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Dear Mr. Jay,
Your suspicions about Mr. James were accurate. I asked a few of the locals about the ‘agreement’ between the two men. One woman laughed at the thought. The two men did not get along, and did not agree on any matter— including politics. After looking further into the matter, I discovered that Mr. Butler’s death was no accident. Rather, Mr. James aided him to the grave. Therefore, it is unlikely that any deal was made between them.
I admit that I did not think of the politics that would play with being a landowner. I’m not a political man, but am thankful that my sister Rose advised I speak to someone about my issues. I also find it kind that you’ve agreed to not only help, but keep my identity secret. I would not like to appear weak in front of those who already think me beneath them.
I will contact you when next I am in need of consultation.
Lord Eastridge.
Dear Lord Eastridge,
I am glad to hear you have resolved your issue, though I feel terrible about Mr. Butler. It would seem that Lord Byron was right when he said truth was stranger than fiction.
I am not at all surprised that when I told you to be a soldier, you went beyond the call of duty and discovered the wrongdoing in this matter. It takes a strong man to ask for aid when he is in need of it. I believe you will not only be a fine landowner, but just the sort of lord we members of Society need.
Jay
There was something to be said about catching Reuben off guard. Rachel had never been able to do it when she was young. He’d always seemed aware of everything, at all times. It was something that always make her try to find other ways to surprise him.
She’d never succeeded.
Yet, without trying, there they stood at the door of the Best Home, and Reuben was surprised. His brows were lifted, his eyes wide, but then all at once his expression shut down like a shop that had gone out of business. He was now very much unreadable.
“Lady Rachel.” He bowed and came inside. “You look like an angel.”
She blushed and looked down at her white dress. Did he mean angel as in beautiful, or was she being compared to a cherub, those small round creatures that looked like children? She suspected the latter immediately.
“Thank you, my lord,” she shouted over the noise. “I see your flattering skills are improving.”
“I try.” He took off his hat. “Where are the others? I suspect they’re downstairs?”
She had to concentrate to hear his voice over the noise of the children, just down the hall in the dining room that was shared with the Home’s kitchen. Rachel had been coming here since she’d befriended Rose, and had even come when her friend was away, reading to the children in Rose’s place. But now her friend was back, and Rose had sent word around to Rachel’s house, requesting they meet here.
Rachel hadn’t known Reuben would be coming, but supposed she should have. It was his sister who had just returned. Instead of shouting again, she waved him on and led the way through the house. For a moment, she thought it better to ask if he wished to follow her, remembering his comment at the wedding, but when she looked over her shoulder, she found him to be less than a foot behind.
Their gazes caught.
Her heart jumped, and she spun around again.
When they reached the dining room, it was like moving through a maze, as the children ran, jumped, and gathered in circles. Some of the older ones stopped Reuben to talk, and he listened to each of them and spoke with a smile, before he rubbed their heads.
It was another reminder of the wedding breakfast. How could this man still see her as a child, and what did she have to do, in order for him to see her as more?
She didn’t rush him as he spent time with everyone who wished to speak to him. Instead, she stared at the children and wondered what it would have been like to grow up with so many people all the time. She’d not had many friends as a child. In fact, she didn’t have any close friends until she was around twelve or thirteen. Before then, it had only been her and her father, and that was enough.
And then Reuben had come, and everything had been better.
Reuben found a break in the questions, and promised to visit the children again, before he waved at Liz, the woman who assisted the Home’s caretaker, and started out of the room. They went down another hall.
Rachel glanced over her shoulder and asked in the silence. “How do the children know you? I’ve never seen you here?”
His eyes were on her, yet again. “I come from time to time. Usually, it’s to see Alicia.” Alicia was the owner and caretaker for Best Homes, and Mary Elizabeth’s niece. “We’re still looking for the blackguard who released those letters.”
Rachel nodded in understanding.
Miss Best had kept a journal of all the children in her care, having even known their parents. Two years ago, only weeks after her commemoration, one of those letters was released in the papers. It had told of Alex’s father being the Viscount of Wint. The scandal had set London on its toes, and everyone had watched, as what felt like a fairytale came to life. Alex had met the Earl of Chantenny, a man who was known as distant in every way. Yet, somehow, she’d broken through his walls and won his heart. They’d married, and then not long after that, Rose’s own father, Lord Stonewhire, was revealed in much the same way. The papers told all and left nothing out.
Since then, two more letters had been discovered. One about a man named Phillip Bones, whose mother was the Countess of Glennen. Bones, who always wished to attend Oxford, got the funds to do so from his mother’s eldest son, Lord Glennen himself, and was proving the investment to have been sound. Bones was doing well in school and set to become a doctor.
And then last month, there had been Ellen Boyd. She had the voice and the looks of an angel, which turned out to be fitting, since her mother had been an opera singer, but it was her father who had gained the most notice.
Lord Stonewhire.
Which meant Rose had a sister.
Reuben proved his thoughts were aligned with Rachel’s when he asked, “Does he know yet?”
Rachel shook her head. “But Obenshire does. He’s kept her away from the papers. Apparently, he received your letter.” Reuben had send a note while the pair had been on their wedding trip. She waited until he was by her side to ask, “How did you know where to find him?” Obenshire had only shared he would be taking Rose to the Continent, but they’d had few set plans.
“I have ways of finding things.” The small hallway made it so they were nearly standing on top of one another, at least, that was what it felt like.
The already closed-in space felt even smaller with him near. Rachel pulled in a breath and then another. Her stomach began to flutter.
Reuben grabbed her arms, anchoring her to reality. He frowned. “Do you still get them?”
She stopped moving and concentrated on his eyes. It had always helped in the past. Yet even now, she denied knowing what he was asking about. “Do I still get what?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about. Closed spaces.”
“You remember that?” She’d always hated whenever her body would lock and become overtaken with panic, whenever she went somewhere without windows, where she couldn’t see outdoors, a way to escape. She couldn’t remember when they started, but they’d begun to wane when she reached the end of her adolescence.
He rubbed her arms in a calming gesture, his gloved hands warming her cold skin. “Of course, I remember it. I’d never seen anyone react that way before.”
She pulled away from him and balled her fists. “I’m fine. It doesn’t happen anymore.” Though it had happened repeatedly right after Stacy’s death, and oh, how she’d wished that Reuben had been there. He’d been a sort of companion. Her friend. Protector. Now she only felt ill at ease when she became unaware of her surroundings, whenever a place caught her off guard, and she lost track of herself.
She took a step, but was stopped by his hand on her arm. He turned her around again. His brows were lowered in a grimace. “Don’t lie to me.”
She didn’t want him angry, so she hugged him and buried her face in his chest. She’d done this as a young girl. Even then, she’d wanted nothing but to be close to him. At fifteen, she’d known where she could always go for comfort, and even when Stacy had been in her life, Reuben had also been there. She inhaled and smiled. He still smelled the same. Even hidden underneath the scent of expensive cologne, she could smell him. Reuben. Masculine and firm. She was surprised when her head found its favorite resting place, right above his heart. They fit together. Perhaps they always had. “I’m fine,” she whispered.
His arms came around her with little hesitation, and he stroked her back a few times before he set her away, to survey her face. “How often do they happen?”
“Not often. Once or twice within the year, and even then, I control myself much better than before.”
He still seemed upset. In the space of the dim hall that separated Alicia’s private quarters from the Home itself, he said nothing for a long time and then asked, “What calms you?”
“Remembering that I’m safe.” All she ever had to do was remember where she was, and that she was surrounded by people who cared, and eventually her mind would believe it.
He stroked her arms again, and Rachel went from warm to hot, before he let her go. “Come, the others are probably waiting for me.”
She nodded and started down the hall again.
A small smile touched her lips. Reuben was different, yet so very much the same. He worried over her. It was yet another reason she was growing to adore him. Perhaps if she was patient, he would discover that there was more to them than the past.
A future.