.
“They say you are the luckiest man in London. And indeed, you are,” Lord Castell said to Reuben, as he bent over Rachel’s hand, two nights later.
She felt Reuben tense beside her, as the sly prince dared to brush his lips across her knuckles. Flirting was as much a part of Society as dancing. Surely, Reuben knew that.
But one look in his direction, and she noticed the violence that rested in Reuben’s eyes, and for a moment she thought coming to the musicale a bad idea. In the park, both men had seemed affable. She’d thought their conversation had gone well enough. Now, she wasn’t sure.
She retracted her hand from the prince and smiled. “Thank you for the invitation, my lord. We are honored.”
“Are you?” Frederick was grinning at Reuben, reminding her of a child who poked sticks at vicious dogs who were caged, but were just as likely to run, if the dogs were capable of breaking from their confinement. Reuben may have looked more than dashing in his tailored suit, but Rachel could sense the soldier underneath, the crown’s weapon that had managed to find Napoleon not once, but twice!
Rachel moved Reuben away— which took a great amount of effort on her part, since it was like pushing a mountain— and cleared the way for the next guest.
She moved away from the crowded area of the foyer, so she could speak to Reuben alone. “Lord Castell meant no harm.”
“He meant every harm.” His words were as hard as his voice, and she couldn’t help but notice that though they’d moved, Reuben’s eyes remained on his enemy.
“Reuben?”
He huffed a breath and then looked down at her. His face was red, and she was surprised steam didn’t come from his head with all the rage of a heated kettle.
Truly concerned, she pulled him down the hall and further into the shadows, before asking, “Reuben, what’s the matter?”
He frowned and shook his head. “It’s nothing.” When he tried to look around her, as though still searching for Castell, she led him farther down the hall until they were alone.
“Reuben.”
“He’s my brother.” His eyes were on her now, and there was shock in his expression, as though he were surprised by his own admission.
Rachel didn’t understand his words. “What do you mean? How is Lord Castell your brother?” Did he mean it in the way that he and Chris and Nash were brothers? From everything she knew about the two men, it didn’t seem possible.
He closed his eyes and then bent down, to lean his head against hers.
She touched his face and held him close to her, feeling his anguish, and wishing she could take it away from him. The deep forest scent of his cologne surrounded her, and she stroked his cheek and hair to try and calm him. “Reuben, what did you mean?”
“You recall how Lord Stonewhire is Rose’s father?”
She nodded. “Of course.” She stared at his lashes, thick and long.
He pressed his lips together before speaking again. “And how the late Lord Wint was Alexandra’s father?”
Rachel’s heart started to race, and she began to piece the puzzles together and bring it all to its obvious conclusion. “Is your father…” She lowered her voice further, “the Duke of Yall?”
He opened his eyes and broke away from her, pacing down another hall, going further away from where the musicale would be held.
She went after him and took his hand. He turned around to face her, and the pain in his eyes nearly crippled her. “Reuben, oh, I didn’t know.”
“No one knows,” he told her. He grabbed her shoulders. “Not even Yall knows. You must never tell him.”
She swallowed, feeling fear for a reason she didn’t know. “Reuben, how does Lord Yall not know if he sired a son?”
Reuben laughed, an ugly and boisterous thing that held dark humor. “Rachel, have you been living with wool between your ears all your life? Surely you know that your class is known to do as they please, litter society with one bastard after another.”
She pushed aside her own anger at being called ignorant, since the fact was it was likely the truth, and grabbed his shoulders. “Reuben, are you really Yall’s son?” And yet as she asked the question, she could see the truth. They were both very tall. Yall’s hair was gray, but his eyes… not even Lord Castell had inherited those formidable green eyes. “How do you know?”
He leaned against the wall, and then slowly slid to the floor as though it were the most normal thing to do, breaking from the mold of the perfect gentleman, for a position more suited for commoners.
Rachel didn’t think about the consequences of looking the same as she dropped to his side, her skirts spreading about her. She settled on her knees and remained close to her broken man. “How did you find this out?”
His arms rested on his knees, his hands dangling over them. He stared at the wall across from himself, as he spoke. “The same way Alexandra and Rose found out about their percentage. I found a page in one of Mary Elizabeth’s books, long ago. It said my mother was a pretty, but very poor widow he visited frequently. When she came with child, he turned away from her, so she gave me to Mary Elizabeth.
“How old were you?”
He looked at her. “Old enough to recall glimpses of her. I was four when I went to live at Best Home, since my mother didn’t have to money to care for me, herself.”
His mother had likely loved him, and thought the orphanage a better place. Her heart felt like it was breaking, yet she kept the tears from her voice. Her soldier didn’t need her sorrow. He needed someone who would fix his. Yet there was so much to take in, Rachel didn’t know where to start. “When did you find the letter?”
“Years ago. Before we met. I was sixteen at the time. It was after Mary Elizabeth Best’s death. We were cleaning her office when I saw the book.”
Her eyes widened. She’d known the book existed, as did the papers, but to know that Reuben had touched a book that held so many secrets, was strange in itself. Such a book, if found, would be worth its weight in gold, or more. She knew the Blue Blood Coalition wanted it, and would do violence to gain hold of it.
But she put that thought aside, and focused on Reuben. “Sixteen? You were old enough to leave the orphanage. Did you ever find your mother?”
He nodded. “Aye. Took me a while, but eventually I found her, though not as I’d expected. Someone had paid for her grave marker. I have no idea who. She’s buried in Bunhill Fields. She died two years before I found the book.”
She died when he was fourteen. Was there anything more tragic? “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “She never came to see after me. It doesn’t matter.” Though it was clear it very much did matter. A single page in a book had unraveled his world, filling it with one rejection after another. Both mother and father had turned their backs on him.
“Yet you went to see her.” She grabbed his hand. “You’re so very brave.”
“Or foolish. She had me until I was four. Surely, that’s long enough for a mother to fall in love with her child? To see to his care? Not that I was ever mistreated at Best Home, but why not ever visit or come to see me?” He was asking her, but then looked away, as though he knew she didn’t have the answers.
How had she known him for so many years, and never actually knew the depths of his pain? The answer came easy enough, either he’d worked hard to hide it, or had found love in others.
Or maybe both.
“Reuben, I know with all my heart that Rose loves you, and Alexandra. You may have never had the family that others would expect, even demand, but even with a shattered heart, you found a way to give love, and teach others to do the same. Love is never a foolish thing, I don’t believe. To love takes great courage, and you have so much of it.” She stopped when her eyes began to burn, and her throat closed, unable to say more.
He turned to her then, and pushed through her emotions and added, “And I love you. Every bit of you, just the way you are. No, because of who you are. And there is nothing that would ever stop me from doing so.” Her final word was cut off by his mouth.
This kiss was gentle, but just as thorough as all the other kisses Reuben had ever given her, as though with his mouth, he searched for the essence of her, lapping at the very fabric of her being.
A throat was cleared, and Rachel lifted her head to look at the intruder.
Their discoverer happened to be the very last man Rachel wished to see.
REUBEN WAS sure there had been times when he’d faced worse situations, times when he’d nearly lost a limb or died, but as he stared into Lord Yall’s eyes, he couldn’t think of single instant graver than this one, for if there was ever a man Reuben never wanted to catch him at his weakest, it was Yall.
He stood swiftly and cursed his bad fortune to have fallen apart in Castell’s home, but it had been hard to look at all his brother had, and not think of what life would have been, had he been given the opportunity to grow as a normal lord.
But then, Rachel, with her tender heart, had showed him just how grateful he should be for the life he had. He was loved by the family he and Chris had created, and he was loved by Rachel, a woman who could have had her choice of ten princes over, but instead she’d settled for a boy who’d been born with less than nothing.
Once again, she humbled him, and yet, strengthened him.
He stared into Yall’s eyes, and prepared himself for anything the man had to say to him.
Yall’s gaze was as sharp as ever, as he looked between Rachel and Reuben with open disapproval. He settled that firm gaze on Reuben, in the end. “I pray you don’t intend to teach this fine lady lessons in being as common as you.”
A burn gathered in his heart, and Reuben wondered if his father’s words would ever cease to cause him pain.
Rachel stepped in. “Well, Lord Eastridge may never be what the ton expects, but one cannot deny that he is a lord.”
“But, my lady, you could have had any gentleman,” Yall said with a slight frown.
“Then how fortunate it is, that this one chose me.” She extended her hand to the duke and said, “Has the musicale began? Perhaps, you wouldn’t mind escorting me, Your Grace?”
“Of course.” The man bowed to her and took her hand.
Reuben thought Rachel was taking the duke away in an effort to put distance between them, and was grateful for it. He needed time to think, but he now also had a window of opportunity to search Castell’s home.
He walked behind Rachel and Yall a distance, and then slipped into the first door on the right.
And struck gold.
It was Castell’s office. A lamp lit a fair portion of the space, as though always ready for its master’s presence.
He heard footsteps and voices. One belonging to a footman, who was being addressed by Lord Dabney, searching for a misplaced letter. Reuben quietly closed and locked the door behind him, just as it jingled.
“The note could be in here,” Dabney said.
The servant spoke next. “I don’t believe you would have left anything in my master’s office, my lord.”
Dabney grunted. “Perhaps, you’re right. This way then.”
Reuben waited for the two men to pass, before crossing to the desk. It was nice, but not as nice as the one Rachel had picked for his own office. An office in a home that he would share with her for the rest of his life.
He grinned at the thought, and began to move papers around the surface, making sure he left everything as it was, when he was done. He was surprised by all the medical documents and books that his brother possessed. Perhaps, there was something to the tale of him giving aid to the king.
What had changed his mind? Was it his mother’s influence? He’d not spoken to Lady Yall since the night they’d danced, almost sure he’d been looking in the wrong direction, yet now he regretted that he’d not pressed her for more answers.
He moved to the bookcase and found more studies on the human body, ailments, and their various cures.
The door opened without warning, and Reuben froze.
Then he took a breath as Rachel stepped into the light. “What are you doing?”
“Close the door.”
She did so at once, and then turned back to look at him, her lips struggled to find words. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “What reason could you possibly have for sneaking into Castell’s office?” She crossed her arms, and the gesture put her lush attributes on display.
Rachel had worn a vivid green silk dress that complemented her pale skin and the brilliance of her red hair. “Reuben, look at me.”
He was looking at her, distracting woman. He struggled with words to explain his actions. The truth was not an option. “I…”
What would she say if she knew the truth? It seemed Rachel liked Lord Castell. If he told her the man might be a traitor, right after telling her about their connection, it was likely she’d not believe him. She’d think him as being petty for going after a man who was clearly his rival for her affections, and a small part of Reuben felt the same, but what else was he supposed to do? Jasper’s note marked Castell as the possible assassin.
She crossed to him and grabbed his arms. Her expression was sympathetic. “There’s likely nothing for you here, Reuben, but perhaps one day, you and Lord Castell can find some common ground.”
He grunted, but allowed her to think that was the reason for his trespassing. “That will never happen.”
She raised a brow and then lifted onto her toes, before stealing a kiss that left him more than dazed.
Grinning adorably, she took his hand and led him from the room.
Tonight was hers.
Reuben would simply have to make plans to come again another time.