“Any problems?” Worthing spoke for Bran’s ears only.
“Not a thing. Everything is as you ordered.” Bran turned his friend so they might speak privately. “How is Ella?”
Kerrington looked with some concern at his wife. “She had another sleepwalking episode last evening, indicating she must be very upset. Ella thought I was you, and it was the evening of your mother’s passing.”
“I had hoped those episodes were long behind her,” Bran acknowledged.
Worthing prepared to move away before the others became too curious. “Maybe after tonight we can release Ella to all she can be.” He turned to see Eleanor approaching, and he reached for her hand and brought her to his side. Lifting her hand to his lips, Worthing showed his affection to the curious onlookers.
“Nice touch,” Bran grinned before turning to the rest of the group.
Worthing seated Ella next to the Marquis. They would not sit together, luring Louis Levering into a sense of security, but Kerrington would not permit Ella to feel unprotected.
“Phase one is complete,” Crowden muttered as he moved closer to Eleanor.
“Now, we must wait for the baronet to fall into the trap,” Worthing hissed. “Take care of Ella.” He touched her shoulder one last time as he moved away.
Crowden nodded his head. “Nothing will happen to Lady Worthing.”
Bran stepped beside Kerrington. “By the way, it has started to rain. Sir Louis must use a public hack and walk in the rain. He will be a mess when he arrives.”
“I wish I could take credit for the weather,” Lord Worthing whispered. “But it will add to the baronet’s frustration, and for that I am thankful.” He glanced up to see Aidan Kimbolt’s prearranged signal. “Levering is approaching the building,” he murmured to Bran and Crowden. “I am stepping away from the table. Support Ella as best you can.”
Worthing kissed his wife’s hand and whispered words of love and encouragement to her before joining Marcus Wellston some ten feet away.
Before any of the Thornhill table could respond, two events occurred simultaneously: The Crown Prince of England came to greet their party, and the captain of the guard announced Sir Louis’s entrance into the Great Hall.
When Prince George’s entourage appeared before the table, Bran’s party rose to their feet to bow low to their country’s future king. A rippling murmur of “Your Highness” filled the area. Prinny acknowledged their greetings and then turned to Bran. “Your Grace, I am pleased to see Thornhill now attending our simple gatherings.” The Prince gestured with a heavily ringed hand to the gold inlaid setting for his two hundred attendees.
Bran smiled with amusement at such understatement. “We are honored by your continued acknowledgment, Your Highness.”
“I am told that you served us well in the East.” Prinny examined each person at Bran’s table, purposely lingering over the females of the group.
Bran was a bit surprised to discover the Prince held a working knowledge of the Realm’s existence. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Might I prevail upon you to make the introductions, Fowler?”
“With pleasure, Your Highness.” Bran led the introductions for first his aunt, then Gabriel Crowden, the Averettes, Velvet, and Emily Nelson. He took great pride in each of his associates; they spoke well of him. Even more satisfying was the way the Prince took time to address each of them, rather than making a “group” recognition. Bran’s desire to change the reputation of Thornhill seemed to be working, and for a fleeting moment, he held qualms about Worthing’s plan to publicly expose some of the family secrets. However, it was too late to stop the brewing storm. Out of his eye’s corner, Bran could see Levering deliberately making his way toward them.
Bran continued, “And my sister, Your Highness, Lady...”
Before he could finish, Prinny interrupted, “Lady Fowler.” He bowed graciously over Eleanor’s hand. “Queen Charlotte was quite taken with you.”
Ella curtsied low. “Thank you, Your Highness, for remembering.” Bran noted the trembling in her voice, and he suspected it had as much to do with Levering’s obvious approach as it did with being so singled out by their future monarch. “But it is now Lady Worthing.”
Prinny appeared genuinely surprised. A raised eyebrow accented his curiosity. “Lady Worthing? And when did you become Lady Worthing?”
“Just last week, Your Highness.” Ella’s words were now barely audible.
Bran imperceptively motioned for Crowden to physically support her. “My sister and Viscount Worthing expressed their affections for some time, but I stubbornly refused because I felt my father’s long illness had denied Lady Worthing her time in Society.” It was a plausible lie, and Bran made a point of speaking loud enough for those in close proximity to his table to hear his words and to repeat them later for the rest of the ton. “I asked them to wait until she had experienced a Season, but the Earl of Linworth took a turn for the worst. The earl was anxious to see his son well settled, and as we had no real objections to the connection, I reluctantly agreed to a private ceremony at Linton Park where the Earl might witness the marriage himself.” This would reinforce what Ella and Kerrington had told everyone earlier.
“Very compassionate of you, Thornhill,” Prinny declared, and Bran saw several others of the Prince’s party nod in agreement.
The Prince leaned in to whisper something private to Eleanor, and she blushed with his attentions. Ella actually giggled when she said, “I am honored, Your Highness, but you understand the early affections of marriage.”
Just as Bran braced himself for the inevitable, Levering appeared from behind and caught Eleanor’s arm sharply in his grasp. Bowing to the Prince, he announced, “Your Highness, I am Sir Louis Levering of Huntingborne Abbey, Lady Eleanor’s betrothed.” Bran saw Worthing’s fists knot at his side and then realized he had a similar response to Levering’s touching Eleanor.
Not seeing Levering’s approach, Ella looked properly aghast, and the rest of the table, unaware of the extent of Bran and Kerrington’s plan, responded appropriately to Levering’s declaration. Around them, people gasped with Sir Louis’s audacity of speaking to the Prince before being spoken to and at his manhandling of Lady Eleanor Fowler Worthing.
“Lady...Lady Eleanor’s betrothed?” the Prince stammered.
Levering tightened his hold on Ella’s arm, and Bran saw her wince. “Yes, Your Highness,” the baronet puffed up with confidence.
Instantly, Worthing materialized and caught Levering’s hand, the one he used to hold Eleanor. Bran looked on with satisfaction as his friend bent the baronet’s hand backwards, obviously intent on causing pain. Levering had hurt Ella on more than one occasion, and it was plain to see Kerrington planned to take some form of revenge. “You will never touch my wife, Sir!” Worthing menacingly declared as he applied additional pressure to Levering’s hand. “No one, including our most Royal Highness, will dare deny me satisfaction, Sir Louis.”
Bran heard murmurs of agreement from those at neighboring tables. This was what they had planned: They would force Levering into a duel. Bran pushed forward, as did Crowden. “I will be your second, Worthing,” he declared.
However, Levering ignored the clear invitation to a duel, and instead, he protested louder. “How can that be, Eleanor? You are betrothed to me?”
Now, the Realm would have to do what they did best: improvise. As dueling was illegal in England, he and Kerrington required the Prince’s “silent consent” in order to carry out the challenge without punishment. Bran just hoped Ella could withstand what might follow.
Worthing released Levering’s hand, shoving the man backwards before sliding his arm around Ella’s waist, placing her out of Levering reach and making the move to protect her. It was the reverse of Bran’s situation with Ashmita. Then, Bran protected the girl, and Worthing did the fighting. Now, James Kerrington protected Ella; Bran would handle the confrontation.
Eleanor found her voice with Kerrington�
�s support. “I never gave you permission, Sir Louis, to use my familiar name.”
Unpredictably, Levering blurted out, “I need no permission to use your familiar name, Eleanor. I have been more familiar than that with you.”
Bran heard the collective breath reverberate throughout the room. There was no turning back now. Eleanor buried her face in her husband’s shoulder, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Bran. A curse slipped from his lips as their father’s shame slapped them all in the face again. He held a reputation for staring down the flippant elements of the ton, a reputation, which had no real roots other than his final fight with the late duke; but tonight Bran would prove that repute true; he would look the cream of Society in the face and dare them to censure his family for his father’s sins.
“Sir Louis,” Prinny warned with a note of amusement in his voice, “I do not believe this is the time to make such charges.”
Bran quickly surveyed the Prince’s entourage and saw the interest building in their faces. There was nothing the ton enjoyed more than a good dose of gossip. He and Worthing would need to turn this for their own benefit. He shot a quick glance at his former “captain” and noted the same realization on his part.
“But, Your Highness, you do not understand.” Sir Louis pointed an accusatory finger at Bran’s family. “They...they thought themselves above a baronet. Ask them if you do not believe me. I have escorted Lady Eleanor about town on more than one occasion with the understanding that she would be mine at Season’s end.”
“Show him to be a fool,” Velvet spoke softly to Bran alone. “You can change this.”
He let his fingertip lightly touch her arm to let her know he had heard her before taking his place beside Levering. Bran would use his height to his advantage. Crowden made a counter move on the baronet’s other side, sealing off any chance of the man’s escape. Bran answered Levering’s accusation, forcing calmness into his voice as he said, “Your Highness, Sir Louis is our nearest neighbor in Kent, and although it is my understanding it has been several years since they last saw the baronet, while I was away in the East, my family held a previous acquaintance with him. Earlier, my sister had a riding accident in Hyde Park, and Sir Louis happened to be there, and he came to her aid. Those two factors allowed me to give permission to Eleanor to ride out with Sir Louis, but there was never anything beyond neighborly gratitude on my sister’s part. I am sorry if the baronet deluded himself into believing otherwise, but Lord Worthing engaged Eleanor’s heart long before we arrived in London–literally, from their first encounter.”
“Then why did you permit Lady Eleanor to travel to Nottingham with me?” Levering continued his accusations.
Velvet purposely moved to protect Ella from the ton’s prying eyes. Bran gave her a brief smile before responding. At least, Sir Louis had given them an opening that he could use to their advantage. “My sister, Sir Louis, never traveled anywhere with you!” his voice boomed out, emphasizing their version of the truth. “What craziness is this? You are a madman!”
“A madman?” Levering sputtered. “We will see about that. Ask him?” Levering pointed to Aidan Kimbolt, and Bran let himself relax. It was not the ending they had wanted, but things had fallen in place. When he heard Levering refer to Kimbolt as Collins, Bran knew they could win this.
Kimbolt stepped forward when Prinny motioned for his needed presence. Bran actually appreciated the Prince’s interference. It would legitimatize the outcome: Levering’s fall from grace. “It seems Sir Louis believes you might corroborate his story. Is there a reason Levering calls you Collins?” Prinny nearly laughed, and Bran considered joining him.
“That is his name,” Levering declared. “Allister Collins. He was in Nottingham with Lady Eleanor and me. In fact, I gave her to him for the evening.” Bran saw Marcus Wellston catch Kerrington’s arm to stay him. He prayed the viscount would not betray their interests before the Royal court.
By now, except for Ella’s sobs and Levering’s labored breathing, the hall was completely silent. Everyone waited for what Sir Louis might say next. Even Bran had to admit it was quite a show.
Kimbolt’s voice brought his attention back to the moment. “Your Highness, as I am not Allister Collins, I have no idea of what this gentleman means by his rantings. I am certain that you are aware, Your Highness, that I am friends with Thornhill, Crowden, and Worthing. In fact, this evening I entertained Fowler’s other cousin, another Miss Aldridge.” He motioned for Cashé to join him. “Your Highness, may I present Viscount Averette’s niece, Miss Cashémere Aldridge of Edinburgh.”
“Miss Aldridge.” As he did with all the women in Bran’s party, Prinny acknowledged the newcomer with an eye for her beauty.
Bran wondered why Levering simply did not accept his losses and leave. He now understood how the baronet had accumulated so many gambling debts: Levering did not know how to walk away from a losing hand.
The tittering and murmuring continued behind them as the ton dissected what all they saw and heard. Bran recognized the panic when it flared in the baronet’s eyes. Then the man foolishly demanded to know Kimbolt’s real name.
“I am Aidan Kimbolt, Viscount Lexford, as if it is any of your concern, Sir.”
“And I guess,” Levering pointed to Carter Lowery, “he is not your man of business!”
Lowery joined the group. “Your Highness, I am Carter Lowery, Baron Blakehell’s son. I work in the Home Office, but I am no solicitor by profession.”
Levering turned on Bran again. “Are you going to claim your sister never removed herself from London, Thornhill? She ran off in Nottingham and has been hiding ever since.”
Bran used his best condescending tone when he responded. “Each time you called at Briar House, I explained that my sister had taken a holiday to the Lake District. I simply did not tell you that she traveled to Derbyshire to meet Lord Worthing’s family when the Earl’s health demanded it. It was none of your concern, Sir.”
“You permitted a duke’s sister to travel alone?” Levering charged.
“Besides her maid, Lady Eleanor traveled with Miss Nelson.”
“There is no Miss Nelson!” Levering’s voice resonated in the room.
Bran nearly laughed out loud. It had been Ella’s idea to include the Averettes’ governess in their party. Sir Louis had no idea what Pandora’s box he had just opened. Bran projected his voice to be heard over the din building around them, but when he saw Kerrington encouraging Eleanor to voice her own objections, Bran cleared his throat loudly to silence the others.
Eleanor raised her head and purposely straightened her shoulders. His sister was a magnificent woman. She addressed her remarks to the Prince rather than to Sir Louis. “I believe, Your Highness, that my brother introduced you to Miss Nelson.” He heard the wavering in her voice, but his indomitable sister raised her chin in defiance. He loved her for her ability to survive–her ability to rise above the chaos surrounding them.
“I believe he did, Lady Worthing.” Prinny turned his attention to the school teacher-looking woman standing quietly among the Thornhill party. In a silent request, Bran prayed the Prince would ask the right questions.
“Miss Nelson.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The woman refused to raise her eyes to Prince George.
“You will tell me the truth.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Have you recently traveled in what is known as the Lake District of England?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“And have you spent time at Viscount Worthing’s estate in Derbyshire?”
“I have, Your Highness. It was an honor to be among Lord Worthing’s guests at his wedding to Lady Fowler.”
“Are you related to either the Fowlers or the Kerringtons?”
“No, Your Highness. My parents were Baron and Lady Nelson of Lancashire.”
“It is impossible!” Levering seethed. “I made her up. There is no Miss Nelson.”
The snickering and the censur
e became more prevalent as Levering turned visibly red. Bran came closer to shouting with joy. Sir Louis appeared a total fool before everyone. No matter what the man claimed now, no one would believe him.
Putting that assumption to the test, Levering pulled one of the black diaries, the ones they had planted in his home, from underneath his coat. Bran shot a quick glance at Crowden and Kimbolt, the two men who made this moment possible. They both gave nearly imperceptible nods–silently saying all was well. Their plan was complete: Levering committed social suicide.
“So, you do not believe me. Well, you will believe this. Read it, Your Highness. It is my mother’s diary. In it, she describes her relationship with the late Duke of Thornhill and a very young Lady Eleanor.” The crowd pressed forward to hear better what Levering said.
With Kerrington’s continued encouragement, Ella looked down her aristocratic nose at the baronet. “My father was a duke, Sir. He would have had nothing to do with a man who only achieved his title because three cousins died in a freak drowning accident. My family has controlled the dukedom for nearly two hundred years. As for your mother, she threw herself at my father, but he loved only the Duchess Amelia Braton Fowler.”
“May she rest in peace,” Aunt Agatha said into the growing tension. “My sister was of the finest cut.”
“Here, here.” Lord Witherspoon confirmed. “Have we not heard enough of this whippersnapper’s lies, Your Highness?”
“Read it, Your Highness,” Levering insisted. “Read it out loud for all I care. It is not very flattering to my parents, but I am willing to shoulder their shame to prove why Thornhill and Worthing despise me and why they have set about to smear my good name.”
Prinny took the book and handed it to one of his footmen. “Ask the captain of the guard to come to us.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The man cleared a way through the crowded room.
“Do you have a favorite entry, Sir Louis?” Prinny motioned for the servant to take up the book.
Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet Page 24