Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere Read online

  “Cashé leads Jamot on a merry chase.” Kimbolt peered through the shutters at the street.

  Marcus stormed forward, heading toward the church’s main door. “She does what?”

  “Relax.” Kimbolt stepped before Marcus to block his exit. “She is coming this way.”

  Marcus took out his gun and moved to a window where he might observe the street. Seeing Cashé hurrying toward them from the stable, he allowed himself to breathe again. He did not like to involve innocents, especially women, in Realm business.

  Cashé breezed into the church, quickly closing the door behind her. Exhilarated by the intrigue, her eyes glowed with excitement. “Did he see me?” she asked as she saddled up beside Marcus to peer around his shoulder.

  Her presence–his fear–her excitement–his dread compounded, and forgetting himself, he caught Cashé by the arm and dragged her toward the alcove where her sister hid. “Are you crazy?” he demanded, without giving her time to respond. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Get in there, and let Lexford and me handle this!”

  “Jamot is headed this way!” Lexford called, redirecting Marcus’s anger.

  Marcus gave Cashé a warning glare before taking an offensive position on the other side of the door. He and Lexford waited–guns cocked and ready–but nothing happened.

  When Jamot had not follow Cashé into the church, it took Marcus and Lexford only a moment to realize their plan had turned. “Stay here!” Lexford ordered as he ran for the door.

  “What if?” Cashé began, but Marcus cut her off.

  “What if, nothing, Woman!” he barked. “We have not time for your silly games!” Then he darted through the door, making his way to the warehouse. Seeing Ashton exit the stable, Marcus motioned the man toward the church.

  Lexford joined him as they squatted beside an overloaded wagon, preparing for what might come next. “What was all that about?” Lexford hissed, as they checked their guns.

  “Nothing!” Marcus growled and stepped from behind the wagon to access the warehouse door.

  Then a shot rang out, and both men hit the door in concert–shoulders exploding against the wood–breaking away as they hit it a second time, crushing it to pieces; the door ripped free of the frame. Marcus went low, and Lexford high as they dove into the darkened building. A second shot blazed past them before they had time to even adjust their visions to the dim light. Lucifer, who appeared from the back of the warehouse, cried out, but he did not stop to acknowledge the wound. The man blocked Jamot’s retreat.

  Jamot whirled in place and then scrambled up the stairs to the narrow room where he had held Miss Aldridge prisoner for the past few days. Marcus gave pursuit, but Fowler’s raspy voice froze all three of his cohorts in place. “Forget Jamot!”

  Above them from the warehouse rafters the Duke of Thornhill swung from a rope. Jamot had rigged an elaborate gallows for Velvet Aldridge. Her arms clung to a rope above her head. Marcus immediately recalled his own prediction: Jamot had truly lifted Velvet Aldridge toward the heavens. If her grasp slipped, the ropes other end would serve effectively as a noose. To prevent that occurrence Fowler now supported her weight and his from the rope. Miss Aldridge wrapped her legs about Fowler’s waist and held onto him for dear life.

  “Would you like a moment, Your Grace?” Lexford taunted; all three men avoided looking at the lady’s fully exposed legs as she dangled above them.

  “Just get us the bloody hell down!” Fowler growled.

  Chapter 4

  “What did I do wrong?” Cashé whined as her uncle offered a comforting embrace.

  Charles Morton held both women close to him. “Absolutely nothing, my Dear. I was quite proud of your resourcefulness.” He chucked Cashé’s chin and brought her eyes to meet his. “The earl was out of line–understandably so, but, nevertheless, inappropriate. Lord Yardley probably felt the anxiety of our putting Satiné in danger. The shopkeeper’s not removing the boxes as instructed nearly destroyed our intricate plans. We actually have your quick thinking to thank for the success we experienced in luring Jamot away from your sister.”

  “Then I saved the day?” she asked hopefully.

  “Maybe not the whole day, but part of it,” he assured her. “Now, allow me to check on the status of the duke’s assault. You girls wait here. I will return for you in a few minutes.”

  Marcus and Lexford began to restack the wooden crates scattered about the area, while Lucifer sat on the bottom step grasping at his chest.

  “One more.” Marcus used his shoulders and back to shove the large wooden box above his head.

  Lexford called out to Fowler. “Drop down. You can stand on the box.”

  Fowler touched the highest level with the toe of his boot. “I can, but Velvet cannot. And I will not leave her!”

  Marcus obediently lifted another of the heavy crates. “Will this do, Your Grace?” He wedged the two-foot deep box under Fowler’s foot. Realizing they had given the duke an escape, he and Lexford backed away from the wooden tower and turned their heads to give Fowler and his Miss Aldridge some privacy. They did not look directly at Miss Aldridge’s exposed legs and under garments. Impatiently, they waited for Fowler to free himself and his ladylove. They heard the duke and Miss Aldridge whispered endearments, and then Fowler called for assistance in freeing the woman. “Tell the smithy I need something to cut the chains.” The stacked structure wobbled, but Fowler straightened slowly, maintaining the balance.

  Marcus grinned mischievously at Lexford. “I have it.” He darted through the open door into the busy street and came face-to-face with Ashton’s frowning countenance.

  “Fowler and my niece?” The baron asked without prelude.

  Marcus whispered, “Safe for the moment, but not totally free. Miss Aldridge is chained to the rafters. I am to the blacksmith’s.”

  The baron nodded his understanding. “I will wait a few moments before I bring Velvet’s sisters over.”

  “I should go.” Marcus took a step away, but the baron caught his arm.

  “Cashémere can be quite frustrating, Your Lordship. She is a product of Samuel Aldridge’s sickness. However, she does not need censure for doing the correct thing. You owe my niece an apology, Lord Yardley.”

  Marcus paused, listening closely to what the baron did not say. In four and twenty hours, two of the girl’s relatives had cautioned him on how to handle her. He did not understand why his actions and his words had taken on such importance in regards to the girl, but he recognized the folly of his earlier lack of composure. “I will do so, Ashton.” Marcus could not explain why Cashé Aldridge so enflamed his thinking. He did not need such chaos in his life: He needed peace and quiet and contentment.

  He hurried to the smith and borrowed a metal cutter that Fowler could use to free Miss Aldridge. Returning to the warehouse, he gingerly climbed the lower levels of the pyramid, handing the tool to a half bent Fowler. When the duke straightened, the boxes rocked, and Marcus grabbed them to steady his friend’s maneuvers.

  When Fowler began to cut at the chain’s links, Marcus climbed slowly down the structure and moved to the other side of the warehouse where Lucifer waited. “Let me take a look,” he told the former cavalryman. “You have a nice hole gaping at me, old Man,” he taunted in a male bonding sort of way.

  “Been hit worse than this,” Lucifer mustered.

  Marcus looked up when the metal lock crashed to the floor. He folded his handkerchief to stop the blood flow, and then he stood to see the duke handing Miss Aldridge to Lexford’s waiting arms. Marcus announced, “I am going for a physician. Lucifer requires tending.”

  “So do I,” Fowler added flatly.

  Marcus nodded and disappeared again into the street. From a distance, he saw Ashton approaching from his left with the twins; instinctively, Marcus turned to his right and darted between the bustling wagon trades. He looked for the signage of an apothecary. He caught a passerby by the arm, “Where is the nearest physician?”

 
; “Two blocks over, my Lord.”

  Marcus was on the move, weaving his way through the busy streets. Finally, he spotted the marked office. Bursting through the door, he called out, “Anyone here? I have two injured men in a warehouse by the water!”

  Cashé spotted the earl walking briskly away. “Coward,” she thought. “No civilities!” she amended. “May we leave for Cheshire soon, Uncle Charles? I tire of these games.” She thought to prove something to Yardley. Prove to him she was not the spoiled girl he thought her to be. She was brave and mature. A woman worth choosing. She did not understand why she needed to prove anything to the cantankerous lord, but deep inside she recognized her weakness. “It is not as if I need Lord Yardley in my life!” she declared to her confused mind. “I have other options!”

  When they entered the warehouse, Cashé’s mouth gaped in surprise. Her sister and the duke embraced intimately, despite others about them. “Just as Uncle Samuel suspected,” she thought. Only when the baron cleared his throat did the couple cease the kiss, and even then Thornhill refused to release her sister from his embrace.

  Finally, their presence became evident to Velvet, but only a slight blush betrayed her sister’s “cozy” display. Yet, Velvet’s pure delight at seeing both of her sisters took precedence, and Cashé took comfort in their shared embrace.

  “Uncle!” Velvet squealed before rushing into Ashton’s welcoming arms. “How did you come to be here?” However, before the baron could answer, Velvet grabbed both Satiné and her in an encompassing hold. Their oldest sister alternated kissing both their cheeks. “I am so happy to see you. You have no idea what your presence means to me,” she whispered to them.

  The baron took possession of Velvet. “The earl brought Cashémere to Chesterfield Manor,” he explained to her, “and, of course, we had to assist the duke in your rescue.”

  Velvet appeared stunned by his statement. “To think that you came to support His Grace’s efforts.”

  “Your sisters did more than that, Velvet. Look at how they are dressed.” Baron Ashton gestured to the twins. “They distracted your kidnapper long enough for Fowler to stage your rescue. They were quite bold.”

  “My Goodness!” Her sister gasped in wide-eyed acknowledgment. “We could be triplets!”

  Cashé wrinkled her nose in disgust. Before she thought about her words, she said, “Except that you are so unkempt.”

  Satiné warned in a hiss. “Cashé!”

  While Fowler reclaimed Velvet, Cashé considered her twin’s reprimand. Her revulsion was as much for the situation as it was for Velvet’s unseemliness. Cashé found it all quite odd; Uncle Samuel and Aunt Alice had taught her that intimacy of any kind was purely for the procreation of children, never for pleasure. Yet, Velvet showed no regret for her actions, and Uncle Charles offered no censure. She did not understand how no one else found Velvet’s ruination repugnant. Why was she the only one who thought it so?

  The earl reappeared with a physician in tow, and everyone moved quickly to tend to Velvet, Fowler, and Hill. When the physician decided to transport his patients to his office, a clean up of the incident became the next phase. The viscount saw to the wounded, and Yardley reported the incident to the local authorities, as well as settling the damages with the shopkeeper.

  Ashton announced, “I will take the girls to Chesterfield Manor. I assume, Your Grace, that you will see my niece safely to Cheshire.”

  Fowler bowed in respect. “Velvet is under my protection, Your Lordship.”

  Cashé pulled at her uncle’s sleeve. “Do you think it best, Uncle, to permit Velvet to travel with Thornhill? Uncle Samuel would object; we need to consider Velvet’s reputation,” she whispered.

  “His Grace has shown his affection for your sister by his actions,” he assured her. “Fowler will protect Velvet with his title. The man is part of our family, can you not see that he loves your sister and will bring no shame on our name.”

  From the rooftops of the neighboring building Murhad Jamot watched as a middle-aged English gentleman–the one he had encountered in the blacksmith’s stables–leave the warehouse with a young lady on each arm. The women were obviously twins; he could discern very little difference between them. Now, he fully understood how the Realm had tricked him. The women bore an uncanny resemblance to Velvet Aldridge, and they both wore dresses of a similar shade. They made him see things that did not exist. A nice illusion–and he had fallen for it. It would not happen again.

  He would change his operation. Mir would not be happy with his lack of success. He had started with the Realm’s leader James Kerrington and then Brantley Fowler. He never really suspected that either man held the emerald. Both possessed a high sense of honor. However, Mir ordered that he start with them; his leader thought Worthing’s and Thornhill’s honor a façade. Mir did not understand how these Englishmen thought, but Jamot did. He had lived among them for the last year. He had felt the chill of their winters and the warmth of their springs. He had seen the hatred for foreigners on their faces. He had recognized their attitudes of superiority. The Realm had fooled him this time. He would not allow it to happen again. He would regroup and find the weaknesses among the others. He would find the missing emerald.

  “To think, Uncle, my sister is to be a duchess,” Satiné said for the third time in an hour.

  Cashé rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Why is that so important?”

  The baron good-naturedly explained, “A duke is the closest to royalty this country offers in the social strata. When Velvet becomes a duchess, your sister will hold great sway in society, which plays well for your own places.”

  “I am so happy that we postponed my Come Out,” Satiné gushed. “To be known as the sister of the Duchess of Thornhill shall open doors left closed otherwise.”

  Cashé sat back into the coach’s soft squabs. She crossed her arms before her chest, symbolically closing herself off from reason. “You make the assumption, Satiné, that Uncle Samuel will allow Thornhill to marry Velvet, and I can assure you that Uncle shan’t agree.”

  “How might Averette prevent the joining?” the baron demanded.

  “As Uncle Samuel has assumed Velvet’s guardianship, he may speak to her choice of husbands until she is of age. That is why Velvet came to stay with us in Edinburgh. Uncle objected to the duke’s attentions to my sister. He actually caught them in an intimate moment,” Cashé shared. Her uncle had tried to hide the reason for their hasty removal from London, but Cashé had overheard Fowler’s servants gossiping about what Samuel Aldridge had said to His Grace.

  Ashton sat forward, as if to hear better. “What do you mean? Averette assumed guardianship of Velvet.”

  “Just as I said,” Cashé smirked. “Uncle Samuel found Velvet and Fowler kissing in the duke’s London library. He demanded that Velvet return with us to Scotland. Thornhill quickly gave up Velvet when Uncle Samuel threatened to expose Eleanor for the truth.”

  “I would like an explanation,” Ashton insisted.

  Cashé told him of the scene at the Prince Regent’s party–of Sir Louis Levering’s charges–of the baronet’s attacking the Prince–and of how the Fowlers had led Prince George to believe that the Averette’s governess was Lady Eleanor’s traveling companion. “Uncle Samuel confronted Thornhill regarding the former duke’s debauchery. He told Fowler how he had chosen to look the other way because Lady Eleanor deserved a better life with an honorable man, but Uncle Samuel could not allow Velvet to return to Kent with His Grace without a chaperone.”

  “And Thornhill refused to make an honest woman of your sister?”

  “No, His Grace made an offer,” Cashé continued, “but Uncle refused.”

  The baron leaned back. “And why would Aldridge refuse to accept a duke’s offer? That is the real question. What is in it for him?” A touch of bitterness laced his words.

  “Uncle just wished to protect Velvet’s name,” Cashé asserted.

  Ashton laced his fingers across his waistcoat. “I do
ubt that. Aldridge would make no move, which did not benefit him.”

  Cashé puffed up with indignation. “Uncle Samuel had Velvet’s best interest in mind.”

  “My Dear, I realize your allegiance to Samuel Aldridge, but your eyes cannot be so closed as to see the real truth.”

  “What truth?” Cashé demanded. “All I know is Uncle Samuel has given me a home and affections.”

  Satiné responded, “And you think that the Fowlers and Uncle Charles did less for Velvet and me?”

  Cashé blushed, but she continued. Such accusations against the only family she had known did not set well with her, but she could not deny that the baron and the Fowlers had done honorably by her sisters. “Uncle Samuel welcomed me into his family because he loves me!” she asserted.

  The baron reached across the coach and patted her hand. “Cashé, I have never believed otherwise, but you must also recognize Aldridge’s weaknesses.”

  “Such as?” Cashé demanded.

  “Such as requiring Uncle Charles and the Fowlers to pay him before he doled out children to their care.”

  Cashé bucked at the idea. “You speak an untruth!”

  “No, Satiné does not,” the baron said evenly. “Both William Fowler and I gave Samuel Aldridge five thousand pounds for Velvet and for Satiné. If you care to check my ledger for proof of the transaction, I will gladly share it with you. The implied threat was that if the Fowlers and I did not respond that you girls would be sent elsewhere.”

  “Then he must have loved me best!” Cashé’s eyes misted with tears. “He could not part with me!”

  Neither Ashton nor Satiné spoke their thoughts. “The point is,” said the baron evenly, “that Aldridge probably believed he could make a better settlement with someone other than Fowler. Has Aldridge presented suitors to Velvet while your sister resided in Scotland?”

  “Of course.” Cashé raised her chin defiantly. “Uncle Samuel has chosen husbands for both Velvet and me.”