.
Reuben turned the book in his direction, and read the words. “’Fare Thee Well’. You’re a Lord Byron patron?” He continued to stare at the book, while he struggled to get his heart under control. He’d come to the library today while following one of the lords whose actions of late had begun to interest him, when he’d run into Rose in the foyer. She’d slipped him a book, and told him to deliver the item to Rachel, in her office.
And in the chaos of the last week, this seemed his greatest task, yet. He’d decided to court her, but so far, he’d hadn’t found a way to do so, without investing his heart. It would have been easier, if she’d not been a woman he already cherished in so many ways, but speaking to her, even light flirting, all came from his soul, every word crafted in the burning heat of truth. She did make him forget every well-made plan he had at keeping his distance, whenever she was around.
He watched her pale-yellow skirts as she moved, not daring to meet her eyes.
“I am very much a fan of Lord Byron. As is, Lady J…”
Reuben lifted his eyes then, and stared at her. Immediately he thought of all his correspondances with Lady Jay, and wondered if the other woman had shared with Rachel all his many shortcomings. He’d shared with Lady Jay his concerns for Eastridge, more than he’d shared with any other. He pictured Rachel and Lady Jay, a woman who was only a shadow in his mind, laughing at his expense. Finding his inability to govern his own estate humorous.
Rachel stared back at him with her back straight, and her expression as cool as ever. “Give me the book.” She held out her hand once more, her dainty palm lifted and stiff.
“Tell me about Lady Jay,” he demanded.
She dropped her hand and started for the door. “I don’t have to tell you a thing.”
She was in his arms before she took a third step, fighting his hold, her curves rubbing against him, until she suddenly relented. His hands rested partly on her shoulders, and partially on the bare skin, above. His eyes fell to the curve of her throat and he watched color bloom over her skin, turning it a pale pink. Her pulse was visible, as was her rushed breaths, with the quick rising and lowering of her chest. Once again, he lost all common sense.
He leaned closer. He heard her breath catch as he pressed his cheek into her hair. She smelt of delicate petals and honey. He tightened his hold on her and growled. “What do you do to me?”
RACHEL DIDN’T know how to respond, but her body did. It grew warm, and she had to fight the urge to lean back against him, to press her back against his chest.
The troubling thought brought back to mind why she’d teased him with Lady J’s identity, to start with. How would he feel, if he knew it was her that had been helping him, all along? Would he hate her? Turn against her? It was likely he wouldn't believe her, either way. Men usually thought a lady dim in the mind. She nearly feared that reaction, but thought it the only way to truly be rid of him.
Before he broke her heart again.
Before she placed all her greatest hopes into his hands again.
“I’m Lady Jay.”
His breath brushed her ear. “Impossible.” Then his body went brittle, and she tensed, right before he spun her around. He was glowering at her. “Of course. I should have known it was you.”
Her eyes widened. “You believe me?”
He frowned further. “A lady whose father taught her everything she needed to know to run her own estate? Of course, she is you. Your father was no fool, and neither are you.”
She was surprised. “Are you angry?”
He studied her and shook his head before he sighed. “How could I be, when you’re one of my greatest supporters? I find that I trust you a great deal, Rachel.”
Something warm spread through her, and touched a place she’d thought she’d locked tightly away. But fear gripped her again, and she knew that while Reuben trusted her, she could no longer say the same. She trusted him to protect her with his life, but not her heart.
“Would you come with me for a ride through the park tomorrow?” he asked.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” He was watching her steadily once more, and he saw that hesitation again.
She turned away, rather than expose herself to him anymore.
“I hurt you,” he said in the silence.
She could hear her heartbeat, and the dulled noise of the street, outside the window. She tried to concentrate on that. On the turning of the wheels of carriages. The clip-clop of horse’s hooves. The shouts.
“I was likely the first man you’ve given a chance since Stacy.” His fingers touched her chin and steered her head toward his. “Am I wrong?”
It was a mistake she wouldn’t make again. “Since I’ve exposed myself, there’s no longer a need to write to Lady J anymore. If you have further inquiries about your land, you may ask my father.” She turned to the door again, and this time got her hand around the doorknob, but he intervened..
His hand rested on her hers, but he didn’t try to stop her. His grip was gentle, asking her not to go.
She turned the knob.
“Does that portrait of Lady Lush still sit by your bed?”
She thought it an odd question. “I moved it to my vanity.”
“You look like her at this moment. The yellow dress reminds me of it.”
She was surprised he’d remember such a small detail about her bedchamber. As her former footman, he’d carried quite a few of her purchases in and out of the room. She turned her head to look at him. “It seems many a man finds my mother attractive.” Far more than they’d ever thought Old Rachel.
His hand moved up to her cheek and their eyes held. “Surely, you don’t put me in that number?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” she whispered. “You didn’t wish to court me until I changed.”
“Surely you don’t believe that.” His brows furrowed. He waited for her response.
She thought about it and then closed her eyes. “No. not really. You seemed… uninterested before.”
“I was interested. I still am.”
She shook her head, to dislodge herself from his statement and the hand that touched her.
Then she felt a something hard touch her belly. She looked down, and found Reuben had pressed the book against her.
“Don’t forget this.”
She grabbed for it. Her hands, covering his. She waited for him to let go.
And yet, hoped he wouldn’t. She wanted him to make her stay. She wanted him to love her.
He spoke again. “At times, I feel as though I’ve no clue what to do with you.”
She lifted her head then, and said, “Then don’t approach me again, until you do.” And the minute his hand released the book, she fled.