Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet

by Regina Jeffers

  “I do not accept blackmail as an honorable proposal,” Averette grumbled.

  “As I did not accept blackmail as a familial response to my attentions to your niece,” Bran countered. “The truth of the matter, Lord Averette, is I will make Velvet my wife. I have loved her since childhood, and despite your current objections, she will be mine. So, I suggest we find some sort of compromise.”

  Averette slammed his fist down hard on the desk. “I have no desire to compromise with Your Grace.”

  “I never said you should desire it, Averette; I simply suggested you accept it. My title can protect your niece’s reputation. Is that not of prime importance?” Bran stood to move away from the desk. “Baron Ashton will arrive with the rest of your family later this afternoon. Perhaps it might be best to consult with Lord Ashton before you make your final decision.” He started toward the door. “Come, Ella,” he extended his hand to her. “His Lordship needs time to best consider what we offer.”

  Ella took his arm, and they left the room together. “Might we enjoy the pianoforte, Ella? It has been a long time since we shared a duet.” He spoke for the servants who conspicuously lurked in the hallway.

  She knew not what her brother planned, but Eleanor followed his lead. “I fear I am horribly out of practice.”

  “As am I, Ella. We will close the door and make bad music together.” He led her to the music room and shut out nosy servants and a grumbling Lord Averette. To hide their conversation, they sat together and picked out phrases of a song, taking turns playing the appropriate bars.

  “What has happened to Lord Averette? I remember him as such a pleasant fellow, a man torn apart by his decision to separate his brother’s children.” Eleanor played the opening stanzas. “How could he be so eaten up with hate?”

  Bran took up the next phrases. “I suppose our memories are those of children.” Bran fingered a difficult phrase on the keys. “Should I have him investigated? Possibly, there is something behind this radical change.”

  “He seems to see evil in everything. My real concern is what his actions do to Cashé; she spits out censorious remarks without thought to whom she might hurt.”

  Bran reached across her hands to play the complementary tune. “Perhaps Lexford might change the young lady. He seems to affect her.”

  “Well, Wellston certainly does not. He speaks quite honestly to Cashémere. His disdain is very evident,” Ella shared.

  “No, it seems Satiné is more to his liking.”

  “Really?” Ella found this surprising.

  “Absolutely,” Bran assured her. “I have seen it with my own eyes, as will you; this afternoon Wellston and Lexford, along with Lowery, escort the baron.”

  Eleanor started the piece over from the beginning, playing superbly this time. “James and Sonali will be here tomorrow. I am pleased for my husband’s return.”

  “And it will give me comfort to hold Sonali once more. Mrs. Carruthers travels from Kent to care for her.” Bran took up the counterpart, playing efficiently.

  Ella began to laugh when he stumbled over a complicated phrase. “You must practice more, my Brother.”

  “I must enjoy life more, my Sister.” They finished with a flourish.

  *

  Bran greeted the baron’s coach when it arrived at Linton Park. He assisted each of the ladies to the ground, spending a few extra seconds holding Velvet’s hand before placing hers on his arm to enter the house.

  “My uncle is here?” she whispered.

  “Unfortunately,” Bran growled. “Hopefully, Ashton can talk some sense to him; otherwise, you and I are off to Scotland.”

  Velvet flushed with color. They lagged a bit behind the rest of her family. “I thought being compromised sounded more pleasant.”

  Bran felt a rush of blood go straight to his manhood. He, literally, gulped for air. “A woman should never say such things to a man who desires her as much as I do you,” he murmured close to her ear.

  “A woman says such things to the man she desires as much as I do you,” she avowed as she left Bran’s arm to greet Ella and her Uncle Samuel.

  Bran fought the urge to pull her back into his embrace, but seeing Velvet walk away as if she had not said the most provocative thing he could imagine her saying sobered him quickly. She purposely enticed him–purposely became a woman, not a girl any longer. God, he would spend a lifetime relearning what all he had thought he knew of her.

  Needing to defuse the situation immediately, Baron Ashton caught Viscount Averette by the arm. “Samuel, how pleasant to see you,” Ashton called as he blocked Averette from approaching Velvet.

  “Good afternoon, Charles.” Averette begrudgingly gave Ashton a bow of courtesy.

  Showing his good manners, Ashton took control. “And who might this be? This is not our Eleanor, but it has to be for she is the spitting image of Amelia Braton.” He took Ella’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You make me remember when I was a young man. Your mother and my sister Chenille loved to torment me. I wish I could recapture those moments.”

  “That sounds like us, Ella.” Velvet interlaced her arm through Eleanor’s. “We certainly gave Bran more than one moment of regret.”

  “You must tell me of their antics, Your Grace.” Ashton guided everyone through the hallway. “We will match stories later.”

  “That would be most pleasant, Your Lordship.” Bran held the door for the ladies.

  Ashton gestured for Velvet and Eleanor to precede him. “Come, Samuel, we will be gentlemen and graciously accept Lady Worthing’s hospitality.”

  “My husband’s parents will join us for supper. The earl has suffered from poor health, but he has improved of late.” Ella ushered everyone into the room and took up the tea service.

  “I am certain it is because of your care,” the baron carried the bulk of the conversation. “I remember when you insisted that you would be a physician so you could save your mother.”

  Ella laughed lightly at her childhood aspirations. “None of you informed me that only men could train in the medical arts.”

  “And why should we, my Dear? Who knows–maybe some day that will change. The world continues to spin.”

  Averette blustered, “Why do you speak such rubbish, Morton? Women are meant to serve their husbands.”

  “I am sorry you feel that way, Aldridge. Thankfully, your brother Edward held more respect for his wife–my sister.” He accepted a teacup from Velvet while Eleanor continued to pour for the others. “However, we will discuss such matters in private and in detail. Now is not the time. We will speak of family in congenial terms.” Samuel Aldridge grumbled, but he permitted to Ashton have his way.

  After supper, Baron Ashton requested Ella’s permission to use Worthing’s study for his inevitable confrontation with Samuel Aldridge. She entertained the rest of the group in the drawing room. It was still Lady Linworth’s house, but since her marriage, her husband’s mother had turned over much of the control to Eleanor, just as the earl had left the running of Linworth to his son.

  “Of course, Your Lordship. Feel free to make use of anything you need. I believe there is a supply of drinks on the shelf behind my husband’s desk if you are so inclined.”

  “Thank you, Lady Worthing.” With that, the baron motioned for Viscount Averette to follow him. Bran noted how Averette did not even ask to be excused; he could not offer common courtesy to the others in the household.

  The baron closed the door when Averette entered. He gestured to nearby wing chairs. “Might I pour you a drink, Samuel?” he asked casually.

  “I do not drink, Morton.” The viscount puffed up like a strutting peacock. “Our Lord would not approve.”

  “My Lord turned water into wine.” The baron poured himself some port before coming to where Averette sat. “I promised Thornhill I would speak to you regarding his desire to marry Velvet.”

  Averette took an accusatory tone, “Then you take Fowler’s side?”

  “Actually, I take V
elvet’s side. I have seen the depth of the man’s affection for our niece and hers for him. Velvet would be a duchess; her children would be among the most exalted in England. A duke’s position rests below a prince; Velvet would marry well above her station. How can you object to such a match? It is one of love and one of connections.”

  “And you have no thoughts of honor? Of the shame His Grace has brought on my brother’s child?”

  The baron bit back his growing ire. “Velvet is my sister’s child also, and I have seen no dishonor on Fowler’s part. William Fowler’s proclivity is well documented, but young Fowler is not his father. Besides, the Fowlers took on the expense of raising Velvet as their own. You have no real claim to her. You have all but abandoned her, and now you want to do the right thing by Velvet.” Ashton paused for emphasis. “I ask myself why.”

  “So, you believe I have ulterior motives. What might those be, Morton? If I remove Velvet, I must provide her a dowry–must assume all those expenses you just mentioned.”

  The baron leaned back in his chair and held his glass to his lips. Finally, he spoke. “Let me tell you a story, Samuel. It is of a young man who never thought of assuming a title. He was a happy youth–very congenial to everyone.”

  “What is the purpose of all this?” Aldridge demanded.

  “Indulge me for moment, and allow me to finish.” The baron took a sip of his drink. “Then the young man’s brother and his wife died in an accident–or what appeared to be an accident–that is unless someone investigated and took note of how the spokes of the carriage in which the couple rode had been cut at very precise angles.”

  Averette jumped to his feet. “Of what are you accusing me, Morton?” he bellowed.

  The baron did not raise his voice. “Sit down, Aldridge.”

  When the viscount returned to his seat, Ashton continued. “Did I ever tell you that as a young man I worked for several years for the British government? When I lost my only sister, I was enraged, and I searched for a cause. I found that cause. I found a trail leading back to you and a group of men who once counted themselves as constituents of Thomas Chalmers, but who now follow their own doctrine.

  “You and your friends have taken Chalmers’ teachings, some of his more charitable acts, and have created your own parochial machine, a way to strip money from the parishes. You still assist the poor, a true compliment to Chalmers, but you do so for your own benefit.”

  “What do you want from me?” It surprised Ashton that Averette did not deny his accusations; in reality, the baron had been fishing for information, spouting theories he had built over the years.

  “I have not totally deduced why you are so outspoken against Thornhill, but I will,” the baron warned. “For now, you will withdraw your objection to His Grace’s plight to marry Velvet. You and I will give our joint permission for the union. Secondly, you will turn over guardianship of Cashémere to me. I have heard my sister’s child spout words of hatred and disdain, and I will have none of it.”

  Averette stammered, “You mean...mean to take...to take Cashémere from me?”

  “I mean to remove Chenille’s daughter from the sect that you choose to follow. We will tell everyone that you and I believe the twins should share a Season together and to expedite that you are allowing Cashé to stay with me.”

  “And if I do not agree?” a twinge of coldness laced through his words.

  “I have several options. I can turn over to the British government what evidence I have collected as a private citizen. I can support His Grace’s case involving Velvet’s guardianship: a British duke and a British baron versus a British-born Scottish citizen in a British court. Who do you suppose will win? Or I could go public with what I know of your business dealings. I am certain your parish might object to how much money you make off each of your charitable projects.”

  “I believe this conference is at an end.” Averette stood suddenly, obviously upset with the baron’s accusations. He stormed to the door.

  Ashton did not even look up. “As you wish, Aldridge.”

  *

  “Has anyone seen Viscount Averette?” Bran asked at the breakfast table. “The man is normally an early riser, and I have been up since seven–took Daniel riding at eight.”

  Ella brought a fruit plate and toasted dark bread to the table for Lady Linworth. It had become somewhat of a tradition for them since the day Eleanor accepted James Kerrington’s proposal and broke the news at the breakfast table. “Thank you for seeing to Daniel, Bran.” Ella touched Lady Linworth’s shoulder in affection, and the woman patted the back of Ella’s hand.

  Bran watched with satisfaction. Ella needed a mother, and from the beginning, Kerrington’s family had accepted his sister. “As Kerrington brings my child to Derby, it is the least I could do.”

  Baron Ashton strolled into the room. He rejoined the party last evening, but Lord Averette had withdrawn. No one knew the results of the baron’s conversation with the Scottish viscount. “Good morning, Your Grace.” He bowed to the women. “Lady Linworth, you look well today, as do you Lady Worthing.”

  “Thank you, Your Lordship. I hope you slept well.”

  “I did, Countess.” He helped himself to a plate from the sidebar.

  Within a quarter hour, the room streamed with life and conversation. Everyone enjoyed the repast. Velvet and Satiné spoke of new clothing and fashion. The baron and Lady Linworth discussed mutual friends and Martin Kerrington’s plans for a new mill. Carter Lowery filled Ella in on what happened in Cornwall. Bran, Wellston, and Lexford planned a hunting party for later in the fall. So, no one noticed Cashé Aldridge’s appearance in the morning room doorway at first, but then Velvet looked up and gasped.

  Tears smudged Cashé’s face and her hair had not been combed for the day. It streamed down her back. As the room fell silent, she demanded, “Which of you did this?” She held a letter aloft. “Which one of you drove him away?”

  Velvet came forward. “Cashé, of what do you speak?”

  “This!” she accused.

  Everyone else remained suspended, but Velvet slid her arm around her sister. “Come, sit down, and tell us what happened.”

  Cashé shrugged off her sister’s hand. “Do not touch me. It is your fault–yours and the Fowlers. You drove Uncle Samuel away. He left for Scotland this morning.”

  Bran breathed a sigh of relief: Viscount Averette had withdrawn. He and Velvet could marry without any more obstacles.

  Tears consumed the girl. “He left me.” She wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “What will I do now?”

  Baron Ashton approached and gathered the girl into his arms, sliding his handkerchief in her hand as he did so. “Once your sister marries the duke, you will return to Manchester with Satiné and me. Your Uncle Samuel did not desert you, my Dear. He and I spoke of a Season for you and Satiné in the spring. It was a practical move; plus, Samuel missed his wife and his daughter. Everything will be well, Child.” Cashé now sobbed audibly. “Let Velvet take you to your room and assist you in dressing for the day,” he whispered close to her ear. Without making an issue of it, the baron eased the letter from Cashé’s hand and slipped it into his pocket. Only Bran took note of the move. Everyone else simply observed the girl’s misery.

  Once Velvet led Cashé away, the baron plastered a smile on his face and turned to the table. “I apologize; it seems my discussion with the viscount spurred the man to action. Unfortunately, it was not executed as I had hoped, but the result will remain the same. The girls are in my care now, and I most hardly agree to His Grace’s proposal for Velvet.”

  Lexford and Wellston slapped Bran on the back, offering their immediate well wishes. Ella came around the table to hug him. Bran accepted all their congratulations, but he wondered about what the baron had done to convince Averette to leave, and especially to leave Cashémere Aldridge behind. For years, Bran had admired Ashton for his gentlemanly nature, but suddenly he saw the man as a worthy adversary. He thanked his stars t
hat Charles Morton was on his side.

  “Let us have a private party this evening,” Lady Linworth observed. “A celebration of my son’s safe homecoming and a recognition of another marriage at Linton Park.”

  *

  In the late afternoon, Thomas Whittington’s small coach rolled into the Linton Park circle, and Eleanor scurried down the stairs and out the door to greet her husband. It had been nearly a fortnight since he left with Carter Lowery to lead a rescue of their niece. Worthing unfolded his large frame from the carriage and turned to accept an open-armed Eleanor into his embrace. “Finally,” she breathed close to his ear. “Finally, you are here.”

  Kerrington lowered his mouth to her upturned one. “I have missed you so much.” He kissed her again.

  A split second behind her, Bran scooped his daughter from the carriage’s open door and swung her around in total disregard to her deportment.

  “Papa,” she giggled aloud as she clung tightly to his neck.

  From the steps, Velvet and Cashé waited together. “Such displays show a lack of good breeding,” Cashé murmured close to her sister’s ear. “Are you certain you wish to align yourself to such a family?”

  “Such displays demonstrate love. And do I want love in my life? Absolutely!” Velvet walked away to join Bran and Sonali. He opened his arms and brought her into his circle.

  “Cousin Velvet.” Sonali continued to giggle as Bran tossed her into the air. “I was as brave as Scheherazade.”