Chapter Fifteen
The deep hum of the train lulled Cassandra into a trancelike state of being. She felt nothing but the numbness of betrayal and rejection.
Phillip sat across from her in the narrow compartment with his arms crossed and pouted like a petulant child.
They’d left Inverness just after dawn heading directly for London. Not a word had passed between them over that duration of time. Cassandra possessed very little tolerance for her son’s poisoned opinions of Reuben and his hereditary stubbornness.
“Are you hungry, Mother?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
Cassandra gave him a pointed look but said nothing, afraid she might retaliate in a manner most unbecoming of the mother of a duke. Although at this juncture, it hardly mattered, as they were beyond polite manners and pleasantries.
“You cannot ignore me forever.” Phillip sighed, slumping in his seat. “I am your son, after all.”
“I did not raise my son to behave in such a vile and crass manner,” Cassandra replied simply.
“If you expect me to apologize for my behavior, you may find the wait excruciating.” Phillip sniffed.
“I cannot believe you cast Reuben out as though he were the villain of this story.” Cassandra scowled at him. Her heart ached at the thought of Reuben killing anyone—even if it was to save her and other innocents.
“He is a villain, Mother.”
Cassandra bristled at his trite response. “You know nothing of his past—of what he endured.”
“Is that so?” Phillip’s condescending remark only compounded her fury. “Then perhaps you can enlighten me.”
“If I believed you would listen with an open mind and a forgiving heart, I would.”
“You think me callous and unfeeling to cast him aside without just cause?” Phillip’s gaze narrowed. “I have my reasons for what I did, and I have no need to justify them because you developed an unhealthy relationship with a servant.”
“You claim to know so much about his past.” Cassandra inclined her head. “Tell me what it was that made him unfit to serve in our house.”
“Aside from his obvious infatuation with you since the moment Father brought him into the house as his valet?”
Cassandra gasped. “He was not infatuated with me.”
“He was—and still is.” Phillip snarled. “We are only four years apart in age, Mother. It does not take a detective to decipher another man’s intentions when it is as plain as the nose on my face.”
“Evans never indicated any intentions toward me that could be misconstrued. He maintained decency even through mourning.” Cassandra felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “If anyone is to blame for crossing that line, it is my own foolish folly that eroded his restraint.”
“I have no wish to uncover the precise timeline of your romantic involvement.” Phillip raised his hand to stop her from continuing. “But I maintain my statement. He remained in our service for the sole purpose of seducing you.”
“Believe what you will,” Cassandra relented, unconvinced of the wisdom of trying to explain anything to her son. Perhaps Reuben had been right—Phillip would never see reason.
“Did he tell you of his childhood in the slums of Whitechapel? Of his sister’s employment as a whore?” Phillip persisted in his attempts to tarnish Reuben’s character.
“I have been aware of these facts for some time now.” Cassandra maintained her composure at her son’s obvious surprise. “His parents’ deaths created a void that his sister filled with her sacrifice. One I’m not sure many women would be willing to make unless it meant survival.”
Phillip pursed his lips in irritation but remained silent.
“She sold her soul to provide for her three younger brothers.” Cassandra spoke with reverence out of respect. “And she paid the price with her life.”
Phillip bowed his head. “Mother—I—” He stopped talking at her stern expression.
“He happened upon it, you know? His sister’s murder in a dark alley in Whitechapel.
He saw the violence and froze, unable to intervene.
Unable to save her life.” Her voice softened, tears filling her eyes.
She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t choke out the words that Phillip’s father was the one who had done it. “The bobbies found him with her.”
“Sweet merciful God.” Phillip rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw, speechless.
“He survived and found his way, enabling him to care for his younger brothers. But it put him in debt with the Lord of Devil’s Acre.” She shook her head at the irony. “It seems you share that commonality.”
“You knew of his ties to the Bloody Talons?”
“Not until recently, but yes, I did.”
“And you allowed him to remain?” Phillip growled. “You allowed a criminal to remain in my home.”
“He is not the monster you believe him to be.” Cassandra bit out with a honed edge to her words. “Your father was the true monster.”
“All you have are some questionable jars filled with—”
“Human remains.” Cassandra finished for him. “I also have a witness to your father’s reign of horror.”
Realization struck him with the force of a physical blow making him reel. “You cannot mean—”
“Reuben Evans witnessed much more than his sister’s death. He saw the man responsible.”
“No. It’s not possible.” Phillip shot out of his seat.
“It is true whether you believe me or not.” Cassandra folded her hands in her lap. “Your father maintained the illusion of a gentleman and a proper duke. He hid the monster within him, but he indulged in its demand to be sated.”
Phillip stared at her jaw slack, eyes unblinking.
“Your father was a murderer.” Cassandra let her tears flow, hoping this revelation would help heal the gaping wounds between them. “Evans knew the monster he was, and he chose to stay—to provide a small measure of security.”
“Why did he remain after Father’s death?” Phillip asked.
“I believe you answered that question yourself.” Cassandra smiled sadly. “Evans cares deeply for me. As I care for him.”
Phillip swore. “Mother, you cannot think this match prudent or proper.”
“Love follows no rules or boundaries, son. It simply exists.”
“You love him.”
“I do.” She wiped away her tears with a clean handkerchief.
James had been a horrible man, an atrocious husband, and a murderer.
He’d deserved to die. Even if Reuben had approached the man with the intent to end his life, Cassandra could not blame him for his actions.
Not with so much pain marring his past and clouding his judgment.
Reuben’s actions had been out of love—for his sister. For her. And she loved him still.
With a sigh, Phillip sat on the bench beside her and took her hand in his, offering a small measure of comfort and understanding.
“Mother, I—I was wrong to act in such a manner. I merely wished to protect you.” He lowered his gaze.
“I see now how single-minded I was. We were all deceived.” He met her gaze once more.
“My only wish is to see you happy and safe. After all you have endured, you deserve to make the decisions that directly affect your life.”
Cassandra squeezed his hand, feeling the burden of her past and her guilt lift like a cloistering shroud that had been keeping her in a dark, lonely place for so long. “Thank you.”
“I may not like Evans, and I still do not approve of your union. But if he is the man you love, who am I to deny you that simple joy?”
“Speaking of unions…” A soft laugh escaped her at the perfect segue he’d provided. “When do you intend to take a wife? You require a suitable bride to step into my role.”
“‘A suitable bride’?” Phillip blushed, shaking his head.
“Yes,” Cassandra said with a wry smile. “I find it hard to believe my son has not found a bride yet. You are nearly thirty. It is time.”
“And would you have me ensure her pedigree like a horse or a hound?” Phillip teased.
“No. I would ensure you marry for love. No other reason will suffice.” Cassandra spied the glowing heat rising in his cheeks, even though he tried to hide it. “Or have you found someone to take up my mantle already?”
“It is still too soon to tell, Mother.” Phillip waved his hand. “But I assure you, when the time is right, I shall secure a proper introduction.”
“This is a fairly recent development?”
“Yes, Mother. I cannot say whether it is love, but I do care for her—deeply.”
Cassandra’s heart gave a swoop of joy. “I am delighted to hear it.”
“Do not make plans for the wedding just yet.” Phillip laughed.
“I promise, I shall refrain from any such thoughts.” Cassandra’s eyes widened. “But what of the house? Should you wish to marry, your wife will want me to leave. I would not blame her.”
“We will address that should the need arise.” He patted her hand.
“But if you require a place that better fits your needs and desires, we can begin the search for a more appropriate location. Perhaps something just outside the city, close enough to maintain your social duties, but isolated enough to give you a quiet existence if that is your preference.”
Cassandra heard the undercurrent of the words he’d left unspoken. If she chose Evans, this would provide her the perfect opportunity to slowly retreat from a life in the spotlight. A promise of a life of her choosing without judgment.
“Thank you, Phillip.” Cassandra leaned close and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
She cradled his jaw in her hands as she had so many times when he’d been a little boy.
The resemblance to James faded into obscurity, and she saw him in a new light unmarred by the blight of his father’s sins. “I love you, my son.”
“And I adore you, Mother.”
Contentment settled around them. Finally, the broken pieces of the past began to knit together and heal. There would be scars and the occasional pain, but it would serve as a gentle reminder of their growth and the restoration of balance.
By the time they’d reached London, Cassandra bore a new purpose. She needed to find Reuben.
Phillip delivered her safely to the London home on Grosvenor Street, and with a bow, he took his leave.