Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet (12 page)

Everyone laughed at the ease with which the stories flowed. Velvet felt more relaxed about the upcoming Season. She thought, with the assistance of Ella and of Bran’s friends, she might succeed in “trapping” Bran, after all. This could be her life–surrounded by friends and family. James Kerrington’s request for her and Ella to go riding with him in Hyde Park in the morning interrupted her daydreams. Ella’s eyes pleaded for her assent so Velvet agreed.
Maybe I can use it to my advantage,
she thought, and immediately she turned to the marquis. “May we prevail upon you to join us also, Your Lordship?” Pointedly, Velvet did not ask Bran to be a part of the group. She wanted him to notice her interest in Godown.

Crowden gave her his best smile. “I can think of nothing more delightful, Miss Aldridge.’

*

James Kerrington called promptly at eight, and along with a groomsman, he led Ella and Velvet through the London streets. “Those who want to have full freedom during their ride come even earlier. I have several friends who miss the openness of the country. They come to the park at the crack of dawn to ride break neck across Rotten Row and around the Serpentine, trying to capture the excitement of a full gallop.”

“I imagine you to be among their number, Lord Worthing,” Velvet teased.

“I am, Miss Aldridge, upon occasion.”

They entered Hyde Park off Grosvenor, where they met the marquis. “Ah, Ladies, it is rare to see two such beautiful gems so early in the day.” He touched his hat with his riding crop in an acknowledgment.

“Lord Godown, you appear in good spirits today,” Eleanor remarked as she brought her horse along side of Worthing’s.

“What man would not be as such in your company, Lady Eleanor?”

Worthing forced his horse to turn Ella’s toward a far off tree line. “Shall we race, Lady Eleanor?”

“Absolutely, Lord Worthing.” And she kicked the horse’s side and flicked the reins. Worthing handed his hat to the waiting groom before giving chase.

“Do you wish to ride as dangerously, Miss Aldridge?” Crowden looked after the two.

“If you do not mind, something a bit more sedate fits my disposition. A steady pace is more to my liking.” She smiled at him, enjoying the flirtation, even though she still preferred Bran to the handsome marquis.

“Then let us ride to Rotten Row and back.” He motioned to the groomsman to follow, and they set off to discover the park’s trails.

From a vantage point some distance away, Bran watched Worthing and Eleanor race off one way and his friend and Velvet ride off another. For a split second, he debated over following his sister, but he knew Kerrington’s intentions, and he trusted the man to treat Ella honorably. Gabriel Crowden was a different story. He and the marquis had a “friendly” competition from the beginning of their days with the Realm, actually dating back to their university days. They were the only ones of Kerrington’s unit who had any history prior to joining the secret organization. More than a year older than Bran, even at university, Crowden held a reputation as a ladies’ man, and Bran was always a bit jealous. Compounding Crowden’s obvious allure to the female set was the man’s quick wit, athletic ability, and brooding nature. Gabriel Crowden displayed every quality to which Bran aspired, and now he rode with the woman Bran affected. “It is uncanny how quickly the marquis moved on Velvet and how quickly she accepted his attentions,” he grumbled. “Well, it is time to do something about it.”

Bran had worshipped Velvet Aldridge from the first day she had come to live with them at Thorn Hall–a frightened fluff of a child with eyes that begged him to protect her–to not let anyone else hurt her. Her parents had died unexpectedly, and her grandmother had decided to send two of the three Aldridge daughters to live with relatives. The Aldridges kept Cashémere, but they had sent Satiné to live near Manchester with Baron Ashton, and Velvet had come to them. His late mother had wanted a partner for Eleanor–someone to whom Ella could turn for friendship and comfort, and Velvet was but a year younger than Ella; the fit seemed natural. From the beginning, he and Ella had recognized Velvet’s whimsical nature and had catered to it. They played games of make-believe, dressing themselves as courtiers and ladies to her princess’s clothes. As a child, she had followed him everywhere–had hung on his every word–had irritated him and had charmed him. He had fallen in love with Velvet–his princess. Bran had always wanted to marry her–to place her on a pedestal and to continue to worship her. “Some princess,” he remarked to a startled matron and her companion.

Now, he decisively had chosen to follow Crowden, but he kept to the London streets as much as possible. As he paralleled their movements, he took note of how often Crowden maneuvered his horse close to Velvet, even occasionally reaching out to touch her reins–how they conversed easily–how
his
Velvet blushed at something Crowden had said. The more Bran had watched, the more incensed he became. “Now,” he decided. “I will put a stop to this! I will be at Rotten Row when they reach their destination,” he announced to no one in particular.

*

“Bran,” Velvet gasped on seeing him enter from the direction of the south carriageway. “What are you doing here?” She and Crowden pulled up their horses.

“Simply getting some exercise.” He nodded to the marquis, but did not address him directly. “Where are Ella and Worthing?”

Velvet glanced over her shoulder as if expecting Eleanor’s appearance. “They wished to run their horses. His Lordship and I chose a different route.” Her chin rose in an act of defiance.

Bran pompously buried himself in his guardian’s role. “Although I commend the marquis for bringing a groomsman, as you are my ward, I must object to your riding through Hyde Park together. You have not had your Presentation, Velvet. It is not appropriate.”

Suddenly angry at his reprimand, Velvet shot back. “I do not hear you censure your sister, Your Grace.”

Bran realized she had a point, but he did not want to acknowledge it. “Lord Worthing has a longer acquaintance, even saving my sister’s life. However, I will speak to Ella about her choices.”

“I apologize, Your Grace, if I offended your sensibilities,” Crowden interrupted.

“My cousin knows how susceptible the family name is to censure and should not have put herself in such a position.” He spoke to Crowden, but Bran watched Velvet’s expression.

“Please do not speak as if I am not sitting before you, Bran. If you held an objection to this early morning ride, then you should have said so last evening. Your aunt made no protestation, and she is to whom you have turned over my care. Now, if you will excuse us, the marquis and I will return to Ella and Lord Worthing.” She turned her horse to ride away.

“I forbid it, Miss Aldridge!” Bran knew he spoke irrationally–not what he wished to say, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.

Velvet pulled up on the reins. “You what!” she demanded. “Please tell me, Your Grace, that you did not just say what I think you did, and that you will not embarrass me further.”

“You will ride with me, Miss Aldridge,” he retorted. “His Lordship will find his own way.” Bran leveled a stare on Crowden.

Offering Bran a smirk, the marquis maneuvered his horse beside Velvet’s. Reaching out, he took her hand and bowed over it. “Miss Aldridge, thank you for an enjoyable excursion. I hope you will permit me to call upon you when His Grace deems it
appropriate.”

“My Presentation is the beginning of next week.” She ignored Bran’s presence. “The Dowager Duchess has given permission for Lady Eleanor and me to attend a musicale tomorrow evening at the Haverton’s. It would please me to speak to you then if you have a mind to do so.”

“It would be my honor, Miss Aldridge.” With that, Crowden rode through the gate and out into the London traffic; she and Bran sat in silence, watching him go before turning back to where Worthing and Ella rode.

“Do not speak to me!” Velvet warned as Bran came along side her.

He realized he should apologize for his odd behavior, but for the life of him, Bran had enjoyed sending Crowden away–for once, he held the upper hand. He simply let his mount fall into an easy walk and tried to ignore Velvet’s ire. They rode in silence for a few minutes. “Velvet,” his voice was soft, caressing the air around her. “You are too precious to me; I must protect you.”

She stopped suddenly, sending his horse several steps ahead of hers, forcing him to circle back to where she sat. “That is just it, Bran. I do not need your protection: I never did–not from you and not from Ella. I am not a porcelain doll to cherish and to place upon a shelf and never touch.” Velvet kicked the horse’s flanks and galloped away.

Dutifully, Bran followed, his focus purely on Velvet’s retreating form, so when the shot rang out his body visually recoiled by instinct; yet, he did not pause for even a second. He kicked his horse harder, lunging forward, needing to protect her. However, Velvet pulled up–the noise of second round of fire creating an explosion of birds from the tree line and a complete halt to all the park’s activity as everyone turned to see what had happened.

“Are you safe?” Bran demanded as he reined in his horse beside her.

“Yes,” she barked, but her gaze fell not on him; it watched an animal buck and twist, trying to throw its owner. “Look!” Velvet’s arm snapped up in a straight-arm salute, directing Bran’s attention to the crisis unfolding a hectometer away.

“Ella!” he screamed and was in motion immediately.

The scene played out in slow motion as he raced towards her. He observed Kerrington’s fall from his horse, and his evident injury, and then he saw his best friend scramble to his feet, trying to reach Ella, whose horse bucked and turned, determined to dislodge her from its back. Kerrington mounted in one swift movement, preparing to give chase. Along the periphery of his own vision, Bran glimpsed a man running towards the far side of the park, and as Bran closed in on Ella, he knew that when the viscount veered off, it was the culprit Kerrington chased, leaving Ella to Bran’s care. Ella’s horse charged at him at a full gallop.

Velvet raced after Bran, trying to reach Ella before her cousin lost her balance and landed broken on the ground. She wondered how something so chaotic could happen in London. The shot initially caused her to cringe, remembering the sting and the blood from her own close call, but she knew that she had to protect Ella and had to respond to Bran’s pure panic. She leaned sideways across the mare’s neck, clutching the horse’s mane as much as the reins.

Bran raced towards his sister, self-recrimination riding on his shoulder, telling him if something happened to Ella it was his fault. He saw Worthing abandon Eleanor to him as the viscount chased what Bran supposed to be the perpetrator. Rocking back and forth in the saddle, Ella fought for command over the mare. A woman of less horse experience would be lying broken upon the ground by now. He prayed to be in time–to be able to save his sister. Yet, less than a street length from her, with momentary relief, Bran observed another rider reaching for Ella’s reins, forcing her mare to a stand still. Coming closer, Bran hit the ground running, not even waiting for his horse to come to a complete stop. In one fell swoop, he pulled her from the saddle, lifting Ella to him, feeling her safely pressed in his embrace. “Ella, oh, Ella,” he cooed as he kissed the side of her head, shoving her hat away where he might see her face. “Oh, God, Ella!” Bran clutched her to him again. Heart racing, he looked over her shoulder at her rescuer, dismounting from his own horse.

Reaching the scene, at last, Velvet unceremoniously slid from her horse and raced to her cousins. Bran simply opened his arms and took her into his care. Breathing erratically, they simply clung to each other–needing no one else. Bran kissed first Ella’s temple and then Velvet’s forehead, feeling the relief of knowing they were safely in his arms. Although they hung back, a crowd gathered, observing the unusual activities. As they were new in town, no one knew the gentleman or the two ladies who occupied his embrace.

“Are you well, Miss?” the stranger stood with beaver in hand before them.

Bran finally opened his eyes to assess the situation. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he lowered his head to where he could speak to Ella only. He whispered, “May I release you to Velvet’s care so I might deal with your rescuer?”

Ella nodded her assent, and Bran loosened his hold on both women. He made purposeful eye contact with Velvet, silently instructing her to protect his sister, and then he stepped away from them, first slipping his handkerchief into Velvet’s hand. Walking towards the stranger, Bran took control of the situation. He needed to handle Ella’s rescuer and then disperse the gathering crowd. He wanted no more scandal associated with his family name. “My sister and I owe you our eternal gratitude, Sir.” Out of his eye’s corner, he saw Velvet assisting Ella in repairing her appearance as he bowed to the gentleman.

The man returned the bow. “My reward is your sister’s safety.”

“I am Thornhill.”

“Thornhill?” The stranger stood agape. “The Duke of Thornhill?”

Bran’s eyebrow rose in awareness. “I fear you have me at a disadvantage, Sir.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I am Levering. I did not realize you had assumed your father’s position. My parents were great friends of the former duke.”

“Sir Louis?” Velvet heard the familiar voice and turned to her cousin. “Lady Eleanor and I did not know you were in London. Look, Ella, your rescuer is Louis Levering. How many years has it been since we last saw you?” She gave him the obligatory curtsy.