded as rough as his.

  Bran cleared his voice before reaching out to touch that enticing lip. “Ashmita reminded me of you or what I thought you might look like if you were older. She . . . she was in trouble, and I helped her. She was so alone and so vulnerable. I had thought that I would never see you again, and when I looked at her, I saw traces of the girl I remembered. I kept you with me by saving her.”

  “Really, Bran?” Tears misted her eyes.

  “Absolutely.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers. “I thought of you every day.” Bran kissed her tenderly.

  Velvet’s arms came around his neck, and she pulled herself closer to him. This was the moment she had wanted: the moment Bran acknowledged his feelings. Instinctively, she moaned, and he tightened his hold. His tongue traced the line of her lips, and Velvet opened for him.

  The instant her lips parted, Bran lost his control. His tongue touched the soft tissue of Velvet’s mouth, and he was in heaven. He had dreamed of this moment, the moment of holding her close. He angled his head and pressed her against the furniture’s arm, following her down with his body, never releasing her mouth. Leaning across her, Bran could feel Velvet’s breasts pressed to his chest. His hand slipped from her waist up the side of her body. Bran’s mouth demanded more of her, and Velvet finally responded, shoving her tongue in his mouth. Bran sucked lightly on it as he groaned in desire. Instinctively, his hand followed her body’s line until he cupped her breast in his palm. Velvet stiffened momentarily, but a deepening of his kiss caused her to relax immediately. So hard he thought he might explode, Bran massaged her breast, squeezing lightly, tempting her with the unknown.

  Reluctantly, he released the kiss, but his mouth hovered above hers as they both struggled for a breath. He watched her face closely as he rubbed his thumb across the nipple, feeling the nub hardened with his touch. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “I could spend my life touching you.”

  What he said and how he said it caused a look of confused alarm to flit across her face, and he knew he had pressed too soon. “Bran?” she whispered.

  He purposely moved his hand away. “I know...it is too soon.”

  “I am sorry,” she mumbled. “I did not mean...”

  “You have nothing of which to be ashamed.” Bran eased from her and pulled Velvet to a seated position. “I offer my apologies, my Dear. I am usually in better control.” Except when it comes to you. “I intended only to thank you for your consideration for Sonali. It was especially kind of you to think of my daughter’s heritage.”

  “Bran,” she stumbled through the words. “I...I want...I want Sonali to like me. I can love her because she is yours.” Her words made Bran flinch, but so wrapped in her own thoughts, Velvet took no note. “And I do not want to return to the formal duke and his cousin. I...I liked...liked the kiss.”

  Bran searched her countenance for her words’ truth. “And the other?” He knew he should not ask, but the words slipped out.

  “It...it was,” she blushed and looked away quickly, “wanton.”

  A smile broke the line of Bran’s mouth. “Is that bad?”

  Velvet dropped her eyes, ashamed to meet his. “Not bad–just different.”

  Bran tipped her chin up so her eyes would meet his. “I intend to kiss you again, and I cannot promised that I will not occasionally lose control. Can you live with that?”

  She said softly, “I would like that very much.”

  “May I hold you for a few minutes?”

  Velvet nodded and turned her body to match his. Bran slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly to him. “Rest your head,” he whispered to her hair. “I just want to be near you. I feel I am losing my family all over again.”

  Chapter 12

  “Are you certain?” an angry voice demanded.

  The hired interloper declared, “Saw it with me own eyes.”

  “So, Fowler holds an affection, as you English so like to say, for his cousin Miss Aldridge?” The dark-skinned man circled the room as he thought out loud.

  “The Duke kissed the lady in a most improper manner.” The informant warily followed the man’s movements with his eyes. “Ye want me to follow him some more?”

  The pacing stopped. “That will not be necessary. See Talpur. He will reimburse you for your efforts.”

  “Anytime, Gov’ner.” A smile said the informant was pleased with himself, but he judiciously slipped from the room.

  Murhad Jamot stared out the window into the darkness. He remembered the girl Ashmita. He had wanted her for himself, but Mir had declared her unworthy. Even when Mir locked her away, and the others had taken her time and time again, Jamot could not bring himself to be among them. And then Fowler had kidnapped her and had taken Ashmita away, making the girl his own; and although he secretly felt gratitude for the man’s efforts, the insult still ate away at Jamot. “Maybe I should return the favor,” he said out loud, enjoying the idea as he imagined the look on Fowler’s face if he lost the dark-haired girl. “I will trade the girl for the emerald.”

  *

  Crowden placed the two volumes on Bran’s desk and smiled. “Levering’s hold on your sister disappeared like a ghost in the night.” Bran had paced the floor through most of the previous evening, waiting for Crowden�
�s return.

  “Any trouble?” Bran fingered the gold edging on the books. He would read them before he turned them over to Ella. His own private punishment for not protecting Eleanor properly.

  Crowden dropped into his favorite chair. “Nothing Lord Lexford and I could not handle. The viscount understands how to stage a diversion. He should be here later to apprise you of the details.”

  Bran turned immediately to lock Lady Levering’s books in his safe. “I will send word to Worthing. The last impediment to his and Eleanor’s marriage is resolved. I am in your debt, Crowden. Name your price, and I will pay it.” Bran tested Godown once more to assure himself that the man would not put a claim on Velvet.

  “I will bank your gratitude until I require it.” Crowden propped his feet on the desk’s corner. “When do we leave for Derbyshire?”

  “I will wait for Worthing’s response, but he had planned for next Thursday or Friday for the ceremony. I will not tell Aunt Agatha until right before we leave. I do not wish to involve her in this mess until it is too late for Levering to make a countermove. I have invited the baronet to join my party at Prinny’s gathering. That is ten days after Eleanor’s wedding. She will return to London as Lady Worthing.”

  “Then we will leave on Monday?”

  Bran smiled deviously. “Monday seems appropriate. I will spread the word that we travel to visit the Duchess’s family. Her son’s estate is actually close to Worthing’s so no one will notice.”

  “Will the Duchess accept the smaller wedding? I would imagine that she had planned something more elaborate.”

  Bran noted the possibility. “Worthing’s mother is an old friend; plus, the idea that the viscount and Eleanor chose to marry where the Earl might attend will be plausible for everyone involved.”

  “Worthing appears happy.” Both men stared off, envisioning such contentment in store for them.

  “He and Ella connected instantly; she stumbled and fell into his arms. From that moment, anyone with eyes could see where it would lead. I am pleased for them; they found happiness with marriage, an unusual occurrence among those of our station.”