Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet (7 page)

“I will have someone see to the roof this week, Mr. Lowell.” Unexpectedly, Bran shook hands with his renter. “You have my word on it. It will be difficult this first year because we are leaving some land free, but each of the Fowler families will be cared for. Again, you have my word on it.”

“I be trustin’ ye, yer Grace.”

Within a two hours’ space, Bran had spoken to ten of his tenants, finding several men gathered around the fire at Mr. Henley’s. At this pace, it would take him more than a week to speak personally to each of the cottagers, but he had recognized the importance of such connections. He had assured them of the estate’s soundness, and he let them know he would not accept business as usual as an excuse for failure. The day he made the decision to return to his family home, Bran had also made the conscious choice of changing the way people saw it. His father’s reputation would not haunt the halls. In fact, if Bran had his way, he would burn Thorn Hall to the ground and start over.

Now, he and Velvet rode side by side, returning to the main house, having made a dent in the list of improvements he had planned for the estate. With the continued silence bothering him more than he cared, impulsively Bran reached for the reins of Velvet’s horse. Pulling up his own, he asked, “May we stop for a few minutes? We need to talk.”

For several elongated seconds, he watched as Velvet considered refusing, but, finally, he heard, “Certainly, Your Grace.”

Dismounting, he came around to help her down, but unlike the other half dozen times he had done so this day, this time he lowered her slowly to stand directly before him, effectively pining her between him and her horse. This close he could smell her hair’s sweet lavender, and, instinctively, Bran reached to replace a loose strand under her bonnet. Only inches apart, neither of them moved. “Let us walk towards the river,” he said at last.

Uncomfortably, Velvet accepted his proffered arm.

“I am sorry,” he spoke softly and did not look at her, “if I have disappointed you. I knew neither of my father’s death, nor of his illness, but even if I had, I cannot say for certain that I would have sought you and Ella out. I never wanted this.” He gestured to the land spreading out before them. “And I never could have conceived of a way of being with you and Ella without it. But I came back for the women in my life: for my mother who suffered unselfishly so I would inherit Thornhill, for Eleanor who deserves so much more than what she had received, for you who was there for Ella when I was not, and for Ashmita who begged me to secure a place in Society for our daughter. I was content in making a place for Sonali in Cornwall; it was Ella who convinced me that as a duke’s daughter, my child would not face the racial snubs that might follow her as the child of plain Mr. Fowler.”

“Then you loved her, your wife?” Bran had expected her question for several days.

He had never told anyone the whole truth regarding his taking Ashmita into his life. The story he shared with Eleanor was one he had perfected over the years to explain Sonali’s obvious Indian features. Now, he wanted to tell others, especially his sister and Velvet, but he knew they would not understand. “Ashmita’s affection healed me when I was lost, and she gave me Sonali. I cared for her deeply.”

Bran observed the gamut of emotions crossing Velvet’s face before she said, “I know I am being foolish, and
I am grateful
for your return if for no other reason than Ella has suffered such degradation without you. I could not bear for her to be relegated to Lady Leighton’s companion. However, I feel while you were out in the world, you left Ella and me behind. You forgot us, Bran, and by your own words, you had no intention of reigniting those memories.”

“It was not as if I have lived a life of luxury,” he charged. “When I left Thornhill, I had no monthly allowance; I was not on a Grand Tour! I fought in unbelievable battles and lived by my wits. I went to bed hungry and cold and filthy, but I came out of it a better man. Can you not just accept what happened and create a new life? We are still together–you and I and Ella.”

Tears misted her eyes, but Velvet purposely turned away where he could not witness her incongruous thoughts. “I hate that you suffered. When you left, I prayed you would finally find peace.” She buried her face into her hands. “I will try to forget and make this easier for all of us.”

“Do not forget us,” he whispered close to her ear. “Your face kept me alive when I was in many a difficult situation. I never forgot you.” He tilted her chin up where he could see her face. Using his thumbs, he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Truly, Bran?” she murmured.

“Most certainly, Sweetling.” Bran considered embracing her; a brief kiss would go a long way to relieve the tension he felt throughout his body, but he controlled his very real desire. So close now, when she breathed out, Bran breathed in. They had both veiled their true feelings, building walls where no one could hurt them. Buried in hopes and renewed dreams, they remained, staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

The sound of the bullet ricocheting off the pebbles at their feet sent Bran diving to the ground, pulling her with him, sheltering her. A second shot followed before he could smother Velvet with his own body.

Heartbeats thunderously pounding, he held her, waiting for the next assault, but none came, and when he was certain the danger dwindled, Bran rolled away and scrambled to his feet. “Stay put,” he ordered before surveying the area. For the bullet to come that close, the person needed to be nearby. He scanned the tree line, searching for anything, but nothing moved–not a shadow–not even a rabbit or a squirrel, which he knew meant someone was there because animals scattered when danger came close. He swallowed hard. Had someone purposely shot at him? Could one of his father’s enemies return to exact justice? One of his?

Still lying flat on her back, Velvet moaned from behind him, “Bran?”

Immediately, he was beside her pushing the hair from her face and untying her bonnet. “I apologize, Sweetling,” he soothed. “Hopefully, I did not hurt you.”

“What was that?” she mumbled.

“I think a poacher came too close,” he lied. “Permit me to assist you.”

Bran stood again and reached his hand to steady her rise, but as she pushed off to sit first, a pained look overspread her face. “Bran!” she gasped and grabbed her side.

His eyes followed hers. The blood seeped from under her jacket. “Lord!” he dropped to his knees beside her. “Lay back,” he ordered. Catching the jacket, he jerked it open, sending the buttons flying. Pulling at the blousing under the jacket, it did pretty much the same thing. Her stays were bent, but he had no time to loosen them. Working his fingers under them, he found an opening in her chemise. “I cannot tell how bad it is,” he whispered, “but the blood slows when I press against it.” Frantically, he pulled his handkerchief from his coat pocket and lodged it against the opening, using the staying to secure it in place. “I will see you home, Velvet.”

“I am afraid.” Her eyes grew in size.

“Nothing will happen to you. I promise.” He scooped her into his arms, hurrying along the path they walked only minutes before. Taking his horse’s reins, he moved it beside a fallen tree trunk, using the decaying elm as a mounting block so he would not have to release her. Settled into the seat, he turned the horse towards Thorn Hall.

In less than ten minutes, he galloped into the circular drive. Velvet still clung to his neck. She sobbed against his chest, which actually gave him hope she was more frightened than hurt. Sliding from the animal’s back when a footman grabbed the reins, Bran never released her. Taking a deep breath, he lifted her closer to him and scaled the steps. Reaching the entrance at last, he barked, “Jordan, Miss Aldridge needs a doctor. Hurry, Man, she has been shot!”

Chapter 4

“The physician says it is only a flesh wound,” Ella informed Velvet as she adjusted the pillows behind her cousin’s head.

The girl nodded in acknowledgement. “Do you suppose it will leave a scar?”

Ella clucked her tongue in disbelief. “Is your perfection in jeopardy?”

Velvet’s cheeks flushed in color. “It should not matter, should it? It is not as if anyone will see it.”

“Even if you were to marry, for most husbands, you would never fully undress,” Ella teased. “Your maid may have more knowledge of it.”

Velvet’s eyes darted around quickly assuring they were quite alone. “Can you imagine being unclothed by a man?”

Ella looked away quickly, truly uncomfortable. “No...no. I cannot imagine such intimacy. However, the good Lord must have seen it that way. Men and women did not clothe themselves until after Eve’s temptation; it must be most natural if one is in love.”

“It would be very exciting,” Velvet whispered, “and very wanton.” Again, Ella became uncomfortable and flushed with color. “Oh, forgive me, Ella; I have spoken out of turn. I just cannot forget the feel of Bran’s fingers as he searched under my stays for the wound. His touch burned more than the bullet. Is that possible?”

“I must take your word on that, Cousin.”

A light tap on the door brought the man of whom they spoke.

Bran had carried her to her bedroom, kicking the door open with a thunderous bang. When he had seen the blood, his heart had stopped. He had known his share of wounds in battle, nursed a few of them himself, but he had never panicked the way he did today. Thankfully, Velvet had suffered only a minor injury; yet, he relived the fear shooting through his veins as he ripped open her riding habit to examine the wound. He had put her in danger because he did not consider his enemies might seek him in Kent. Instinctively, he had known that Velvet had suffered from no accident. They were standing in the open clearing leading to the riverbank. A hunter would have to be situated along the tree line to deliver such a shot, and a sportsman could not mistake him and Velvet for an animal. The second shot had wiped away any doubts. Since the attack, Bran had seriously considered what he should do to protect the women in his life. He had already contacted two of his best friends, asking them to follow up on who might be in the area. Covering all possibilities, after he had personally checked on Velvet, he would interview his father’s steward Mr. Colenfield and Mr. Jordan about the former duke’s possible enemies. Maybe he had inherited more than just the estate.

Tapping lightly on the bedroom door, Bran had waited impatiently for his sister or Velvet’s maid to answer. He realized that he pushed the limits of propriety, but he needed to see for himself that Velvet was not injured seriously.

Ella edged the door open. As if she had expected him, she said, “Bran?”

“May I speak with Velvet?”

“Do you think that is best?”

Bran swallowed the desire to roll his eyes. “I only want a moment, Ella. You may stay; I just need to see her well for myself.”

Ella hesitated, but she swung the door open.

Bran stepped into the room, but remained well away from the bed.
Silly man!
As if that would make a difference!
Velvet’s shining ebony hair spread across the pillow, and the sunlight reflected from her pale skin. Desire shot through him, and Bran fought to control his breathing. “Are...are you well, Cousin?” he stammered.

“Yes, Bran, thanks to you. The physician says I should remain abed for a few days to assure there is no infection, but a small scar will be my only reminder of this.” Her eyes rested purely on his countenance.

He smiled, thinking he would gladly kiss that scar, but he said, “I am relieved.” He glanced at his sister and grinned largely. “I have assured Ella that I would not stay so I leave you to your recovery.” Bowing quickly, he turned on his heels and strode from the room.

*

“And you believe something unusual is happening at Thorn Hall?” James Kerrington sat in Brantley Fowler’s study, having arrived less than an hour earlier. They had spent the obligatory time catching up on where the rest of their unit had landed upon returning to England. Now, they did what they did best–pick each other’s brains for ideas–strategies to solve a mystery.

Fingers interlocked so he might mindlessly tap his chin, Bran leaned into the chair’s cushions. “Besides the ledger’s ‘3L,’ each for several thousand pounds, three days ago, someone took a shot at either me or at my cousin Velvet. I assume Velvet has not accumulated any enemies.”

“Whereas you have, Bran?”

“Whereas, we all have, Worthing.”

Lord Worthing tilted his head, acknowledging the truth. “Are you certain there is no way it could have been an accident?”

“I considered hunters or poachers, but Velvet and I were in the open, standing along the riverbank. No one could have mistaken us for animals. Whoever did this, hit Velvet...just a graze, but it is now personal. I will not stop until I know
who
and
why
.”

“And what do you require from me?” Bran’s friend asked the obvious.

Bran leveled a direct gaze on Worthing, solidifying their understanding. “It is important to me to rid Thornhill of its negative reputation. That means I must tie up all the loose ends. So, besides enjoying your company, I could use another pair of eyes and a different perspective.”

“Have you sown up your cousin’s affections? I thought that might be your first act upon returning home. The lady is not spoken for, is she?”

“No, Velvet is unwed, but she is not taking well to Sonali and my marriage to Ashmita. I am certain that with you and Elizabeth already having an heir you understand some of the problems of finding a woman to assume the responsibility for the child you claim as your own.”

Worthing chuckled. “I do not plan to marry except for convenience–love is not on my agenda, but I do hope to find a woman who would give Daniel some of the attention he has missed. As for your cousin, I cannot imagine your giving up so easily.” Bran knew Worthing’s story–how his best friend had fallen in love with Elizabeth Morris and married her after a whirlwind courtship, but the viscount lost his wife in childbirth. Worthing’s grief had driven him to seek redemption in the Realm’s service. Running covert operations against select targets, they had met and had become instant friends. Home now for nearly three years, Worthing had spent his time learning to run the family’s holdings and trying to recapture the years he missed with his son.

“I do not plan to give up. Instead, as I am now Velvet’s guardian, I plan to provide her and my sister a Season. Once Velvet has a chance to find another, I will claim her at the end of the Season; then we will be equal–hopefully, she will see things are not always as they are in a fairytale or novel–dreams change.”

“It is a bold move, Your Grace. You are risking a great deal, hoping your lady love will not choose another.”

“It is the only thing I can think of doing. Do you believe it is a mistake?” Bran looked worried.

“In the game of love, I suppose it is as good as any other move. What do I know? I keep Mary because love avoids me like the plague.”

Before they could continue, a light tap on the door announced Sonali’s presence. “Papa,” she giggled as she ran to where he sat. “Look what I have.” The child cupped her small hands lightly together. She opened them enough for Bran to see what she held. “It is a baby frog. May I keep it?”

“Does Mrs. Carruthers know of this, Sonali?” He manipulated her hold on the frog.

She shook her head rapidly. “Myles helped me catch it.”

“I see,” Bran took on a serious mien. “First, Child, say your good mornings to your Uncle James, and then you and I will speak to Mrs. Carruthers. As a frog is not really a house pet, I suspect it might be best to leave your catch in the pond where it can grow naturally.”

“Uncle James,” Sonali squealed when she finally looked his way, starting to throw her arms around his neck.

“Acht...!” Bran warned. “Frog!”

Sonali froze in place before looking at Bran sheepishly. “Sorry, Papa.”

“March!” he ordered good-naturedly, pointing towards the hallway. Watching her go, Bran turned to Kerrington, “I will return in a moment. Make yourself comfortable.”

*

Amused by his child’s innocence, several minutes later, Bran returned to the study to find his friend in a tight embrace with Ella. Ordinarily, he would not interfere with Kerrington, but this was different–this was Ella–his sister. “Unhand my sister, Worthing,” Bran warned from the open door.

Despite the admonition inherent in Bran’s voice, Worthing stepped back slowly.

Feeling suddenly very protective, Bran placed Ella’s hand on his arm. Her ears pinked at being caught in so compromising a situation. “I would introduce you, Eleanor,” venom crept into his words “except I am not certain that I wish to acquaint you with the Honorable Viscount Worthing as
honor
is lacking at the moment.”

“I awkwardly stumbled,” his sister hissed with pure embarrassment racing through her. “Lord Worthing caught me before my footfall sent me tumbling to the floor. It was nothing more, Bran.”

Worthing turned to face them. “Lady Fowler,” he bowed deeply, ignoring Bran’s and meeting only Ella’s eyes. “I am
honored
to be in your presence at last. Your roguish brother has spoken often of you; however, his Cambridge education shows its weaknesses. If he had attended Oxford, His Grace might have known just the right words to truly describe a woman of such incomparable beauty.” Bran did not approve of his friend’s intimate tone.

“I agree with your estimation of Eleanor’s worth,” Bran gritted his teeth with annoyance. “But perhaps I do not see my sister as other men might. I assume, Worthing, that you will refrain from your usual loquaciousness and leave my sister to her status as a duke’s daughter.” A mild threat played through the words.

Sophisticated superiority now rested on Kerrington’s countenance. “I shall treat Lady Fowler with the respect she deserves. Forgive me if I in any way offered an offense. It was never my intention.”

“No forgiveness is necessary, Lord Worthing.” She gave him a quick curtsy before turning to her brother. “I came to ask you to join Velvet and me in the front parlor for tea. It is Velvet’s first day downstairs since her accident. She wished to express her gratitude again.”

“Certainly, my Dear. You go ahead and pour; Lord Worthing and I will join you in a moment.” He patted the hand he still held in his. Without another word, Ella nodded her farewell.

Bran followed her to the door and closed it tightly behind her. “Forget it,” he turned to his friend. “I will not tolerate your playing with my sister’s heart, Worthing. Ella had an impossible task–dealing with my father alone. Despite her natural intelligence and her beauty, she is an innocent, and although I count you among my closest friends, my sister takes precedence. You and I will come to blows otherwise.”

“Relax, Bran. I understand. I meant no harm. Your sister spoke the truth–she did stumble. I happened to be close and caught her–simple as that. I would never defile your family. You know my nature, but you also know that I am a man of my word. Lady Fowler is safe with me.”

Bran’s loosened his frown. “As long as we understand each other.” He reached for the door. “Let us join the ladies in the parlor. It is time you met my Miss Aldridge.”

*

“Lord Worthing,” Ella pointedly asked as she passed a generous-sized slice of seed cake to him, “what brings you to Kent?” Bran noted that his sister’s hand trembled ever so slightly.

Bran and Worthing exchanged a quick glance; they had not discussed what story they would tell the others. “When I heard your brother returned to his ancestral home, I had to see it for myself,” Lord Worthing said evenly.

“Yet, my cousin took up residence less than three weeks prior,” Velvet protested. “How could anyone know so soon?”

Worthing continued his tale. They had often improvised a back story. “His Grace placed an order for new equipment and made inquiries into the soundness of the house in Mayfair. It does not take the gossipmongers long to latch onto the least clues, especially in light of the recent news of the former duke’s passing.”

“May I translate for you, my Lord?” Eleanor’s smile brightened at the group.

Bran noted his friend’s easy nature with Ella.

“I believe his Lordship means Cousin Horton bemoans his fate publicly.” Ella’s eyes sparkled in mischief, and Bran enjoyed seeing the young girl he so dearly remembered.

“A lady of beauty and intelligence,” Worthing said softly.

Bran carefully watched the interplay between his best friend and his sister. Despite James Kerrington’s promise, the man continued to eye Eleanor with interest.

Velvet waited but a handful of heartbeats before she inquired, “Will you travel to London, Bran? Lord Worthing just mentioned the town house.”

Bran took a sip of his tea, stalling before answering. “I have written to Aunt Agatha and have asked her to sponsor your and Ella’s Come Outs.”

His sister gasped, “Oh, Bran, we cannot; it is too soon.” Ella’s voice quaked with anxiety. “The gossip will fly about our not maintaining a proper mourning period for Father, and besides, I thought I made myself clear about what I would choose for my future.”