But he backed away and glared. “You should stay away from me, Rachel.” His voice was low, yet just as commanding. “I’ll arrange for my carriage to see you and your aunt safely home, but I must go.”
Her eyes widened, and she truly began to wonder what had gone wrong, but he was gone before she could inquire.
* * *
16
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
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* * *
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“Are you listening to me?”
Rachel was pulled from her thoughts, and turned her head to find Susanna sitting in the corner of the dressing room, as she looked over another dress catalogue. Lucille stood in another corner, her expressionless gaze on Rachel’s attire. Rachel stood with her arms outstretched, as Mrs. Courtney’s assistants added pins to Rachel’s new gown, two days after Lord Karl’s party. The dressmaker herself stood only a few feet away, looking on with faint approval.
Susanna smiled. “I said, the gown is quite becoming on you. Don’t you agree?”
The assistants and Mrs. Courtney all stepped away, as Rachel turned toward the looking glass.
What she saw staring back at her, was the woman she’d always known. Sweet and gentle Rachel with her high collars and puffed sleeves. If she told a stranger she was sixteen, no one would question it.
Her hair was pulled away as it always was. Her face clean. She wore no adornments. No fancy lace or ribbons.
And for the first time ever, her comely plainness was not enough. A large part of it had to do with the way Reuben had pushed her away, yet a greater part of it had to do with simply, maturity. She was not a young girl, anymore. She was no longer Stacy’s darling fiancée. She was twenty-two. Some would say she was on the verge of spinsterhood. Surely that meant it was time to put away her childish appearance, and try something else.
“That will do,” Mrs. Courtney said. “Let us try the other gown and—”
“Lower,” Rachel whispered.
The room went quiet.
Lucille’s eyes caught hers through the looking glass, but her expression remained neutral.
“What did you say?” Susanna asked, her eyes also visible in the mirror.
Rachel’s nerves fluttered, and she felt her lips trembled. “I want the bodice lower.”
There was another pregnant pause.
Then Susanna smiled, wildly. “Marvelous! I agree. It’s time to try something new.”
Mrs. Courtney’s lips lifted slightly as well, and she quickly took up a ruler from the table before moving forward. She placed the slim wooden instrument just above Rachel’s collarbone. “I believe here would be very—”
“Lower,” Rachel said, her voice stronger than before.
Mrs. Courtney lifted the ruler, placing it two inches below the collar. “Your neck would be well defined by placing the bodice—”
“Lower.”
Susanna laughed. “Rachel.” She looked amazed and slightly impressed. It was an expression she’d never seen directed at her. Had Rachel ever impressed anyone? Surprised anyone? Done a single thing that was out of character?
Likely not.
She’d never felt so unimpressive in her life.
She met Lucile’s eyes, and noticed the woman’s gaze to be sharp. Her previously blasé expression gone, now intense.
Mrs. Courtney lifted the ruler and then hesitated, before dropping it just above the start of the bustline. Not as scandalous as one could go, but on Rachel, it would surely shock many. “You’ll need a fichu.”
Rachel heart jumped. “More than one fichu, actually. I’ll need one for all of my new gowns. I want them all lowered.” And then a second later, she said, “And the sleeves. I want them gone.” Destroyed. “And especially the red dress.” That one would be the most daring of all.
Lucille grinned darkly, but then lowered her head as if to hide it.
Susanna was staring at her as though a phantom has appeared in the room. “Rachel, are you sure?”
No, and yet… A second passed, and she nodded her head. “Yes.” Something broke within her. It felt as though some heavy binding were being pushed away, and she took in a deep breath. It was her first breath as the new Rachel. She grinned, and then she laughed, hysterically, feeling reborn.
Mrs. Courtney smiled, as well. “It would seem Florentia has been reborn.” Mrs. Courtney had dressed her mother as well. “You’ll need new undergarments.”
“Yes.” Rachel didn’t want to put on anything from her old life. She felt the urge to run to her rooms and tear apart everything that would remind her of her former self.
Reuben had said kissing her felt wrong. Was it because he still saw her as a child? Well, surely, he wouldn’t now. “How soon can you finish these garments?” She barely wanted to put the dress she’d worn to the shop back on.
“How soon do you want them?” the dressmaker asked.
“Immediately. Simply send them as they are ready. Money is no object.”
Susanna shook her head, but she was still grinning. “I can’t wait to see what Society will say.”
A lick of fear tried to climb itself back into Rachel, but she banished it, while she straightened her shoulders. No more fear. Fear was for children. She was Lady Rachel Lush, and whatever that had previously meant, was about to change.
Reuben spent the next few days following one lord after another, starting with the ones who were closest to the king. He even had the soldiers that Lord Yall had given him do the same, but nothing stood out to any of them, which Reuben found to be more than a little frustrating, especially since he was hoping the assignment would steer his thoughts away from Rachel.
He’d embarrassed himself with her six nights ago at Karl’s party, and since then, he’d avoided her, just as much as she’d avoided him. His sisters had been to his house twice since, and on both occasions, they’d made comment about him needing furniture. He’d decided to go to the docks that night to see whatever offerings the self-taught students of the arts could offer him.
As he walked out of Jasper’s— which had been a fruitless trip, since the gentlemen’s club owner had no news for him— he thought to invite Rachel to accompany him. It had been her idea to go to the cotton factory, but more so, he recalled how joyful her aunt Esther had looked at the thought of seeing art. He didn’t want to disappoint her, and yet, he would. It was better this way. Rachel needed to spend less time with him, and more time with a gentleman who was her equal.
He took a hack home, and was just climbing the stairs when a young man he recognized started toward him in a rush. He immediately became alert.
“The Home was attacked.” The boy was winded, but managed to get the words out. Now that he was close, Reuben remembered his name to be Matthew. He was one of the older boys, soon to start an apprenticeship at a paper mill.
Reuben rushed back to the hack and shouted to the young boy. “Get in!” This was the first attack since the start of the year. Last year, they’d dealt with three others. The first had been aimed at Alexandra. The second and third, at Alicia Best.
Matthew settled in as the hack got underway, his cheeks red and puffed from exhaustion. It was likely he’d run all the way from the Home, which was just over a mile or so away.
“Was anyone hurt?” Reuben asked.
Matthew shook his dark blond head, his blue eyes downcast.
That no one had been injured calmed Reuben, but only slightly. “What happened?”
The boy took a deep breath. “A man on a ‘orse threw a brick through the window, and then fled away.”
“What did he look like?”
Matthew scrunched up nose. “Didn’t see ‘is face. ‘E wore a mask.”
“He wore a mask,” Reuben corrected. The man would never go far in life, if he dropped his h’s.
The young man narrowed his eyes. “He,” he said, dramatically. “His hair was dark. He was big. That’s all.”
He either had been hired by the Blue Blood Coalition, or was a member himself.
Reuben cursed.
Matthew’s eyes went wide.
“Pardon me.” Reuben turned to the door, as the carriage came to a stop in front of the Home. He could see the broken glass. The guard was talking to one of the local watchmen. Reuben went over to listen. The story was the same as Matthew had said.
“The man fled too quickly,” the guard said. “But even still, his nose and mouth were covered with a black banyan.”
“But you saw his eyes?” Reuben asked.
The guard shrugged. “They seemed dark, but I can’t be sure.”
Reuben looked around the street and saw people standing about. The street was a busy one with many shops.
“I’ll see if anyone else saw anything,” the watchman said.
Reuben nodded and turned to Matthew. “Let’s go inside.”
The boy led the way, and Reuben found Alicia in the dining room, counting and recounting the children.
“Is everyone all right?” she asked.
“Yes.” One of the girls said the word in a way that said the question had already been asked. Repeatedly.
Alicia nodded and linked her fingers in front of her. She looked calm, but he could tell she was trembling. “All right. I want everyone to stay here. Don’t go into any of the rooms with windows.” She turned to Liz, her assistant. “Stay with them, please.”
Liz nodded. “Of course.”
Alicia turned to Reuben. “This way.” She took him to one of the offices and once the door closed, Reuben didn’t let her speak. He simply pulled her into a hug and held her.
Alicia’s arms came around him, and she buried her face in his chest, breathing deeply. “Why is this happening?”
“You know why.” He ran his hands over a woman he considered to be one of his oldest friends. “The letters. Society is not pleased by them. They have to stop.”
She pulled away, just enough to look at him. “You say that as though I can stop them.”
He lifted a brow. “Can you?” He knew it wasn’t the best time to inquire, but if Alicia had anything to do with the letters that were exposing the infidelity of the ton, then now was the time to stop.
She dropped her arms and moved to the table and chairs. “Reuben, I’ve already told you, I am not the one releasing those letters.”
He let it go when he noticed she was trembling again. He and Christmas had already asked her repeatedly, yet her story never changed. It was likely she was not the one who released the letters, but that left Reuben and Chris with only one other suspect: Mary Frances. And neither man wished to tangle with the old dragon.
He took a chair. “Do you have the brick?”
She nodded as she took her seat. “And the note that was attached.”
“What note?” The door was opened, and Christmas came through, followed by Nash. Both men immediately made the already tiny room— which had already been shrunken by Reuben— seem even smaller.
They each took about two steps before they had to stop.
Alicia stared up at them from her desk. Her hands rested flat against the top. “How did you hear so quickly?”
“I had another guard posted across the street,” Chris told her, as he elected to stand by the window since Nash took the only other seat available. He gazed out, and then turned back to her. “Nash was with me, when he came with the news. He didn’t see the man’s face either, and was at a disadvantage by being on his feet. I shall get men on horseback.”
Alicia gaped. “Christmas, surely you can’t afford such a thing.”
“The Home can’t afford to lose you, Alicia,” was all he said, before he turned away. Christmas was a businessman, and dressed the part with suits that were tailored to his large form, though he didn’t put on the show of colored waistcoats or golden buttons, as others did.
“Let’s see the note,” Reuben said.
Alicia pushed it across the mahogany desk.
Nash was closer and picked it up. He read it aloud. “Cease and so will we.” He looked up. “It doesn’t say anything else.”
Reuben took the sheet, noted that the paper was fine and the handwriting even finer, but that said nothing, except for what they already knew. The message and the brick were from the Blue Blood Coalition.
“Is there anything we can do about this?” Chris asked, as he took the note.
Nash’s voice was just as hard as his words. “We could retaliate.” His crystal blue eyes seemed like cool water as he spoke. “We could make the members we know are involved regret the day they started their little club.”
“Absolutely not!” Alicia stood, and glared at Nash. “You’ll get yourself thrown in prison all over again.”
Nash leaned back and shrugged. “If it means the children will be safe…” Nash rarely regretted a decision. He hadn’t even regretted the first time he’d gone to prison, and had it not been for the Scottish duke who’d set him free, he’d have likely died in there, years ago.
Reuben shared a looked with Christmas.
Christmas looked away. “We’ll do this the legal way. We’ll find the man who threw the brick.”
“Like we found the man who shot at Alexandra?” Nash asked mockingly. “Or the other two men who’d tried breaking into the home to attack Alicia?” Their brother shook his dark head. His jaw grew tense. “It’s time for retribution.”
“No.” Reuben turned to him. “You shall remain out of this.”
Nash narrowed his eyes at Reuben, and then, Chris. “I know you two are keeping things from me.”
“You don’t react well when you’re angry,” Chris said.
“Last year, Reuben was willing to kill—”
“Not here,” Reuben growled before Nash could say Avon’s name.
Alicia gasped at him. “Reuben, you were going to commit murder?”
Chris intervened. “That is not the issue we are dealing with at the moment. We need to find whoever threw the brick.”
Alicia gave Reuben a look of disappointment, and Reuben felt it burn his chest, making him feel low.
Another knock came to the door, and Alexandra stuck her head in. “Is everyone all right?”
Chris frowned. “What are you doing here?”
She came in and was followed in by Rose and…
Rachel.
* * *
17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
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Reuben slowly came to his feet and stared at Rachel, or who he thought was Rachel, for by looking at her, he wasn’t sure. She looked the same, but then she didn’t.
Her face was the same, though her eyes were more striking than ever, the gold, green, and blue were all distinct and vibrant, glowing much like her skin. Her hair was done in a fashion that Reuben had always thought looked silly on other women, abundant curls strung up high with loose crimson tendrils flowing around her flawless face, and resting against the skin at her collar. And there was so much of that creamy flesh to see. He also noticed that she wore her mother’s diamond and jade headdress, as a queen would wear a tiara.
He gaze followed the hanging red strands that trailed down to her throat and chest. The gown was gold. Its edge was made of lace that seemed to tease his mind, forcing him to guess as what lay underneath the delicate fabric. Though the answer to that was obvious. Her attributes… She was covered with a fichu, but the material was nothing more than lace, very transparent and so light that she wouldn’t need a strong wind to see the thing removed. A strong breath would have the material flutter to the ground.
Something dangerous stirred within him. He forced his eyes back to her face, and he caught the small smirk that formed at the corner of her lips, before she turned toward Alicia in full concern.
Reuben looked around to see if anyone had noticed his reaction.
Alexan
dra and Rose were far too busy speaking to Alicia. A glance at Chris and Nash filled Reuben’s blood with anger.
Both men were staring at Rachel. Dazed. And there was nothing familiar about the look.
Nash stood. “Lady Rachel, please take my chair.” His expression was that of a child who’d just been told to expect baked apples for dessert.
Rachel seemed surprised. Her lips, which Reuben thought looked more alluring than ever, parted into a sweet smile. “Oh, thank you, Nash, but I’m all right on my feet.”
“Would you like to stand by the window?” Chris asked her. “I could open it, if you need air.”
She laughed. “How kind of you, Christmas, but I’m quite all right.” No one called him Christmas and got away with it.
Yet Chris looked like he wanted to smile, and Reuben was sure if his friend remembered how, he would have done so.
Reuben turned to Rachel. “In the hall. Now.” He pointed to the door. He was so enraged, that he had a notion to add Nash and Chris onto his list of pending murders.
Rachel’s smile fell away as she blinked up at him. Heavens. Her eyes reminded him of the heavens. She lifted a sculpted brow and there was a look of unadulterated defiance in her eyes, of the likes he’d never seen, before she turned and strolled from the room.
* * *
Rachel paused a little down the hallway, and then turned as Reuben approached. He looked larger than she recalled, but she didn’t allow him to see how much he was frightening her at the moment. New Rachel was not afraid of men. New Rachel wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything.
And though her heart galloped as though it were in a race, she straightened her spine.
Then he turned and walked into a sitting room. When he didn’t reemerge, she followed, and jumped when the door was closed behind them. He crowded her then, and stopped less than a foot away from her.
Tales of a Viscount_Heirs of High Society Page 12
