Chapter Two #2
“I admire your steadfast devotion to your late husband. You were truly blessed in your union.” Cassandra ignored the way her heart ached with jealousy. Lady Corby had at least tasted love—passion. Cassandra knew nothing of it. Her union with James had left her desolate and cold.
“Thank you, madam.” She smiled again, radiant.
Although they had both been in society together and mingled at events, Cassandra had never taken the time to know any of her peers.
She followed through with the motions, but there had never been any true connection or friendship.
Mainly because she feared the truth of her marriage becoming gossip among the ton.
Some of the women could be downright vicious.
This small interaction allowed her a glimpse into Lady Corby’s personality, and Cassandra realized she quite enjoyed her company.
Perhaps there was hope for her to expand her social engagements, after all.
The lights flickered, signaling the play was about to begin. The four women settled into their positions, waiting with excited comments and murmured expectations.
During the play, Cassandra lost herself in the story on stage.
She reveled in the performance, noting the way the actors captured the characters with such vibrancy and passion.
When Cymbeline learned his daughter had secretly married his ward, a man of low birth, Cassandra sighed. Could love ever be uncomplicated?
Cassandra’s thoughts drifted to another man.
A man not of her station. A man she admired for his loyalty and thoughtfulness.
A man whom she could never have. Even after her son married and his wife stepped into her role, being the dowager duchess still left Cassandra in a vulnerable position for scandal.
She shook Evans from her thoughts. Why was she even considering such a thing? Evans was her servant. Aside from that night following the funeral, he’d shown no indication of desire toward her. No flirtation. There was nothing between them, and there never would be.
After the play, Lady Corby drew Cassandra aside. “I would be honored if you would join us for tea tomorrow afternoon, madam.” She gestured to the other two ladies. “Unless you already have plans.”
Cassandra’s heart warmed at the thoughtful gesture. “I would be delighted accept your gracious invitation.”
“Wonderful.” Lady Corby placed a card in her hand. “Here is the address. I look forward to seeing you there.”
“You are very kind.” Cassandra made her goodbyes and took her leave, slipping out the door before she encountered any other members of the ton.
The carriage waited patiently at the edge of the curb. She climbed into the seat and shivered before pulling a blanket across her lap. The nights were growing colder.
Her eyes drifted closed as the carriage lurched into motion. As much as she had enjoyed her evening out and the unexpected new acquaintances, Cassandra longed for the comfort of her chair by the fire, the novel she’d started the night before, and a glass of port.
Mrs. Mercer, the housekeeper, and Evans would surely be waiting for her when she arrived.
She decidedly ignored the way her heartbeat quickened at the thought of seeing the handsome butler. Perhaps she was coming down with something, for surely, it was not natural to have her heart race with no cause or exertion.
Turning her mind from Evans and his charming presence, she focused instead on the invitations awaiting her on the silver tray. In the morning, she would make a point to respond to each of them, and then join Lady Corby, Lady Amesbury, and Lady Winstead for tea.
Finally, the dark skies overhead were starting to look less ominous. Life after death, indeed.
*
With a soft curse, Reuben replaced the leatherbound tome on the shelf in the study. Where in the devil could it be? He leaned against the edge of the desk and stroked his jaw.
This was the only logical location. Since the former duke’s death, Reuben had spent every moment of his leisure time searching the house from the attic to the wine cellar.
Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing incriminating.
The only room he had left to search was her bedchamber, but why would the duke have hidden anything there?
No, it had to be the study. This was the only room the duke had deliberately kept to himself.
Even his wife had not been allowed admittance.
His frustrated groan filled the quiet space. Reuben could not think of her. Not now. Not when he was so close to uncovering the very thing he had spent years searching for. It was here. It had to be.
During the two years she’d lived in mourning, she’d spent the majority of her time in this room.
Why this room specifically, he could not fathom, aside from the fact that he’d banished her from it while he’d been alive.
This had been her late husband’s private sanctuary when he hadn’t been out whoring and gambling.
He’d forbidden anyone from entering his study, even her. Especially her.
When Reuben had encountered her in the study the night of her husband’s funeral, he’d been stunned by her presence. His intent that night had been far from pure. Even now, his desires muddled together, creating a wicked chaos in his mind, pulling him in opposite directions.
Reuben’s gaze drifted over the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves laden with heavy books ranging from popular fiction to well-worn two-hundred-year-old bindings.
When he spied the wingback chair beside the fireplace, he suppressed a grin at the memory of her seated there every day for months on end.
She devoured every book with dedication, making notes and leaving small slips of paper between the pages to mark a particular passage.
It was endearing, truly, but it also left him with little opportunity to search the room.
When she’d absconded to the country for the summer, he’d remained in London.
It was unusual for the butler to travel with the family, yet part of him did not wish to leave her unattended.
He’d taken the opportunity to search the study in her absence and found nothing unusual, and yet it had to be the only logical hiding place within the house.
The clock on the mantel chimed the hour. Damn. She would return soon and he was still no closer to finding where the bastard had hidden it. Reuben raked his fingers through his hair in frustration before smoothing the strands into place again.
With Her Grace back in society, Reuben would have more opportunities to search the study. All he required was patience and resolution. It grew increasingly difficult to harness the desire that came bubbling to the surface when he saw her. Especially this evening.
She had glided down the staircase wearing the most striking blue gown, diamonds and sapphires glittering from her ears and around her delicate neck.
He’d longed to press his lips to the hollow of her throat where that brilliant jewel lay, to feel the pulse of her heartbeat beneath his lips, and hear the catch in her breath as he tasted her skin.
It had taken every fiber of restraint to keep from reaching for her.
Instead, he had offered his assistance in placing the fur-edged cloak around her shoulders and stepped away.
The teasing scent of lilac and citrus had mingled with the heat of her skin, enticing him, inviting him to partake.
But he’d abstained, taking up his post by the door as she’d exited the house.
Reuben shook his head in a vain attempt to break free from the spell she wove around him.
It was nonsensical, the way he responded to her.
The way he protected her. He scoffed and turned back to the mantel.
Carefully, he surveyed the wall, searching for seams and gaps.
Something he may have missed. Something out of place.
The ticking of the clock echoed through the room, reminding him of her impending return. He glanced at it again. Ten minutes after eleven. Damn. She would arrive home any moment.
Reuben narrowed his gaze on the ornamental clock. Was that—surely not. He crossed the room and examined the oak clock with its intricate carvings and gilded face. The pendulum inside the wooden case ticked back and forth, counting the passing minutes.
He ran his fingers over the face and the sides in hope of finding some kind of hidden compartment. His fingernail snagged on a frayed edge. Reuben’s breath caught. Finally.
“What are you doing, Evans?” Her achingly melodic voice echoed behind him.
He swore beneath his breath and quickly readjusted the clock before turning to face her.
“Your Grace.” He bowed. “I was merely inspecting the clock. The time was incorrect and I feared it may be broken.”
The duchess strode into the room, silk skirts shuffling around her like a jewel-colored cloud. “You were not at the door when I arrived home. I feared some horror had befallen you.”
“Forgive me, madam. It will not happen again.”
“Evans,” she tutted as she crossed the room, stopping beside the leather wing back chair. “You have been a stalwart and loyal servant. I believe I can forgive you for this one lapse.”
“You are too kind.” He inclined his head in respect. “Is there anything I can get for you? Some port, perhaps?”
“That sounds delightful, Evans.” She gracefully sat in the leather chair.
Grateful to have something to do with his hands, Reuben busied himself with pouring a glass of port from the crystal decanter once he’d summoned a chambermaid to build a fire. When he presented the glass to Cassandra, she took it with an ungloved hand, her fingertips brushing his.
He suppressed any reaction, but deep inside, his body ignited like tinder beneath the touch of a flame. Reuben cleared his throat and drew back.
“Is there any other way I can be of assistance?”
Her dark eyes sparkled in the dim gaslight. “Join me.”
“I am unsure that is proper.”
“It was not a request, Evans.” She gestured to the chair opposite her. “Sit.”
Reuben sat, his trousers bunching uncomfortably thanks to his body’s uninvited reaction to her touch. His gaze remained fixed on the glass in her hand until she spoke.
“How old are you, Evans?” she asked, regarding him intently as she lifted her glass to her painted ruby lips.
“Two and thirty, madam.”
“So young.” Her smile betrayed nothing but sincerity. “So handsome and capable.”
His face warmed at her compliment. How was he supposed to take her words? Was she merely stating an observation or was this a subtle flirtation? He straightened and returned her smile, unable to form a response.
“Why are you here, Evans?” Her smile faded and uncertainty laced her question.
Reuben’s anger at the duke grew as he saw her fold in on herself, hiding the loneliness and pain her husband had placed there.
She knew nothing of her own worth, of her potential.
The duke ensured her spirit was shackled to his twisted demands, his unrelenting torment.
Over her period of mourning, he’d seen her slowly blossom, testing the waters of her newfound freedom, but she still clung to the past, to what was familiar and safe.
Dare he draw out the passion he knew lay beneath her uncertainty, even though he knew it would only end in disaster?
“May I speak freely, madam?”
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I would be disappointed if you were not completely honest with me, Evans.”
“I remain for solely one reason.” He held her gaze, ensuring he captured her reaction in its full glory. “You.”
Her lips parted and a soft gasp filled the space between them. The crystal glass trembled in her hand, but she did not waver, remaining focused on him.
“A bold confession.” She took a sip of port. “What makes you think I require your presence?”
Reuben inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of her and the earthy smoke of the fire in the hearth. “You do not require it, but you enjoy it.”
“That is no reason to remain in my son’s employment.”
Reuben’s hand closed around the crystal glass in her grip, his fingers lingering against hers, a gentle brush of skin against skin.
The touch was innocent in a way, but as he drew it from her grasp, she took a sharp intake of breath and her lashes fluttered softly.
He affected her in the same way she affected him. There was no denying it.
When he withdrew his hand, he stood, returning to the decanter and pouring another dram of the tawny liquid. She watched his every move, eyes darkening like a midnight forest. He lifted the cup in salute and downed the contents.
A solitary brow rose as she regarded him. Silence pulsed around them, thick like the morning fog. For a moment, Reuben thought he had crossed a line, pushed farther than was necessary, but she said nothing. No word of chastisement or warning.
Instead, the dowager duchess rose to her feet and met him directly before the crackling fire, like an altar in the background.
He held his ground, unwilling to move for fear of breaking the tension burning between them.
This was not the closest they had ever been, and yet his confession lingered in the air, thrumming like a beating heart and creating an intimacy that left his knees unsteady and his head spinning.
She intoxicated him with her presence. She had for years. This only added more fuel to the already-raging inferno.
“Perhaps we should renegotiate the terms of your employment, Evans.” She traced her finger along his jaw, making it tense. He held his ground. “If you desire to remain in this home.”
“I am sure we can come to some arrangement, madam.” Need raged through his veins, and desperation nearly moved him to action. He wanted to kiss her, to lay claim to her mouth, her body, her very soul. She deserved passion. Devotion. Love. But could he really provide that?
Reuben blinked, dragging himself from the edge of the cliff, and stepped back. “If you will pardon me, madam, I must attend to my duties.” He bowed. “Unless you have further use of my services.”
“Not this evening, Evans.” Her Grace turned to stare into the fire, breaking the trance between them. “You are dismissed.”
“Very well, madam.” The wall of propriety slid back into place and Reuben seized the opportunity to leave the room with his pride still intact.
The moment he stepped into the hall, he should have felt immediate relief. But the sensation that accosted him was nothing short of a brutal assault on his conscience. His stomach twisted and guilt pierced the well-armored shell around his heart.
The dowager duchess knew nothing of the power she wielded over him, and he feared it may very well lead him to ruin before he could uncover the truth and the proof he needed to bring peace to his shattered soul. Curse it all.