Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere Read online

  The party retired to a drawing room where Lady Worthing and Miss Aldridge served tea. “My husband’s parents will join us for supper,” Eleanor Kerrington announced. “The earl has long suffered from poor health, but he has shown improvement of late.”

  While Marcus found a chair where he could simply observe, the baron assumed the bulk of the conversation. “I am certain the earl must thrive under your care, my Dear. I remember when you insisted that you would be a physician so that you could save your mother.”

  Lady Worthing laughed easily at her youthful aspirations. “No one informed me that only men could train in the medical arts.”

  Ashton smiled indulgently. “And why should we, my Dear? Who knows? Maybe some day that will change. The world continues to spin.”

  Aldridge blustered, “Why do you speak such rubbish, Morton? Women are meant to serve their husbands.”

  Marcus flinched, as did Fowler and Lexford. The vehemence in Averette’s tone ricocheted through each man’s body. Marcus thought the man’s words went a long way in explaining Cashé Aldridge’s attitude.

  The baron took a sip of his tea. “I am sorry you feel that way, Aldridge. Thankfully, your brother Edward held more respect for his wife–my sister.” He took a second sip. “However, we will discuss such matters in private and in detail. Now is not the time. We will speak of family in congenial terms.”

  Marcus heard some of Aldridge’s mumbled objections, but, for now, the viscount permitted Ashton his way.

  Chapter 5

  The rest of the afternoon and evening found the Linton Park inhabitants and guests avoiding the invisible elephant in the room. Viscount Averette’s contempt colored everything and everyone. Conversations existed only to fill the emptiness. Finally, after supper, Ashton requested Lady Worthing’s permission to use Kerrington’s study for his “inevitable” discussion with Samuel Aldridge. Everyone breathed a bit easier with Averette’s removal. Although no one voiced his relief, Cashé Aldridge felt it; therefore, she sat very prim and proper, overseeing the group in her uncle’s absence.

  It was the first time Marcus had felt pity for the girl. The last few hours had opened his eyes to Miss Cashé’s daily life, and Marcus had quickly discovered he did not approve of Aldridge’s parenting skills. Although he still condemned the lady’s actions, Marcus now understood why the girl acted as she did. She had been taught censure as the standard for her interactions with others. It was a sobering realization of what the lady had suffered, and he began to understand Lady Worthing’s earlier caution.

  Thankfully, Averette did not return to the drawing room after his conversation with the baron. Marcus wanted to question Morton as to what he had said to the man, but good manners required that he swallow his curiosity. So, he directed his attention to Miss Satiné. He had joined her for loo, and Marcus believed it one of the most enjoyable evenings he had experienced in some time. As the lady had confided the baron’s plans for her Presentation, he began to consider the merits of the upcoming Season.

  “Then you are anxious for the rigors of balls and soirees and musicales?” Marcus teased.

  Satiné played her cards before answering. “Oh, yes, Lord Yardley. Most young ladies my age have already experienced their first Season.”

  Lady Worthing assured, “When Velvet and I made our Come Outs, the gentlemen appreciated the fact that we were not green girls straight from the school room. You will do well, Satiné. You should consult Velvet regarding protocol. I am ashamed to admit that your sister far outshone my efforts.”

  “Who will serve as your chaperone, Miss Satiné? I mean with Ashton being a widower.” Marcus played off the cards Lady Worthing had discarded.

  “My uncle has not decided, Lord Yardley. He has another sister, but my aunt is of poor health.”

  Eleanor suggested Velvet. “Although your sister is quite young, she shall be a duchess, and, as Bran often says, the duchy is a powerful force in British society.”

  Satiné smiled broadly. “I will speak to Uncle Charles about the possibility.”

  Marcus considered the possibility of being a regular caller in Miss Satiné’s drawing room in London. It was the first time he had found the rigidity of the Marriage Mart worth his time.

  *

  “Good morning, Your Grace.” Ashton strolled into the room. He bowed to the women, filled himself a plate, and then joined Lady Linworth to continue a conversation they had begun the previous evening. Marcus had hoped to speak privately to the baron. The unease he had experienced regarding Miss Cashé had lingered, and he had felt compelled to act on it.

  The room soon streamed with life and conversation. Velvet and Satiné spoke of new clothing and fashion. Lowery provided Lady Eleanor minute details of the attack the Realm had staged to rescue Fowler’s daughter while Lexford and Fowler planned a fall hunting trip. Thus engaged, no one, but Marcus, noticed Cashé Aldridge’s appearance in the morning room doorway until Velvet looked up and gasped.

  Marcus immediately wanted to comfort the girl: Tears smudged her face, and her hair streamed undressed down her back. She trembled, and her shoulders rose and fell with silent sobs. Not since Maggie’s passing had he seen someone so distraught. That someone was he.

  When the room fell silent, Miss Cashé demanded, “Which of you did this?” She held a letter aloft. “Which one of you drove him away?”

  Velvet rose and rushed to her sister’s side. “Come,” she tried to move the girl to a nearby chair, but Miss Cashé physically resisted. “Cashé,” Velvet whispered close to her ear, “of what do you speak?”

  The girl pulled away from her sister’s grasp. “This!” She thrust the letter at the entire group in accusation.

  With the others, Marcus looked on–a terrible tableau coming to life before his eyes. No one moved; everyone remained suspended waiting for what would happen next.

  Velvet slid her arm around her sister. “Come; sit down and tell us what happened.”

  Again, Cashé shrugged off her sister’s embrace. “Do not touch me,” she hissed. “It is your fault–yours and the Fowlers. You drove Uncle Samuel away! He left for Scotland this morning!” Just saying the words took all the girl’s energy; her posture slumped in defeat. Tears consumed her. “He left me,” she whispered softly, and Marcus heard the feeling of abandonment rattle in his own heart. Cashé wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “What will I do now?” Marcus wanted desperately to wrap her into his arms and to comfort her with understanding. It was not fair that one so young knew such desolation. He had learned that first hand.

  Ashton, however, did the deed; he gathered Cashé into his embrace, sliding a handkerchief into the girl’s hand as he did so. “After Velvet’s wedding, you will return to Cheshire with Satiné and me.” The girl sobbed openly. “Your Uncle Samuel did not desert you, my Dear. He and I spoke of a Season for you and Satiné in the spring.” Ashton released his hold and instead cupped Cashé’s jaw in his hands, bringing her chin up where he might speak to the girl’s countenance. “It was a practical move; plus, Samuel missed his wife and daughter. Everything will be well, Child. Let Velvet take you to your room and to assist you in dressing for the day.” He kissed Cashé’s forehead and turned her into Velvet’s waiting arms.

  Once the sisters escaped the room, the baron apologized to the rest of the houseguests and his hosts. “It seems my discussion with the viscount spurred the man to action. Unfortunately, it was not executed as I had hoped, but the results will remain the same. The girls are in my care now, and I most hardily agree to His Grace’s proposal for Velvet.”

  Marcus turned to slap Fowler on the back and to offer his friend his genuine well wishes. However, he could not shake the feeling that something was amiss. Averette had given up too easily. It did not make sense that a man would chase a girl from Edinburgh to London in order to prevent a marriage and then just walk away when he met with opposition. Marcus barely knew the man, but from what he did know, this was not a typical response from Samuel Al
dridge. This realization made him wonder what the baron had said to bring about so great a change of sentiments. Plus, why would Aldridge leave behind the girl he had raised as his own? It seemed more logical for the viscount to take his niece with him. The way the baron had manipulated the situation identified Ashton as a worthy adversary.

  *

  In the late afternoon, Cashé followed her sister outside to greet Kerrington’s coach. Still stinging from her uncle’s abandonment, the picture of happiness displayed by the coach’s inhabitants rubbed her the wrong way. Kerrington greeted his wife with a passionate kiss, while Fowler scooped his daughter from the carriage’s open door and swung her around in total disregard to the child’s deportment.

  With her Uncle Samuel’s speedy departure, Cashé had found herself in a world she really did not understand. She had experienced Society briefly when the Aldridges had spent time with Thornhill after Eleanor’s marriage. However, she was very much out of place during this brief respite. She had attended several of the Season’s programs, but Uncle Samuel had been very selective and often spoke of the depravity on display. And although she had seen nothing wrong with the entertainment, Cashé had agreed with her uncle’s evaluations.

  Now, that same uncle had abandoned her to the people he had often criticized. Did she mean so little to him? What had she done to make Uncle Samuel punish her as such? How could she earn his love again? And did she want to return to Scotland? Satiné appeared very content with Uncle Charles, but could she know happiness in Cheshire? Cashé simply did not know which way to turn.

  Noting Velvet’s anxiousness, Cashé fell into her standard speech. “Such displays demonstrate a lack of good breeding. Are you certain you wish to align yourself to such a family?”

  Before leaving her sister’s side, Velvet whispered, “Such displays demonstrate love. Do I want love in my life? Absolutely!”

  Cashé watched her oldest sister walk into the duke’s open arms. Then Velvet had taken Sonali up with her. The child clung to Velvet’s neck, and they spoke of becoming a family. When they had returned to the house, they had passed Cashé standing alone and displaced as they had entered the main hall. Again, she was the person everyone overlooked.

  Without knowing what to do with herself, reluctantly, she had followed, but instead of finding her way to the drawing room for tea, Cashé had sought privacy in a deserted alcove in the Kerrington library. Here, she could sit without being seen by someone just passing by the open door.

  She did not understand how she had ended up with nothing. She had practiced her religion and had done the correct thing all her life, but for some reason God had punished her. All around her, families formed. Her cousin Eleanor had married Lord Worthing and had been accepted by the man’s parents and his son as their own, and Eleanor exuded happiness. Her cousin even carried Viscount Worthing’s child. Eleanor had been raised in depravity, but now Ella had a family and a title and contentment.

  Her twin sister had been given an exemplary education in Uncle Charles’s household. Her uncle had treated Satiné as a valuable person, not as a subject under a man’s jurisdiction. And the baron planned a Season for Satiné. He had offered Cashé a Season also, but it was not the same. He had give Cashé one out of an obligation; the baron presented one to Satiné from love.

  Then there was Velvet. Her oldest sister had replaced her natural family with the Fowlers. Velvet and Eleanor both had said it: They were sisters of the heart. So, Velvet, who believed in princess tales and conquering heroes, actually found that type of love in Fowler. Velvet would be a duchess. All Cashé had ever aspired to be was a wife–Miss Charters.

  They would all know happiness except for her. No one really wanted her–well, no one except maybe Viscount Lexford. Cashé liked the man, but could he make her happy? She did not think so. Lord Lexford accepted all her weaknesses; he did not make her want to be a better person. She would hate to have no other options than His Lordship.

  A noise signaled the presence of another of Kerrington’s guests, and Cashé looked up to see the man she most wished to avoid standing in the open doorway. If he knew of her misery, the earl would gloat with satisfaction, but he had not seen her in the shadowed corner. Curious, Cashé watched Lord Yardley make his way to a shelf holding poetry. She had never considered him the type who would enjoy poetry.

  As she looked on, he selected a thin volume and took a seat close to the single lighted lantern in the room. Belatedly, she realized she should have revealed her presence before he had taken up the book, but she had waited too long. Now, she had to remain in hiding.

  The earl thumbed through the volume until he had found the piece for which he had searched. He leaned back into the chair and raised the book where the light might fall upon the page. Cashé watched in awe as the man, who she half feared, read aloud a favorite poem.

  Farewell! if ever fondest prayer

  For other's weal availed on high,

  Mine will not all be lost in air,

  But waft thy name beyond the sky.

  'Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh:

  Oh! more than tears of blood can tell,

  When wrung from guilt's expiring eye,

  Are in that word–

  Farewell!–Farewell!

  Surprisingly, the earl’s voice cracked with emotion as he said the words, and Cashé wondered of whom he thought as he read.

  These lips are mute,

  these eyes are dry;

  But in my breast and in my brain,

  Awake the pangs that pass not by,

  The thought that ne'er shall sleep again.

  My soul nor deigns nor dares complain,

  Though grief and passion there rebel;

  I only know we loved in vain–

  I only feel–

  Farewell!–Farewell!

  Cashé’s first thoughts were of her own loss–of her own loneliness, but that was not the source of the tears bubbling in her eyes. Her tears were for the man who read from Lord Bryon–for the man who challenged her at every move. Cashé suddenly realized her fascination with Lord Yardley–with a man who essentially despised her–a man who preferred her twin.

  “Ah, Maggie...” his voice brought Cashé’s attention. “You left me too soon.”

  Cashé swallow the hurt swelling her throat closed. Lord Yardley grieved for another. The poem was for an unknown woman. He had loved someone so deeply, and now he bemoaned his loss. Cashé wondered what it would be like to have a man such as Marcus Wellston to love as her own and to have him return that love. She imagined that Yardley would love as passionately as he hated.

  With a deep sigh, he set the book on a nearby table and stood to take his leave. Without looking back, Yardley strode from the room.

  Cashé edged from her hiding place. She looked toward the door through which he had exited–actually considered following him, but instead she reached for the book he had left behind. Clasping it to her chest, Cashé rushed to her chambers. She would read the poem and cherish the moment.

  *

  The next morning, the duke rode to Matlock to procure a special license. By the same time next week, the marriage would occur. Thornhill’s friends and Velvet’s family would celebrate together. They would remain at Linton Park until the ceremony. Loyal to her Uncle Samuel, Cashé had sent a letter reporting the transactions. She had informed her family of the upcoming nuptials, and she had broken her vow to be strong by begging Aldridge to allow her to return home. She had promised she would do whatever he wished of her; she had made her promises, but Cashé realized her uncle rarely relented when he had made a decision.

  “Miss Cashé.” Sonali Fowler passed Cashé in the upper hallway. The child belatedly made a proper bow. “Will Gwendolyn come to Linton Park?”

  Cashé bent to speak to the child. “No, Darling. Gwendolyn remains in Scotland.” Sonali and Uncle’s daughter Gwen had become fast friends when the families had dwelt together.

  Sonali frowned. “I had hoped...”
The child glanced quickly toward the maid assigned to tending to her until the girl’s governess Mrs. Carruthers arrived. “There is not much to do in the nursery. They have not had a girl in the children’s room since Lady Georgina was a child.”

  Cashé smiled at Sonali’s manipulations. “Would you care to take a walk a bit later, Darling?”

  “Would you, Miss Cashé?” The child’s smile grew.

  “I have a few errands, but I will come to the nursery soon.”

  The girl giggled, dropped a curtsy, said her “thank yous” and skipped away.

  Marcus did not look forward to spending another week away from his own properties. Neither could he sit through more discussions on the wedding. The women were all atwitter with dress fittings and flowers. Kerrington, still recovering from his broken ribs, judiciously agreed to escort the women wherever they needed to go. Lowery and Kimbolt had decided to deliver a personal invitation to the wedding to Carter’s brother, Lawrence Lowery. Lord Hellsman had distracted Averette while the Realm had staged Velvet’s rescue. The Lowery estate was a two-hour ride north of Linton Park; however, Marcus had declined to join them. Instead, he had agreed to take Worthing’s son out for the day. Therefore, he and Daniel Kerrington walked toward the largest tarn on the Linworth estate.

  “Do you like to fish?” Marcus asked the boy as they approached the lake.

  Daniel’s face glistened with a patina of sweat. “Oh, yes, Sir, but I am not often permitted to do so.”

  The boy reminded Marcus of his brother Trevor–all rambunctious enthusiasm. The eleven-year-old favored his father, his quick mind indicating the boy’s intelligence far exceeded his years. Marcus had always enjoyed being around Daniel. He had observed bits of himself in the boy: Daniel had spent most of his time with adults, and so the child’s mature vocabulary sometimes shocked an onlooker. Yet, he was still a boy–exuberant and boisterous, and the contrast made people unsure of how to react to him.