Realm 07 - A Touch of Honor (6 page)

He had directed his “family” to a respectable inn and had ordered tea and refreshments. “I will return shortly,” he whispered to Satiné. “I must rent two coaches for our journey to York, as well as employ someone to escort Lady Fiona to her home.”

His wife’s frown lines met, but before she could respond, John heard a familiar voice call his name, and he winced internally. A smiling Brantley Fowler announced John’s poorly constructed lie would soon become public.

“Thornhill!” he called as he presented the duke a proper bow.

Fowler shrugged off the gesture. “None of that among friends,” he declared good-naturedly. “Did you just arrive? No one seemed to know the date of your return.” He shook John’s hand enthusiastically, but the moment Thornhill recognized John’s traveling companion became more than evident on the duke’s countenance. “You, Devil!” the duke declared excitedly. “You have brought our sister home.” Fowler stepped around John to capture Satiné’s hands. “My Dear,” he said affectionately, “you and my Velvet could be the twins in the family. Why did you not inform us of your return to England?”

John swallowed his trepidation. He claimed Satiné’s arm before saying, “We are brothers, in truth, Thornhill, for Miss Satiné is now Lady Swenton.”

John counted silently to five before Fowler recovered his composure. “Then I am most pleased. I wish you happy, but when did all this occur?”

John gestured to the table. “Perhaps it is best if you join us for tea, and the baroness and I will explain the urgency of our vows.” Thornhill nodded his agreement, and John continued. “But first permit me to make you acquainted with the baroness’s companion and my son’s nurse.”

The duke’s eyebrow jerked upward, but he said evenly, “Certainly, Swenton.”

John’s heart raced double time. He had practiced this speech repeatedly in the privacy of his quarters aboard ship, but he knew there were gaping holes in his fabrication. “Thornhill, may I present Miss Neville and Mrs. Tailor. Ladies, it is with pride I bring you the acquaintance of the Duke of Thornhill. His Grace is married to the baroness’s eldest sister.”

Miss Neville made a proper curtsy, while Mrs. Tailor executed a wobbly one. “Your Grace,” Miss Neville murmured softly. Then to John, she said, “Mrs. Tailor, the boy, and I will wait over there, Sir.” She gestured to another empty table. “You and Lady Swenton require privacy to discuss family matters with the duke.” Miss Neville curtsied to the table before catching Mrs. Tailor’s arm to escort the woman away. John appreciated the woman’s quick thinking.

He seated Satiné and then waited for what he knew would be barrage of questions from Fowler. Finally, the duke asked, “Does Wellston know of this development? I am not certain I approve of the speed of this joining.”

John glanced to his wife, who sat with downcast eyes. It vexed him she had exploited this opportunity by disguising her emotions. “Unfortunately, Thornhill, I compromised Miss Satiné many months prior.”

Fowler’s eyes darkened with disapproval. “I thought better of you, Swenton.”

“I have held Miss Satiné with deepest regard since I participated in her and Lady Yardley’s rescue in Scotland. Her withdrawal to the Continent did not lessen my affection for your wife’s sister.”

“And where did this seduction occur?” the duke hissed beneath his breath. John regretted the loss of Fowler’s respect. This explanation was more difficult than he had expected.

He knew he could not say he had first known Miss Satiné in Vienna for he had not been in Austria in well over eighteen months. “Miss Satiné and I became reacquainted in Paris.” He caught his wife’s hand under the table to will her to follow his lead.

Fowler glanced to where Mrs. Tailor gently rocked the child to sleep. “And the babe is a result of this
renewed acquaintance
?” the duke said testily.

“Yes.” John waited for Fowler’s next round of contempt. He prayed the duke did not challenge him to a duel.

Fowler’s gloved hand fisted upon the table. John had known the duke would not take well to the tale John spun. “And you have properly married Satiné?”

John kept his carriage perfectly erect. He sat tall to create the appearance of honorability. “I knew nothing of Miss Satiné’s condition. She had written to me, but we all know the mail service on the Continent is less than reliable. Your sister in marriage sought refuge with the former Baroness Swenton in Vienna.” He noted the surprise, which crossed Fowler’s expression. John had just confessed what each of the Realm suspected: the mysterious woman he regularly visited in Vienna was his estranged mother.

“Meanwhile, I received word of Lady Fiona’s taking ill. It was Christmastide, and the weather was too dangerous for a long sea voyage. Therefore, I crossed into Calais and set out on a southern route to reach Austria. The weather was against me. Lady Fiona had passed before my arrival. Within the late baroness’s papers, I discovered Miss Satiné had sought protection with Lady Fiona. I rushed to Miss Aldridge’s side; yet, again, I was too late. Rupert had come into the world a month early.”

“Then the boy will be your by-blow?” Fowler’s curt tone said his displeasure remained. “If you married after the fact, why not pay someone to change the day of the license?”

John had expected his friends to make the same assumptions, as had he. “It was difficult enough to find a Protestant service in Austria, and time was of the essence. I had made arrangements to bring Lady Fiona’s remains home to Marwood, and not many ships would accept the journey. We had less than a week to make all the arrangements. I will raise Rupert as my son and see to his future.”

Fowler stated the obvious. “But the boy cannot inherit the barony.”

John said bitterly. “No, but I will provide the child with an education, a living, and an estate.”

The duke turned to Satiné. “And what say you to this solution?”

She said softly, “Baron Swenton has done well by me and the boy. I could have known complete ruin.”

Fowler tapped his signet ring against the tabletop. “I can tell you both I am not pleased with the outcome. Having my nephew labeled a by-blow is not acceptable. There must be a more suitable solution.” Some dark, inexplicable emotion lodged in John’s chest. “I think it best if you travel to Thorn Hall, and we send for Baron Ashton. Perhaps, before your marriage becomes common knowledge, we can right all wrongs.”

John did not want to “right” the wrongs. He was willing to claim Rupert as his bastard son, but he would not turn the barony over to another man’s child. He would see it go to his despicable cousin, Miles Gates, before he would permit a child with no Swenton blood to inherit. “We planned to escort my mother’s coffin to Marwood,” he protested. “And to be honest, Thornhill,” he said with mocked composure, “I do not interfere in your marriage. I resent your doing so in mine.” The unmalleable resolve, which held his emotions in place, had splintered.

Satiné suggested, “Mayhap it is best if we hear out the duke’s objections. I would hate to deny Rupert a proper inheritance.”

John shot her a deadly glare. His wife knew his feelings regarding the boy’s paternity. “I remain adamant in my decision.”

“Yet, I am exhausted from the journey,” Satiné declared. “You know how difficult the voyage was on my health so soon after delivering the child, and once we are settled in York, I am not likely to have the opportunity to reunite with my sister.”

Fowler asked in concern, “You were ill aboard ship?”

“My wife succumbed to measles,” John explained.

“And the crew did not banish you from the ship?”

The ground seemed to collapse beneath his table. He recognized how he was being sucked into a never-ending lie, and John knew not how to escape. “Miss Neville and I tended Satiné. We spread the rumor the baroness knew seasickness.”

“You knew no complications? If you are to travel to Thorn Hall, I will not have either Velvet or my son exposed to the disease.”

Silence filled the space. “Although Lady Swenton has known a full recovery for the past sennight, it is right to err on the side of caution. You and Ashton are welcome to call at Marwood,” John summarized.

Satiné ignored his hint. “I assure you, Your Grace, I would never bring harm to your door, and I would be delighted to know my sister further.”

John growled, “But we must grieve for my mother’s passing.”

“How should we mourn a woman who deserted you? Such a public acknowledgement of Lady Fiona’s role in your life will only bring more notice to our speedy marriage. It might be best if we not speak openly of Lady Fiona’s return–to permit others to learn of it by chance.”

Part of his wife’s logic was sound, but John had an agenda when it came to returning his mother to her proper place upon the estate. It was his way to ward off the rumors, which had plagued his barony. People would know he and his mother were not estranged–would assume Lady Fiona had walked away from her marriage, but not her only child. It would prevent the looks of pity often found on his cottagers’ countenances.

Fowler suggested, “Send Lady Fiona’s remains to York. Come to Thorn Hall. Speak to the baronet. Sir Carter and Lady Lowery are hosting a supper party tomorrow. Introduce your wife to some of England’s best.”

John attempted to squash his irritation. “Of course, I would wish the baroness to know fine Society. But know I will not think of remaining more than two or three days at most. It is my intention to act honorably in my mother’s return to Marwood Manor.” He stood slowly. “Keep Lady Swenton company while I hire a coach for our use and employ others to transport my mother’s remains. Tell Satiné of your son, and permit my wife to speak of Rupert. The cousins must have much in common.”

John gritted his teeth as Thornhill slipped from the room. Upon their arrival in Kent, the duke had wasted no time in summoning Carter Lowery to his home. As Lowery owned the adjoining estate, the baronet had arrived on Thorn Hall’s threshold before John had had time to unpack his belongings.

“Why did you not confide in me?” Lowery asked with concern. Although the baronet was the youngest of the group referred to as the Realm, Sir Carter was Aristotle Pennington’s hand picked successor as the Realm’s leader.

“I did,” John insisted. “I told you I meant to travel to the Continent to tend an ill acquaintance. My mother suffered from a heart condition; Lady Fiona passed before I arrived.”

Lowery sat forward, his forearms resting on his thighs and closing the space between them. “Swenton, have you considered the consequences of what you had done?”

John stiffened with ire. “I have done nothing more than what each of you have done: I have married the woman I love.”

“But does Lady Swenton return your regard?”

“Bloody hell, Lowery!” he seethed. “It is no one’s business with whom I choose to share my life. I did not judge you or Kimbolt or Crowden or any of the others when you found your happiness. Why is it impossible for you to simply wish me well and mean it?”

Lowery collapsed heavily into the chair’s cushions. “Of course, I wish you happy, but you cannot think me a fool. There is no conceivable means for you to be the father of Satiné Aldridge’s child. If anyone in this world knows of your whereabouts for the last year, it is I.”

Lowery’s gaze demanded John meet it. They were matched in temperament; it was likely why they had worked so well together. “Bloody hell, Carter!” His teeth gnashed with the emotion coursing through him. “You understand honor better than any of us. What would you have me do? The lady whom I have desired for well over a year required my gallantry. I mean to claim the child–to provide Rupert my name, but I cannot permit the boy to inherit my ancestral home. That honor belongs to one of my own issue. For now, I require your assistance and not your censure. Could you convince Fowler to postpone his efforts to legitimatize Rupert’s birth?”

“This is what you wish, John?” Lowery asked earnestly.

“I have wanted Miss Satiné in my bed from the moment I first laid eyes upon her on the brim of that Scottish glass cone.” Thankfully, Lowery mentioned nothing of how his lady had chosen another–the man called
Henrí
; however, John did not fool himself into thinking the Realm’s future leader had not considered a similar line of thinking.

“How may I serve you?” Lowery asked obligingly.

“Rein in Thornhill,” John said evenly. “I will tend to the remainder.”

Lowery nodded his agreement. “You must know even though he is too impetuous, Fowler has your best interest.”

John savored the small victory. “I prefer your having my best interest. The duke is likely to speak for his wife’s sister rather than the Swenton name.” His heart lurched: His words spoke of betrayal. John shook off the encroaching maudlin. “I would claim one more favor of you. This one is for Miss Neville, Lady Swenton’s companion.”

Lowery smiled secretively. “The one you hired to keep you informed of Miss Aldridge?”

A faint answering smile curved John’s lips: Something about Miss Neville always made him feel a bit odd inside. “The very one. Miss Neville is quite intelligent and very opinionated. She reminds me of Lady Lowery.”

Sir Carter laughed easily. “Heaven forbid there is more than one Lucinda Rightnour Lowery in the world. If such a woman exists, then I must have the lady’s acquaintance. How may I serve your Miss Neville?”

Although he enjoyed the idea, John protested, “Miss Neville would not appreciate your referring to her as belonging to any man.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “Miss Neville’s father Eoghan Neville is an archaeologist and preserver of antiquities. For the past seven years, Neville has served in one capacity or another under Thomas Bruce and Giovanni Lusieri. He went missing some eighteen months prior. Miss Neville accepted my offer of a position in Satiné’s household in order to use the settlement I offered to hire someone to search for her father. The lady has searched for a lead, but doors are often closed to a woman.”

“I have connections to Lord Elgin, but I believe Lusieri is out of the country. I will send out overtures and inform Pennington of why I mean to question Lord Elgin.” Lowery stood to leave. “No matter what the issue, John, please know I remain your confidant. Promise you will seek me out. It is not necessary for you face the world alone.”

John frowned. “If my marriage brings scandal, it could ruin your career, Lowery.”

The baronet chuckled. “Lady Lowery once used that possibility as an excuse as to why she could not accept my proposal. Tomorrow, she will host several of the most influential of England’s political powers. One never knows…”

“The duke has already added Lady Swenton and me to your guest list. Hopefully, Lady Lowery can manage three more,” John said sheepishly. “I am certain Lady Swenton will wish to flaunt her new position by having Miss Neville as part of your group.”

“Yes, the duke sometimes forgets his dukedom does not extend to Huntingborne Abbey, but I would have made the invitation. I wish you to have my wife’s acquaintance so you might heartily congratulate me on my intelligence.”

John said sagely, “And I request the same acknowledgement from you.”

*

Isolde sat in a dark corner of the duchess’s favorite sitting room and observed her mistress and the baroness’s sister. She saw no reason for her presence, other than the baroness liked the idea she had a paid companion and the duchess did not. From her limited observations, she thought the sisters were very much of the same nature. All of which the two spoke was fashion and titles.

“A baroness!” The duchess said fondly, but from Lady Swenton’s expression, Isolde’s mistress had not been pleased with the distinction.

“It is nothing compared to your and Cashémere’s titles,” Lady Satiné had said a bit too testily, “but the baron’s protection came when most required.” She said wistfully, “There was a time I had thought to know much more.” Isolde had strained to hear the conversation. She held no knowledge of Lady Swenton’s acquaintances prior to Isolde’s coming to serve the girl or of the identity of the child’s father, but it seemed important to learn all she could. “Yet, it was not to be.”

The duchess had snarled, as if in displeasure. “I was certainly surprised by the speed of your acceptance of Baron Swenton’s proposal; yet, I understand the need. I had hoped you would return to England to claim Lord Lexford’s heart. The viscount is of finer countenance than is the baron. Lord Swenton is one of the most difficult of Thornhill’s associates to know. I have always found your husband quite unsociable.”

Isolde imagined the baron held no patience for a woman possessed of nothing but her fine looks. She and the baron had had several heated exchanges regarding books and politics during their short acquaintance: Despite the duchess’s evaluation, he was a man of depth. She watched the baroness to observe if the lady would defend her husband, but Lady Swenton said with a shrug of disappointment, “The baron does not have the fine cut of Thornhill or Lords Worthing or Godown or Lexford. They each have outshone my husband in figure and countenance.” Her mistress’s betrayal rubbed raw against Isolde’s honest nature, and she bit her tongue to prevent a denial of Lady Swenton’s words.

The duchess lowered her voice, but Isolde could make out the elder sister’s words. “Then why marry Lord Swenton? Surely Uncle Charles could have financed the attentions of an Italian
conte
to save your reputation. If you were not to marry for love, a more substantial title could have been arranged. I am certain Thornhill would have assisted our uncle. It was not necessary for Lord Swenton to claim his child, and to do so with scandalous intent… It is beyond the pale. Why did you not place the boy in a home?”

“As for my reasons for accepting the baron, at the time I thought him my savior. I was at such a low,” Lady Swenton admitted openly. “And as to leaving the boy behind, I could never do so.” Isolde thought this statement most odd for her mistress rarely asked of the child and had never made to hold the babe.

The duchess asked, “Was the baron tender in his seduction? Did you enjoy Lord Swenton’s attentions?”

Isolde knew Lady Satiné meant to deny knowing the baron in such intimacy, at least, in knowing His Lordship prior to their leaving Vienna, and she panicked, searching for a means to block Lady Swenton’s refutation; yet, her mistress swallowed her response, and Isolde breathed easier. “Lord Swenton treats me kindly.” Despite the baroness’s assurance, Isolde noted the lady’s shiver of revulsion.
Had the baron demanded his husbandly privilege during those long hours Lord Swenton had kept his wife company after her recovery onboard ship? Had Lady Swenton thought the baron abhorrent?

“I suppose that is the most for which you can hope.” The duchess’s expression turned to one of sympathy. “Yet, I admit I had held such great hopes that you, too, would know a superior situation, and you would discover love.”

Lady Swenton’s bitterness filled her tone. “I cannot compete with my sister, the duchess, or my twin, the countess, who both have married for true affection. I am a mere baroness and married to a man whom I barely know.”

*

John escorted Satiné into the Huntingborne Abbey drawing room set aside for the evening’s entertainment. The changes in the manor’s décor had pleasantly surprised him. Lady Lowery’s touch was everywhere, and he had thoroughly approved: The room spoke of simple elegance.

“Ah, Swenton,” Lowery greeted him. “Welcome to my home.” The baronet presented a proper bow to Satiné before extending his hand to John.

John smiled for the first time that day. Last evening, he and Satiné had argued over whether they would share a bed while at Thorn Hall. John remained anxious to claim his wife. They had been married a little over a month, and they had shared less than a half dozen kisses during that period.

“What if one of Thornhill’s servants hears us?” his wife had argued.

“It is not as if we are planning some sort of illicit tryst,” he had growled. “We are man and wife, and I imagine Thornhill and the duchess demand their servants’ discretions.”

“If you insist,” she had said on a sob before stretching out across the bed and squeezing her eyes shut, as if to deny his presence.

John had stared at the rigidity in his wife’s body. She braced for the worst. Satiné had considered him an ogre. “Damn you, Satiné!” he had accused. “I will not hurt you!” With that, he had stormed from her suite to return to his adjoining quarters to drink a decanter of the duke’s finest brandy, something he would never have done before marrying Miss Aldridge.

“Permit me to reacquaint you with my baroness, Lowery.”

The baronet bowed over Satiné’s hand. “We are pleased you have returned to England, Lady Swenton.”

“Thank you, Sir Carter,” his wife said softly. “You have a delightful home.”

Lowery smiled easily. “It is not as grand as Thorn Hall, but Lady Lowery and I enjoy it. It is perfect for entertaining small parties and for raising a family. I am quite content.” Lowery’s words brought a twinge of jealousy to John’s chest. Would he ever wear the smile of satisfaction each of his friends sported?

Lowery reached for a petite blonde, and the lady came readily to his side. “My Dear,” he said as he brought the woman’s knuckles to his lips. “You recall Baron Swenton, do you not?”

“Of course, I do. Welcome, Lord Swenton.” The baronet’s wife glowed with confidence.

Lady Lowery’s gaze fell upon Satiné, and John made the introductions. “I am pleased you could join us, Baroness.” She presented Satiné a curtsy of respect, but John noted how Lowery’s lady shot a glance to her husband–one of confirmation. Confirmation, of what, he could not say, but John suspected the Lowerys had had an intimate discussion regarding his hasty marriage.

He turned to the lady behind him. “Sir Carter. Lady Lowery. May I present my wife’s companion, Miss Neville.”

Isolde Neville dropped a perfect curtsy. “Thank you, Sir Carter, for including me among your guests this evening.”

“Nonsense.” Lady Lowery declared with open acceptance. “Sir Carter’s associates will be pleased for the acquaintance of another female. Come along, and I will introduce you.” She smiled at her husband. “I assumed, Sir, you would wish to claim the introduction of the new baroness.”

Sir Carter chuckled softly. “I understand your orders, my Dear. The Swentons and I will keep our guests entertained while we await Thornhill’s arrival.”

“My sister and the duke shall not be long.” Satiné defended the Fowlers’ tardiness.

John and Carter exchanged a knowing look before the baronet said, “The duke and duchess prefer to make a pointed entrance, but I will not wait supper much longer. It would look poorly upon my wife’s hospitality, and I will not have Lady Lowery’s efforts disparaged by those in attendance.”

*

He had stood with his back to the empty hearth; his eyes fixed upon his wife’s smiling countenance. Since Sir Carter had introduced them to his guests, Satiné had smiled upon everyone, except him. He had spent the meal on Lady Lowery’s left, while Satiné had been placed across from the duchess on Sir Carter’s left. She and her sister had monopolized the conversation at their end of the table, the gentlemen in attendance mesmerized by two beautiful women.