.
Rachel and Aunt Esther were already waiting in the sitting room, by the time of Reuben’s arrival. Aunt Esther had arrived only hours before, and had taken a nap before hastily dressing for the evening ahead. She was in her late sixties, but her eyes seemed bright and ready for anything. She wore a dark gray dress and sat attentively.
It was simply unfortunate that Rachel’s fears as to her hearing had been accurate. The woman could barely hear a thing. Rachel was forced to speak quite loudly— nearly shout— just to ensure her aunt heard anything at all.
“You look lovely, darling.” Aunt Esther nodded approvingly at Rachel’s gown.
“Thank you,” Rachel shouted as she ran her fingers over the skirts.
Aunt Esther leaned forward and frowned. “What did you say, dear?”
Rachel sighed, just as the footman showed Reuben into the room, and she found herself unable to speak. His suit was dark, his waistcoat a deep lavender, with a silver threading that tied in with his buttons. His hair was swept back as usual, without fuss or fancy curls, but she paused at his eyes, and was rendered mute.
He was looking her over as well, and she fought to not touch her collar. The dress was lilac and silver, and she knew they’d look as though they’d planned their ensembles together. He smiled as he approached her. “You look lovely.”
“The same could be said about you.” She turned to introduce her aunt, but Lady Esther recognized him immediately.
“Smith!” The old woman looked him over. “My, you’ve changed, though not really. You did always look fine in a suit. Handsome. Quite handsome.” She turned to Rachel, then. “Why didn’t you tell me that Smith would be here?”
Rachel hadn’t known her aunt would remember Reuben, though she had to admit that Reuben was a hard man to forget, and while Esther’s hearing had declined, it seemed that everything else was in top working order. Reuben had matured, his features harder, but his eyes were the same.
“We no longer call him Reuben,” she said, shouting. “Lady Esther Niles, this is Lord Eastridge.”
Reuben’s eyes flickered widely at her volume, but then he put on a smile, and bowed over Aunt Esther’s hand. “My lady.”
Aunt Esther’s eyes widened. “You’re a lord? When did this happen?” She laughed. “Well, it’s so good to meet you, Lord Heesrich. How did this come about?”
Reuben straightened and offered an arm to Esther, before doing the same to Rachel. He ignored Esther’s incorrect pronunciation of his name, but did share with her the circumstances of gaining the title, as he escorted them from the house. Lucille was right behind them.
“When the war turned from a war against France, to a war against Napoleon, his soldiers and generals closest to him bowed out.”
“Mutinied,” Lady Esther said fervently.
“Yes, but what they don’t share, is that Napoleon tried to run. The allies captured him before he got far, and then we saw him to exile. When he escaped, we went back to hunt him down.”
“We?” Rachel said, cutting into the story. “You make it sound as though you’d done nothing special, on your own.”
He ducked his head. “War usually takes the effort of more than one man, but you are right. I was the one who led the men on the hunt for the war captive, and then again, fought in the battle at Waterloo, where I once again captured him.”
“My,” Aunt Esther seemed impressed.
Rachel smiled. “And that it how you became a viscount.”
He nodded. “Yes, that is how I became the Viscount of Eastridge.”
“Oh, Eastridge,” Aunt Esther said, correcting her earlier attempt at the title, as she was handed into the stately carriage.
“Do you do well in carriages?” His question was directed to Rachel once they were settled. The shadows spread over him like a blanket, and Rachel struggled to meet his eyes, much less know his expression.
“I beg your pardon?” Esther asked, leaning forward.
Rachel touched her aunt’s arm and leaned into her ear. “He’s speaking to me, Aunt Esther.”
“Oh!” The woman settled back in her chair. “Very well then. Carry on.” She seemed content to simply sit back and let the conversation flow around her. It was likely something Esther did frequently. With her hearing loss, she likely found it hard to engage with others, having to settle with sight alone. That saddened Rachel, but there was nothing she could do change it.
She turned to answer Reuben’s question. “I’m fine in carriages, so long as the windows remain open.” As they were now. “I thank you for your concern, but really it’s nothing to worry over.” Then she changed the topic to one she’d been thinking over since she’d left his home. “Have you been to the Curtis Cotton Factory by the docks?”
“No.” He straightened his legs, brushing hers, and she quickly retreated to give him room, but not before feeling the strength of his limbs. She had to force her mind to not stray as he spoke. “Why would I visit a cotton factory?”
She smiled. “On Sundays, Mr. Curtis allows the Best Home students to work on their crafts, whether it be with silks or wood. Not all of their work is polished, but many of the men and women who go, are very good. I believe it would be a fine place to look for furnishings for your home while keeping the cost in your… budget.”
She could hear the smile in his voice as he responded. “And by paying for these furnishings, I also support the Home’s former residents.”
“Yes.”
“Very clever,” Reuben said, and it sounded as though he meant it. “We can go next week.”
“We?” Her pulse leaped to a faster trot. “You wish for me to go with you?”
“With Lady Esther, if she’s up to it. I wouldn’t know where to begin furnishing my home. It’s best that you are there to pick out what would suit my home the most. I wouldn’t want to look the fool at the party.”
No, she agreed with his point to be wise, and yet… Rachel pressed her lips together and wondered if furnishing his home was the only reason he’d extended the invitation. Was it possible that all he really wanted was to spend time with her? Though, he was inviting Aunt Esther as well. “All right,” she said. “Next week, then, and I believe Aunt Esther would gladly accompany us.” She turned to her aunt to make sure, shouting her request loudly.
“How lovely!” Aunt Esther replied. “I do so enjoy art!” She smiled brightly, and Rachel was glad the idea pleased her. Art would be the perfect trip for her, since one didn’t need words to appreciate it.
That matter settled, Reuben moved on. “Does Lord Karl host often?”
Rachel nodded. “He and his brother enjoy the company.” She smiled. “They’re also known to invite quite a few members of the demi-monde, as well.” She didn’t have to see Reuben’s expression to know she’d caught him off guard. The silence was answer enough. It was rare for members of society to socialize with those people from the working class, who were growing in wealth. As a rule, all working class were to be beneath Society’s notice.
“He’s not a member of the Blue Blood Coalition,” Reuben stated.
“Far from it,” Rachel said. “Though there will be members of that group present, I believe.”
“Why?” Reuben moved forward, emerging from the shadows and coming into the faint light that flowed in from the driver’s lamp. “Why invite them, if he knows they’d never get along with the working class?”
Rachel laughed. “That’s just it! Lord Karl enjoys seeing the two groups together. He draws amusement from seeing them bicker and insult each other. It makes his parties legendary, actually. His parties are as though someone took the House of Lords, and the House of Commons, and locked them in a room together.”
He grunted. “Sounds deadly and dangerous.”
Rachel brushed her skirts. “Oh, it can be both. It grew quite physical last year.”
Reuben spoke with more force than he wished. “Who grew physical?”
“Who grew what?” Esther asked. “Are you speaking of flowers?”
Rachel had started as his question, but quickly turned to her aunt. “No, Aunt Esther.” She patted her aunt’s hand, and turned back to him.
If this party was anything like she'd described, then it would the perfect hunting grounds to find either the assassin, on anyone connected to him.
Rachel paused with her lips slightly parted. An expression of quiet thought settled in her eyes.
He’d called her lovely, but she was truly riveting. He’d never found such a virtuous creature so alluring, yet he couldn’t help but think about all the ways he wanted to corrupt her. He fought to keep his mind on the conversation, as her mouth finally moved to form words. “Lord Dabney started the fight with one of the coal mine owners. I believe his name is Mr. Palmer.”
Reuben knew of Palmer, and since he neither frequented society, or was part of the aristocracy, he put him aside. “Dabney?” He was familiar with the family name.
“John Dabney,” Rachel sat with her legs off to the side, avoiding his rather long ones. Her posture was impeccable. “He’s the Earl of Kepson’s eldest son. He detests the working class.”
This party seemed as though it would have two clear sides, and Reuben struggled to know which side he stood on. He was titled now, but originally, and at heart, he would always be a member of the working class. He was working now, though he admitted that he took some pleasure in having Rachel with him.
As he’d made himself ready that afternoon, he’d had second thoughts on whether he was making the right decision. They’d ridden in a carriage— her father’s— on so many other occasions, that he’d been prepared for this one to be no different. Yet, sitting here with her, he couldn’t help but smell the perfume that permeated the air. It was delicate, and suited her so well. He knew the scent should have made him more cautious where she was concerned, yet he found himself shifting in his seat in an effort to keep his distance. The lady’s maid’s presence was likely the only weapon Rachel had, at holding him back.
But what would she have done if they were alone? What sort of touch would she have allowed?
As his thoughts grew more dangerous, he turned back to the conversation in an effort to distract himself. “Does Lord Karl know I’m coming?”
Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth, as though finally realizing where Reuben’s thoughts had already gone. “Oh, I didn’t think about how your presence might affect the night. No, Lord Karl doesn’t know you are escorting me. We’ve time to cancel. We shouldn’t go. Let’s turn back.” She looked worried.
He couldn’t allow that. “It’s all right. I want to go.”
She tilted her head and studied him from another angle. “Really? Are you sure?”
He pulled in a breath and was immediately greeted by her scent. The need to lean closer pressed upon him, but he refrained, keeping himself in the shadows where he belonged. “Yes, I’m quite sure I wish to go. Thank you for the invitation.”
They arrived at Lord Karl Wolfgang’s townhouse a moment later, and stood in line with the others as they waited to be greeted. Rueben tried to listen to the conversations around him, but Rachel’s fragrance still lingered in his lungs, and made it impossible for him to forget her presence on his arm. She held him firmly, as though she feared he would drift away, and whenever someone moved to step around them, she would press herself more firmly against him. The sensation was maddening.
“Esther?”
They turned, as Lady Joan Charles approached. She’d the Home’s first patron, and a friend of Esther’s. “It’s been years, dear.” She spoke loudly, obviously aware of Esther’s hearing loss.
Esther’s eyes widened. “Joan.”
The two women grabbed hands.
Lady Charles gave warm greetings to Rachel and Reuben, before continuing her conversation with Esther. They were both widowed women, and seemed to have other things in common.
Rachel then turned away and spoke to Reuben. “Oh, I see Susanna.” She turned to him. Her hair’s silken glow attracted the light from the lamps. “You remember Susanna, don’t you?”
“How could I not?” He moved forward with the crowd, taking Rachel with him, while minding Lady Esther, as well. “She was the only girl you ever let befriend you.”
“Why do you say it like that?” she asked, her brows rose slightly, and she lifted her chin. “She was the only girl I ever let befriend me. You speak as though I didn’t allow others?”
“That’s because you didn’t.”
She seemed awestruck by that. “That’s not true.”
He turned away as they moved closer to the front. “But it is. There was Susanna, and no one else.”
“Yes, but that was because no one liked me.”
He stilled, frowning. “No, Rachel. Everyone liked you. It was nearly impossible not to.” He remembered escorting her, Susanna, and Susanna’s companion at the time, to parks and parties for the youth. Everyone had adored Rachel. It was she who kept her distance, either hiding behind Susanna, or Reuben, himself.
Her eyes widened. “I don’t remember this.”
“I’m older. I have better memory.”
She stared into his eyes and then nodded. “I suppose you would. Do you recall why I didn’t like others?”
He shook his head. “I never understood it.” Yet he’d questioned it, and had been glad to be one of the few she’d allowed close.
“Did you like me?” she asked.
He turned away. “It didn’t matter. You were my mistress. I was a servant.”
“It matters to me. What employer wouldn’t care for her employee’s thoughts?.”
Many. It wasn’t unusual for a servant to all but hate their betters. That had never been the case in Woodleys’ home, though.
She tightened her fingers around his arm, all but forcing him to look at her again. “Reuben, did you like me?”
The question seemed so important to her, that he could not deny her an answer. “I did.” He still did.
“And you were my friend.” She said the words as a statement, but he could sense the question at the end.
He looked at her again, and smiled. “Yes, I was your friend, but I was a servant more than anything else.”
“No.” She pressed closer, even though no one moved to make it appropriate. Then she lowered her voice. “You were always more than a servant, and not just to me. My father liked you very much. You know that.”
He allowed himself to grin, and watched the muscles in her face relax. “I do know it. I was honored to have worked in your home.” A true statement, for there were many other homes where the masters and mistresses had not been so kind.
Her lips curved up and then something passed over her features and sadness snuck in. “I was quite distraught when you left. I believe I told you not to go.”
He recalled the day he told the family he had paid the commission to join the army. Rachel had cried. “You were engaged. If Stacy had… lived, you would have had very little use for me.”
“That’s not true.” She tugged him slightly. “I’d have brought you with me to Stacy’s home.”
He bent toward her and whispered, “You don’t think he’d have questions about you bringing a male servant with you?”
She was no longer smiling. Her hazel eyes glittered as the moved up the steps. “I needed you when he died.”
“Did you receive my condolences?” It was the only letter he’d ever sent Rachel once he’d left.
She nodded. “I wrote you a reply. Did you not receive it?”
He shook his head. “Mail was unreliable, especially if you weren’t an officer.” It had taken him two years to earn that rank. “I’m sorry.”
She smiled softly. “Well, I’m glad you’re here now.”
At that moment, he wished they were not in public, but alone, so he could hold her as he’d done in the hall at the Home, or as he’d done many times in the past. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her. “You still weep for him?”
“No,” she said quietly. “I find myself thinking of another gentleman at the moment.”
The words were slightly brazen, and dared him to ask to the question ‘who’, but he didn’t.
And then they were meeting their host.