Chapter Eleven
Cassandra woke alone. Disappointment cloaked her in shame until she found the note lying on the nightstand beside her bed.
Went out. Will return soon. ~ Reuben
While it quelled her initial fears, it did nothing for her lingering concerns. Their evening together had been—well, unexpected and amazing. But there were still so many unanswered questions.
Granted, falling into bed together had not been the wisest course, but she could not bring herself to care about the consequences of their dalliance.
She enjoyed his company and his attentions.
For years, she had poured everything into her son—her husband.
Never before had she taken the time for herself.
Cassandra deserved to explore the blissful delights of sex without the guilt society placed upon it.
If men could indulge freely, why could women not do the same?
With a renewed vigor, Cassandra rose when Sidlow entered her chamber.
No signs of Reuben’s presence remained in her chamber, but still, she worried what it might look like to her other servants.
Taking the butler as a lover was hardly condoned behavior for a dowager duchess.
Part of her fretted that the gossip might spread, but she trusted her family’s servants, who had been loyal to her through the years.
Cassandra spoke little, feigning a headache. The young woman nodded respectfully and set to work. Once Cassandra was adequately attired, she directed Sidlow to do a simple coiffure with loose pins in a fashionable style. It suited her well enough and showcased her newfound confidence.
“Have you seen Evans?” Cassandra asked.
“He stepped out this morning, Your Grace.” Sidlow nodded. “I believe he said he would be back before midday.”
“Very well.” Cassandra stood. “My shawl, please, and I shall take my luncheon in the study. Thank you.”
Once the warm shawl lay tucked against her shoulders, Cassandra dismissed the maid. She glanced at the clock on her mantel. It was nearly eleven. Surely, Reuben would have returned by now? She frowned. How could she possibly know where he’d ventured off to at such an hour?
Shaking her head, Cassandra retreated down to the main floor and took the chair closest to the hearth. One of the housemaids had already ensured that the fire was lit and burning brightly. She smiled when Mrs. Mercer appeared with her meal and a fresh pot of tea.
“Thank you, Mrs. Mercer.”
“My pleasure, Your Grace.” She placed the tray down on the table.
“I was helping Mrs. Johnson in the kitchen after speaking to Evans about the day’s schedule.
” Her brow furrowed. “Then he stepped out, something about an errand that could not wait. He was in quite an odd state this morning. Probably a poor night’s sleep. ”
Cassandra shifted in her seat. “I see.”
“No matter.” With a smile and a curtsey, Mrs. Mercer left.
Cassandra poured her tea and sat back in her chair, ignoring the delicious sandwiches and scones lining the porcelain dish. The warm brew did wonders for her constitution, but it did nothing to ease her conscience.
She and Reuben had crossed a very delicate boundary.
One not only of class and propriety, but conscience.
His presence in her son’s home proved to be a complicated arrangement.
He’d claimed it had originally been at the behest of the Lord of Devil’s Acre, and yet he’d remained—because he cared for her.
A soft tendril of emotion unfurled in her chest at the thought.
He had taken rather excellent care of her over the past two years.
Even before this complicated mess of physical attraction had tempted her to indulgence.
Could it be possible that there was something more beneath the heat of passion between them? It would be madness to seek it out.
Then there was still the matter of her son and the outstanding debt with the Lord of Devil’s Acre. How could she be expected to convince her son of anything, let alone reveal his father’s tarnished legacy? Then there was the matter of Phillip’s conversation with Reuben the previous day.
While Phillip was well within his rights as the duke and head of the household, Cassandra had never been more furious with her son.
After all she had endured from James, she had hoped his death would have given her a chance to breathe.
She should have insisted on taking a smaller home and keeping her own staff. Reuben included.
“I was hoping I would find you here.” A familiar voice shook her from her thoughts.
Cassandra glanced up to find Reuben standing in the doorway with a brown box.
His dark hair lay damp against his forehead, and his hazel eyes shone with an inner brilliance.
The knot in her chest loosened at the sight of his handsome face, and heat flared in her cheeks at the memories of their amorous evening together.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked, stepping closer.
“Not at all.” Cassandra gestured to the chair beside her. “Join me.”
Reuben closed the door behind him before taking the seat she offered. He placed the box in his lap.
“What is that?” she asked, setting aside her tea.
“A gift.” He offered it to her. “By way of an apology.”
Cassandra regarded him thoughtfully as she opened the parcel. Inside, she found the stacks of papers and clippings that had gone missing from her husband’s desk. A soft gasp escaped her.
“You chose to return them.”
“I did.” He clasped his hands together, sitting at attention. “They are yours to do with as you see fit.”
Cassandra quickly skimmed some of the documents and shook her head. “You found nothing of importance?”
“There are things of great importance here, but I believe they would be better utilized to show your son the extent of his father’s legacy.
This is not merely about repayment. Once any deal is made with Mr. Oh, there is an understanding reached between both parties.
In the duke’s case, he will be required to reexamine the conditions of the original agreement Mr. Oh made with his father. ”
“What do you mean?” Cassandra asked, her voice trembling.
“The details of that agreement are particular to each, and I have not been informed of the specifics within the duke’s contract with Mr. Oh.
” Reuben straightened. “I had hoped these documents would ease the process of revealing the debt he owed, but there is nothing concrete within those documents that will convince him of the severity of his father’s actions or the consequences they would have on his son should his father’s past come to light. ”
“How exactly will any of those things convince my son of the legitimacy of this contract? Are you attempting to disgrace his father’s memory by threatening blackmail?” Cassandra tampered her frustration with a heavy sigh.
“My purpose lies only in revealing the truth of your husband’s masochistic inclinations and ensure your son’s proclivities do not match his father’s.” Reuben’s gaze hardened. “Simon agrees.”
“You do not think very highly of my son.”
“To be quite honest, madam, I do not know him well, but I am inclined to believe the apple did not fall far from the tree.” He arched a brow, allowing the implication to settle like a stone in her gut.
“Perhaps we can speak to Phillip without having to ruin his father’s reputation and come to an agreement.”
“After the conversation I had with him yesterday, I do not think such an agreement will be reached without evidence to support or allay Simon’s concerns.”
“What concerns would those be?” Cassandra sniffed.
“That your late husband indulged in random acts of violence, including murder, and hid the evidence,” Reuben said simply.
“You have made this claim before, and I find it difficult to believe.” Cassandra pressed her hand to her chest, mouth agape. “You have no proof of these accusations.”
“I saw his temper myself. Saw him raise his hand to those he felt beneath him. I saw what he did to you.” Reuben’s gaze held hers steadily. “And I saw him kill Hannah.”
A gasp tore from her as the air whooshed from her lungs. “You saw him kill your sister?” Deep inside her, a whirlwind of fear and panic twisted in her gut. “Are you certain it was him?”
“It was dark and secluded in the alley, but I saw him come out of the gaming hell just after her.” The muscle in his jaw clenched as he recalled the memory.
“I kept to the shadows as I followed them. By the time I’d caught up with them, she was lying in a pool of blood and he was running in the opposite direction. ”
Dropping her gaze, Cassandra cursed, knowing he believed it was the truth. Her heart ached, but in her mind, it fit. Had James truly done something so horrific? She inhaled deeply to steady her heartbeat. “I—I am sorry, Reuben. She deserved better—you deserved better.”
He shook his head, throat working as though unable to speak the words.
Cassandra shifted the conversation back to the matter at hand. “What do you propose?”
“There were several properties mentioned in these documents.” He pointed to the box in her lap. “Perhaps it would be wise to investigate those properties.”
Cassandra scoffed. “You wish to visit my husband’s country estate and his hunting lodge in the Scottish highlands?”
“If I must.” Reuben nodded.
“What can you possibly hope to garner from such an excursion?” Cassandra set the box on the small table beside her. “We spent countless summers at the estate in Coventry, and the hunting lodge has not been utilized in more than fifteen years.”
“When was the last time you visited the estate in Scotland?” Reuben asked.
The question struck her. Had she ever been to the hunting lodge in Scotland? Cassandra blinked twice. Had she ever even been to Scotland?
“I—I have never been.”
A slow smile unfurled upon Reuben’s tempting lips. “Then perhaps we should remedy that.”
“What are you suggesting? We take the next train to Scotland?” Cassandra scoffed.
“Exactly.” Reuben reached out and took her hand. “Come with me.”