At the moment, she regretted that confrontation in her uncle’s orchard, but in reality, Velvet instinctively knew that the man would have taken her eventually. He, obviously, had targeted her for his own reasons–reasons she suspected had something to do with Bran and with the earlier attacks on her and Ella. Although if her captor had thought Bran would come for her, he was sadly mistaken. Three months prior, she had left London for Scotland. Her Uncle Samuel had demanded that she leave Briar House and Bran behind, and she had foolishly acquiesced. Velvet had thought that she did it for Ella and for Bran, but she now realized that she did it for herself. She had wanted Bran to prove his love–to, literally, come for her–to be her prince–her knight in shining armor. Yet, he had not come–did not even answer her letters. Instead, Brantley Fowler had abandoned her to the attentions of some Scottish border lairds, too crude for her sensibilities–men who openly spoke of bedding her. Now, all for which she could hope was her uncle might seek her release. However, even that possibility appeared false. Velvet expected she would have to design her own rescue. She would have to be Joan of Arc, Elizabeth I, and Scheherazade all rolled into one–a fighter, a strategist, and a conspirator combined.
“Open your eyes, Miss Aldridge.” She heard his voice from the other side of the coach. “Would you like a moment to attend to your personal needs?” He regularly took her from the coach so she might relieve herself behind a bush or a cluster of trees. Each time he had untied her hands, allowing her a few minutes to work the circulation into her fingers. However, he had refused to untie her ankles. He had only loosened the ropes far enough that she might waddle like a duck to a secluded place. Trying to handle her gown without being able to step at least shoulder-width apart had created a problem, but Velvet had rejected her initial inclination to beg him for more freedom.
She used her bound hands to push herself to a seated position. Velvet did not attempt to answer him; she would not acknowledge the man’s abbreviated kindness. “We should be at our destination shortly after dark. That is another three to four hours. We will stay at one of my warehouses until next week’s end when the ship for which I have been waiting arrives.”
“Where are we?’ Despite her resolve to not interact with the man, curiosity had ruled.
“Back in your precious England.” The man said nothing else. He tapped on the carriage’s ceiling, indicating that the driver should pull up to allow her time to meet her female needs.
When the coach had come to a complete stop, her captor loosened the leather straps holding her hands. Then he opened the door to let down the steps himself. “Do not make me be cruel to you, Miss Aldridge. It matters not to me whether you are covered in cuts and bruises when I turn you over to Fowler.”
“And when will that be?” She had turned her head as he helped her to negotiate the steps. She had wanted a better look at her surroundings. Velvet knew that she should have kept her mouth shut, but this was the first time since he had covered her mouth with his disgusting handkerchief and had forced her to breathe in the drug that had made her sleepy that she could put together a string of coherent thoughts. “What makes you think His Grace has your precious emerald, and if he does, why he would trade it for my life?”
“I had you followed, Miss Aldridge. I have my reports of you and your duke in some most intimate settings.” He pointed to a nearby copse of trees for her convenience. Velvet did not respond to what he just said. The thought of someone spying on her and Bran bothered her deeply; yet, she would not give her custodian the satisfaction of knowing such thoughts terrified her. Instead, she concentrated on walking with bound feet and a long gown across uneven ground.
Luckily, the man had kept a healthy distance and had given her some privacy. Looking around, she tried to imagine where he had taken her. No longer in the Scottish midlands, they were obviously near the coast, but which one–eastern or western? Five days from Edinburgh on the eastern coast would have brought them somewhere near Lincolnshire or Norfolk. She did not think the dark-skinned man would have returned her to Kent. Instead, as she inspected the area in which she now stood, Velvet thought they might be on the western coast. Coming to the west, it would take at least two days to traverse Scotland–maybe three. Now, she guessed that she traveled in Cumbria or Lancashire. If so, she was not far from Ella in Derbyshire or even from Satiné in Manchester. Quickly, Velvet realized that she would be able to find Ella more easily than to find her youngest sister. Could she escape and locate Ella’s home? She knew that Lord Worthing would see to her safety if she could reach Linton Park on her own. Even if she was wrong and was in Lincolnshire, she could go inland to the Kerringtons and safety. She just needed to manage her own escape.
*
It had taken Kerrington and Lowery nearly three days of hard riding to reach his brother’s estate in Devon, but Thomas Whittington had been waiting for them. Shepherd had sent word of their search, and Amsteadt already had men in place to aid in the rescue.
“Ah, Thomas, I have never been so happy to get out of the saddle,” Kerrington said as they climbed the steps at Whit Hill. “How is that lovely niece of mine?”
“Lenore is perfect.” Whittington clapped Kerrington on the back. “We will speak privately a little later,” he murmured as his wife Georgina Kerrington Whittington burst through the door and rushed to Lord Worthing’s open arms. Tears of joy streamed down her face. “Let the man in the house, Georgina,” Amsteadt teased.
“Do not chastise me, Thomas.” She took her brother’s proffered arm. “I miss my family.” She leaned into Kerrington’s shoulder. “How are Eleanor and Mama and Papa and Daniel?”
Worthing laughed at her bubbly nature. “Mama and Papa are excellent; Papa is even spending some time out of bed each day. Daniel is growing like a weed, and Eleanor...well, Eleanor is increasing.” He began to silently count to ten to see how long it would take for his information to register with his sister. He made it to two before she jumped into his arms again.
“Oh, James, I knew it!” she beamed with happiness. “A houseful of children is what you need.”
The ever-practical Whittington turned them toward the house again. “You need food and some place to stretch out your legs. Come, everyone.” He dropped behind his wife and her brother. “How are you, Lowery?”
“A little saddle sore.” He laughed lightly. “Two days and nights of chasing Fowler to Derbyshire and three days to here; it reminds me of my days with Wellington.”
“We will see you settled, and then we can discuss what is to be done in Cornwall.”
*
Bran and Aidan Kimbolt arrived at the viscount’s property late on the same day that they all met at Linton Park. Lexington Arms sat on a rich land–flat and green, looking like the squares on a chessboard, stretched by ribbons of water feeding the soil and keeping it dark and moist. Built on a slight rise, Lexington Arms reflected the style of the early part of the previous century. Bran knew that the main house had suffered a devastating fire, nearly leveling the original structure. A large house with three star-like wings, Lexington Arms sported massive oak doors and window frames, opening to rooms with tall ceilings and crown molding.
“Make yourself at home,” Kimbolt stated as he handed his riding things to the waiting butler.
Bran laid his belongings on a nearby table. “How much further to Liverpool?”
“Thirty miles or so.” Kimbolt led the way to a small dining room. “Let us find something to eat and some rest tonight. We will hit the road early in the morning. I sent Lucifer ahead to make connections and to see what he could find out about Jamot. Despite his size, the man blends in quite nicely, a true asset in this business.”
“I pray we are not too late.” Bran sat dejectedly in the chair to which Kimbolt gestured.
“According to Wellston’s note, Jamot traveled by carriage, which means they needed to stay to the main roads. Marcus sent word by relay, with men riding day and night, as well as sending one of our yachts with the info
rmation. If what the earl says is so, Jamot and your lady could not reach Liverpool until today or tomorrow at the earliest. Jamot cannot take Miss Aldridge into the inns without creating a scene. Why should he hurry? His ship is a week away. We will be in time.”
*
“What do we know?” Kerrington, Lowery, and Whittington sat together after supper in the Amsteadts’ Devon home. Georgina tended the new baby.
Whittington leaned back in the chair. “I rode to Cornwall yesterday. Talpur has opened the house and has armed guards stationed about it. I met up with Deston Hollander. He will serve as our local contact.”
“Why would this Hollander fellow assist us?” Lowery stretched his legs out fully.
Whittington poured them each a glass of wine. “Fowler saved Hollander’s sister Daisy from Sir John Cartwright. Sent her to his house in Venice. Hollander pledged his allegiance as soon as he heard Fowler required his assistance.”
“Is Talpur in residence in Thornhill’s former residence?” Kerrington gathered all the facts.
“As expected, he arrived late yesterday afternoon. Where he has been the past five days, I have no idea, but he came with a large package–a large wooden box of some girth carried into the house.”
“Please tell me Talpur did not transport that poor child in a box–a coffin, no less–across southern England.” Lowery sat forward, no longer relaxed.
Kerrington, too, moved close, as if to share a confidence. “I studied Mir’s closest men after we allowed Fowler to take Ashmita to safety in our Bombay house. It was my duty to know our enemy. Although I am certain the child is very frightened, Talpur will not hurt Sonali physically. Talpur will fight any man with a vengeance, but women and children have little to fear from him.”
Whittington added, “We go in the morning?”
“I want to reconnoiter the area in the daylight.” Kerrington lowered his voice. “You do not need to go, Thomas. You have done enough.”
“And miss out on the most excitement I have experienced in the past five years! Tell me you will not insist that I remain behind, James,” Thomas Whittington pleaded.
“You are a new father, Thomas,” Kerrington argued.
Whittington gave his brother in marriage a level stare. “As you will soon be also. We all accepted the danger when we aligned ourselves with the Realm. My God, Fowler’s former neighbor Lucien Simms was once a Realm member. Even he is willing to take up arms.”
“That old man?” Lowery remarked.
“England has fought many wars, Lowery, and you are not the first of the Realm to serve,” Whittington observed.
“So, how can Simms assist us?” Kerrington turned the conversation to the rescue. He had not decided to include his sister’s husband, but he understood Whittington’s desire to be involved. Over the past two years, he had given up his life as a government agent to concentrate on running the Linworth holdings. Kerrington actually relished those moments over the last few months where he had needed to exercise his skills: capturing Harry Sparks after his shooting Eleanor’s horse at Thornhill, chasing Ella’s attackers in Hyde Park, plotting Levering’s downfall, and, now, organizing this rescue. His heart raced with the excitement.
Whittington glanced around, making certain no one else could hear, a foolish act in his own house, but understandable in this situation. “Simms says Fowler built his house on the ruins of the old monastery. Accessible from the wooded area behind the house, there are tunnels leading into the cellar.”
“We can enter the house without Talpur’s knowledge?” Kerrington jumped on the idea.
“That is what Simms says.”
*
“Cashémere...Lord Yardley,” Ella acknowledged as she entered the drawing room.
Marcus Wellston scrambled to his feet and offered Eleanor a bow. “Lady Worthing, thank you for receiving us.”
“Please return to your seats.” Ella accepted a belated curtsy from Velvet’s sister. “How might I serve you?”
Wellston took the lead. “The fact that you did not ask immediately why Miss Cashémere and I traveled together tells me that you are aware of our situation, Lady Worthing.”
“I am, Lord Yardley.”
Cashé interrupted, “Then my uncle is at Linton Park? Or my sister? I insist that you tell my uncle I have arrived; I will see him immediately.” Her demanding, often accusatory, attitude, obviously, irritated and embarrassed Wellston, as the earl frowned openly.
“I am afraid I have seen neither since His Lordship and I took our leave of your family in London.” Ella poured them both some tea and waited for the next order from Velvet’s sister.
“That is impossible,” Cashé accused. “We trailed my uncle to Derbyshire.”.
Ella smiled indulgently at the older of the Averette twins. “I did not say Lord Averette had not come to the neighborhood; I simply said your uncle did not call at Linton Park.”
“Go on, Lady Worthing,” Wellston overrode any objections Cashé planned to make.
For the next ten minutes, Ella explained how Lawrence Lowery had come on behalf of Lord Averette, bringing Samuel Aldridge’s accusations to address to her husband. She explained how Bran had rushed to Linworth, seeking Lord Worthing’s assistance in rescuing Velvet, and how their problems doubled when Sir Carter had tracked Bran to Derbyshire to bring news of Sonali’s kidnapping. Finally, Ella explained how the men separated to stage dual rescues.
“And my uncle?” Cashé asked, a bit of sarcasm still found in her tone.
“It is my understanding Lord Averette continues his search. Lord Hellsman has accompanied Viscount Averette to London.” Ella noted Yardley’s raised eyebrow at the mention of Carter Lowery’s older brother, but neither vocalized their thoughts.
“So, did you tell Uncle Samuel that Velvet has likely been kidnapped by the duke’s former enemy?” The girl’s accusations continued.
“As Viscount Averette never presented himself at Linton Park, it was impossible to dissuade him from his misconceptions.” Ella smiled deviously.
After an awkward pause, Lord Yardley asked, “Shall you continue to seek your uncle, Miss Cashémere? It appears that Lord Averette will find nothing in London or Kent to satisfy his anger.” He and Ella exchanged knowing glances.
Cashé paused, apparently, analyzing what he said. “It appears more prudent to chase after His Grace and Viscount Lexford. Besides Satiné is in Manchester.”
“Satiné?” He asked curiously.
“My twin . . . the Fowlers took in Velvet when our parents died. I stayed with Uncle Samuel, but Satiné stayed with my mother’s brother Baron Ashton of Chesterfield Manor.”
“I had forgotten about Satiné being in Manchester,” Ella noted. “I am certain Bran will not remember. When did you last see Satiné?”
“Nearly three years ago,” the girl whispered.
Wellston began to create a strategy. “How long has His Grace been in Cheshire?”
“Since yesterday evening.”
Wellston thought aloud, “I am certain he and Lexford are in Liverpool by now. I doubt if Jamot has arrived. Maybe later today. We pressed to arrive at Linton Park as quickly as we did. Jamot had to travel through rougher terrain than did we. Plus, I know Northumberland well enough to take time-saving back roads.”
“We shall leave for Cheshire this afternoon, my Lord?”
The earl and Ella both turned incredulously towards Cashémere. “You wish me to continue to serve as your escort?” he asked in disbelief.
“Well, Uncle Samuel would not approve; yet, we have traveled this far together, and as long as I have my maid Edana with me, it will have to do,” the girl reasoned. “Uncle Samuel does not approve of how Lady Worthing conducted her life prior to coming to Linton Park.” Ella blustered, but the girl continued. “Even her aiding Lady Amsteadt in the delivery of the woman’s child is not acceptable for a woman of refined society, no matter how admirable the act might have been. My uncle would not agree with my staying under my cousin’
s roof, so it is best if I continue to seek my sister.”
“You are quite misleared, Miss Cashé,” Wellston remarked to cease her prattle.
“Rude, my Lord? Or honest? It is a matter of perspective.”
He retorted, “From my perspective, rudeness is a long way from truthfulness. Previously, you have accepted the hospitality of Lady Worthing and her brother, and then you repeat hurtful words spoken about their family.”
Cashé flushed from his obvious censure. “I apologize Eleanor; you are my cousin, and my family is thankful for your family’s care of my sister; yet, things were quite different within our households.” She actually snarled her nose, as if in distaste.
“As I would not judge you, I would wish that you might offer me the same. Do not forget that the Good Book says, ‘He who is without sin among you, let him throw the first stone.’” Ella busied herself with the tea service to control her growing anger.
The girl looked offended that someone might disregard her opinion. “Such misapplication of the scripture will not silence me or my opposition to depravity. Besides, what might be said of censure for Uncle Samuel’s family?”
Ella stood suddenly, unable to not address the girl’s naiveté. “As Peter warned when referring to Paul’s letters,” she could repeat Biblical verses as well as the Averettes, “in which are some things hard to understand, which those who are untaught or unstable twist to their own destruction as they do also the rest of the scriptures.” Eleanor took a steadying breath. “Cashé, you make everything black or white. You would like to know what I might criticize. How about the fact that your uncle thinks it acceptable to permit a woman and a child die simply to keep the lines of propriety? Or how about the fact that you have not seen your twin for nearly three years, and until recently, not Velvet for over two years? How about the fact that not once did your righteous Uncle Samuel send one quid of support for Velvet’s upbringing? I imagine it is so for Satiné, as well. I know this to be a fact for the past six years because as my father became more incoherent, the estate ledgers became my duty. How about the fact that when Velvet came of age, no one in your family acknowledged it with an appropriate dowry? Again, it was that depraved man known as my father who bequeathed her a dowry of thirteen thousand pounds. But even more importantly, it was my family who saw to Velvet’s education, who tended her when she was ill, who nourished her hopes and her dreams. You may be Velvet’s sister by blood, but I am her sister in life. Despite my depravity and my ill breeding, my family gave Velvet a home when your righteous grandmother and Uncle Samuel did not.” She gave Lord Yardley a quick curtsy. “Your Lordship, I will see to your and Miss Cashé’s carriage. I assume that you will be a gentleman and will accompany her west.”
Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet Page 29