Tales of a Viscount_Heirs of High Society

by Eleanor Meyers

  Prince frowned and made no comment. Then he stood and held out his hand. “Let’s get you home.”

  She took his hand.

  They used the back stairs, and the moment she stepped outside, everything went black. Something was thrown over her head, and her scream was muffled by a strong hand.

  Still she fought, trying to shout for Castell, for the footman, even for Reuben, but it was of no use.

  And then her movements became weak, and she fell asleep.

  * * *

  29

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-NINE

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  “I said court the woman, not marry her.” Chris was teasing, though someone would have to know him, in order to guess from his expression.

  Nash, who sat beside him, chuckled, and then raised his glass of spirits. “To doing what pleases us most.”

  Reuben smiled and sipped his tea. He’d been out following one of the other lords he’d began to think was the assassin when he’d gotten word of a broken window at the palace, that evening. He’d rushed there, after the fact. The guards and Yall were keeping it from the public, but they could tell the assassin was growing bolder, and it was only a matter of time before he reached the king.

  He returned home to wait for any word that would come in from those men that had been assigned to him, when Chris and Nash had arrived to celebrate his nuptials. He’d invited them, and yet while his brothers sipped brandy, Reuben clung to his tea, needing his mind to stay alert for whatever else occurred that night.

  Chris looked around the room and said, “Well, at least she has fine taste. This room is impressive.”

  Reuben agreed. The old wallpaper had been taken down, and new wine-colored paint had been applied. It seemed to tie well with the furnishings. He liked the eagles that stuck out of the legs. They reminded Reuben of what he’d wanted to speak to his brothers about.

  He put down his cup and leaned forward. “Rachel says I should make an official coat of arms for the family, and since I am not the only Smith, I thought it good we discussed it together.” The coat of arms was something that the king gifted to only those families of aristocracy, and could only be used by them, but Nash and Chris were his brothers, and he wanted them to have their mark on it as well.

  Chris and Nash shared a look, and then turned back to look at Reuben. Nash was grinning. “Never thought I’d have a coat of arms.”

  Chris asked, “What have you decided for the crest?”

  Reuben leaned back in his chair. “Well, the crest should represent the man who earned the shield. Rachel believes I am like the eagle, a bird of prey.”

  “I agree,” Nash said readily, willing to show his excitement. “And put a sword in his beak.” He paused, and his eyes widened. “Or make the feather of his wings, swords.”

  Reuben lifted a brow.

  Chris shook his. “Have you thought of what you wish to go on the shield?”

  He sighed. “Nothing that would symbolize all of us.”

  “How about five figures standing in one accord?” Chris said.

  Reuben imagined it in his head and nodded. It was the best way to make sure no one forgot how it all began. He, Chris, Nash, Alexandra, and Rose. The original Smith family.

  “Oh, that’s rather nice,” Nash said to Chris.

  Then they started to discuss what supports and mantling they would put on either side.

  There was also another thing he wished to discuss with his brothers. He thought it time Nash knew the truth about his family. Reuben and Chris had both, in their own ways, allowed their past to control them, but Reuben had decided he would not allow it, anymore.

  Perhaps, Nash could learn to do the same.

  He was about to bring it up, when George burst into his office.

  Reuben stood, when he saw Lord Woodley come in after him.

  “Is she here?” Woodley asked.

  “Who? Rachel?” Reuben’s pulse began to rush as he circled the table. Both of his brothers were on their feet, by the time he reached the man who was set to become his father-in-law. “She’s not here. What happened? I thought she was at a party with Lady Esther.”

  Woodley paled, and his mouth trembled as he spoke. “She was, but she’s no longer there. Lady Esther made a great fuss about it.” He looked more scared than Reuben recalled the man ever looking.

  Reuben grabbed his arm. “We’ll find her.”

  “We’re coming with you,” Nash said.

  Chris nodded, and Reuben didn’t mind in the least. Where would they start?

  “Let’s go.”

  They all leapt into Woodley’s carriage, since it was ready, and started back to where Rachel had disappeared.

  During the ride, Woodley was silent and whispered, “This was all my fault. I never should have allowed her to change so drastically. She looked too much like Florentia.” He rocked with the movement of the wheels, as if no longer caring to keep himself straight.

  Reuben frowned. “What does her dress, or her mother, have to do with anything?”

  Woodley lifted his eyes to Reuben’s in the shadow. He looked haunted. Then he looked at Nash and Chris. “I…”

  “My brothers will not share whatever it is you have to say.”

  Woodley hesitated, as he became aware once more and then shared, “The reason Rachel doesn’t like closed places, is because when she was younger…”

  Reuben waited, holding his breath with fear of what the man would say.

  “She was kept in a trunk,” Woodley whispered. “Her mother.” He shook his head. “Everyone wanted Florentia, but it was me, she chose. There were men who never let me forget that. One man, a lord, in particular, didn’t like it at all. Florentia had kept lovers before we married, but she gave them all up for me.” Woodley smiled. “She truly loved me.”

  “Why was Rachel in a box?” Reuben bit out.

  The earl sighed, his face somber again. “It was Lord Fosse. For years, he tried to lure Florentia into his bed, but the last time she refused him, he kidnapped her and took Rachel, so she’d cooperate. He kept Rachel in a trunk with holes. Feeding her what little food could fit through the holes while he…”

  Reuben didn’t need to hear the rest. He had a mind to kill Lord Fosse, even if he did, or didn’t, have anything to do with Rachel’s latest disappearance.

  “I thought she might have gone with you,” Woodley whispered. “I prayed—”

  “We’ll find her.” The promise came from Chris, as he jumped out of the carriage once it stopped.

  They arrived to find watchmen posted outside, and a crowd standing around.

  Someone rushed from the doors, at the sight of Reuben. It was Susanna.

  “She’s not with you?” the woman asked.

  Reuben shook his head.

  Susanna frowned. “Well, that saves her reputation.”

  He could care less about Rachel’s reputation at the moment. “Who else was at the party? Is there anyone else missing?”

  Susanna’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes. Lord Castell, actually.”

  * * *

  30

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY

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  Rachel came to, and pulled in a great breath. Her eyes were open, but she couldn’t see anything. Perhaps she was asleep in her bed, though she didn’t feel as though she lay in a bed. She was on her back, but the surface was hard. She stretched her arms out, or tried, but they wouldn’t go far. The she started to kick, but her legs had nowhere to go.

  The panic started a second later, and she struggled to control her breathing but found she couldn’t. She tried to recall that she was safe.

  But couldn’t.

  She didn’t know if she was safe, because she couldn’t remember what had happened. She felt over the flat surface of whate
ver was above her. Or was it below her? She didn’t know. She couldn’t see. She didn’t know if she was standing or not. It was black. She was in complete darkness.

  Sweat broke over her, sliding from her brow and down her neck.

  Something make her lurch, and she once again was oriented.

  She was on her back, inside of something.

  Then she felt herself being lifted, and started to beat her fists on her confinement. “Please! Please, let me out!” She didn’t care how hysterical she sounded. She tried to dig out, scratching her nails against the surface, but nothing gave.

  She wept loudly and greatly, continuing to feel herself being rocked.

  Her head felt light. She was drifting away again.

  She wanted to go. She wanted to be taken away. It was better there.

  The rocking stopped, and then she was blinded by bright light, but more importantly, there was the presence of cool air. She became surrounded with it. Someone had set her free.

  “My lady?”

  Rachel looked over and hugged the man at her side, recognizing him instantly. She wept as she held him, thankful that he was here to save her. She was free. She could breathe. “Thank you.”

  His arms came around her, heavy and hard, and his fingers trailed down her back. “Oh, my lady, you’re safe now. You’re safe, my sweet Florentia.”

  * * *

  Reuben was in the carriage once more, heading to Castell’s residence. Woodley was with him. Chris had ridden with one of the footmen to Lord Yall’s, while Nash had gone to speak to a group of people he said were resourceful.

  “How is Lord Fosse allowed to walk the streets after what he did to Rachel and a countess?” Reuben asked. His anger made his words cool. It was either that, or act upon them. He was enraged, ready to tear the very carriage apart.

  Woodley was staring out the window. “He’s an earl, Reuben. Untouchable, much like yourself.” He looked over at him then. “If my daughter is with Lord Castell, she did not go willingly?”

  Reuben turned away. He wasn’t so sure. Perhaps, she’d decided she rather liked the idea of choosing the better brother.

  Yet even that thought didn’t seem right. From what he knew about Rachel, she didn’t seem the sort of woman who’d disappear with another man, and she’d especially not have left her deaf aunt alone that way. No, this was something else.

  Yet Reuben didn’t think Lord Castell the sort to steal a woman, but one could never know what one’s brother was capable of. He only had to look at the evidence against Nash’s uncle, to know that.

  They were received at Castell’s, by Yall.

  The duke frowned. “What is this about?”

  Woodley said. “My daughter and your son are missing. Why are you here?”

  Yall lifted a brow. “I was looking for my son, as well. I went by the party earlier, and was told he was no longer there. Are you saying that he and your daughter are together?” He was speaking to Woodley, and yet his eyes shifted to Reuben, repeatedly.

  Reuben frowned. “Do you know something?”

  Yall’s gaze widened. “My son is a grown man; however, a gentleman should take better care of his fiancée.” Then he looked at Woodley. “You might wish to rethink who you allow to marry your daughter.”

  Reuben ignored him and started searching the house. Yall followed, shouting something about trespassing, but Woodley said something that made the man quiet. As the minutes past, Reuben’s fear grew.

  He returned to the foyer and spoke to Yall. “Where else could your son have gone?”

  “Like I said, my son is a grown man.”

  Reuben tightened his fist. A savage part of him wanted to hit the duke in his face, but he gained control, just as Woodley grabbed his arm.

  “We better go.”

  Reuben turned to follow the earl, but Yall stopped him.

  “A word, Lord Eastridge.”

  “I don’t have time.” He was at the door, when Yall spoke again.

  “You should make time for your own father, at least.”

  Reuben stilled, as did Woodley. They both turned, then.

  Yall’s gaze was narrowed. “The Blue Blood Coalition received a report on what tomorrow’s story would be. Apparently, Miss Best’s next letter will reveal the truth about you.” He spat the last word.

  Woodley looked between the men and then turned to Yall. “Are you sure?”

  Reuben found it hard to breathe, as he stared in his father’s eyes. His arms felt numb and he couldn’t form a single word. It didn’t make sense. He’d burned the page that had included his name, the one that spoke of his mother and his birth.

  Yall’s eyes widened. “You knew.” His looked away, and his own rage grew, and then he pointed a finger at Reuben. “You! You’re behind this! Slithering your way into the aristocracy wasn’t enough, was it? You were out to prove yourself, while ruining my standing in the Blue Blood Coalition.”

  Reuben stared at his father’s anger, and felt his own vanish. His shoulders lost their tension and he slowly shook his head. “No. I found out the truth at sixteen years old, and burned the page that spoke of you, my mother, and the circumstances of my birth. I loathed knowing I was related to you, and prayed you’d never find out.” But now, Reuben didn’t care, because it no longer mattered. He’d moved on.

  The duke hesitated at that, and Reuben was glad.

  The duke’s brows remained drawn together. “Well, it seems Miss Best enjoyed writing about you, because the page you spoke of is not the one that will be in the papers.”

  Reuben froze, as his thoughts shifted. Christmas. It was still possible that Chris’ truth would come out. He cursed.

  Woodley put a hand on Reuben. “You don’t need him, son. Let’s go find Rachel.”

  Reuben nodded and turned, just as Nash came in with a very thin lad next to him. Chris was right behind them, likely coming there after hearing of Yall’s whereabouts.

  Nash turned to the boy. “Tell him what you know?”

  “I stand ‘round St. Anglia.” St, Anglia was in St. Giles, a small church. He stood slumped with his hands hanging at his sides, but his eyes met Reuben’s straight on. “I saw a pair of fellows wit’ a trunk. I heard them say the lady weighed noffin’. At the time, I wondered why they’d call a trunk a lady. Then they mentioned a wedding.”

  “Wedding?” Yall stepped forward.

  Reuben looked at the duke. “If your son is forcing Rachel into marriage, then know your line ends tonight.” Then he was running out the door.

  “We’ll follow,” Chris said.

  Woodley followed, and Reuben growled, when Yall entered the carriage.

  “If my son is there, I wish to know for myself,” the duke said, before thumping the roof. “To St. Anglia’s!”

  * * *

  31

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-ONE

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  Rachel sat still and watched, as her guards paced the small room at the top of the church. Her hands were bound in front of her, but at least she was in an open space. She had no clue why she was at a church. After Lord Fosse took her from the trunk, he’d helped her upstairs. They’d passed more guards along the way, at least a dozen, who didn’t seem like they belonged in a church. She’d asked where they were going, but Lord Fosse wasn’t listening. He simply continued to compliment her and tell her everything would be all right. Then he’d left her in a room, saying he had to deal with a naughty priest, before he closed the door, calling her by her mother’s name the entire time. She didn’t understand it at all.

  Then the guards had bound her, and when she’d started to protest, they’d threatened her with the trunk.

  So, she’d remained silent and waited.

  The guards had spoken to one another a few times, but she’d not gained their names or why she was here, but they’d otherwise been kind and gentle with her. Where had Lord Fosse
gone?

  She heard a thump and then a shout.

  A scream of pain.

  Both guards turned toward the door and pulled out guns.

  Rachel pulled in a breath.

  The door opened, and Lord Fosse rushed in, a gun in both hands. He looked frightened half to death as he spoke to the guards. “Go down there and do what I’m paying you to do!”

  The guards frowned, but did as they’d been asked.

  Fosse closed the door behind them and locked it. Then he smiled at Rachel. “We’ll just wait here for the priest to arrive.”

  “Why do you we need a priest?” she asked, as she gained her feet. “My lord, I don’t understand why we are here at all. Do those men work for you?” She’d thought at the time that Fosse left her, that they were working for the priest, though she didn’t understand why a priest would put her in a trunk.

  There was more shouting.

  Rachel jumped as a shot rang out.

  Fosse’s steps made noise on the weak floor beams as he walked to her side. “Don’t worry. All will be well soon. I’ll make sure of it, and then we’ll spend the rest of our lives together.”

  “What?” Rachel asked, but had no time to gain an answer when there was a knock on the door.

  “Who is it?” Fosse hissed.

  “Dabney,” came the reply. “Open this door now!”

  Rachel frowned, sure she’d heard wrong. But then Fosse was opening the door, and Lord Dabney came in.

  Fosse frowned. “Where’s the priest and my other witness?”

  “Our witness was detained,” Dabney frowned. “Lord Eastridge is here, and he brought what looks like an army. Lord Woodley and Lord Yall are presently outside the building. My men are holding them back.”