Realm 07 - A Touch of Honor (2 page)

John released his pent up breath. “Thank you for your caring nature, Miss Neville.” He bowed stiffly. “I am prepared if the lady is.”

Miss Neville glanced to the decanter. “You chose not to indulge in the claret. It is not to your taste, Sir?”

Despite the swarm of bees occupying his stomach, John managed a smile of bemusement. “I am not much of a drinker: I fear heavy spirits blacken my disposition.”

“I have only our short acquaintance upon which to base my opinion, but I could never imagine your lacking control, Baron Swenton,” she said evenly.

John thought,
Jeremiah Swenton never tolerated a lack of control. Only the Baroness Swenton had ever acted without consideration of the late baron’s wishes.
”Lead on, Miss Neville,” he said evenly. “It is time I earn my reputation.”

He followed her up the main stairs to a third storey suite of rooms. When the door swung wide to admit him to Miss Aldridge’s bedchamber, John’s heart did a foolish flip. She was as he had always imagined her: Miss Satiné’s coal black tresses spread across her shoulders, and her pale skin glistened in the candlelight. It was his fantasy come to life.

“Miss Aldridge,” he said upon a rasp before offering her a proper bow. He had yet to enter the room.

Miss Satiné’s eyes rose to meet his. “Baron Swenton,” she said with cold politeness. “Please come in, Sir. How kind of you to call upon me. If I had known you were in Vienna…”

“I came on family business,” John explained, as he took one step closer. “Please forgive me for pressing my wish to renew our acquaintance.”

She nodded her agreement. “Gladly, Sir, if you will forgive my receiving you under less than pristine conditions.”

John swallowed hard. “I have always been of the persuasion, Miss Aldridge, to forgive you anything.”

“Come, sit,” she said more cordially. “Isolde tells me you wish only to assist me.”

“Isolde?” he asked with a frown. In myths, Isolde was an Irish princess.

“I am Isolde,” Miss Neville explained from somewhere behind him.

John nodded. “Of course. I should have understood immediately.” He forced his feet forward. Assuming the seat Miss Aldridge had indicated, John filled his senses with the lady’s beauty. From the first moment, he had laid eyes upon her, he had thought her the most magnificent woman of his acquaintance. True, Miss Aldridge favored her older sister, Velvet Fowler, the Duchess of Thornhill, and was the twin to Cashémere Wellston, the Countess of Berwick, but in Swenton’s estimation, Satiné Aldridge held a magically ethereal vulnerability not found in her siblings.

“It grieves me for you to discover me in such deplorable conditions. You have been a loyal friend to me, Baron, and then your recommendation to Uncle Charles of Miss Neville has been a Godsend.” John sent a quick glance to Isolde Neville; evidently she had kept his instructions regarding how she came to serve Miss Aldridge. He appreciated the lady’s allegiance.

“We all were most concerned with your recovery after your ordeal in Scotland,” he solicitously remarked. When her uncle had left her alone in Italy and had returned to England, it had taken all John’s hard-honed control not to storm Chesterfield Manor and beat Baron Ashton to within an inch of the man’s life. Instead, he had used his contacts with Wellston and Fowler to learn of Miss Satiné’s whereabouts, and then he had taken it upon himself to write to the woman. He had encouraged her to call upon his mother in Vienna and to permit Lady Fiona to provide Miss Satiné with the proper introductions. Finally, he had begged his mother to grant him the favor of writing to Miss Aldridge and inviting her to join the baroness at Lady Fiona’s summer home. Of course, he had not spoken of his true relationship to Lady Fiona to Miss Aldridge; his mother would not have cooperated if he had, nor had he admitted to Lady Fiona his interest in the youngest of the Aldridge sisters. His actions had been beyond the pale, but if anyone had called him on them, John would have gladly have spoken his plight to Miss Aldridge.

“Yes,” she bitterly spit the words. “My life changed forever when I permitted my vanity to rule my better judgment. I should have accepted Lord Yardley’s initial attentions. Instead, my sister has claimed the title, which should have been mine.”

John did not care to think on the possibility either Marcus Wellston or Aidan Kimbolt might have claimed her. “Your life is not over,” he said lamely.

Tears flooded her eyes. Through sobs of despair, Miss Satiné lamented, “I am certain Miss Neville has spoken of my fall from grace.”

John looked to where Miss Satiné’s companion waited patiently in the shadows. Their eyes met and held for several elongated seconds, and a new awareness crept into John’s being, but he denied its appearance with a shake of his head. “Miss Neville simply insisted I extend my benevolence. Perhaps it is best if you tell me what I should know. As always, I am your servant.” He handed her his handkerchief. His nerves reverberated, as taut as a harp’s strings. John was not certain he cared to think of her with another. His insides tightened into a knot as he waited for the lady’s response.

“In my conceit, I had thought… In truth, I do not know what I thought.” Her tone harshly shredded all John’s illusions. “Even though Uncle Charles assured me Charters had not…had not…”
Violated me
. John’s mind announced the dreaded words. “I could not abandon the image of…” Her hands cut the air in wild gestures.

John leaned closer and lowered his voice. He did not think it necessary for Miss Neville to be privy to all Miss Satiné’s sordid details. “You need not speak of the Scottish events. Instead, explain how you came to accept another’s attentions.”

“It was all so foolish,” she whispered through a watery smile. “He was so sophisticated.”

John bit the inside of his jaw to keep from crying out against the injustice. He should have come to Vienna sooner. Should have made his proposal known earlier. “If you will speak his name, I will call upon the gentleman. A marriage now would not be ideal, but if you are willing, a clergy can be found in one of the smaller villages who, for a price, would post date the marriage certificate to reflect a time before the child’s birth. It will not be an uncomplicated doing, but I maintain connections in the area. I have resources I will place at your disposal.”

Her tears had returned. “You have always been so kind of me,” she wept.

John fisted his hands so as not to reach for her. “You are the youngest sister in marriage of two of my dearest companions,” he assured.

She dabbed at her eyes, and John knew misery. He had been furious on the day he had assisted Marcus Wellston and Lucifer Hill with the rescue of the Aldridge twins. Furious at what all Miss Satiné had suffered. The moment he had pulled the girl over the lip of the glass cone and into his embrace, he had wanted her. Memories of that one brief moment had nourished his hopes for well over a year. Now, they were dashed. “I thought,” she said with glistening eyes, “we knew more familiarity than my being the sister to both a duchess and a countess.”

A heartbeat of silence elapsed. He read what he thought were her expectations in the painfully acute expression, which crossed her countenance. John felt a probing shudder run along his spine. Although the words had come easily to his lips, as quickly as he had spoken them, he knew he had made an error. “You must know, Miss Aldridge, I hold you with the highest esteem.”

“If only…” She sighed heavily. “It seems I spend so much of my time of late with
if only
.” She looked so very young. Her complexion creamy. Her lips so kissable. The nearness of her swarmed John’s reason.

John gave a small shake of his head. “I must see to your immediate marriage.” The implication that Miss Satiné might have chosen him if he had not postponed his return to Vienna tore his heart to shreds.

“I fear, Sir, it is too late. The gentleman has departed the country,” she said in a voice barely more than a whisper. Her green eyes shone with the tears she readily shed.

John purposely shook off her protestations. “My connections are extensive, Miss Aldridge. All I require is a name.”

Tears streamed down Miss Satiné's cheeks. “The gentleman has a wife,” she confessed.

Air rushed from his lungs while John murmured a curse he would prefer to shout to the Heavens. “You knew…you knew of the man’s wife?” he stammered.

A sadness, which matched his own, crossed Miss Satiné's countenance. “Not until afterwards.”

John’s blood ran cold, while dread raced through his veins. The full magnitude of her situation slammed against his heart. Miss Satiné had turned so pale he thought she might faint. A laden silence stretched between them. Finally, he reached for her hand. Clearing his throat, he said, “I realize I am not the man you wished to call ‘husband,’ but I would be blessed among men if you would accept my hand in marriage.” From behind him, he heard Miss Neville gasp, but John held Miss Aldridge’s gaze. The moment was not as he had imagined it, and John wondered if the differences spelled doom.

“I cannot permit you to sacrifice…” Miss Satiné began.

However, he interrupted her. “It would be no sacrifice. I am the only one of my associates, who has not taken a wife, and I have thought of us often,” he admitted. “We can marry quickly. I have papers to sail to England at week’s end. I can book additional passage…”

“What of the boy?” she asked. “Am I to leave the child behind?”

John frowned deeply. “I would not… It is not in my nature to abandoned a child… I had not thought…”

Miss Satiné slid her small hand from his grasp. “I…I understand. I release you, Baron, from your offer. It was kind of you to stand in my defense.”

John was on his feet and pacing the small opening between her bed and the windows. “I do not wish to be released,” he declared. “But to accept another’s child as the future baron would be a betrayal of all my father held most holy. I have a responsibility to the title.”

“The Earl of Berwick always said you were of your father’s nature,” she affirmed with a bit of petulance.

John jammed his fingers into his hair. “That particular fact may be so, but in this matter I cannot relent.”

“Then we are at an impasse,” Miss Satiné said bitterly.

John rolled his eyes heavenward. The woman he had desired for the past year and a half could be his if he could find a means to settle the child’s parentage. Never could he desert the child to an orphanage. Never would he permit the boy to possess no knowledge of its parents. He had experienced the stigma of his mother’s absence, and John could not inflict such pain on another innocent.

“What if I claim the boy, but we admit I did not arrive in time for our vows to be pronounced before the child’s entrance in the world?”

“Say my son arrived early?” Her voice held dismay.

John’s gaze met hers. “It will be several weeks before we reach England. No one will know the child’s age. I will provide the boy a gentleman’s education, property when he is of age, and the protection of my name. It is not an ideal solution, but it would provide any children of our joining their rightful position in Society.”

“Rupert would be your by-blow.” She spit out the word.

“No,” John assured. “The boy will know only that he was conceived in honor. It is the most I can offer, Miss Aldridge. Mine is a superior solution to the child possessing no father. You would return to England as my baroness. I will draw up papers to protect the boy; they will be part of your marriage settlement. You may have your man of business review them. I promise to act with merit.”

Her forehead scrunched up in disbelief. “You would tell your associates a prevarication to protect my reputation?”

John’s senses were far sharper than he would prefer. Part of the code of the Realm was built on trust: No one could rely on a man who would speak untruths to his closest friends. He had always thought of himself as an honest man, but he openly plotted to deceive his Realm brothers. “Of course, we must speak a version of the truth to both Thornhill and Yardley. The others need not know more than you are my wife, and I have given the child my name.”

Her expression held a bittersweet quality. “Then I accept, Baron Swenton. Your offer is most generous.” Her tone was all politeness, but the tenor of the lady’s words reinforced the bargain he had just negotiated: a Devil’s bargain.

In his dreams, after her agreement, the lady had fallen into his arms, and John had kissed her senseless; however, the reality was quite different. An awkward pause followed Miss Satiné’s acceptance. Unable to decide whether to ask for the privilege of a kiss, especially with Miss Neville looking on, he executed a proper bow. “I will call tomorrow after I have made arrangements for the church and our passage to England.”

Miss Satiné made no move to rise from her bed to bid him farewell nor did the lady offer him more than a polite smile. “I shall anticipate your return,” she said softly.

John realized she did not love him in the same manner as he did her, but he would have welcomed a bit of enthusiasm on her part. Miss Satiné’s countenance displayed a canvas of blandness. Of satisfaction, but lacking in affection. With cold precision, she had accepted his proposal–had negotiated her terms, while he had countered with his position. A business agreement. A marriage of convenience. John had always sworn he would marry for love–that he would not make his father’s mistake, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind said he had done execute a similar bargain. “Then I should return to Auersperg.”

“You stay at the palace?” his lady asked with the interest he had hoped for her agreement.

“Yes, Prince Vinzens is a close associate of several of those with whom I served during the war.” It bothered him his betrothed’s eyes glistened with curiosity in speaking of the prince, where moments earlier they remained dull when thinking upon their joining. “I will not exhaust you further,” he said more bitterly than he intended. “I will call at two tomorrow. Perhaps you will feel well enough to walk out with me.”

“I shall do my best, Sir.”

“I shall show you out, Baron,” Miss Neville said softly from behind him.

John nodded curtly to Miss Satiné. “Until tomorrow.” With that, he turned on his heels to follow his betrothed’s companion through the narrow passageway.

At the main door, the girl retrieved his hat and gloves. “I am grievous, Sir, that your hopes were dashed,” she said earnestly, and John noticed how sadness rested in her gaze. The girl would never practice the art of deceit.

Resisting the urge to punch the nearest wall, he said tersely, “My hopes are none of your concern.”

Miss Neville blushed thoroughly. “Of course, Sir. I have spoken from turn. Please forgive me.” Her gaze never faltered, however. It was the first honest moment he had experience since entering Miss Satiné’s quarters, and the knowledge twisted his gut tighter.

Silencing his own misgivings was more difficult than silencing her empathy. “It is I who should ask your forgiveness, Miss Neville. When I arrived this evening, I meant only to assure myself Miss Satiné had recovered from what I had been led to believe was a serious illness. But, I am to face a new reality–that of future bridegroom. I have much to arrange before week’s end.” Pain knotted his entrails. “You could assist me by overseeing the packing of Miss Aldridge’s belongings, as well as that of the boy’s.”

“Certainly, Sir.” She shifted fractionally closer, and John felt something unfamiliar stir within his chest. “Should I seek a letter of recommendation from Miss Aldridge or you, Sir?” she whispered.

John eyed her carefully before asking, “Do you wish me to release you from your employment? I thought we held an agreement.”

A flush of color returned to her cheeks. “I assumed…”

“Do you not wish to return to England? Have you no one who would welcome you to English shores?”

The girl’s expression spoke of an emotion John did not recognize. “My father traveled to the Ottoman Empire several years prior, where he became involved with Thomas Bruce, Lord Elgin. Since then, he has gone missing. I have searched for him in Constantinople, but to no avail. I accepted this position in hopes of my father remaining upon the Continent and my learning more of his whereabouts.”

John’s frown lines met. “It is too dangerous for a woman alone in the city. I would prefer not to leave you behind. Return with Miss Aldridge as her companion. Meanwhile, when we reach London, I will ask my government contacts to open a search for your father. I have numerous contacts in the Home Office, which I can place at your disposal.”

She stammered, “You…you would do…would act on my behalf?” Disbelief crossed her countenance. “How may I repay you?”

“Continue to tend to my betrothed and the child, and I will consider any debt even. This is not an ideal joining, and I have use of an ally. I fear although I hold the longer acquaintance, you know more of my lady than I.”

It was Miss Neville’s turn to scowl. “You wish me to spy on Miss Aldridge and report to you?”

John was taken aback. He had not meant to instigate a wrangle. “Heavens, no!” he declared. He ran his fingers along the brim of his hat. “I…I am a bit of a blockhead when it comes to women,” he confessed awkwardly. God only knew, he had never been more uncomfortable. “Their means of communicating with just a gesture often passes my notice. Just…simply warn me if I have placed my fist within my mouth.”

She smiled easily; it was the first time he had felt his shoulders relax since he had entered Miss Aldridge’s apartments. “I cannot imagine your desiring confidence, Baron, but I love the idea of playing matchmaker.” Somehow, John thought the lady would make a perfect intercessor. Anything of significance did not escape her notice, and Miss Neville possessed the type of character, which placed a person at ease.

*

Disappointment met him when John returned to Miss Aldridge’s modest rooms the following day. The lady remained confined to her quarters. He had had a frustratingly busy day, and he had prayed for some time alone with his fiancée. Although they were engaged, he could not conduct his courtship in her bedroom. He wished to walk out with Miss Satiné on his arm, to escort her to the theatre, and to steal a kiss. Other than when he had lifted her over the lip of that glass cone in Scotland, John had never embraced her–never touched the silkiness of Miss Satiné’s skin–never permitted his lips to skim her cheek.

“I suppose you should escort me to Miss Aldridge’s quarters,” he said with disenchantment.

Miss Neville nodded obediently. “This way, Baron.”

John grudgingly followed the woman up the stairs. The only thing he found pleasant about the situation was the gentle sway of Miss Neville’s hips as she climbed the narrow stairs. Since arriving in Vienna and knowing the anticipation of calling upon Miss Aldridge in person, John had had more sexually charged fantasies than usual. He would be happy to marry Miss Aldridge quickly and squash his lust.

“Baron Swenton, Miss Aldridge,” Miss Neville announced as she led the way into Miss Satiné’s rooms.

As he had done the previous day, John paused to drink in his betrothed’s perfection. Fragile beauty. Her hair thick and heavy balanced upon her head. As fresh as a dew-laden rose. “Oh, Baron,” she said with an easy smile. “I do so apologize for my infirmity; I did truly attempt to greet you properly, did I not, Isolde?”

From behind him, Miss Neville said, “Of course, Miss Aldridge,” but something in the lady’s tone said she did not approve–whether of her mistress again entertaining a man in her bedchamber or of Miss Satiné’s true efforts, John was uncertain. He scowled in response to the possibility of his betrothed’s lack of keenness for his company.

With an enticing pout, Miss Aldridge said, “I see I have displeased you, Sir. How might I change your frown to a smile?”

John’s body reacted to the pursing of her luscious lips. He wished to tell her to send Miss Neville away and to permit him into her bed. Surely that would place a permanent smile upon his lips. Instead, he said, “Perhaps you might call me
Johnathan
or
John
.
Baron
remains too formal.”

“Certainly, Sir. I mean,
John
.” His betrothed blushed prettily. “Come sit beside me, and tell me of your day.”

The coil between John’s shoulders finally relaxed. He accepted the edge of the mattress his fiancée patted with a welcoming gesture. He cocked his leg at a forty-five degree angle and sat beside her–his thigh along her hip. The fact they were both fully clothed, and her lower body was covered by the counterpane did not reduce the thrill of this newfound intimacy. “I fear I have not known as much success as I had hoped,” he confessed. John wished to capture her hand in his: Satiné’s nearness ate at his composure. Although he had welcomed the opportunity to treat her with familiarity, his desires rose quickly when he filled his lungs with her scent.

Evidently, she did not experience the same intensity as he for Miss Satiné asked without true notice, “How so? Did you not discover a clergy to perform the service?”

“Prince Vinzens believes he has located such a man. I pray Auersperg speaks the truth or else we might be forced to wait until we arrive in England,” he confided. John did not wish to delay their joining. Each day they remained unmarried would open her further to the
ton’s
scrutiny.

“I am not familiar with the prince,” she shared. “Since my coming to Vienna, my days of associating with the socially elite have been numbered.”

“I thought you had joined Lady Fiona’s set. I had asked Fiona to see to your pleasure when you arrived in Vienna.” As an adult, John had never called Fiona Swenton “Mother.” He had done so only once when he was a small child, but the late baroness had smacked his mouth quite soundly with her open palm. “You are never to call me that nasty word again!” she had demanded. “I am Fiona.” Her icy glare had frightened John thoroughly.

“Fee,” he had murmured through his tears of pain and humiliation.

“That will do until you are older,” his mother had declared with a forced smile. From that day forward, John had promised himself he would never permit another woman to bring him such pain.

Miss Satiné’s countenance held consternation, and John wondered if his mother’s letters had exaggerated Miss Aldridge’s success in Austrian society. “Lady Fiona was most kind,” she said politely. Although he knew Lady Fiona would not think on Miss Aldridge as a possible daughter in marriage, he recognized his mother’s obsession with beautiful young people, and Miss Satiné was among the most beautiful of John’s acquaintance.

Occasionally, when he had served with the Realm upon the European continent, he would slip away to call upon his mother. Even without notice of his arrival, Lady Fiona always managed to recruit a lively party of artists, politicians, and scientists with a snap of her fingers. In the beginning, John had enjoyed the high-powered company. The atmosphere was such a contrast to the staid lifestyle he had lived in York. Drinks. Comely women. Intriguing conversation. Yet, with each visit, he could not shake the growing pity he held for his mother.

Lady Fiona had been a handsome woman, but filling her home with young minds and handsome countenances did not halt the march of time. She had been an aging aristocrat who refused to admit her youth had faded. Lady Fiona demanded the attentions of one penniless artist after another. With each, she financed the man’s budding career, and each had repaid her by becoming her lover. It was a shocking reality for a young man seeking a connection to a woman who had repeatedly rejected him. “How shall I ever convince Julius I am but in my thirties when you appear upon my doorstep claiming to be my son,” his mother had chastised upon one of his earliest visits.

“I will claim only a distant connection,” John had asserted. The suggestion seemed to please his mother–something he rarely had accomplished over the years.

She had patted John’s hand in satisfaction. “Despite Jeremiah Swenton’s influence, you have become an excellent young man. Enjoy yourself this evening, Johnathan.”

“I had heard your cousin had been ill.” Miss Satiné shifted her weight uncomfortably, and again John wondered what had occurred between his mother and his betrothed. John, above all others, knew the late Lady Fiona could be less than gracious if she thought another attracted too much attention or did not give the baroness sway. “I should have made a duty call, but…” Her voice trailed off.

“Lady Fiona passed some five weeks prior,” he explained. “Her illness was the source of my unanticipated journey to Austria.”

Miss Satiné’s disbelief spread across her countenance, and from where she waited in the shadows, Miss Neville said with sadness. “I held no idea Lady Fiona suffered so severely.”

Neither had John. If he had been aware of his mother’s heart condition, he would have rushed to her side. It saddened him a woman who was never without company had died alone with none but an elderly servant to look on. She had willed all her worldly possessions and estates to him, but John would have preferred one moment of true affection at his mother’s hand to replace that long ago slap.

“The Baroness Swenton,” he corrected. “Lady Fiona Swenton was my mother.” The emotions suddenly twisting his inside caused his chest to tighten. Although his and Lady Fiona’s relationship was a poorly kept secret, the fact he could claim the woman openly was liberating.

Miss Neville’s soft whisper broke the elongated silence. “Your mother? My sincere condolences, Baron.”

Miss Satiné’s response came a heartbeat later. “Certainly so. I grieve for your loss, John. If you wish to postpone our joining, I shall understand A period of mourning is required.”