Chapter Eleven #2
“I cannot just leave London on a whim.” She hated how her heart fluttered at his touch and the promise in his eyes. “I have standing engagements. Events I must attend. Dinner with my son.”
“It will only take a few days at the most.” He rubbed his fingers over her knuckles before bringing them to his lips.
“I vow it will be a delightful adventure.” The delicate press of his mouth against her skin sent a tremor of need racing through her.
She ignored the rising desire and instead focused on his suggestion.
“Even so, I cannot travel without Sidlow, and it would arouse even more suspicion if I joined my son’s butler for any excursion.” Cassandra paused, breathless at his touch. “How do you propose we travel together without raising suspicion?” she asked, her voice husky.
“As husband and wife, of course.”
Cassandra laughed aloud. “Surely, you jest.”
“I assure you I am quite serious.” He grinned. “I do not mean a true marriage. We dress and act the part of a working-class married couple, and no one will be the wiser.”
“You have too much faith in this plan.” She eyed him with suspicion. “What makes you think it will work?”
“With the proper garments and a touch of theater, no one will suspect a thing.” He squeezed her hand. “Most people are far too enraptured by their own lives to pay attention to anything else.”
“Your confidence astounds me.”
“And your hesitation gives me hope.”
“Very well,” Cassandra relented, feeling the weight of the undertaking resting on her shoulders. “When do you wish to leave?”
“Tomorrow. I shall purchase tickets for the first train to Inverness.” Reuben pressed another kiss to her hand before relinquishing it and standing. “I shall make the necessary arrangements and procure the proper attire.”
“I shall send a notice to the caretakers in preparation for our arrival.” Cassandra rose, her purpose clear. “I must send a few letters before I depart to ensure there is no concern over my absence.”
“A wise idea.” Reuben stepped closer, resting his hand on her hip. “Think of this as a grand adventure, Cassandra.”
“Difficult to do with such a weighted task hanging over my head.” She softened in his embrace as he held her. “But I will make the best of it.”
“Excellent, Your Grace.” Reuben kissed her, stealing her breath and making her head spin. How could a man over ten years her junior be so damn alluring? She savored the heat of his mouth and the tender caress of his hand at her nape.
A hundred wicked thoughts crossed her mind, but she refused to dwell on them.
There was too much at stake. Too many moving parts for her to adequately assess an outcome that suited everyone equally.
Reuben seemed convinced he would find something of note.
But Cassandra merely wished to find a way to keep Reuben close, despite her son’s wishes.
If she could uncover the dark secrets her husband had kept, then perhaps she could satisfy all parties involved.
She cursed James for placing her in this situation, but without him, she would never have been in a position to meet Reuben and discover her own potential.
This was a very dangerous game they played. But Cassandra held out hope that they would find answers to bring resolution—including a happy ending to her star-crossed love affair. Only time would tell.
*
Reuben remained unconvinced of the wisdom of his own plan.
He’d merely prolonged the inevitable by persisting in his quest for some form of closure.
For years, he knew the duke had a hand in the death of his sister, even though he had no physical evidence.
But now, this demand for answers had become more than revenge or justice.
He cared for Cassandra deeply and had for years.
In his own hubris, he’d convinced himself to stay—that she needed him. Reckless, foolish man. He cursed himself daily, and yet he could not bring himself to leave. Now, it was far too late. They were bound together with a common purpose.
By nightfall, he had purchased the tickets for the morning train to Inverness, secured adequate attire for both of them, and ensured Cassandra would not be missed over the course of their journey.
When he retired for the evening, Reuben ensured the household knew nothing of their plans by relaying some simple falsehood about the dowager duchess visiting an ailing distant relative in Warwickshire.
The supposed relative’s illness required Cassandra to visit without Sidlow, so he gave the maid a week to visit her mother.
He volunteered nothing about his own absence, other than his request for some time to take care of his own personal responsibilities.
The hardest part, however, was his decision to remain in his own bedchamber. It physically pained him to refrain from going to her after the servants were abed. He longed for nothing more than the next opportunity to take her in his arms and shower her with amorous attention.
Soon, he vowed to himself when he’d extinguished his lamp.
Morning took far too long to arrive for his liking. He barely slept a wink, his body twisted in a state of nervous terror and excitement. He rose before dawn, ensuring all of their items were safely packed and waiting by the door.
Before the morning sun broke the horizon, Cassandra descended the stairs, radiant in a plain navy wool day dress with a trimmed straw hat.
The cream shirtwaist peeked from beneath the dark fabric, protecting the delicate column of her throat.
It was simple and modest, but it did nothing to hide her lovely features from curious gazes.
Reuben licked his lips, wanting to tear it open and trace the contours of her body with his tongue. She ruined him for all others. Completely.
“I trust you slept well, madam,” he murmured, offering her cloak.
The look she gave in reply spoke volumes to her current state. If one glance could kill, Reuben would cease to breathe. Instead of a response, she slipped the cloak over her shoulders and donned her warmest gloves before exiting the front door.
Reuben chuckled. He knew she disliked rising before nine; this hour was far from anything she was accustomed to. Once they settled on the train, she could rest.
Outside, her son’s carriage waited for them. The footmen loaded their trunks as they climbed into the conveyance. He tipped them extra for their silence, including the driver. Once inside, they traveled in silence to the train station.
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but at the forefront, he could not help but wonder if this was the correct course of action.
Pulling her deeper into his tangled web seemed disingenuous at the very least. But they needed answers—he needed them.
If they uncovered them together, then perhaps they could both find peace and purpose.
In a flurry of commotion at the station, they managed to locate their compartment, reserved solely for themselves (a small indulgence on his part for her convenience). When the train finally lurched into motion, Reuben breathed a sigh of relief.
Cassandra leaned her head on his shoulder as they pulled away from the station and into the morning light. Within moments, her soft snores filled the cabin. He smiled. Perhaps it was for the best. She needed rest.
Reuben, however, found no rest in her presence. His body hummed, strung tightly like a coil, ready to release with the slightest provocation. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, focusing his mind on anything but the woman curled against his side.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer and cradling her against his warmth. And thus he remained, still as a statue, set in his task like a loyal hunting hound.
The gentle sway of the train compartment and her relaxed breaths lulled him into a peaceful transfixion. Reuben surrendered to the peaceful embrace of slumber.
He dreamed of Hannah again. His sister lying in that dark alley, blood coating the cobblestones beneath her, spreading like vines into the darkness as the life drained from her. Vacant eyes and a silent scream painted a grim picture. Grief choked him.
A bobby pulled him back, shouting in the distance, the sound muffled in his ears.
He whipped around, glaring at the intruder, only to find the alley empty.
When he turned back to his sister—the alley was gone.
Replaced by fine velvets, Persian carpet, and wooden accents.
A familiar place. But his sister was gone.
In her place lay Cassandra. Her perfect lips parted in a final plea as her eyes stared up at him in horror. His heart lurched at the sight of the wound on her throat, the blood spilling in dark rivulets onto the thick carpet beneath her.
A familiar pain stabbed his chest, leaving him breathless and shaking.
He pressed his fingers to the wound, only to find his actions compounded her agony—stealing her life even quicker.
He choked on a sob and cursed. The last spark of defiance lit her eyes before she slipped into the embrace of death.
It mattered not what he did; there was no salvation. For either of them.
Reuben woke with a start, his breath catching in his chest.
“Are you well?” Cassandra asked, pulling him from the haze of his nightmare.
He glanced at the woman still tucked beneath his arm. His hand trembled as he rested it on her shoulder, drawing her closer. She came willingly and pressed her palm over his racing heart.
“It must have been a horrid dream to leave you in such a state.” Cassandra rested her head upon his shoulder.
“Yes.” Reuben refused to elaborate. The vivid images were still too fresh in his mind, too vibrant and violent for him to voice aloud. Instead of focusing on the details of his dream, he instead chose to center himself in this moment.