Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet (8 page)

“I beg to differ, Eleanor. As to Father’s mourning period, blame that on me. I will simply say with Father’s extended illness, I have deemed it improper to deny you and Velvet a Season; if not for this house’s madness, you should have had one already. I can make such proclamations because I am a man and a duke. And as far as our earlier conversation, in order for you to be accepted in the manner you described, you will need Society’s approval. After Father’s shunning of prescribed propriety, your choosing not to accept normal conventions for a woman will never be tolerated. Before you choose your own lifestyle, you must demonstrate you did not find
theirs
pointless by conforming to the
ton’s
precepts. It is simply time you took your place in Society.”

“I cannot bear a purposeful cut,” she protested. “Father’s reputation will follow us to town.”

When Worthing made to depart, Bran motioned him to remain. They had served together for four years; they knew each other’s deepest secrets, especially Bran’s regarding the former duke. “Father will always have his critics, but the
ton
chases one scandal after another. No one from this family has been to London for years; the Fowlers will be old news. Besides, by the time we arrive in London, a different Thornhill will be introduced to Society. I have returned to Thorn Hall to obliterate William Fowler’s memory from the books. No one would dare to offer either of you a direct cut. Eleanor, you are a duke’s daughter and now a duke’s sister; in Society that means everything.”

Velvet seemed to misunderstand. “You want us–Ella and me–to join the Marriage Mart?”

Bran fought against his own angst at their entering the courtship known as the Season. Ella needed the confidence, and Bran firmly believed he would have to lead her through the process. His sister could run an estate, but to handle a personal relationship might be her most difficult battle. She had no models of what a marriage might actually entail.

For Velvet, he held mixed feelings. She was an important reason he had returned to Thorn Hall, and he could not look at her without feeling the warmth shooting through him. But, he knew his marriage to Ashmita had hurt Velvet. Bran felt he must give her the opportunity to find someone else; however, he vowed privately if she found no one by her first Season’s end, Velvet would not know a second, for he would claim her. He gambled that even with all of London knowing of her beauty, Velvet belonged to him.

Thankfully, Worthing turned the conversation. “Well, I, for one, am looking forward to the new Season. Two such lovelies will make it most interesting. I am thankful to have an
in
and intend to claim my share of your dance cards, Ladies.” He wiggled his eyebrows in an easy jest.

Bran noted his sister’s disquiet, but she responded to Kerrington’s tease, “It shall be reassuring to recognize a friend’s name on my card.”

“It would be my pleasure to be of service to both you and Miss Aldridge. When your brother is unavailable, please call on me, Lady Fowler, when you are in need of an escort.”

Later, alone in his study, Bran’s thoughts rested on Velvet’s reaction to his arranging a Season for her. For the life of him, he did not know how to please her. There was a time–some eight years ago–when everything came uncomplicated between them. Now, nothing came easy. They remained in a perpetual estrangement. That day along the river he had felt they had taken a step forward, but today, they had taken three steps back. Sometimes, Bran wanted to shake her, rattling her resolve. Other times, he thought the best way to reason with her was kissing Velvet until she moaned his name. Velvet needed to choose him and all his “baggage” of her own free will so seducing her into acceptance could not be the way, although he sorely wanted to do so. “Velvet,” he said the word as if caressing her cheek at the same time. He could easily imagine her soft skin under his fingertips. He prayed he had made the right decision, or he would lose her forever.

*

When Bran entered the breakfast room the next morning, he found Kerrington and Eleanor already at the table. He had heard the timbre of their voices from the hallway. They spoke quite intimately for such a short acquaintance, and Ella’s face showed the remnants of a blush. Despite his warning to Worthing, Bran suspected something between his best friend and his sister changed over night. He would seek information on from where the changes came. “Ah, Worthing, you are up early,” Bran said as he poured himself a cup of coffee, a habit he had developed on the Continent.

“I am, Your Grace. I thought I might prevail upon you to ride out with me and show off your new home.”

“I regret I cannot; I have obligations to the estate this morning.” Bran took the chair held by the footman. “Maybe we could induce my sister to be your guide. I dare say Eleanor knows the land as well as I, and she is recognized as an excellent horsewoman.” He wanted to observe how Ella would take to the idea of his placing Worthing in her path.

“Might you honor me with your company, Lady Eleanor?” Worthing asked respectfully.

Bran noted how Ella shifted her weight, discomfited by both men’s countenances resting on her face. “That would be enjoyable, my Lord.”

Her agreement seemed stilted to Bran, and he watched her throughout the remainder of the meal. Eleanor picked at the eggs she had ordered.

“And Crowden is in Yorkshire?” Bran said as he eyed his sister tentatively.

Worthing, too, watched Ella. “Gabriel, as we knew he would be, is the new Marquis of Godown. I received a letter only last week from him. It gave me great pleasure to tell him of your restoration at Thorn Hall. I expect you will hear from him within days.”

“Do you suppose we might persuade the marquis to join us in London for the Season?” Bran continued to eat his kippers.

“Godown intends to establish himself as part of London’s society, as will you, Your Grace–claiming your seats in Parliament and all.”

“Who would think,” Bran mused, “that the seven of us who fought so closely might all end up in Britain’s Parliament together?”

“Of course, Lowery and Wellston are minor sons, but it appears Marcus will inherit. The Earl of Berwick is very ill, and Trevor is not of a right mind. Wellston will assume the title with his father’s blessings. The earl has seen to Trevor’s care under Marcus’s guidance. Lowery has taken a position in the Home Office.” Well aware of the type of missions in which they once participated, Bran’s attention piqued. He would ask Kerrington later how Shepherd might be involved.

“If you will excuse me,” Eleanor stood as she spoke. “I shall retire to change into my riding habit. Might we say twenty minutes, my Lord?” Bran noted her reluctance.

“I will have the stable saddle your favorite mount, Lady Eleanor.” Worthing stood to acknowledge her departure.

Eleanor curtsied and prepared to leave; impulsively, Bran caught her hand. “Take one of the grooms, Ella.”

She nodded in agreement. “Everything will be as propriety demands, Your Grace. I assure you, I want no more scandal associated with the Fowler name.”

*

Mr. Colenfield, the estate’s steward, squirmed under Bran’s close scrutiny. Brantley Fowler wanted information on his father. “It appears, Colenfield, that you understand how to competently run an estate. However, I do not comprehend how we have ignored some vital repairs and improvements. Do you have an explanation, Sir?” Actually, Bran already held his own opinions as to what had gone on within the Thorn Hall’s confines.

“I...I have...I have no idea of what you speak, Your Grace.”

Bran’s impetuous nature snapped. Velvet’s
accident
and her resistance to the idea of a Season both bothered him in a way he could not define; therefore, his temper rested on a short fuse. “I might suggest you conjure some sort of idea, Colenfield, unless you seek new employment. I do not relish half truths.”

Colenfield looked furtively about the room, considering methods of escape. “May I...may I be completely honest, Your Grace?”

Bran fought a sigh of exasperation. “Did I not just say so?”

“Of course...of course.” Colenfield swallowed his fears. “I cannot speak of problems without belying your esteemed father.” The man bent and unbent the brim of his hat.

The idea of anyone considering the late duke as
esteemed
was comical. Bran long ago had lost his respect for the man. “Even if you must speak ill of the dead, I insist; I wish the truth.”

“Very well, Your Grace. Although the former duke made a point of maintaining the house and lands as a symbol of his dukedom, in the last decade, but specifically in the last six or seven years, instead of reinvesting the profits, your father converted much of his immediate wealth into his new found interests.”

“I am afraid, Sir, I still do not understand. What type of
new found
interests?”

Colenfield nervously loosened his collar. “I cannot say for certain, Your Grace, but as the late duke made purchases often costing thousands of pounds, I assumed they were expensive antiques or artwork.”

“Yet, I see no evidence of such purchases within the household. Other than a few tapestries and two ornamental rugs, I observe nothing that was not present when I departed seven years prior,” Bran charged.

Again, Colenfield’s eyes spanned the room. “Your Grace is correct. I have no other explanation. Possibly, the duke’s man of business would have a more complete explanation. All I know is when I sought your father’s permission to repair the mill or to improve the cottagers’ dwellings, my requests were denied. It has been more than five years since any major repairs were completed. Lady Eleanor convinced His Grace to allow some of the smaller requests to go forward; I am thankful the estate was not plagued with problems before now.”

“Well, we will have no such tomfoolery any longer. You are to provide me with a list of what needs addressed. As we will not be able to handle everything at once, please prioritize the items in order of importance.” Bran brought the conference to a close.

Breathing more freely again, Colenfield scrambled to his feet. “I will see to it immediately, Your Grace. Thank you for expressing your confidence in me, Sir.”

“Just do want I ask: Do you job, and do it well.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The man bowed out.

*

A similar discussion with his father’s solicitor provided few new insights. Mr. Sutliffe saw nothing unusual in William Fowler’s will. Even with their riff, the late duke had never changed his will: Bran remained the sole beneficiary. In his last statement, his father charged Bran with overseeing both Ella’s and Velvet’s futures, even defining what he considered to be appropriate dowries for each girl. Drafted less than a year before his wife’s passing, the former duke left no hints as to what might have interested him before his own death. Bran knew only one activity in which his father had actively participated; yet, the former duke kept no mistress–a woman for whom his father might have expended large amounts of money. William Fowler preferred a maid or a village widow. When he enjoyed a professional, his father patronized the exotic clubs–those specializing in meeting a man’s
personal
tastes. Mr. Sutliffe knew of no debts–gambling or business losses, which needed addressed. Where the profits from the estate had gone, Bran possessed no idea.

The estate was not in financial straits. However, as Colenfield expressed, fortune had shone on them because the lack of attention had not interrupted Thornhill’s status. Yet, the mystery of how his father conducted business in his later years seemed so uncharacteristic. As much as Bran objected to his father’s personal lifestyle, William Fowler’s ability to secure his holdings was never in question.
To where had the money gone?

*

She had fumed from the moment Bran had announced that he had arranged for Aunt Agatha to meet her and Ella in London for the upcoming Season. Although she should be thrilled with the prospects of her first Season, Velvet had never desired it. She had wanted Bran; from the time she was a child, Velvet had planned to marry Brantley Fowler. Now, it appeared he envisioned a different future for her. All night she had tossed and turned, trying to concoct a plan to dissuade him, but without knowing what he truly expected she could not conceive her next move. So, this morning, Velvet found herself standing outside of Bran’s study. “Just be honest,” she whispered as she knocked. She eased the door open.

“May we speak, Your Grace?”

Bran rose to greet her. Having her appear unexpectedly at his door caused Bran’s heart to beat faster. “I always have time for you.” Unable not to touch her, Bran brought the back of Velvet’s hand to his lips. “I hope you continue to improve after your injury.”

“I do, Your Grace.” Velvet slowly withdrew her hand.

“You know I would take no offense with your calling me
Bran
. We were never so formal before.”

“You were never my guardian before.” She crossed to a settee and like a lemming to the sea, Bran followed, taking up a position where he might enjoy her scent. If he were to be distracted from his account books, this was a perfect scenario. “Might we speak of your plans for your sister’s and my London Season?”

Aware of Velvet’s disbelief when he had suggested the Season, Bran hesitated before answering. “I feel a responsibility. Your lives were put on hold with my father’s illness and my absence, and now I must execute my charge.”