Chapter Three #3
“No.” The duke waved his hand and resumed his seat behind the desk. “You may go.”
Reuben retreated, running a string of curses through his mind that would make a sailor blush with shame. When he reached the door, the duke spoke.
“Evans.”
Reuben came to a stop and turned. “Sir.”
“Please ensure I am not disturbed.” He shuffled some papers into a neat pile. “I do not wish to be interrupted until my mother has returned.”
“As you wish, sir.” Reuben closed the door behind him and frowned at the solid wood. Ninnyhammer, indeed.
In the hall, he came face to face with Mrs. Mercer, returned from her errand, and relayed the duke’s instructions. She smoothed her hands over her skirts and nodded before setting back to work.
Things had become complicated. More so than Reuben was equipped to handle. He needed guidance, and fortunately, the young duke had given him the perfect opportunity to seek out some well-needed advice.
After retrieving his overcoat, hat, and his wallet, Reuben conveyed his need to step out to Mrs. Mercer and ventured out into the November air. He hailed a hansom and gave the driver the address of his destination.
During the ride, he allowed himself to ponder his situation more thoroughly. How could he explain it without sounding like a lovesick fool? No matter. Simon would see right through him. He always did.
One thing was certain, he needed to ask Her Grace outright if she knew of her husband’s duplicity, even if it put his position in danger.
The truth was more important than his comfort.
And besides, he had enough money set aside; he could use it to take a ship to America and start anew if the need arose.
Just the thought of abandoning England—and the dowager duchess—left his stomach churning and sour.
He wanted to stay with her. He wanted far more than that, if he allowed himself to be honest. But it was impossible.
Even if she felt some small measure of affection for him, a dowager duchess and a butler engaged in a love affair? The scandal would be too much to bear.
The hansom rolled to a stop in front of a familiar building just behind Westminster Cathedral. Soft threads of fading sunlight drifted through the buildings, casting the streets in ominous shadows. He paid the driver and pulled his coat tighter around him.
Tucked at the end of the alley lay a tall, brick building with the letter B set in the masonry. He knocked twice on the door, then another three times in quick succession.
The door opened, revealing a stoic butler with a thin mustache Reuben had known for years. “May I help you?” Finn asked.
“I need to speak with him.” Reuben held his gaze firmly. “It is important.”
“Very well.” Finn stepped aside. “Wait in the drawing room.” He gestured to the room to his right and disappeared down the hall.
Reuben paced the length of the room and back three times before the door opened.
He spun and relief filled him. Simon stood taller than most men with long, raven hair pulled back into a queue and piercing eyes.
His broad shoulders filled the doorway. The tailored suit he wore spoke of money, but this was no titled lord. He was an old friend.
Simon Oh, the Lord of Devil’s Acre, was the most notorious crime lord in London and the leader of the Bloody Talons.
“Reuben.” Simon gestured to the chair by the fire. “You must be desperate to come here.”
“I am, sir.” Reuben sat, his fingers thrumming on the arms of the chair.
“Would you like some whisky?” Simon asked, opening the decanter and pouring a glass.
“Yes, sir.”
He poured a second glass and handed it to Reuben.
“To your health.” Reuben saluted him and together, they drank.
“Now.” Simon sat in the chair opposite him. “Why are you in my home, Reuben?” He arched a brow. “Have you found what you were searching for?”
“Not exactly.”
Simon inclined his head. “When I gave you this opportunity all those years ago, Reuben, I did not think it would take you seven years.”
“I know.” Reuben hung his head.
“Why are you still there?” Simon asked, his words careful and measured. “Have you found something more valuable to you?”
Reuben’s head snapped up at Simon’s teasing remark. A smirk played on his typically stoic face. “What do you mean?”
Simon finished his whisky and set the glass aside. “Come now. Every one of my men would give their souls to work for the lovely Dowager Duchess of Tolland.”
“Fuck.” Reuben ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands and savoring the pinch of pain. “Things have gotten… complicated.”
Simon arched one dark brow. “You are her lover?”
“No.” Reuben’s blood heated at the thought.
“But you want to be.” Simon snorted a laugh.
“What the hell am I going to do, sir?” He sighed. “I have searched the whole house, ripped it apart, and still nothing.”
“Have you asked the dowager duchess?”
“Absolutely not. Even though I have thought about it, she would never believe me if I revealed the truth.”
“Then perhaps seduction is your solution.” Simon shrugged. “If she knows something, she will reveal it in her passion. Or—”
“Or what?”
“Or she knows nothing, and you can indulge in a torrid affair with the most coveted widow in London.” Simon smirked. “Either way, you get something you want.”
Reuben frowned. This was not the type of advice he’d been expecting when he’d come to the Lord of Devil’s Acre. He sighed heavily, nodded, and stood. “I should go.”
Simon rose to clap a hand on his shoulder.
“My intention for placing you in that position was to acquire something we both desired. Closure, for yourself, and my assurance that the duke upheld his part of the agreement.” His gaze narrowed.
“Do you think the young duke knows of his father’s debt… or his proclivities?”
“No, and nothing short of an act of God will convince him of the validity of such an accusation.” Reuben frowned. “What do you hope to gain from this, Simon?”
A half-smile formed on Simon’s lips. “I have my reasons for pursuing this outstanding debt. But for now, you should concern yourself only with your duchess.”
Reuben sucked in a breath at the implication of those two words and nodded.
“Send word if you need anything further.”
“I will. And thank you again.” Reuben shook his hand. “Give my regards to Mrs. Oh.”
This time, Simon smiled fully, glowing with pride and love for his wife. “I will.”
When Reuben stepped back into the street, a newfound sense of purpose filled him. He could do this. Right?
Seduce Her Grace.
His blood heated at the promise of passion between them. He wanted it. Craved it more than anything in the world. But would it work? Or would he lose himself along with everything he had worked so hard for all these years?
Son of a bitch. Maybe he should sleep on it. After the tense encounter with the duke this afternoon, he could not trust himself completely. He needed to be in control of himself and his desires because God knew once she acquiesced—if she acquiesced—it would bring him to the edge of ruin.
And he would welcome it.