Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere (7 page)

At a run, Marcus darted between the buildings and climbed a high fence to guarantee that Fowler made it into the building’s upper level. If the duke failed, it fell to Marcus to complete the assignment. He waited in the alleyway as Fowler managed to lower himself over the building’s edge and get a finger-hold on the window frame.

“Anything?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Fowler peered through the window and shook his head in the negative. Then the duke began to frantically kick at the window, sending shards of glass tumbling to the ground, and Marcus took cover, but he watched carefully for Fowler’s success.

“Stop Jamot’s return!” Fowler ordered before crawling through the window.

To Marcus, that meant his friend had found Miss Aldridge. Leaving the duke to do his job, Marcus scrambled over a low wall and dropped onto the street level just as Jamot exited the inn. As if he had no cares, the Baloch carried a loaf of bread under his arm. He strolled leisurely toward the warehouse. The man actually whistled a tune. The docks were a good place for the Baloch to blend into English society. In London, Jamot would stand out.

Marcus motioned to Satiné to cross the busy street. On cue, she darted from beside the warehouse and crossed behind a merchant’s cart, before racing into a dead end alleyway.

As predicted, Jamot took notice of the blue dress and coal black hair. The man threw down the loaf of bread and walked quickly to the alley’s opening. Marcus raced to the pawnshop, bursting through the main door and pushing his way toward the rear entrance. The plan was for Satiné to enter the building through the back, but when he reached the door, boxes blocked the entrance. Had Baron Ashton not made arrangements with the shop owner? “Damn!” He began throwing boxes to the side to reach the door. If Jamot caught Satiné, the man would kill her!

“What is it?” The baron realized the problem and began to shove boxes left and right. “Hurry!” he ordered, but Marcus already had broken furniture and glass items with his frantic pace. The baron turned to Cashé, who waited for her turn to appear. “Tell Lexford!” Morton yelled as he lifted a huge carton.

Cashé ran for the front, but when she reached it, neither Lexford nor his valet was in sight. It was upon her shoulders to save Satiné. Taking a deep breath, she edged toward the opening. She could hear the dark-skinned man curse as he turned over stacked boxes. Cashé had no idea where Satiné hid, but it was only a matter of time before the man found her. So, brazenly, Cashé stepped into the opening and purposely cleared her throat. She paused but a second to assure that their enemy had seen her, and then she hurried across the busy street into the blacksmith’s shop. They had planned for the foreigner to follow her to the church, but she did not have time to reach the building’s safety before the man would overtake her, so Cashé chose the smithy instead. Luckily, the young apprentice had not seen her sneak in. Neither did he see her hurry pass the tack room and exit the stables, where she caught at the fence rail to steady her knees. “I made it,” she said with some triumph in her voice. Taking a few quick gulps of air, Cashé started again for the church.

Marcus caught the door’s handle at last. He could hear Satiné trembling against the wood as he jerked the door wide and pulled her roughly into his embrace. Her heart raced as did his, and he refused to release her. Not since Maggie had he felt the frustration of not being able to control his fear.

“Let me see to Cashémere,” the baron said, but Marcus only nodded his agreement. He had told Miss Satiné that he would protect her, and he had come very close to failing again.

“Look at this mess!” The shopkeeper complained from behind him.

Marcus glared at the man. “I should slit your throat from ear to ear,” he growled. “When I finish my business, I will be back to settle with you.” He did not say whether he would take revenge on the man or pay him for his damages. At the moment, even Marcus did not know which he had meant. He opened the back door again and led Satiné to the rear of the church. She would wait there while they lured Jamot to the building.

The baron followed Jamot to the blacksmith’s, where he found the Baloch strong-arming the smith’s apprentice. Not seeing Cashé anywhere, Ashton assumed the guise of a blundering aristocrat. “What goes on here?” he charged.

His interference had irritated Jamot, but it had stopped the Baloch from hurting the young man. Having broken up the tussle, Ashton stepped aside as Jamot shouldered his way past the baron. “Out of my way!” Jamot had snarled.

Then Ashton saw her. Cashé paused on the church’s threshold and then entered the building. The baron admired her bravado; she had played her part magnificently. Immediately, Jamot followed, so Ashton apologized to the youth and exited through the back of the stables to join the others at the church.

Marcus gave the signal before entering the church. He led Satiné to an alcove and told her to wait, and then he realized Kimbolt was alone. “Where is the baron and Miss Cashé?” he demanded.

“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.

“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.