Chapter Nine #2
Cassandra unfastened her cloak and handed it to the footman, who placed it on the rack, depositing her gloves and hat along with it. Where in the devil was Reuben? She smoothed her hands over her skirts as she ventured into the house.
A soft curse echoed through the crack in the study door. She pushed it open.
Reuben stood with his back to her, staring out the window overlooking the street.
“Reuben,” she murmured as she stepped closer. He stiffened at the sound of his name.
When she came alongside him, she searched his handsome profile, tracing the sharp edge of his jaw with her hungry gaze. He refused to look at her. His gaze fixed on some object in the distance.
“Is something wrong?” Cassandra rested her hand on his arm.
He glanced at her hand, then traced the length of her arm up until his eyes locked on hers.
“Everything is wrong.” Reuben sighed, hanging his head and avoiding her gaze. “Cassandra, I have not been entirely honest with you.”
Fear pierced her heart with the swiftness of an arrow loosed from a bow. She dropped her hand. “What do you mean?” Her voice hardened. “You promised—no more secrets.”
“I know.” He turned to face her fully. “I am not the man you think I am.”
“Well, then I think you should start at the beginning.” Cassandra inhaled deeply to quell the rising uncertainty and fear. Would the secrets and lies never end?
*
Everything had built to this moment. Reuben had known this inevitability would arrive, and it would force his hand. He inhaled deeply before nodding.
“Perhaps we should sit,” he said, gesturing to the chairs by the fire.
“I believe I shall remain as I am.” Cassandra straightened where she stood.
Reuben groaned, his body humming with awareness at her proximity, but he saw the glint of steel in her eyes. She had demanded the truth. No secrets. But could he give her the answers she needed to hear without thinking the worst of him?
“Very well.” He stood at attention, his hands by his sides. “You know of my association with the Lord of Devil’s Acre, and how it came to be. But there is more to that tale.”
Cassandra inclined her head, an indication for him to continue.
“As you know, I was born and raised in Whitechapel.” He paused waiting for a reaction, but none came. Not even the flutter of an eyelash. Her gaze softened, but she said nothing, as though afraid if she would interrupt, he would end his tale. Instead, he continued.
“When my parents died, my sister cared for us. Work was scarce, and what we found often did not cover the expenses of our small family.” He dropped his gaze.
“I fell into a bad lot. A small band of thieves who would nick trinkets and money from those who were better off. Mostly toffs.” He shrugged.
“But my sister, she—well, she became a prostitute at the age of fourteen.”
A soft gasp ripped from her parted lips.
“The pay was better than anything we had before, so she kept doing it.” Reuben rubbed his hand across his forehead, wishing he could banish the memory of her drawn complexion, the bloodstains marring her perfect skin, the gaping wound at her throat. His voice cracked, “Until someone killed her.”
“Dear merciful Lord,” Cassandra muttered beneath her breath. “Reuben, I—” She bit her lip and contemplated her words carefully before speaking. “I am sorry for your loss.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, pushing the memories aside. “I was the one who found her, lying in an alley in Whitechapel, just two blocks from a gambling den where she’d worked as a whore.”
Cassandra flinched at the revelation. “How old were you?”
“Fourteen.” He flexed his fingers to keep them from balling into fists.
The memories surrounded him, but he focused solely on telling his story without choking on the rising emotions.
“Right after I found her, a bobby came round the corner. He saw my hands covered in blood and thought I’d done it.
Until he noticed the fury and tears blinding me. ”
“What happened?” Cassandra asked, her tone soft and tender. “Did they find out who killed her?”
“No.” Reuben shook his head, studying the patterns in the carpet beneath his feet for a long moment before lifting his gaze to meet hers.
“The detectives had no leads, and they didn’t care enough about Hannah to waste time searching for a mysterious killer.
‘A victim of her trade,’ they said.” Bile stung the back of his throat.
“You cared for your brothers, then?” Cassandra pressed.
“I did. For a few months, at least.” He scoffed. “Until the same bobby caught me nicking a toff’s wallet on Bond Street.” Reuben allowed a half-smile. “Instead of locking me up, he took mercy on me. He took me to the Lord of Devil’s Acre.”
“To save you from a life of crime he delivered you to the one man who’d mastered it?” Cassandra asked, blinking. “How could a bobby do something like that? Were there no better alternatives?”
“The Lord of Devil’s Acre has far more influence than you realize. From those in society to the bobbies who walk the streets.” Reuben nudged the topic back to himself. “The old man took all three of us in. Gave us an education. A chance to redeem ourselves.”
“And he did this out of the goodness of his heart? A grand gesture of philanthropic proportions.” She arched a brow.
Reuben shook his head, the weight of the past wearing heavily on his mind. “It was a debt to be repaid. One I took willingly so my brothers would never have to work for a dangerous organization with questionable morals.”
“You bore the entirety of the debt to the Lord of Devil’s Acre?” Cassandra asked, her voice solemn. “That must have been a hefty burden to bear for so long.”
“It was.”
“And do you still owe the debt?”
“Not in the same manner.” Reuben rubbed his jaw. “Simon, the current lord, and I became friends. Attended the same schools. Our agreement continues the wishes of his grandfather, but I am free to make my own decisions on when and how I aid him—should he make a request.”
“And you remained in my employment to acquiesce to his request?” Cassandra arched a brow. Curiosity burned in her question, and yet he sensed the hurt beneath the bold accusation.
“I remained against his recommendation.”
“‘Against’ it?” The confession stunned her. “I do not understand. He placed you in my home strategically. Why would he suddenly change his mind?”
“Your husband’s death,” Reuben replied simply. “He felt there was more to lose if I remained. Until that point, I had done my diligence in keeping him abreast of the duke’s activities.”
“He now requires my son to bend the knee or take on his father’s debt.” Her gaze narrowed. “Why? After two years, what changed?”
“The documents.” Reuben straightened. “Contained within them was a wealth of information concerning the duke’s investments, interests, proclivities, and—well, there are some other incriminating elements that Simon must ensure do not continue down the family line.”
“Are you insinuating that my son would indulge in such barbaric activities?” She protested, the fury in her voice highlighted by the flush of color rising in her cheeks.
“He may be his father’s son, but I did my part in raising him as well.
He is a good man. Stubborn and entitled, but deep in his heart, he knows the difference between right and wrong.
Phillip would never behave in such a manner. ”
“Would you stake your life on it?” he asked solemnly.
Cassandra bristled at the question. “I do not need to stake my life on it to know it is the truth.”
“And that is why Simon requires your son’s active participation and comprehension of the outstanding debt.” Reuben inclined his head, gauging her reaction carefully. “But honestly, I believe your son is a lost cause. Simon would do best to cut his losses.”
“How dare you?” Cassandra reeled, stumbling back as though he had slapped her. “My son is not a lost cause! If we tell him the truth, explain things to him in a logical way, I am sure he will understand why this debt must be repaid, if only out of closure for the victims.”
Reuben stepped closer, bringing them toe to toe. Her jaw tensed at the invasion. The sweet, familiar scent of her teased his senses and he inhaled deeply, savoring the way her heat surrounded them both. She intoxicated him.
“Why do you hate him so?” Cassandra asked, breaking through the haze of tormenting need. “What has my son done to you that you discount him so quickly?”
“Your son has made no secret of his contempt for me since the moment I took employment as your husband’s valet.
” Reuben straightened and held her gaze.
“I honestly do not know why he has indulged you and kept me in his employment while also elevating my position within the house. Perhaps he hoped I would fail and disparage myself enough to be rid of me permanently without guilt and blame.”
“Why would he feel guilt? It is his right to do as he wishes with the house and the staff.”
“But he knows how much you prefer my company.” Reuben exhaled sharply. “And I remained solely at your request. To cast me aside without reason would only ruin the bond you share.”
“He has said something to you?” Cassandra folded her arms across her chest, emphasizing her bosom and making it difficult to concentrate on the importance of their current conversation.
“Just before you returned this evening. The duke revealed that he had uncovered the truth of my birth, my past, and my intentions. Then he threatened to tell you all of it and ruin my reputation completely unless I abandoned my post with due haste.”
Cassandra glanced away, as though reliving the exchange she’d had with her son only moments before. She turned back to Reuben. “Why did you not leave with your secrets intact?”
“Because those are not secrets. There is no dishonor in my origins, in my poverty, in the way my sister provided for us.” His tone softened.
“But I could not bear the thought of abandoning you without revealing what he thought were secrets. It was my story to tell, and I could not allow you to hear the truth from anyone other than myself. You deserved that much.”
“I see.” Cassandra licked her lips. “I appreciate your honesty, although I wish it had come far sooner.”
“I should have told you long ago, Your Grace. Forgive me.” He bowed. “I shall pack my things and darken your door no longer.” When he straightened, he turned, ready to follow through with his promise.
Her hand came to rest on his arm, stopping him. His body tensed at the innocent touch and burned for something more—anything to quell the longing simmering inside him.
“What of our agreement with the Lord of Devil’s Acre?” Her question came on a broken sigh. “What am I to do about my son?”
“I will speak to Simon about your son.” He covered her hand with his own. “This burden of revelation should not be yours. Your husband—the bloody coward—shall burn in hell for leaving the burden for you to bear alone.”
Cassandra’s hand drifted along his arm, up until her fingertips caressed his cheek. When she cradled his face in her hand, he leaned into the warmth.
“This is my burden to bear. My wrong to right.” She took a deep breath. “I allowed him to persist in his cursed ways and leave a horrid legacy for my son.”
“No.” Reuben grasped her hand by the wrist and pulled it away.
“You view me through a rose-colored lens. I am no innocent in these criminal matters, even though I knew nothing of their existence. I must make an effort to right this injustice and bring it to a satisfactory conclusion. If there are aggrieved parties, I wish to see them properly compensated and cared for.”
“He did not deserve you,” Reuben whispered, his body tense as she allowed him to draw her closer, his fingertips tightening on her wrist.
“How do you know what I deserve?” she asked.
He drew her hand to his lips, his breath teasing the delicate skin along the inside of her wrist. Reuben lifted his gaze enough to hold hers, noting the way her breath caught at the intensity pulsing between them.
“You deserve to experience life’s little joys—and all the wondrous delights life has to offer.” He kissed her wrist, allowing his lips to linger upon her pulse. “Like pleasure.”
When she captured his lips in a ravenous kiss, Reuben knew it meant his complete surrender. And he did so. Willingly.