.
Reuben stopped abruptly when the doorman held out his hand.
“Your hat, sir.”
Removing it, he handed it over the man, and then glanced around the dark smoky room. Cigar smoke filled the air, and along with it, came the scent of wood and leather polish. Reuben had been sent an invitation to Jasper’s over a year ago, and though he’d accepted it, he’d never come. The gentlemen’s club was known to cater to only the titled gentlemen who could afford their obscenely high membership fee. Reuben had paid it, never knowing when it might come of use, but was now glad he had.
Immediately upon entering, his eyes were drawn to the ceiling that stretched three stories into the air, doming the building, and masterfully painted with a scene of angelic beings at war. A golden chandelier hung from the center, more for show than light. His eyes then traveled down each floor, taking in the gleaming wooden beams and burgundy walls, until his eyes fell to the wooden floors. There were more servants walking about, than men. He saw a crowd of gentlemen sitting by the window that faced the street. They spoke in low murmurs, all reclined in chairs and either smoking or with a glass of dark liquor in hand. On the other side of the room, a group of young men streamed out of one room, only to head to another. Scents flew into the common space as they closed the doors. The smell of fresh bread made Reuben head in that direction. He’d not eaten all day, and here it was nearly three in the afternoon.
He was stopped by a voice.
“Lord Eastridge.”
He turned and watched a gentleman approach him, coming from one of the doors in the center of the rectangular building. It was Sir Jasper himself, the owner of the club. How Reuben had thought he’d go through the building undetected by anyone, he didn’t know.
Jasper was late in age. Knighted young, he quickly made friends among the aristocracy and found the funds to build Jasper’s, one of the most elegant clubs in London.
Along with Sir Jasper came a few other gentlemen, who all seemed to have finished a meeting not too long ago. They said their goodbyes, and greetings to Reuben, before departing.
Jasper grinned at Reuben. “My clerk at the door tells me this is your first visit.”
Reuben turned to the clerk, who sat behind a desk at the front, not far from the footman and coat closet. He watched the man with his head bent, mark tallies as two more gentlemen came into the club. The clerk was efficient, and Reuben was not surprised, that in less than five minutes, Jasper had been alerted of Reuben’s presence. It seemed the club was ran very well, and Reuben had yet to know if that would work for, or against, his advantage in the matter of a traitor. Nearly every gentleman of society had membership here, so Reuben reasoned that the man he searched for, would have at some point been one of Jasper’s patrons.
He turned back to the building’s owner and grinned. “Yes, this would be my first, but likely not my last.”
Jasper grinned. “Very good. Would you like me to show you around the place? It’s a courtesy I offer all my patrons on their first visit. We offer the best of everything, and I would hate for you to miss out on anything.”
Reuben would hate to miss anything as well, but for a very different reason. Knowing his surroundings always helped, when at war. “I will gladly take you up on your offer.”
Jasper led the way, and Reuben just stopped himself from glancing at his pocket watch. His sisters would be arriving at his house soon, and Reuben wanted to be there to assist them on any matter they’d need help with.
He shook his head at the lie. While life often required him to lie to others, he didn’t make the habit of lying to himself. It wasn’t Rose or Alexandra he wished to see, and not Ellen Boyd, either. Rachel would be there, and he’d have liked to see her reaction when she stepped over the threshold.
The only reason Reuben had been able to gain the coveted residence was because it was owned by an old war veteran, who would have given it to Reuben free and clear, had Reuben not insisted he pay something for such a lovely residence.
He put thoughts of the terrace aside, and focused on Jasper’s words.
For the next hour, he listened as Jasper walked him through the common space, introducing him to one man after another, while leading him through the private meeting rooms, rooms for rent, sporting rooms for fencing and boxing, and back down and into the dining room.
“Hungry?” Jasper asked.
“Very,” Reuben replied.
They went to a table at the front of the room, that seemed to have been reserved for Jasper. Reuben took a seat that would give him the best view of the room. He knew very few of the lords present, but for the last few days, had spent time studying their connections to one another. He’d found official records of the lords, and searched for anyone who would have a connection to France, anyone who would be a sympathizer to Napoleon.
He’d taken quiet interest in the fact that Prince Lucian’s wife was from France. Lady Adele. But seeing as it was Lucian who’d charged him with the hunt, he thought it very unlikely that the traitor would be in his own house.
“I hope you’ve found everything to your liking,” Jasper said, as their meals were brought.
“Very much.” The scent lifting from the chicken had Reuben distracted all over again. He enjoyed food, and had missed having well-prepared meals, once he’d joined the army. While a footman, he and the other servants in Woodley’s home had been allowed to dine on whatever was left of the meal, and Woodley’s cook had been well versed in her occupation. He’d enjoyed his life as a footman, but decided he liked the portions of a lord much better.
He spoke to Jasper, then. “It seems you make no preference as it comes to political parties.” He left the question off, wanting to see how Jasper would fill in the rest.
Jasper lifted a brow as he turned up one side of his lips. “A Tory and a Whig may sit on either side of the House of Lords, but here, everyone dines together.” He pointed to the crowd that was stretched out before them. “It is not my place to say how a man should vote.”
“But surely you have your thoughts, one way of the other?” Reuben asked.
Jasper lifted his hands in protest. “Not if it affects my profits.” He grinned. “I stand neutral in all matters.”
Reuben nodded, and sipped his wine. “Then let us leave the House of Lords alone for the moment. I hear you also own a gaming hall in east London. As you already know, I wasn’t born a lord. It’s good to know that the less fortunate have not been overlooked.” He said it in a way that would praise Jasper, though in reality, Reuben didn’t like the thought of gaming halls amongst the poor. Their families needed every coin they could get. That those precious coins made their way to a knight’s pocket, didn’t sit well with him.
Jasper grinned, not privy to Reuben’s inner thoughts. “Every man should have the right to enjoy a little entertainment every once in a while, I say.”
The men brought their glasses up to meet.
Reuben went on. “If only there were more men concerned for the less fortunate. I hear many had begun to sympathize with Napoleon. Now surely, you’d be against such talk.”
Jasper’s look became grave. “Oh, of course. Like you, I’ve seen war.” He frowned. “My duty will always be to the Crown, first.”
Their glasses met again.
Reuben sighed dramatically. “If only more lords knew what we did. The sight of blood and death changes a man.”
“Yes,” Jaspers agreed roughly.
Reuben lifted a brow. “Yet, I’ve heard whispers that there are lords who thought England would benefit from Napoleon’s policies, but I would suppose each man is allowed his own thoughts.”
Jasper's’ eyes widened. “Not in my club, they don’t. I watched friends die against our enemies, watched others send their sons off to meet France, only to have them never return.”
Reuben leaned over to whisper, “And you’d be willing to tell me otherwise, if you knew?”
Jasper narrowed his eyes for a moment and then asked, “Are you about some official business?”
“I am,” Reuben told him. The efficiency of Jasper’s staff could not be missed during the tour, and may just be the people Reuben needed, to find what he was looking for. “The Crown could use you as a soldier, once more.”
Jasper straightened in his chair and nodded. “You may count me friend, sir.”
Reuben nodded and stood. “Thank you for the tour and the meal.” With a quick farewell, he departed. He looked at his pocket watch and realized he was late.
Outside, he walked to a hansom that sat on the corner of the road. It was a member of the Crown’s militia, James Barney. He was only year or so younger than Reuben, but came off as severe as a man twice his age.
Reuben spoke quickly. “I met with Jasper, and informed him of what we need. Follow him and make sure he’s on our side. Report back to me anything you find.”
Barney asked, “Who will follow you, and make sure Jasper or any other man who knows what you’re looking for, isn’t after you?” That was what he’d been commissioned to do, by Yall.
“I can manage,” Reuben said, before he caught his own hack and started home.