Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet (9 page)

“Then you expect Ella and me to engage in the process with genuine interest?” Her voice remained calm, but Bran’s instincts warned him that things were not what they appeared. “We shall be presented to the Queen and have a ball in our honor?”

“Aunt Agatha will make those arrangements, but that is the normal sequence during a young lady’s first Season.” Bran had thought himself quite smart in recruiting Aunt Agatha as their chaperone. His elderly aunt was known for her censure and would not allow either Ella or Velvet too much freedom. “Do you not wish to participate?” In some ways Bran had hoped that she might adamantly refuse, and then he would have no choice but to make his own application sooner.

For a moment, Velvet had wanted to stand up to him and refuse Bran’s scheme. She knew in her heart that he belonged to her, and despite his need to treat her with respect, as her guardian, Bran could not possibly want her to seriously consider someone else.
Well, if that is what he wants
, she thought.
That is what I will give him.
“In reality, I considered the suggestion overnight, and I am more agreeable to the idea. Dancing with one gentleman after another...riding in Hyde Park during the fashionable hour...what woman would not want that?” To emphasize her words, Velvet sighed deeply. “Do you suppose the ladies at Almack’s will approve?” she gushed. “I always wanted to waltz. It must be the most romantic dance ever! Being held so closely by a man...oh, my, I should not be speaking to you about such intimacies, should I?”

Bran’s body reacted to her words.
It must be the most romantic dance ever! Being held so closely by a man....
Visions of holding Velvet rose from the edges of his desire. Then it hit him! Velvet spoke of dancing with other men. He sputtered, “You want to go to London?”

“Of course, why should I not?” She loved his reaction; he had not anticipated this tactic. “Having a gaggle of callers each day, choosing with whom to ride out, a full dance card; it sounds heavenly.” Velvet sighed deeper this time and attempted to look wistful.

“How many is a gaggle?” he demanded. “I am not certain I want Briar House overrun with suitors while I am conducting estate business,” he declared.

Velvet giggled–actually giggled–anticipating her next taunt. “Do not be foolish, Your Grace; Ella and I would never allow the gentlemen to overrun the premises. My goodness, just think as the new duke and our guardian, you will have to approve our choices. Will that not be something? Men older than you, perhaps, asking your permission to marry either Ella or me.”

Nobody
, his mind screamed.
I will let nobody else have you!
“That is assuming you find a suitable match, Velvet. Who knows? It may take more than one season,” he cautioned.

“Oh, no, I am determined,” she said in all seriousness. “The Fowler family needs a reprieve from my care. Nearly fifteen years is enough; I will find a
suitable match
, and you will be free of me forever.”

Hell, no,
his body protested, but before he could respond, a sharp rap at the door and Mr. Jordan’s head peeking in stopped him short. “Your Grace, please come; Lady Eleanor and Lord Worthing, Sir, are riding in on one horse. Something must be amiss.”

“Ella?” The word escaped before he even knew he had said it, but Bran shoved his way past the servant and was at full speed by the time he burst through the side entrance. Even from the distance he could see their disheveled appearances and the strange horse trailing behind them.
Had they met an accident also?

Bran’s heart beat like a drum as he ran towards the stables. He could see Kerrington pull up the horse’s reins. His sister’s arms encircled his friend’s waist, clinging to the man. A groomsman assisted Ella to dismount as Bran skidded through the enclosure’s open gate. Rushing forward, Bran captured Ella in his arms in an attempt to determine who might be the culprit. Her appearance told everyone that something unusual had happened. “Worthing, what the hell?”

“I brought you a present, Your Grace.” Kerrington gestured to the trailing horse. “When I go after a shooter, I get my man.”

Bran adjusted Ella in his arms where he could see her face. “He shot at you?”

Ella simply nodded. “Sampson went down.” Her bottom lip quivered. “His Lordship took care of my horse after capturing the man.”

“Are you hurt?” he demanded.

“Very sore and a bad headache...I was out for a few minutes.”

Velvet followed Bran to the stables, and as the others untied the captive, he released his sister to Velvet’s care. “Let me see you into the house, Ella,” he heard Velvet say.

“You men put Lord Worthing’s capture in the root cellar. Place guards outside the door. I will send for the physician and the magistrate.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Looking up at his friend, still sitting a horse, Bran demanded, “Would you care to join me in my study, Worthing?” Already on the move, Bran did not wait for an answer.

The viscount slid from the saddle and followed. “Wait. I thought I was the commanding officer,” Kerrington called as he caught up to Bran.

Bran’s anger boiled over. “Not this time. This is personal.”

Silent, they returned to Bran’s private room. Prior to Worthing taking a seat, Bran demanded, “Tell me exactly what happened.”

The viscount reached for a drink before he answered. “Your sister and I rode out. She showed me the old ruins and some of the outcroppings. I noted nothing unusual.” Worthing paused, and Bran was suddenly aware of a difference in his friend’s demeanor. Something monumental had happened, but he was not likely to learn it from Worthing just yet. “Lady Eleanor challenged me to a race. I gave her a brief head start, and then I addressed her dare, chasing her across an open field. That is when I heard the shot and saw her grey go down. Your sister went over Sampson’s body and struck the back of her head on a rock. I must tell you, Bran, it has been a long time since I was that frightened.” Kerrington took another swallow of the brandy. “Not afraid for my life, but for your sister.”

“Thank you.” Bran’s words slipped out naturally, barely audible even to him. On an unconscious level, he noted his friend new intimacy with Ella.

“I checked Lady Eleanor and could find no major injuries, and she breathed normally so I directed my attention to finding the shooter. He had hid in an overhanging rock crevice, and I caught him before he could escape. Once I had secured the perpetrator, I returned to your sister. Her horse had suffered too much to save. I put Sampson down before Lady Eleanor fully recovered. I did not wish her to see me do it.”

Bran’s thoughts took shape. “My mother gave her that horse.”

Worthing simply nodded. “So, Lady Eleanor confided.” Then cautiously, he added, “It just does not seem logical. A man does not just lay in wait, hoping a rider comes by. Someone must know of your movements. Yet, even with that, no one could determine exactly where Lady Eleanor and I would ride today. We had no destination in mind.”

“Ella was to show you the estate,” Bran reasoned. “Obviously, there are certain points of interest.”

“But that does not guarantee that we would be crossing that particular meadow.” Worthing thought out loud. “And who is the target? Lady Eleanor and Miss Aldridge were the recipients, but were they the objective? Somehow, I cannot imagine either of them engendering such rancor. That leaves your father’s enemies, your enemies as a member of the Realm, or your enemies in Cornwall. Do you have any ideas?”

“I made a mental list the other evening–after Velvet’s encounter.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in his thoughts. “Then I suspect it is time for the
Vicar
to make a call on the prisoner.” Bran had earned the nickname in his time with the Realm. People often “confessed” their worst sins to Bran.

Bran stood slowly, wondering how to broach the subject. “Why is it that I have a feeling that you have ignored my warning about Ella? Is there anything I should know regarding my sister?”

“Other than the fact that I find Lady Eleanor quite remarkable?”

“Just remember–Ella seems perfectly in control and very independent, but she is very vulnerable.”

“I promise you, Your Grace, I would never purposely hurt, Lady Eleanor.”

Bran listened closely, hearing sincerity in his friend’s tone. “I am pleased you stay with us, Worthing? I am in need of your reason, and, I suspect, Ella would prefer it that way.”

“I am your servant, Your Grace.”

*

Bran learned very little from the prisoner. Even with the threat of hanging for attacking a member of the aristocracy, the man swore he did not know who had hired him. He gave Bran the name of the “friend” who paid him to send a
message
to the new duke, but for all intents and purposes, Harry Sparks’s partner likely knew as little as he did. Whoever had made Bran his target had hid his trail well.

With no real answer to his question, Bran sent what information he had received off to his friend, the Marquis of Godown, asking him to meet them in London. Kerrington also called in some favors for information. Bow Street Runners would seek connections to Sparks and his partner Lionel Stimpson, and, reluctantly Bran sent word to Shepherd. If this
message
came from one of the Realm’s former interests, Shepherd needed to know.

Eventually, Bran turned Sparks over to the local magistrate, who insisted on transporting the man immediately to London. Such a notorious attempt required the attention of the best prosecutors the law could provide. They would house Sparks at Old Bailey.

Within another three days, word came that a Bow Street Runner apprehended Lionel Stimpson in an abandoned building in Spitalfields. Shepherd took possession of both men and informed Bran that the government would follow any new leads.

Frustrated by the lack of action, Bran had spent a great deal of time alone in either his room or his study, leaving the ladies’ entertainment to James Kerrington. In those long solitary hours, he had bemoaned the irony of all this. His sister and Velvet had survived the self-imposed loneliness associated with living under William Fowler’s roof. They had survived the rumors about his father’s lustful nature, and they had survived running the estate in a world disinclined to value a woman’s worth.

Now, his presence brought a new danger to the women he loved. Bran rued the day he had returned to Thorn Hall. He managed to knock Velvet to the ground when their attack came, and Kerrington had pulled Ella out of danger and had captured their assailant; yet, Bran blamed himself for their peril. With the upcoming retreat to London, he needed to devise a means to protect his family.

When he had formulated the plan to take Ella and Velvet to London for the Season, he had thought himself quite sly. The Season, as he originally conceived it, was to serve two purposes. He would show his sister a true gentleman would accept her independent spirit and prize her ingenuity. Bran really did not expect Eleanor to take willingly to the Season’s strict standards, but, instinctively, he knew she could rule the ballroom if she so chose.

Secondly, for Velvet, he had planned to give her an opportunity to find someone else. Despite her best efforts, she still resented his alliance to Ashmita, and the only way he thought he might claim Velvet as his own was to release her from any preconceived ideas of his being her one choice. If Velvet found someone else, Bran would step aside, being satisfied with her happiness. Yet, until these incidents, he had prayed Velvet would not look favorably on anyone but him. Now, an urgency to find her a safe haven away from Thorn Hall took possession of his reason. Because he so cared about her, he could not place her in jeopardy. He decided that he must reel in his emotions and feign disinterest, literally, pushing her from his life. It was the only way to protect her from his former life.

*

“You idiot! You were to wait until I told you to act!”

The man pulled away from his attacker’s grasp. “I have my own agenda. I need Fowler’s money, and the best way to secure it is to make the duke aware that he is no longer in charge.”

“There are bigger issues than your gambling debts! I told your business partner what I expected. I am after something that will make us all richer than Croesus. Now, you have put Fowler and Worthing on guard. Thanks to your meddling ways, I will have no way of making certain they do not have the prize. No wonder the British tucked tail and ran from Bonaparte. You are a bunch of pompous arses!” The dark-skinned assailant pushed the less than noble man from him as he strode from the darkened hallway and into the night.

Chapter 5

“I wonder how she does it,” Velvet thought aloud. When she had followed Bran into the stable yard, Velvet did not take note of her cousin’s rumpled appearance; Velvet took note of her cousin’s body language–how Ella had hesitated when the groom reached to assist her down, as if Ella had wished to remain in the man’s embrace, and how neither of them removed his eyes from the other, even when Bran and the staff separated them. Something had changed between Lord Worthing and her cousin that day, and for the past week she had surreptitiously observed their interactions. Kerrington feigned disinterest, but Velvet had noticed how he watched Ella’s every move–how he found ways to touch her fingers or to sit close to her.

What she did not know for certain was the depth of her cousin’s interest. Ella had never showed a partiality for any man. The only person Eleanor had ever tried to please was her father, but the late duke had never given the girl a second look. Velvet had assumed Ella’s strong resemblance to her mother had doomed her cousin’s efforts to make William Fowler love his daughter. However, now, Velvet continually observed Eleanor’s favoritism for Lord Worthing, and the actions had piqued her curiosity. She wanted to learn more about how to attract a man.

*

“Oh, Brantley,” Aunt Agatha bemoaned, “your mother would be so proud to see you at Briar House.” They had arrived to find their aunt already in residence.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Looking around the room, Bran took a ragged breath. At Thorn Hall, he had limited his residence to the east wing rooms and the common rooms below. He had yet to enter his parents’ quarters. However, at Briar House, he would face his demons first hand. At least, his father rarely used the town house. “I am obliged for your taking on Ella’s and Velvet’s presentations.”

“I am looking forward to it, my Boy.” The Dowager Duchess of Norfield was his mother’s older sister. Both daughters of the Braton family had married dukes, but Agatha obviously received the better bargain. Unfortunately, she had had but ten years of happiness. The previous Duke of Norfield had lost his battle with a weak heart, leaving his wife a widow at the age of nine and twenty. Now, as she approached her fiftieth birthday, she spent her time matchmaking among the
ton’s
members. Notoriously manipulative, Agatha Braton Norris had the connections and the fortune to be respected by everyone, including her niece and nephew.

“Where is Eleanor?” Aunt Agatha demanded.

“Here, Aunt,” Ella swept into the room followed closely by Velvet.

Agatha brightened immediately. “Oh, Eleanor,” she beamed, “I cannot look upon you, my Child, without seeing my dear sister in your face. You look more like her every day.”

“Thank you, Aunt.” Ella bestowed a kiss on the Dowager’s cheek.

Holding it tightly as she had entered the room, Velvet now caught her breath. Her nerves had been on edge for days. How could she change Bran’s mind about this venture? “How are you, Child?” Agatha captured Velvet’s hand and gave it a brief squeeze. “Oh, my, you are as lovely as ever. Half the women of the
ton
will be cursing themselves for not having your silky complexion. Is she not lovely, Brantley?”

Bran’s head snapped up in attention. “Velvet is one of the most attractive women of my acquaintance.”

Velvet made a quick curtsy to the Dowager and offered the woman her thanks for sponsoring their presentations, but her eyes locked with Bran’s.

“Heaven, you know I live for such revelry.” Agatha laughed lightly. “Do I not, Brantley?” His aunt’s words refocused his thoughts.

Trying to appear casual, Bran seated himself in a chair close to Agatha. “That you do, my Dear.” Ella ordered tea, and they joined together before the hearth. “What is in store for my sister and cousin? I am certain you are well ahead of the
ton’s
games.”

“Of course, I am, and your coming to town early to order Presentation gowns and the like for these two greatly pleases me. In another week, the press of people demanding the best modistes will be many. I have appointments set tomorrow; we will be about most of the day.”

“Are the Presentation gowns as terrible as everyone says?” Velvet could not keep the worry from her voice.

“They are a bit cumbersome, but young ladies have survived them for years. Do not worry, my Child, I will teach you everything you need to know. In fact, we will begin this afternoon. We will maneuver a tablecloth from the new housekeeper your brother hired and use it to practice the dress’s train.”

Ella glanced at Bran. “New housekeeper?”

“I brought in Mrs. Smithson and Mr. Horace, as well as a few other key positions from Cornwall. They may not know London, but they do know what I expect.”

“Excellent idea,” she observed. Bran noted her raised eyebrow.

“Brantley, I hope your pockets are deep,” his aunt noted out of the blue.

“Why might that be, Your Grace?” He adored his aunt; when he was a child, she had never spoken down to him. He always knew that she would speak her mind, and right now, the truth, even if uncomfortable for them, needed airing.

“Well, I do not wish to be indelicate, but if the gowns Ella and Velvet currently wear are indicative of their wardrobes, they simply will not do. The style is, at least, from three years prior. As the Duke of Thornhill, you must see to this deficiency. We cannot have them spoken poorly of.” Agatha was not condescending, just matter-of-fact in her analysis.

Ella blushed immediately. “I do not remember my last new gown. Neither Velvet nor I have been off the estate for some time.”

“Nearly five years,” Velvet whispered into the suddenly silent room.

“Five years?” Agatha gasped. “Why ever so long?”

“Papa did not wish it.” Ella’s voice came out small and vulnerable. “And then he took ill, and there was so much to do.”

“Ella did all she could to keep the estate running in Bran’s absence.” Velvet noted the uncomfortable silence flooding the room.

Ella caught Velvet’s hand. “I could not have done it without you.”

Several extended seconds passed before Agatha finally let out a deep sigh. “What went on in that household was an abomination.” She turned on her nephew. “Then we are agreed, Brantley; the ladies will need new wardrobes?”

“Whatever you think best, Aunt Agatha.” Bran eyed his sister, who seemed most disturbed by the conversation. He would need to speak to her privately.

Velvet attempted a merrier mood. “New gowns sound heavenly, do they not, Ella?”

With little enthusiasm, Ella said, “They do, indeed. We must trust Aunt Agatha to make our Come Outs first rate.”

“You will accompany us, Brantley, to the
ton’s
many outings?” Agatha’s question came out as a command. “Thornhill has absent itself long enough.”

“As many as business and my establishing my name in Parliament will permit.” Bran held no real desire to immerse himself into the
ton’s
rituals: His time away from England had changed his priorities.

Agatha bristled just a bit with his exception. “And what may your wards do if your obligations take you elsewhere?”

Bran smiled at her–she had always told her own son his duty; she would not hesitate to take Bran to task. “Lord Worthing has offered his arm when required.”

“Worthing? Martin Kerrington’s son?” She eyed Bran with amusement. “I assume His Lordship is an associate, Brantley?”

“Lord Worthing recently spent a fortnight at Thorn Hall. I believe my sister and Velvet would find Kerrington a suitable escort. I have also asked the Marquis of Godown to be a regular member of our party.” This was news to both the ladies. Even in Kent they had heard of the remarkable reputation of the marquis.

“Gabriel Crowden?”

“Yes, Aunt. Is there a problem?” His smile spread like butter across his face.

“A problem? No, Brantley. No problem. My niece and our cousin will regularly be escorted by three of the
ton’s
newest and most eligible bachelors. Definitely, there is no problem. It will only increase Eleanor’s and Velvet’s value as this year’s debutants.”

Bran cringed inside. Although his head knew the necessity of finding Velvet another match, his heart could not acknowledge the possibility of losing her. “Three bachelors? Crowden and Kerrington fit that bill, Aunt, but I am not certain I do,” he weakly protested.

“Nonsense, Brantley. You are five and twenty and a duke. You require a wife and an heir,” Agatha insisted.

“You mean
a new wife
, Your Grace.” Velvet’s voice came out syrupy sweet, as if she enjoyed watching Bran squirm.

Agatha’s eyebrow shot up in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

Bran leaned forward to address his aunt directly. “I married five years ago, Aunt Agatha. My wife died in childbirth.”

“You have an heir?” Agatha’s curiosity piqued. “And why did I know none of this?”

“No one knew until Ella found me in Cornwall,” Bran observed. “And by British standards, my daughter cannot inherit.”

“A daughter? When will I meet my newest relative? Do you hide her away in Kent?”

Bran reached for her hand. “Mrs. Carruthers will bring Sonali this afternoon. I refuse to be that far away from my child.” He had prayed not to provoke her censure.

“Sonali? An unusual name?” the Dowager Duchess remarked, considering it as if tasting the name to decide if she liked it or not.

“My wife hailed from India, Aunt.” Bran sat back and waited for the predictable.

However, before their aunt could comment further on her nephew’s choices, Ella interrupted. “Aunt Agatha, you will love Sonali. She is the most precocious child–and so intelligent–and so beautiful.”

“Of course, I will love her. She is my dear Amelia’s first grandchild.” Aunt Agatha puffed up in self-importance.

Bran smiled tenderly at his sister. “As anyone can tell, Sonali has stolen Ella’s heart.”

Undaunted by the new information, Agatha observed, “Well, it just proves I need to find you an appropriate match as well, Brantley.”

Bran thought to protest, but Mr. Horace appeared to announce Worthing’s call, and their friend bowed his entrance into the Briar House drawing room.

Eleanor was on her feet immediately, Bran noting the flush of color spreading across her cheeks. The Dowager rose to greet their visitor properly; Velvet and Bran followed suit.

Worthing pretended to address only Bran. “I came to assure myself you had experienced no problems with your journey, Your Grace.”

“As you can see, Worthing, we are well. Please come in and meet my aunt. I just assured her that you would serve as my family’s escort in my absence, and here you are.”

“At your service, Your Grace.” He aristocratically inclined his head.

Bran motioned the viscount forward. “Your Grace, may I present James Kerrington, Lord Worthing. Worthing, this is my mother’s sister the Dowager Duchess of Norfield.”

For the next few minutes, the Duchess regaled Worthing with stories of her acquaintance with his mother and father. Ella ordered tea, and the conversation continued with their aunt leading the way. “It will give me great pleasure, Your Grace, to inform my mother of making your acquaintance. Knowing her former friends speak well of her and offer their support will make a difference,” Kerrington shared.

Predictably, Worthing turned his notice to Ella. Impulsively he asked to escort her and Velvet on a brief tour of the city. “The
ton
has not descended upon London in full force as yet, and I recall your commenting on how long it has been since you were in the capital. It would give you the opportunity to become familiar with the city before the Season begins.”

“I would enjoy a leisurely tour,” Velvet added before Eleanor could respond. She had thought Ella might refuse, using her as an excuse, but of late, Velvet had formulated a plan to vex Bran, and she needed Ella’s assistance to execute it; and, if it worked out properly, Lord Worthing would be a part of it also. “What might you have in mind, my Lord?”

“We might see the Royal Academy, or we may take a drive through Hyde Park, or whatever you may wish. I have no agenda–a purely extemporaneous idea.”

“It has been a decade since we were here.” Ella reasoned out loud.

Agatha looked on in surprise. “Surely, you jest, Eleanor.”

“No, Aunt.” Ella’s countenance gazed over. “I was ten and Velvet nine. Our governess took us for a picnic in Hyde Park.”

“Mrs. Holden
dash
Smythe.” Velvet giggled. “Remember, Ella. That is how she would say it: Holden dash Smythe.”

Ella shook her head with the memory. “The lady was an odd bird, but we had fun on that holiday. Mother had come to see doctors who might help her, while Mrs. Holden-Smythe escorted Velvet and me to see the London Tower. If I had known, I would have stayed with mother.”

“Amelia would never have allowed it, Child. She wanted to protect you and Brantley as long as she could.” Agatha set forward to emphasize her point.

“Where was I when the two of you were playing about the London streets?” Bran teased; he had sensed his sister’s angst and knew not how to address it.