Tales of a Viscount_Heirs of High Society

by Eleanor Meyers

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  And Reuben didn’t care who was watching. He grabbed her head between his hands and claimed her with his lips, allowing her essence to sweep away whatever other impurities he had. Who cared what anyone else thought of him? She loved him, and it was enough. She was enough. She’d always been.

  There were gasps around them, but their mingled breathing and the blood beating in his ears drowned them out. “I love you. I love you, Rachel.” He kissed her lips, eyes, nose, cheeks.

  She laughed and clung to him. He tasted salt in his mouth, and knew it to be from her tears. They cleaned him further, breaking and mending him, making him stronger. He wanted to curse and give thanks at the same time. What had he been thinking to set her aside, to allow any other man to have her?

  They couldn’t. His kiss became hard and possessive.

  Rachel moaned.

  “Lord Eastridge.” The outrage in Lady Esther’s voice split them apart, but Reuben clung to Rachel, his lifeline, his rope of salvation from the stormy seas of life. He’d not allow anyone to take her away from him.

  “We’re getting married,” and he shouted it loud enough for Lady Esther to hear, which in fact, meant everyone else heard as well.

  Rachel’s aunt looked ready to have an apoplexy. There were cheers and great clapping from the common folk, and Reuben knew it to be a day they’d not forget.

  He just hoped Rachel wouldn’t refuse him.

  He turned to Rachel then, and found her to be smiling up at him, rather bonelessly, in his arms. His arm alone kept her upright. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  He’d never heard a sweeter word. It rang in his ears and through his mind like soft music, lulling him closer to this woman. “I love you.” He kissed her again. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  It was long moments, maybe even an hour, before Reuben managed to usher both ladies to their carriage, past the people who wished to give them their congratulations.

  “I’ll ask your father tomorrow,” he said to her, through the window of her carriage.

  The tenderness in her gaze had him fighting to not take her mouth again, and yet he refrained.

  “Tomorrow,” she whispered, and Reuben stepped away to allow the driver to take her away.

  It was then he allowed himself to think about the consequences of his actions.

  And he smiled.

  * * *

  26

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

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  Rachel ran her hand over the finely carved Elmwood desk and stepped back to take in the detail of its legs. Twin eagles stood out, and dared any man to face them. “This one for your office,” she said to the man who’d been more like a shadow, since they’d entered the cotton factory.

  Reuben’s warm breath fanned the small hairs at her nape, causing her to shiver, as he whispered in her ear. “Whatever you desire.”

  She grinned quite silly-like, but didn’t care. It had been nearly a week since their engagement became official, and Rachel was sure she was the happiest woman alive. In another few months she was set to marry the man of her dreams, a brave and strong man, who she didn’t have any fear would die on her before their wedding date— not that Reuben’s toughness was the reason she was marrying him. She didn’t compare him to Stacy. They were vastly different men. Her love for Stacy had been that of a young girl, while her love for Reuben was the certainty of a woman. Their families liked one another. He was attentive, kind, and every day was better than the next.

  She was blissfully happy. Happier than she’d ever been.

  She turned around to stare at the man responsible for all her happiness. “Do you like the desk? You’ll have to see it every day, after all.”

  His eyes were on her, just as they’d been since they’d entered the factory, sure and heated. “It’s a very nice desk.”

  “Did you even look at it?”

  He sighed, and crossed his arms behind his back. “You make it very hard for me to concentrate on anything else.”

  She grinned, growing sillier by the moment. She leaned into him and wished he’d bring his arms around her, but knew he wouldn’t. Not with Aunt Esther there. The other lady had been quite scandalized by the kiss, and while she liked Reuben, she’d set many boundaries upon their courtship since that day. They were only to be alone for an hour a day, and then closely watched after that.

  Usually they spend their hour alone kissing, but sometimes they spoke. Usually, Reuben wanted to know about Rachel’s life during the years he’d been gone, not that much had happened. In fact, the happiest years of her life were whenever he was present. How was that possible?

  She turned away from him and finished her business with the woodcarver, selecting other pieces for the dining room, drawing rooms, and halls. All the while Reuben remained silent, never interrupting, even when the woodcarver glanced his way to check if she were allowed to spend his money so freely.

  That done, they started toward the section of the room with paintings.

  The factory was like a large cave with hard floors, plain windowed walls, and ungarnished ceilings. Windows lined the walls, allowing in plenty of light, yet though the artists only took up a portion of the room, their work and designs transformed their corner into a treasure trove. Rachel looked over to find Aunt Esther slowly strolling around, and noticed how joyous her expression was. It was a magical place to be on a Sunday. A few other people were present as well, speaking to metal workers and glass makers. It was like a marketplace for the arts, and Rachel could feel magic in the air.

  The only drawback was the cotton. Wherever one went, they were likely to kick up stray bits of the material and breathe it in from the air. She covered her nose with a handkerchief as they moved.

  Reuben did the same, and looked at her. “I’m impressed with what I see here.”

  Rachel smiled. “Yes, they’re very good. A portion of their earnings goes to go Mr. Curtis for rent of the space, but they’re allowed to keep everything else they earn, either to spend it on more supplies, or feed their families.”

  “They’d likely earn more if they were to move to a better location in the city,” he said.

  She looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “Imagine a place where ladies and gentlemen could come and watch these talented individuals as they worked, while bidding for the very things that were being designed.”

  She thought of that, a clean place for the artists to work, and in a prime location where the ton could enjoy it. “Do you think something like that would draw crowds?”

  He turned to her. “Away from the smell of fish and fluttering cotton, I would think so. You enjoy it, as do I, but I’ll speak with Chris about it and see what he says.”

  “Is he very good at business dealings?” she asked.

  Reuben looked at her. “The best there is.” He offered his arm as they continued past sculptures— that she planned to look at later— and went on.

  Not for the first time that hour, she noticed Reuben look at his watch.

  “Is there somewhere you need to be?” He’d been very attentive all day. She wouldn’t mind if he had to go.

  He frowned and said, “I do have a meeting to attend.” Sometimes he could be so serious, but she loved all his expressions.

  She stopped. “You can go, if you must.”

  He turned to face her fully, and put down his handkerchief. “I’d rather be with you.”

  She believed him and tightened her hands on his arm. “What’s the meeting about?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing for you to worry over.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “You’ve been saying that all week, and yet I feel that I should know what my husband does during the time he’s away from me.” Even though a gentleman never truly had to tell his wife anythi
ng. If Reuben was seeing another woman, that was none of her concern, though Rachel immediately imagined clawing another woman’s eyes out for even looking at him.

  But she didn’t have those sorts of fears with Reuben. She knew it was something else that bothered him. At times, his eyes looked haunted. “Tell me.”

  “I can’t. It’s government work.”

  She thought for a moment. “Politics?”

  He shook his head and pulled his brows together. “Something else.”

  “Dangerous?”

  He hesitated and then said, “You’ve nothing to worry about.”

  That was not the answer she wanted. Her heart raced, and she couldn’t help but fear the worst. “Reuben, what sort of work are you involved in?”

  He kissed her hand quickly, while holding her eyes. “I swear that the matter will be done with before our wedding, and that you will have a very lazy husband who has nothing better to do than attend to his wife.”

  She smiled. “Very well. So long as you’re not going around London playing soldier.” She could envision it, recalling how wonderful he’d looked in his uniform. When he didn’t return her smile, her worry came back. “Reuben.”

  “Let us see how much money I shall spend on canvas.” He directed her attention toward the paintings.

  Rachel set her worries aside, and was drawn into nearly everything she saw. There were landscapes, some tranquil scenes of far-off places done in a pale palette, and drawings of children with more vivid and intense colors. The styles were all different, and caught her attention in every way.

  She wanted all of them, but she chose the pieces that would fit best in the common rooms first, since the party would be in a fortnight.

  It occurred to her once more, that she was designing her own home, the home she would share with Reuben.

  REUBEN HELPED the footman load whatever paintings could be taken in the carriage and then moved on to Rachel’s, to say his goodbyes.

  “Are you coming to Lord Dabney’s ball tonight?” she asked.

  The announcement of their engagement had gained Reuben even more invitations, so much so, that there were some activities taking place both day and night, that he could attend. He’d never known how busy a Season could be, until he’d become a part of it.

  Lord Dabney had not given Reuben the impression that he much cared for him, on the night of Lord Karl’s party, but Reuben was sure it was Rachel who made tonight’s invitation so. Everyone, even those who didn’t much care for him, wanted to show themselves as wishing the happy couple well.

  “I’ll see what can be arranged,” he told her sincerely, even if he’d have rather stayed in.

  Would this be how the rest of his life went? Being dragged from one party to the next?

  He immediately let that thought go. Rachel dragged him nowhere. Already he’d missed two afternoon lawn parties, and she’d not so much as complained about it.

  She smiled now, making his love for her grow twice in size. “Very well, but you must come to Lord Castell’s musicale tomorrow night.” For some reason, she’d made Lord Castell’s musicale not an option.

  Little did she know, missing the affair was not an option for him, either. The musicale offered the perfect opportunity to search the man’s home.

  “I’ll be there,” he let his eyes show the promise, and then said goodbye to Lady Esther, before watching Rachel’s carriage leave.

  He climbed into his own, and thought of his plans for the evening. It would be another night of watching Lord Castell’s moves. The man was set to be having a private dinner at his father’s house, and Reuben already had a few soldiers who would play footmen for the night. Reuben’s plan was to sneak into Castell’s townhouse, and see what he could find, trusting no one else to do the job themselves.

  He thought, if he moved quickly, he would have enough time make it to Rachel’s party, as well.

  He stepped out of his carriage and was walking through his own house, when a noise caught his attention.

  It was subtle, and came from upstairs.

  Reuben only employed five servants: a butler, a valet, a maid who was a sufficient cook, a driver, and a footman, since he lived alone. That was to change when he married, and was actually in possession of things that needed cleaning.

  But since he knew that all his servants were currently outside, overseeing the paintings being brought in, he didn’t understand the noise.

  He moved silently, but swiftly up the stairs, and went into the only room that held anything significant.

  He opened the door to his bedchamber and watched as a man jumped through the window. Reuben flung himself across the room, but didn’t catch the assailant as he moved out of reach. Sticking his head out the window, he was quickly forced to pull it back in, just in time for a blade to move past him.

  How the man clung to the walls amazed Reuben, and stunned him into motionlessness.

  He waited a second and then stuck his head out again, just in time to see the man who was dressed in a plain workman’s suit cling to the building next door, before jumping down and disappearing behind the hedge.

  Reuben ran from the door, down the stairs, and past his startled servants, toward the house next door.

  There was no alley, so to get next door, he’d have to go through the front door. He knocked and waited.

  A butler opened it.

  “A man just jumped into your backyard. I work for Lord Yall. Allow me through.”

  The butler moved immediately, and Reuben started toward the back, already fearing that he’d be too late.

  The garden was easy to find, and without so much as a flowerbed, Reuben could see everything— including the open gate in the back.

  He ran toward the gate and into another yard.

  And saw nothing.

  He frowned. Whatever the man had come for, he couldn’t have found anything. Reuben had taken no notes about his meeting with Yall. No one knew of the assignment, except for the soldiers assigned to it.

  And the note with Lord Castell’s name was always on Reuben’s person.

  He touched his jacket then, verifying what he already knew, and then started to the house.

  There was no more time for parties. He needed to find the find the assassin now.

  * * *

  27

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SEVEN

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  “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?”