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.
* * *
8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
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When Lord Wint brought Rachel a second glass of cham
pagne, she’d not refused it, even though she’d not eaten for hours. “Thank you.” Already she’d danced with three gentlemen who’d asked. One had been a future viscount, while the other was the second son of a duke. Both men she’d refused in the past, and now she watched as they spoke to their friends. Words was getting around that the wallflower had finally left her chair for the dance floor.
She noticed when Lord Stephen Dew glanced over from across the room, and smiled. If he asked, she’d dance with him. He was already engaged, which made him safe.
“Have you ever seen two people more in love?” Harley asked, as he watched the dancers stroll to the center of the room to take their positions. She knew where his eyes were: on Rose and Gerard. Alexandra was also somewhere with her husband. The three would reconvene tomorrow, to discuss who from Wint’s party would also receive an invitation to Reuben’s.
Rachel looked up at Lord Wint. When Harley had first arrived in London, his skin had been tanned so deeply from his travels, that many had thought him forever stained by the sun, but over the last few months, his skin had paled, but still he retained most of his bronze glow. Like his cousin Alexandra, he had the Upton black hair, but his eyes were blue, nearly violet, and always hit a person like a mighty punch, whenever he managed to catch their gaze.
That gaze was on Rose.
“Do you still—”
“No.” Harley held out his hand and then looked at her. “Let us dance.”
She jumped at the chance, and was on the floor right before another gentleman approached. Harley had become one of her friends, and thus, she went into his arms whenever he asked. As they turned, she kept glancing at the door.
“Looking for someone?” Harley asked.
She turned to him and blushed. “If I were, it would be hard to find them in this crowd. It is almost as though the entirety of London is here.”
Wint nodded and glanced around. “There are at least two hundred. I’ll never know all their names.”
“And you’ll never be comfortable around them if you avoid them,” she added.
He turned his eyes to her and grinned. “You’re right. I’m simply not used to this way of life.” Yet he moved her around the floor like a lord born to his station. “The city is quite dreary. I was raised to be the Wint’s heir, and only found out about my uncle’s death months after. I would have stayed in the country if Alexandra and Rose hadn’t urged me to come to the Season to ‘wife hunt’.” He frowned and shook his head, before turning away. “Not a single lady in this crowd attracts me.”
Rachel took only very little offense at his words, and concentrated on the steps in the dance.
As if realizing what he’d said, he quickly turned back to her with apologizes in his eyes. “Except for you of course, Lady Rachel.” He spun her.
She laughed for the first time that night. She adored Harley. “I’m sure some lady will eventually catch your fancy.” She went back into his arms.
Harley looked away in doubt, and then his brows rose. “Oh, Reuben is here.”
“Where?” Rachel nearly broke her neck trying to find him.
Harley laughed. “I knew it. I can always tell when a woman has affection for another.” He tsked. “What a horrible talent to possess. If only I’d been blessed with another gift.”
After searching the crowd again, and finding no one, she turned back to Harley and narrowed her eyes. She ignored his comment. “He’s not here, is he?”
Wint shrugged. “Oh, no, he’s here. I did see him, but I only told you after I saw him slip from the ballroom.” He smiled at her wickedly. “He didn’t look pleased.”
“Really?” She hoped Reuben’s ire was linked to her dancing with Wint, but then doubt filled her. “Maybe it’s something else.”
“Only one way to find out.” When the dance ended, he escorted her toward the door.
Had he also enlisted his help in seeing that she and Reuben ended up together? She really did have the most wonderful friends. At the door’s edge, he bid her farewell and she slipped into the gallery where men and women stared at the paintings that lined either wall.
Her elbow was touched, and she turned to find Reuben at her side.
“Enjoying the party?” he asked.
She took a moment to look him over. He was dressed in dark blue with a beautiful brown waistcoat. Golden buttons lined his jacket. A pearl white shirt and cravat finished the look. With his hair swept back and face clean shaven he was beautiful and looked every bit a lord.
“How long have you been here?” She was surprised her heart remained calm. Perhaps she was getting used to his presence again.
“Not long.” No answer had ever been so vague. He glanced down the hall. “Care to take a stroll?”
She accepted his arm and started down the gallery at a slow pace, glad he wasn’t trying to flee. They walked past a few groups, and other pairs who took in the artwork in the hall.
His eyes remained away, however, as he looked over the art that lined the wall. “His house makes me realize just how very empty mine is.”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “We’ll have to fix that before the party.”
“I thought as much.” He didn’t sound excited about it.
“You don’t have any furniture?” she asked.
He looked at her and shook his head. “It wasn’t in my budget last year.”
She frowned. “Lords shouldn’t speak freely about their money.” Then she leaned closer. “Or at least, not here.”
“My apologies.” He stopped, straightened, and dropped his hold on her. “I didn’t mean to offend—”
She touched his arm and moved in closer to him. “No, you do not offend me, Reuben. Never. I simply wish to help you find your place amongst the aristocracy.” She started them down the hall again.
“You mean you wish me to conform.” His lips thinned.
“Never.” She tightened her hold on him. “I would never want that for you. It would ruin just how very wonderful you are.” She closed her mouth, knowing she’d said too much. Her blood was racing once again. She was finally alone— well, kind of alone— with Reuben, once more. She had his attention, and if she could stand in this moment forever, she would.
His face softened, and he shook his head. “I admit that I’m lost when it comes these things. You’d have thought that after living with your father for so many years, that I’d have learned a thing or two.”
She smiled. “Perhaps it is my fault. I tended to distract you from your duties.” At every chance she got. Those memories came easy. While Reuben might have been asked do one thing or another, in Rachel’s eyes he’d always belonged to her, and eventually, his duties had been changed to such things as attending her when she went shopping, and carrying her packages, while scaring pickpockets away. “Had I left you alone, you may have learned more gentlemanly things.”
He returned her smile fully, charming her without meaning to. “Taking care of you was never a hardship...”
She stilled and held her breath.
“... Little Rach—”
She placed her hand over his mouth and glared. “Never call me that again.” She retracted her gloved hand as she retained eye contact. “I am not little anymore.”
“You’re smaller than me.” He shifted and blocked her view of the rest of the hall and it’s guests. Somehow, they’d made it to the end where there were more shadows, making it hard for anyone to see them. His wide shoulders and unyielding stature gave his words added affect. She was smaller than him, but so were many others.
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what you meant.”
His earlier charm had collapsed under severity. “You’re ten years my junior, so I think the ‘little’ still applies.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m a woman now. You will treat me as one.” Throwing her shoulders back, she lifted a brow in challenge, even though anxiety set in. She had no clue where she found the strength to stand up to this man, but somehow, she did.
>
His gaze roamed her, as though looking for verification of her words. Never before had a look touched her so thoroughly. He might as well have used his hand. Then his eyes settled on hers again and met her challenge. “Or what?”
She should have known he would. This man had seen war. Surely, he wouldn’t shake in his boots at the sight of a woman’s scorn.
She swallowed and made her words as crisp as possible. “Or I’ll have to prove it to you.”
He started to lean away but stopped as if catching himself. His eyes roamed her face. She’d startled him. Surprised him once again.
Good. Her confidence grew.
“How would you go about proving it?” he asked in a low timbre that sent her newfound confidence into hiding. He was no longer leaning away. Instead, he seemed closer.
Rachel wanted to look away from the green eyes that seemed to be pulling her in, but couldn’t. “I would… I don’t know,” she answered honestly. She closed her mouth once she felt the tremble in her lips.
He touched her cheek gently, his white kid glove soft against her skin. “Surely, you could think of some way to prove it.”
She became like a statue, and for a moment wondered if Reuben was taunting a kiss from her. She wouldn’t allow herself to believe such a thing, and yet there they were. His back was visible to anyone who dared look at their corner of the hall, but she was sure that any view of her was swallowed by the mass of his form.
Did she dare kiss him? Prove to him how much of a woman she’d become? Press her curves against his form to give him the purest of evidence she could find?
Tales of a Viscount Page 7
