Chapter Thirteen #3
“He has poisoned you against me.” The duke pointed at Reuben, who blinked rapidly.
“Enough.” Cassandra held her hand up. “I will not tolerate this a moment longer. Whatever cause you have to hate Reuben is your own concern, not mine.”
“You traveled to Scotland together without telling a soul.” The duke’s scowl disappeared as his brows shot up, eyes wide. “Tell me you did not marry this lowborn bastard.”
Cassandra gritted her teeth, eyes blazing. “If I choose to marry again, it is no concern of yours if I choose a stableboy or a king. Is that quite clear?”
The duke’s brow furrowed, but he nodded once. “Why Scotland?”
“I believe this conversation requires a drink.” Cassandra pushed past both men, heading for the parlor opposite the trophy room. “If you have quite finished, Phillip, I would have you join me. Reuben, would you be so kind as to have breakfast diverted to the parlor?”
Stunned by Cassandra’s display of strength and resilience, Reuben could only nod in response to her request. Once she’d disappeared into the parlor, the duke spun on him.
“Whatever delusions you harbor about a future with my mother, I suggest you take a long, hard look at your prospects.” He seethed. “If you value your life, you will take this opportunity to gather your belongings, vacate the premises, and never return. To anywhere my mother resides.”
Reuben bristled at the command, but he also acknowledged the thread of truth within his assertion. Even if he desired to remain with Cassandra and managed to heal the wounds he’d inflicted, it would never last. Some things were never meant to be.
“I will leave, but not because you demanded it.” Reuben growled, bringing himself eye to eye with His Grace. “But if you hurt her, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth.”
“A haughty statement coming from a servant.” The duke snorted. “And don’t forget, she ran from you in tears—so if anyone should be punished for hurting my mother, it should be you.” He sneered. “If you do it again, your punishment will be swift and severe.”
Reuben squared his shoulders. “Your ignorance will be your downfall, Your Grace.”
“And your foolhardy confidence will be yours.” The duke spun away, leaving Reuben standing in the hallway alone.
Nothing remained. He had no reason to stay.
His Grace had made his point clear, and Cassandra required time to repair the damage with her son.
He only prayed she seized the opportunity to reveal the sinister truth behind her husband’s legacy.
But that was not his secret to share. He had done his part, and it was time to go.
After retreating to the kitchen, Reuben informed Mrs. Mackenzie of their new guest and the dowager duchess’s request. Then he took his leave.
Once he’d gathered his meager belongings, he bundled in his warm overcoat and hat. Voices echoed from the parlor as he passed by. He slipped into the trophy room and beyond the hidden door. Selecting a jar from the grotesque menagerie, he cringed and placed it into the leather traveling bag.
He paused outside the parlor, debating the wisdom of leaving.
But ultimately, he knew it was the proper course for everyone involved.
Resolved in his decision, Reuben stepped out into the winter air and made his way toward the train station in the village on foot.
Melancholy dogged every step, growing deeper with every passing moment she didn’t appear.
She had every right to want to distance herself from him.
He was foolish to believe she would chase after him and beg him to return.
But those fleeting hopes of her appearance disappeared by the time he reached the station.
By dark, he was on a train headed directly to London.
Lost in thought, he leaned his face against the cool glass, his gaze unfocused on the passing scenery beyond the train window. The rush of indignant anger and self-preservation faded into a heavy misery that settled deep in his chest weighing him down like a loadstone.
Had he done the right thing? It mattered little now, as it was done.
Once he returned to London, he would visit Simon and deliver the news personally, along with the physical proof required to finally lay his sister’s memory to rest. He could only hope that Cassandra followed through on her bargain with Simon.
Even if she failed to do so, Reuben knew Simon’s true nature.
He would never allow any horror to fall upon an innocent woman.
While the Lord of Devil’s Acre had a fearsome reputation, he also bore a conscience and a soul.
He only meted justice to those who deserved it.
Simon would set it right. There was no need for Reuben to worry—or remain.
After he settled his affairs, he would seek a new position. Perhaps in America, where the streets were paved in gold and any man—even a lowborn servant—could make something of himself. Even with the promise of freedom and opportunity, Reuben’s heart sank.
All the gold in the world was worthless without her. But he loved her too much to cause her any more pain. It was time to let her go.