Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet (38 page)

Over the past few days he had considered how different each of the Aldridge daughters were–all products of the household, which raised them. Although at times she seemed quite pleasant and compassionate, Cashé often repeated Lord Averette’s opinions. Satiné reflected Ashton’s country values. She knew how to run a household and was an accomplished artist. She liked a mental challenge and could often be heard arguing political issues with her uncle. Then there was Velvet: a woman he had thought to be as delicate as fine china, but she had survived a week of hell, with what appeared to be few major ramifications. He had thought that she might have nightmares or moments of sadness, but he had seen no such remembrance of her ordeal. It was as if she had chosen to replace the bad memories with new ones. Of course, Bran was not naïve enough to believe it would always be so. Yet, Velvet proved more resilient than any of them had suspected.

She walked with him to the carriage. “I love you,” he mouthed before entering the coach.

Impulsively, Velvet moved to the open door. “Bran, I will make you a good wife.”

“I have no doubt, my Love.” He winked at her. “Two days, Sweetheart.”

“Two days,” she repeated before stepping away from the coach. Then the footman brought up the steps and closed the door.

*

Bran was correct: Lord Averette unreasonably brought his anxiety and his conspiracy theories about Velvet’s disappearance to Linton Park. The viscount sat in Kerrington’s study with Bran and Eleanor, who thought it best to confront the man in private; however, his accusations grew in volume.

“And you expect me to believe, Your Grace, that this whole abduction was not staged for my benefit? To secure my gratitude and to allow you to claim my niece as your own?”

Eleanor bristled with the viscount’s tone. Her memories of the jovial Samuel Aldridge were in stark contrast to this man who sat before her. “And you expect the world to believe my brother purposely shot himself in the arm to augment this farce? Quite an extreme measure for a man who manipulates not only the kidnapping of the woman he loves but also of his only child! Surely, Lord Averette, you must see the folly of such assertions!”

“I cannot control what you believe, Lord Averette, but the truth is simple.” Bran’s words held his determination. “Your niece spent a week with a madman named Murhad Jamot–a man who removed her from your property in Scotland, I might add. She has no reputation remaining if word of this leaks out. Many people know of what happened, but, thankfully, most of them are my associates. Of course, I am assuming that you executed your inquires as to Velvet’s whereabouts with discretion.” Bran purposely paused to judge whether Averette now regretted his impulsive search for Velvet. Seeing a narrowing of the man’s eyes told Bran what he needed to know: Averette had used little tact in his investigation of Velvet’s disappearance. “However, we can resolve this issue. I am willing to make Velvet my duchess. Despite what I suspect you may have disclosed, I am certain the combined word of the Earl of Berwick, Viscount Lexford, Baron Ashton, Lord and Lady Whittington, Lord Hellsman, Sir Carter Lowery, and Lord and Lady Worthing can correct any harm your worry has caused. You must simply agree to my plight.”

“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 Velvet’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.”