Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere (14 page)

“Satiné prefers to ride out across the estate with Lord Lexford,” she told herself as she watched the pair from her bedroom window. “My sister has more in common with the viscount than I do.”

“Did you say something, Miss Cashé?” the maid asked as she laid out a morning gown across the bed.

“No, Lily,” Cashé turned quickly away. Her Uncle Samuel had taken Edana with him to Scotland. Cashé and Satiné shared the same maid while they resided at Linton Park. Uncle Charles had told her she could choose someone as her regular maid at Chesterfield Manor. “I was just watching my sister leave for her morning ride.”

The maid carefully straightened the dress’s seams. “Miss Satiné loves being about the horses.”

“I do not know why,” Cashé remarked as she turned to the room. “They are smelly animals.”

“You do not like to ride, Miss Cashé?” The maid brought the brush to dress Cashé’s hair.

Cashé shook her head in the negative. “If I must, I can sit a horse, but I certainly prefer another form of travel.” As the maid continued to tend to Cashé’s hairstyle, she returned to her earlier musings. She had decided that both she and her twin suffered from poor matchmaking, and Cashé wanted none of it. She would have the man she desired. But she would need to convince her sister to do the unbelievable: to perform a switch of a sham.

*

Kerrington had asked Marcus and Lexford to join him and Fowler in Kerrington’s study. “What gives?” Kimbolt asked as they entered the room. Marcus had said little to anyone over the past few days beyond common civilities, and he had wondered for a moment if Kerrington would take up the conversation they had had in the billiard room two days prior.

“Have a seat,” Kerrington gestured toward the two empty chairs before the hearth. “Do either of you wish a drink?”

Both declined. It was rare for Kerrington to be so grim, and Marcus instinctively felt the importance of what they had share.

“The captain and I wanted to make you aware of something about which we both felt strongly,” Fowler began. “You two witnessed Miss Cashé’s tear-stained rant on the morning of Samuel Aldridge’s departure.”

Kimbolt played with his watch bob. “It was quite a spectacle. My heart wanted to find a way to make the hurt go away for Miss Cashé.”

Marcus felt his chest tighten; he, too, had wanted to soothe the lady’s soul. “We were all relieved for His Grace’s sake–the last barrier to his marriage removed. Yet, like Lexford, I felt quite sympathetic for the lady. Her uncle’s abandonment was devastating for Miss Cashé. What she perceived as Averette’s goodness was often a conversation topic as we chased Fowler to Liverpool.”

“That is just the point,” Fowler continued. “Viscount Averette vehemently opposed leaving Velvet. At Briar House, after our evening at Vauxhall, Averette found Miss Aldridge and me in an embrace. When I assured the viscount that my intentions were honorable and that I would make Velvet my wife, Averette fervently refused.”

Lexford asked, “How could he deny his niece a duchy?”

“The viscount disparaged my reputation as William Fowler’s son, but more importantly, he threatened to expose the farce we had practiced on Sir Louis by publicly announcing that Miss Nelson traveled with him and not with Eleanor to Derby.” Marcus noted that Kerrington’s fists opened and closed with the threat to his wife. Marcus understood completely. “In order for me to protect Eleanor, I allowed Velvet to walk out of my life–to leave with Averette to Scotland.”

Lexford grumbled a curse while Marcus swallowed his. Marcus had seen firsthand the subordinate position Viscountess Averette assumed in her own home. He began to wonder what Aldridge had done to Cashé.

Fowler continued his tale. “When I arrived at Linton Park, Averette was already in residence. Eleanor and I met with the man in this very room. Averette unreasonably brought his conspiracy theories over Velvet’s disappearance to the table. He believed I had staged Velvet’s abduction in order to earn the viscount’s gratitude. And despite both Eleanor’s and my reasoning, Lord Averette still objected to my union.”

Lexford whistled under his breath. “Even with Miss Aldridge’s ruination, the man still objected?”

Fowler added, “Neither Ella nor I could make Averette see the error in his judgment. The viscount countered our every point with his hatred.”

“Then how was Morton able to convince Averette so quickly?” Marcus observed.

Kerrington leaned forward to emphasize his words. “That is the very gist of this conversation. Baron Ashton, a former Realm member mind you, spoke to Aldridge for less than an hour, and then Averette up and leaves, without even saying his farewells to Miss Cashé, who has lived exclusively with the man since the age of three. It does not make sense.”

“What could Ashton know about Aldridge that would change the viscount’s mind?” Marcus’s senses lurched into action.

“That is the question.” Kerrington grimaced.

Fowler’s countenance held a troubled expression. “Lord Worthing has sent a letter to Shepherd. We are guessing that Ashton blackmailed Averette into complying, but what he has on the man is still an unknown.”

“Would Averette’s letter to Miss Cashé give us any clues?” Marcus asked as he began to analyze the situation.

“That is another key issue,” Fowler confided. “Do either of you know what happened to the letter?”

Lexford glanced quickly at Marcus. “I suppose Miss Cashé still has it.”

“No,” Fowler rasped out. “She does not. Without making an issue of it, the baron eased the letter from Cashé’s hand and slipped it into his pocket while he held the girl in his embrace. I watched him do so.”

“What could the letter hold that might make the baron want it?” Marcus became thoroughly engrossed in the possibilities.

“Maybe nothing,” Kerrington’s voice was softly lethal. “Maybe everything. Fowler and I believe that Averette’s personality would cause the man to include some of Ashton’s charges as part of his tirade. However, when we checked the baron’s room, we found no trace of the letter. Either the man destroyed it, or he has hidden it very well.”

Marcus swallowed hard. “That means Miss Cashé would know what Ashton plans. Could it put her in danger?” He felt the sudden need to find the lady so he might protect her. It was a betrayal of trust to even consider such an action, but Marcus could not control his chest’s constriction.

“At the moment, we have no way of knowing for certain,” Kerrington summarized. “Averette may have written nothing of importance in the letter. Then again, the viscount may have railed against Ashton, and Miss Cashé either did not read the whole letter or she did not understand the implications. However, Fowler and I wish to discover what Ashton knows of Averette.”

“I will question Velvet about what went on in the viscount household, but I do not wish to set up an alarm. Yet, my instincts tell me something is not right.” Fowler’s gaze intensified.

“I can add my insights having been in the household recently,” Marcus thought aloud.

Kerrington nodded his head in affirmation. “Why do you not make yourself some notes, and I will send them off to Shepherd?”

“Should I question Miss Cashé?” Lexford asked.

Marcus interrupted Kerrington’s response. “It does not seem prudent to grill Miss Cashé regarding her uncle.” To his shock, he felt an intensity, which caused another tightening of his gut. “The lady is suffering from Averette’s withdrawal and being thrust into a household foreign to her experiences. I believe questioning Miss Cashé would only increase her resistance to assist us. She would do better if she is allowed to share naturally with someone she trusts.”

“And how do you have such first hand knowledge of how to handle Miss Cashé?” Lexford’s gaze scoured Marcus.

Marcus willed away the panic he felt at exposing himself to his friend. “I do not know Miss Cashé other than our interactions during this mission, but she reminds me of Maggie.”

They all knew of Maggie. As Fowler spoke often of Miss Aldridge and Kerrington of his first wife Elizabeth, Marcus had spoken of Maggie. He noted Kerrington’s raised eyebrow, but he knew his former leader would say nothing. “All right, so we need to convince Miss Cashé to trust one of us.”

Fowler teased, “That should be your domain, Lexford.”

Marcus dropped his eyes before saying, “Then we will each gather what information we can and send it to Shepherd.”

Kerrington stood to end the conversation. “That seems to be all we can do until we know more about Ashton and about Averette.”

Fowler rose to his feet also. “I plan to check my father’s correspondence whenever Velvet and I return to Thornhill. Maybe there is something among his papers to assist us.”

Kerrington added, “Do not forget Murhad Jamot is still at large.”

Marcus lazily followed them toward the door. “I had hoped when we returned to England that all of which we would deal would be estate affairs.”

Kerrington drew a deep breath. “We will know such peace soon. We took out Talpur; Jamot cannot succeed alone.”

In the evening before the wedding, the Kerrington household teemed with activity. Besides his Realm friends, Bran’s aunt and his cousin had made the trek from nearby Nottingham, and Lowery’s older brother Lawrence and his parents, the Baron and Baroness Blakehell, who lived but two hours north, also attended.

“Miss Cashé, would you honor me with a dance?” Marcus asked. The Duchess of Norfield, Bran’s cousin, who was with child, had assumed the duties of the pianoforte.

Cashé glanced up in surprise. “Thank you, Lord Yardley.” She tentatively placed her hand in his.

Marcus was uncertain what had come over him. He was not particularly fond of dancing, nor did he consider it the wisest idea to bring attention to his ever-growing need to be near Cashé Aldridge. He watched as the men had taken turns in approaching the women, giving them few opportunities to rest. Marcus had previously danced with Lady Worthing and Miss Aldridge, but when he had spied the Duchess choosing a waltz, his feet directed him to where Miss Cashé sat. He wanted to compare this evening with their time at the tarn. He would also claim Miss Satiné’s hand and consider the differences between his reactions to the twins.

Marcus placed his left hand on her waist when the music began, and all the couples realized theirs would be a waltz. With his right he caught her ungloved hand in his. Stepping into the first turn, he saw Cashé bite her bottom lip, and Marcus whispered, “Is something amiss, my Dear.”

Cashé blushed. “Although I recently learned the steps, I have never danced the waltz, Sir,” she confided.

Marcus noted her nervousness and smiled indulgently. “Never fear, Miss Cashé; I will not permit you to falter. And even if you do step on my foot, I will consider the experience delightful. I will be forever known as your first waltz partner.”

“You may laugh, Your Lordship,” she warned, “but when you must hobble to the chapel tomorrow, you may regret this.”

Marcus thought he could, at least, claim one first in her life. “I will endure your worst, Miss Cashé.” He purposely took her through an elaborate double twirl about the corner just to hear her squeal and laugh from the experience.

“That was magnificent,” she gasped, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

Marcus felt his heart leap into his throat. “Would you care to do it again?” he breathed in her ear.

“Oh, yes, please,” she giggled.

Marcus tilted his head back and laughed heartily. “As you wish, Sweetling.” Then he steered her between two other couples, and in the open, he half lifted her into the complicated step. Marcus found he thoroughly enjoyed dancing with Cashé Aldridge.

She sighed audibly. “Thank you, Your Lordship. I have never had so much fun.”

“Neither have I, Miss Cashé.” He smiled largely at her.

Silence held the next few minutes as a desire brewed between them. Marcus felt it in his groin and on her skin’s heat. Quietly, he said, “After tomorrow, I will have to address you as Miss Aldridge...when your sister relinquishes that name.”

“I thought of the same earlier. I am certain that I will not respond when I am thus addressed.” She glanced about the room. “May I ask you a confidential question, Your Lordship?”

“Always, Miss Cashé. I would never deny you anything,” he whispered close to her ear.

Cashé dropped her gaze before she spoke. “Do you believe in love? I mean...do you believe His Grace loves my sister?”

When she modified her question, Marcus felt more comfortable with his response. He did not want to discuss the concept of love with her. Personally, he no longer believed in love: He had refused to love anyone because everyone he had loved had left him–his parents and Myles and Maggie, and likely Trevor, too, very soon. “I can tell you that Fowler spoke only of your sister in all the years we served together. I believe the duke truly loves Miss Aldridge.”

“Then why did he marry someone else?” she demanded. “If His Grace truly loves Velvet, as you say, how could he take someone else as his wife?”

“It is not my secret to share,” he said cautiously.

Cashé frowned. “I should have known you would not trust me,” she accused.

Marcus regarded her unsmilingly. “I will tell you this. In her looks, Ashmita favored your sister, which I believe was His Grace’s initial reaction to his wife. As a member of Fowler’s family, you must know the duke had never planned to claim his title. Therefore, he could not propose to your sister. And Ashmita was in desperate circumstances before His Grace rescued her. It is my opinion that Fowler felt responsible for Ashmita’s life.”

Cashé studied his countenance, as if to assess whether he spoke the truth. “Then answer me this: Why did Thornhill not write to Velvet while she was in Scotland?”

“You will not enjoy my answer,” he warned.

“But I would hear it just the same. No one believes that I can handle the truth.” She set her mouth in a defiant line.

Marcus nodded his head in agreement. “Your uncle threatened to make the former duke’s lifestyle public knowledge, and Fowler chose to protect his sister and his daughter, as well as the Kerringtons.”