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 d
o 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.
* * *
13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
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Watching Lord Karl greet Reuben was like watching two predators circle one another in a fight to see who was dominant, and though Karl’s family name was Wolfgang, to her, he seemed more like a fox. He had striking red hair, and pale brown eyes that seemed to glitter whenever he grinned. He was handsome and tall, and always gave of the feeling that he knew things, long before they would ever occur. He watched the world like a man in a box at a theatre, amused by the actors, never caring if the scene were comedic or tragic.
Reuben, on the other hand, was very serious as he held Karl’s eyes, unreadable, and watchful as a lynx, ready to strike when something didn’t go as expected. Rachel once again regretted bringing Reuben. She feared the delight in Karl’s eyes, and hoped the lord had no plans to pull Reuben into anything untoward.
So intent was Rachel on their conversation, that she was unaware of the noise around her, the clinking of glass, the laughter, the ringing of a soloist’s voice, as he sang to a tune that Rachel knew to have double meanings, all flowing into the foyer from other rooms. There were even raised voices and shouting from the parlor. Had the debates started already?
Karl looked at Rachel. “I love your pretty face, Rachel. Even though you never join in the fun or venture far from the wall, you make a benevolent statue, my lady.”
Rachel didn’t know what to say to that, but smiled and said, “Thank you.”
He winked, before turning to Reuben again. “Though it seems you are breaking character, my lady, for you have brought me the most intriguing guest.”
Reuben spoke stiffly. “I hope my unexpected presence doesn’t upset you.”
Karl jolted suddenly, which made Rachel do likewise. His expression was one of distress. “Upset? Good man, do you know who you are? Lord Eastridge.” He opened his arms dramatically and chuckled, his sharp white teeth a contrast to his tan skin. “You’re like a sunrise, the dawning of a new day, declaring the ways of the past as dead, and putting fear into the hearts of the genteel. Why, had I thought of it, I would have invited you, myself. Let me introduce you to some important people.”
Rachel cut in. “Oh, that won’t be necessary, my lord. You’ve so many other guests to greet.”
Karl didn’t bother turning to her. “Oh, my brother can greet the rest.”
Rachel glanced over to where Jolan stood greeting some of the other guests. He looked like Karl, but was clearly the more civilized of the two. His aunt, a dreadfully shy woman, stood quietly by his side.
Karl held out an arm that pointed further into the townhouse. “After you, Lord Eastridge.”
Rachel tightened her hand on Reuben, but her escort patted her fingers gently, and she let him go.
He pulled his eyes from Karl and told her, “I won’t be long.” Then he was gone.
Rachel had to fight back the urge to follow and protect Reuben. He was a grown man. He didn’t need her mothering him. And yet…
She took a step.
“Rachel. There you are!” Susanna broke from her handsome knight of a husband, and came to stand next to her. “Was that Lord Eastridge I saw you arrive with?” Her friend was dressed in mauve, that made her skin glow whiter than ever. A matching fan fluttered briskly in one hand, while the other grabbed Rachel and steered her into the sitting room.
Rachel took a glass of champagne from a passing server. “He came along with my aunt.” Then Rachel told her all about her day, and the idea of going to the docks.
“I find it quite odd that Lord Eastridge would ask you to accompany him.” Susanna stood on the side of the sitting room, still fanning herself.
Rachel tapped her fingers rhythmically against the cup between her hands. “Well, we were friends once upon a time. Why not ask for my assistance?” She had yet to tell her oldest friend about her attraction to Reuben, though she didn’t know why, when it had been so easy to tell Rose.
Susanna sighed and sipped her drink. “I suppose you’ve the right of it. Who else could he have asked? You and I are likely the only true ladies of his acquaintance.”
“His sisters are true ladies,” Rachel rebutted, slightly too forcefully to her own ears.
“Oh, of course!” Susanna placed a hand over her heart dramatically. “I didn’t mean to offend. I only meant that they’d likely not know how a Society room should be situated. They weren’t brought up to oversee such things as we were.”
Rachel settled back within herself and nodded. “Yes, it’s true.”
“Where is Lord Eastridge anyway?” her friend asked.
That was what Rachel was wondering herself. “I don’t know. Perhaps, I should go look for him.” There was the sound of something breaking in a room some distance away, and then a loud shout.
Susanna sighed. “I understand why Karl invites the commoners. They can be rather entertaining at times.”
Rachel wasn’t sure if it were the businessmen, or the ton, who were the true entertainment for the evening, for it always seemed that the moment a gentleman stepped over the threshold of his home, he became a wild thing, a man out to prove himself. There was such a tension in the air, that it was just as frightening as it was thrilling. It was why Rachel, and anyone else who was invited, always attended. She could simply not resist being a part of it all, even if she were always more wallflower than anything.
The thought reminded her of the conversation she’d had with Reuben, outside.
She turned to her friend. “Susanna, was I afraid of Society when we were young women?”
Susanna’s gray-blue eyes flew to her. “Afraid? I didn’t think so. I simply assumed you only liked me.” The lady added a smile. “It made other girls quite envious of me, and any gentleman that took interest in you would always seek me out for advice.”
Susanna and Reuben seemed to have different accounts of the past. One thought her afraid, while the other thought her delivering the cut direct. And yet the effect was the same. She’d not been social. She didn’t have time to ask another question, because Susanna cut her off.
“Oh, my husband is calling me for a dance
.”
Rachel looked to where Sir Cull stood, with a bedeviling look focused on his wife. Rachel did not see dancing in his eyes, but something else, something that contained activities best kept from the public. She wondered if Cull was always this way, or if perhaps he was being affected by the excitement in the air.
Susanna smiled at Rachel as she tapped her fan on her shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”
Rachel waved her friend away, and then a moment later her attention was called.
“Lady Rachel.” Lord Stephen Dew walked over, with Lady Anne on his arm. He wore a grin, while his fiancée looked as though she’d eaten something quite bitter.
“I had no clue you’d be here,” Stephen said, his eyes on Rachel.
She lifted a brow. “Why not? I come every year.”
“Oh.” He seemed at a loss for words.
Anne, who was rarely without words to say, cut in with a smile that would have likely sent children running for the hills. “Lady Rachel, I saw that you arrived with Lord Eastridge. Is there something between the two of you?”
“He and I are friends,” Rachel said. “And he was very kind to have seen me and my aunt Lady Esther here safely.” She made sure to add that another woman had been with them, in order to dissuade the start of gossip.
Stephen’s smile widened. “Of course. I’m sure escort was a task he found easy. The rumor is, he was once a footman.” He laughed at his own joke, and Ann joined in.
Rachel felt rage burn in her gut.
Then Stephen straightened. “Lady Rachel, I believe I hear a country number about to begin. Won’t you dance with me?” He gently untangled his arm from Anne’s, and held out his hand to Rachel.
She couldn’t help but notice the other lady’s glance of outrage right before she regained control of her features.
Tales of a Viscount Page 10