Lucille returned her gaze to the window as she spoke. “The style is of the standard. Classical.”
“Thank you.” Though Rachel wasn’t sure that was a compliment. She asked another question just to be sure. “Do you like it?”
Lucille shrugged. “It is simple to do.” She seemed confused. “It is your usual style. Do you not like it?”
“No, I mean, yes, it’s fine.” Though the words ‘simple’ and ‘usual’ didn’t sit well with her, not as much as they’d had, when Rachel had told Lucille weeks ago, that she’d wanted those very things.
Martha had done everything simply, and had always told Rachel how pretty she was. Lucille barely made comments.
Before she could say more, the carriage door opened. She stepped out, and the footman let her down. The door was opened by a butler. She handed Lucille her bonnet and took in the sight of Reuben’s home.
From what her eyes could see, it was more like an empty vessel. The foyer walls were a nice pale green, though she thought it could use a fresh coat, yet nothing made that stand out more than the fact that there was nothing on them.
“Welcome to my home.”
She was jarred out of her thoughts, and her eyes landed on Reuben as he came from around the grand staircase in the heart of the foyer. Remembering what she’d decided just that morning, she curtsied. “Lord Eastridge. Where are the others?”
Reuben looked at his pocket watch. “You’re at least a half hour early, my lady.” His eyes came to her again. “No one else is here. Perhaps, you had the time wrong?” He lifted a brow.
Rachel folded her arms. She’d most definitely not misheard the time, which meant Rose had planned this all along, and for once, she detested her friend’s help. Avoiding him would only be rude now, so she allowed her mind to settle on her surroundings, while she tried to forget their owner. “You need décor.”
“I already told you that. Would you like a tour?”
She turned to find him with his arm outstretched toward her. Looking about, she said, “I should probably wait in the carriage for the others to arrive. It’s quite inappropriate—”
He lifted a brow. “We’ve been friends for years. And there’s no reason to stand on ceremony. I assure you, my sisters will say nothing to ruin your reputation.” He kept his arm out, and his eyes trained on her.
Rachel turned to look at Lucille, to find the woman’s expression to be saying nothing. Then she turned back to Reuben, and took his arm. They’d started down the hall when she whispered, “Just the common rooms.” Aunt Esther was set to arrive tomorrow, and Rachel was sure she’d have no further occasions to be alone with Reuben after that.
He chuckled, catching her off guard. “I wouldn’t take you to my private apartments, I can assure you.”
While the words would have brought comfort, they did not. Instead, she felt mortified. Of course, he wouldn’t take her to his rooms, and of course, he was no danger to her reputation, because he’d made it abundantly clear that she was but a child to him. ‘Little Rachel’. Not a lady that one wed, but one that was gently patted on the head.
Rage forced her next words from her lips. “How foolish of me to assume so. It’s clear what sort of woman you would take to your rooms.”
He was silent, as they stopped inside the sitting room. It was red with black finishing and sparsely furnished. She took all that in with one glimpse, before she was turned around and forced to face Reuben.
His face seemed calm, but his eyes were watchful. “Such a conversation between us would be inappropriate.”
They were not the words she’d wanted to hear. She’d wanted to him to ask her what sort of woman she assumed would be in his bed, so she could ask if he’d had a rendezvous with Lady Yall last night. She balled her hands into fist, her palms aching as her nails pinched her flesh. “What sort of woman would you have this conversation with?”
“Not you,” he said clearly.
She stepped back and turned toward the room. Once again, she decided it probably best if she ignored him, however rude that may appear. “While the tour seemed a pleasant idea, I believe it best that I remain here and wait for the others. I can spend my time thinking of a guest list for the party. Could you please send a maid for tea?”
She heard him move, the light brushing of shoes on carpet, and released a breath. She was taking a seat on the couch when she realized Reuben hadn’t left. He stood by the bell pull and then moved to sit next to her.
“What are you doing?” she snapped.
He settled down and said, “If you’re to make a guest list, I find it best that I help. There may be people I wish do not attend.”
A footman appeared, and he made his request while also asking for paper and ink.
Then he turned back to her, as though it didn’t set her on edge, as though it were the most natural thing to do.
* * *
11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
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Reuben considered sitting next to Rachel like shaving himself. At first, it was painful, and with many mistakes, yet over time it was like walking or running. No thought went into it. It just was. There were no mistakes.
Last night had been a mistake. He’d been unable to resist her sweet nature, and the natural beauty that made her stand out from the rest of the ton.
And she was wrong. If he had to take anyone to his rooms, if he could…
But no. It would never work. She deserved better, far better than him. He was humbled by her obvious attachment to him, but he knew she’d regret turning to him later. She was so young. Someone had to make the best decisions for them both.
So, he would sit as close to the fire as he could, until he built up a resistance to the heat she gave off.
She relaxed, or at least tried to appear as though she were doing that, and then settled her hands on her lap. “Who would you like not to be invited to the party?”
“Lord Avon,” he said swiftly. He was Gerard’s father, Rose’s father-in-law, and the man who’d tried to keep the two apart. He was also a member of the Blue Blood Coalition, and while Rueben planned to invite a few of those men— men who would take no issue with ending a life— Reuben didn’t believe the old man involved, and the less he saw of him, the better.
Rachel nodded. “I agree. There’s no reason to have someone who may upset the party atmosphere.”
Reuben wanted to put Lord Yall and his family on the list, but since he had reason to suspect Lady Yall wishing for the king’s end, they would remain.
“Is there anyone you don’t like?” he asked, simply wishing to know her better.
She blinked a few times and wrinkled her nose in thought. She was so full of life. “The list of those I don’t like is very few. I usually enjoy people.” She smiled. They were the words of a woman who made few enemies.
He felt his lips curve at the ends. “And I’m sure they feel the same about you.”
“I don’t like the Anns. Neither does Rose. Don’t invite them,” she said.
“Their father is a good man,” Reuben reasoned. “He also supports the Home, and my presence in Society.” Tea, paper, and ink came in at that very moment.
Rachel pouted her lips. “Very well. Is there anyone else?” “She poured for them both, never asking how he took it, yet getting it right anyway. Milk and sugar.
He sipped from the cup she handed him. “The Wolfgangs.”
Rachel frowned and put her cup on the table. She reached for ink, and directed the paper her way. “You mean the Earl of Bandell and his family? Why not? While everyone has their reservations where the earl is concerned, his sons Lord Karl, and Lord Jolan, are good people. Why, they were at Wint’s party last evening.”
Reuben remembered seeing them both, and had watched the way the men’s eyes had followed Rachel around. While he was trying to stop a murder, he didn’t wish to commit one, himself. He tol
d his needy beast that his only reservation toward the family rested with the earl. He’d been rumored to have killed his eldest brother, in order to take his seat in the House of Lords. So, while Karl and Jolan appeared as the usual sort of gentlemen, he didn’t want Rachel anywhere near that family. “I don’t want the earl at my party.”
Rachel stared at him with luminous hazel eyes, then sighed. “I want to change your mind.”
“You won’t, so there is no need to try.”
She narrowed her gaze, pointed her chin down, and stared up at him from under thick lashes. A seductive look, though he knew she didn’t know it. “Karl is nearly your age.” Her words didn’t make him feel any better.
He leaned forward. “He’s too old for you.”
Her expression changed dramatically, and she leaned away. “I… That’s not what I meant. I simply thought that by inviting him to your party, you two could strike up a friendship.” Then she lifted a brow. “Though, now I must admit I don’t agree with you. Karl is not too old for me.”
He put down his cup. “Perhaps, you’re right. How old is he?
“Thirty-two.”
He turned to her again. “And do you have anything in common with this man?” Did they both enjoy reading, and parties in the country? He knew they both grew up in the same station, which made him more qualified to be with Rachel than he, himself.
She shrugged. “Though my philosophies as a woman don’t matter, I would say we are of like minds.” Then something flickered in her eyes and she said, “We both own property.”
“Your father owns property,” Reuben said. “And when you marry, it will go to your husband.”
Her expression became haughty. “Unless I don’t marry.”
He stiffened. “Why would you not marry?”
She lifted her shoulder again. “It is always a possibility.”
Reuben did not agree with that in the least. She was far too lovely, and too good to not get married.
Rachel went on, “My father has taught me everything I would need to know, in order to run my own estate. If I don’t marry, he’s made it so I will have whatever property is not entailed to the title.”
But she would marry. She simply had to get past the broken heart.
“I could… advise you on property law if you ever need aid.”
“Thank you, but I think I can manage.” Besides, he already had Lady Jay. It still surprised him that those letters he exchanged were with a woman. He had yet to reply back. He didn’t know if he should.
She turned away, but not before he saw her smile. “Very well. We won’t invite the Wolfgangs, but I think you’re wrong to dismiss them all. I’m attending Lord Karl’s party tonight and I—”
“With who?” he asked more roughly then he’d intended.
Rachel’s eyes widened. “No one, I fear. My father was supposed to attend with me but—”
“I’ll escort you.” More parties would mean more opportunities for him to narrow down who the assassin may be.
Rachel’s eyes blazed with life as she smiled. Her happiness touched him, and left a mighty imprint on his heart. “Excellent.”
Was it wrong that he was glad he’d been the one to put that smile on her face?
* * *
12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
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Rachel and Aunt Esther were already waiting in the sitting room, by the time of Reuben’s arrival. Aunt Esther had arrived only hours before, and had taken a nap before hastily dressing for the evening ahead. She was in her late sixties, but her eyes seemed bright and ready for anything. She wore a dark gray dress and sat attentively.
It was simply unfortunate that Rachel’s fears as to her hearing had been accurate. The woman could barely hear a thing. Rachel was forced to speak quite loudly— nearly shout— just to ensure her aunt heard anything at all.
“You look lovely, darling.” Aunt Esther nodded approvingly at Rachel’s gown.
“Thank you,” Rachel shouted as she ran her fingers over the skirts.
Aunt Esther leaned forward and frowned. “What did you say, dear?”
Rachel sighed, just as the footman showed Reuben into the room, and she found herself unable to speak. His suit was dark, his waistcoat a deep lavender, with a silver threading that tied in with his buttons. His hair was swept back as usual, without fuss or fancy curls, but she paused at his eyes, and was rendered mute.
He was looking her over as well, and she fought to not touch her collar. The dress was lilac and silver, and she knew they’d look as though they’d planned their ensembles together. He smiled as he approached her. “You look lovely.”
“The same could be said about you.” She turned to introduce her aunt, but Lady Esther recognized him immediately.
“Smith!” The old woman looked him over. “My, you’ve changed, though not really. You did always look fine in a suit. Handsome. Quite handsome.” She turned to Rachel, then. “Why didn’t you tell me that Smith would be here?”
Rachel hadn’t known her aunt would remember Reuben, though she had to admit that Reuben was a hard man to forget, and while Esther’s hearing had declined, it seemed that everything else was in top working order. Reuben had matured, his features harder, but his eyes were the same.
“We no longer call him Reuben,” she said, shouting. “Lady Esther Niles, this is Lord Eastridge.”
Reuben’s eyes flickered widely at her volume, but then he put on a smile, and bowed over Aunt Esther’s hand. “My lady.”
Aunt Esther’s eyes widened. “You’re a lord? When did this happen?” She laughed. “Well, it’s so good to meet you, Lord Heesrich. How did this come about?”
Reuben straightened and offered an arm to Esther, before doing the same to Rachel. He ignored Esther’s incorrect pronunciation of his name, but did share with her the circumstances of gaining the title, as he escorted them from the house. Lucille was right behind them.
“When the war turned from a war against France, to a war against Napoleon, his soldiers and generals closest to him bowed out.”
“Mutinied,” Lady Esther said fervently.
“Yes, but what they don’t share, is that Napoleon tried to run. The allies captured him before he got far, and then we saw him to exile. When he escaped, we went back to hunt him down.”
“We?” Rachel said, cutting into the story. “You make it sound as though you’d done nothing special, on your own.”
He ducked his head. “War usually takes the effort of more than one man, but you are right. I was the one who led the men on the hunt for the war captive, and then again, fought in the battle at Waterloo, where I once again captured him.”
“My,” Aunt Esther seemed impressed.
Rachel smiled. “And that it how you became a viscount.”
He nodded. “Yes, that is how I became the Viscount of Eastridge.”
“Oh, Eastridge,” Aunt Esther said, correcting her earlier attempt at the title, as she was handed into the stately carriage.
“Do you do well in carriages?” His question was directed to Rachel once they were settled. The shadows spread over him like a blanket, and Rachel struggled to meet his eyes, much less know his expression.
“I beg your pardon?” Esther asked, leaning forward.
Rachel touched her aunt’s arm and leaned into her ear. “He’s speaking to me, Aunt Esther.”
“Oh!” The woman settled back in her chair. “Very well then. Carry on.” She seemed content to simply sit back and let the conversation flow around her. It was likely something Esther did frequently. With her hearing loss, she likely found it hard to engage with others, having to settle with sight alone. That saddened Rachel, but there was nothing she could do change it.
She turned to answer Reuben’s question. “I’m fine in carriages, so long as the windows remain open.” As they were now. “I thank you for your conce
rn, but really it’s nothing to worry over.” Then she changed the topic to one she’d been thinking over since she’d left his home. “Have you been to the Curtis Cotton Factory by the docks?”
“No.” He straightened his legs, brushing hers, and she quickly retreated to give him room, but not before feeling the strength of his limbs. She had to force her mind to not stray as he spoke. “Why would I visit a cotton factory?”
She smiled. “On Sundays, Mr. Curtis allows the Best Home students to work on their crafts, whether it be with silks or wood. Not all of their work is polished, but many of the men and women who go, are very good. I believe it would be a fine place to look for furnishings for your home while keeping the cost in your… budget.”
She could hear the smile in his voice as he responded. “And by paying for these furnishings, I also support the Home’s former residents.”
“Yes.”
“Very clever,” Reuben said, and it sounded as though he meant it. “We can go next week.”
“We?” Her pulse leaped to a faster trot. “You wish for me to go with you?”
“With Lady Esther, if she’s up to it. I wouldn’t know where to begin furnishing my home. It’s best that you are there to pick out what would suit my home the most. I wouldn’t want to look the fool at the party.”
No, she agreed with his point to be wise, and yet… Rachel pressed her lips together and wondered if furnishing his home was the only reason he’d extended the invitation. Was it possible that all he really wanted was to spend time with her? Though, he was inviting Aunt Esther as well. “All right,” she said. “Next week, then, and I believe Aunt Esther would gladly accompany us.” She turned to her aunt to make sure, shouting her request loudly.
“How lovely!” Aunt Esther replied. “I do so enjoy art!” She smiled brightly, and Rachel was glad the idea pleased her. Art would be the perfect trip for her, since one didn’t need words to appreciate it.
Tales of a Viscount Page 9
