Chapter Five
What an irritating, belligerent, beastly woman.
That was the only apt description for Rebecca Adler.
Rest had not sweetened her temper, it seemed.
Yes, she’d been through an ordeal, but its effects were being mended—and yes, reparations were the just outcome and required by their own law, but one would think she could show a touch of appreciation.
However, if she wished to be left alone, abiding was no skin off his nose.
He could fulfill his duty with or without her compliance.
Probably easier without. Let her stay in the purple guest chamber the entire time; what did it matter to him?
He had better things to do with his time, especially as he’d barely gotten a wink of sleep since the woman arrived.
Terrible for one’s complexion. While he was not a vain man by any stretch of the imagination, he wasn’t ignorant of the power of a pleasing physical appearance.
And he needed to amass all possible power to reclaim his proper place.
Thus, rest was in order so he could properly charm those who needed reminding of his appeal.
Roger climbed down the staircase to the second floor of the rather impressive six-story house that his late father-in-law had purchased when Jews were first permitted to own property in England.
A house that was now entirely his to keep secure and proper.
Turning the corner, he strode into the main parlor to find, of all people, Judah Teres, one of the would-be Brutuses—or perhaps Bruti—sitting on a rich burgundy brocade-covered chair, a cup of spiced chocolate in his hand and chatting with Lopez. Roger turned to his man.
“Lopez, please have the foreman of the crew for the Adlers’ house send daily reports on the progress when they return to work tomorrow,” he instructed.
Lopez’s brow quirked. “Yes, sir,” he said, sidling past Roger.
“I’m not being imperious,” he whispered to the man who’d been with him since the beginning of his marriage. “I’m being economical with our time.”
“Naturally,” Lopez returned. Though at least he exited, with any luck to do what Roger asked instead of what he believed best. An irritating quality he’d have not tolerated from anyone else.
Pouring himself a small glass of whiskey, despite the early hour, Roger sat across from his guest, leaning back and permitting the relaxing burn of the liquid to coat his throat.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, spreading his legs in a calculated effort to show dominance. Not precisely polite, but the man was part of a group seeking to supplant him.
“I heard you have a project for the next few weeks and wanted to verify the news for myself,” Teres said, casting a disapproving glance toward Roger’s drink and smoothing his impeccably cut coat.
Roger gave his most charming smile. “While what occurred was a horrible accident—though the community’s midwives should develop additional protocols for the storage of chemicals—we Berabs take our duties seriously.
Not only shall the Adler family be made whole, but all the residents of the household shall be welcomed like Abraham did the angels.
” He took another sip, leaving more than half the amber liquid in the glass and set it down.
“Is that not what’s fitting under our law? ” Or truly, beyond?
The other man’s expression was now oddly bemused. “Oh, it is,” Teres said with a dismissive sweep of his hand. “You just have quite the distinct ability to combine the best aspects of our own ethos with the sensibilities of the ton.”
And yet you’re in league with those who’d replace me in my prime.
“I’m well practiced,” he told the man instead. “I understand how important proper balance is not merely to my own image but to our long-term survival.” He took another sip before pointing at him. “But you’re not here to recount my better qualities.”
“No,” Teres said, tenting his fingers then tapping them against his lips once, twice, and three times. “I have a proposition for you.”
Roger blinked at the man. “Pardon?”
“You’re in trouble,” Teres declared.
“How so?” Was this would-be conspirator ready to turncoat, and for what price?
“While your name is still the main contender for Narbonne’s seat, there are those in the community who doubt you are the correct choice, and their position is gaining support,” Teres explained, his voice calm.
Leaning back, Roger contemplated the man. Well, no matter what occurred, this knowledge would empower him to thwart the coup. Which he would. They might have numbers, but they’d greatly underestimated him.
“What do you want, Teres?” he asked. “You have a proposal to assure me my seat, so let’s get on with it.”
The man pointed at Roger. “You.”
Him? Roger squinted at the man. What did he mean by that? And how? Or as what?
“Beg pardon?” He couldn’t possibly have heard correctly.
“As a son-in-law,” Teres clarified. “My daughter, Leone, requires a husband. The right sort of husband. One who can give her the life she deserves and solidify our family’s position for the next generation.
And as you might know, while I have two bright, capable sons, I cannot guarantee that anyone will afford them the treatment they deserve due to the rest of their circumstances.
” He gave Roger a pointed look, brushing a speck of dust off his sleeve.
Roger frowned for a moment, recalling the trio at Bevis Marks. Teres often appeared alone on Saturday, but on the holidays… right, the younger lad required a crutch to support his seemingly painful, slow steps, and the eldest was completely blind.
Some sort of fever when he was around Michael’s age. There’d been a great deal of tutting and sympathy at the time.
“Leone, of her own volition, requested an amiable, traditional marriage designed for her maximum security and that of her siblings,” Teres explained, breaking his thoughts.
An arrangement for mutual benefit, which would give him the edge he required. Not to mention, net him another adult in the household to handle Lucy’s obligations instead of placing everything on his shoulders, distracting him from his own.
Yes. This was exactly what he needed.
Teres, and apparently his daughter, wanted an alliance with a family of history, prominence, and funds. There were only so many such men available. Especially from their side of the community.
A perfect bargain.
While he did not recall meeting the lady in question, as she was likely younger than the women he’d considered for his first marriage, if the future second Mrs. Roger Berab was from the Teres home, Lucy’s responsibilities should be second nature to her.
Roger inhaled. His luck was changing. He’d finally be David’s equal. And no one would ever compare him to Louis again. He tightened his grip on his drink, power pulsing through his veins.
“And you aren’t afraid I’ll kidnap someone?” he asked with a small sniff.
“Ricardo and his progeny are grandstanding malcontents,” Teres declared, leaning back in his seat.
“Yes, one of your brothers made unfortunate choices, but your other is well respected. Not to mention the fact that your sister and her family are beyond reproach, and you have never given an indication that you aren’t in the same form,” he continued.
“Further, your children will be tended. My Leone is astute. She has an eye for good staff and their management. You shall be able to perform your duties with ease and complete focus once you are married.”
An eye for good staff—blast, the nurse. He’d forgotten to even follow up with Lopez and Marguarite regarding inquiries. Marrying Leone Teres was sounding better and better.
“When?” he asked, because really that was the only question now.
“Obviously, we’ll meet with a broker for show first, but we should be able to announce in… say, six weeks.” Teres eyed him. “Enough time for Miss Adler to leave. I don’t want any… confusion over my daughter’s position, even if the alternative is… Well, you’ve seen the woman.”
Oh yes, he had. And an unbidden image of Rebecca Adler, head thrown back as he took her on the Liras’ library ladder, moaning his name, rose in his mind.
Roger coughed a little, banishing the recollection from whence it came. “I have,” he said. “There’s no comparison.”
There wasn’t.
Coitus was one matter, but wives were a completely different one. Rebecca Adler was no wife. At least not for someone like him. However, Leone Teres… or should he say, the soon-to-be Leone Berab, was another story.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
“No, there’s not.” Teres clapped his hands together. “I knew you’d be reasonable. The talk about you cracking up like your brother is just jealousy and hysteria. Powerful emotions, unfortunately, as our ancestors learned, can be managed with the right finesse, by the right people.”
Exactly. If more people could think like Teres, the community would run a great deal more smoothly.
Roger couldn’t hold back his grin. “To think, they once called us pigs. If they could see us Marranos now.” Still a Jew and soon he’d be the prince he should be.
No, better, with Miss Teres by his side, he’d be king.
Yes, they’d tried to take everything from his ancestors, but he’d won. Or would, soon enough.
“That’s why we get along. You understand who we are.” His future father-in-law rose to his feet. “We’ll schedule a dinner near the end of February, and provided all goes well, we can discuss the details of the contract afterward.”
“Excellent,” Roger said, rising as well. “I shall be looking forward to it.” Reaching out, he grasped his soon-to-be father-in-law’s hand.
“As shall I,” Teres said with a grin, releasing his grip and following Roger down the stairs to where Lopez was waiting with his coat. After permitting the man to assist him with his outerwear, he turned back to Roger. “Oh, and, Berab?”
“Yes?” he asked, raising a brow.
“I’d have your family spend some time indoors for the next few weeks,” he advised, adjusting his top hat over his kippah. “The weather is dangerous, and we wouldn’t want any accidents to occur.”
Roger chuckled but halted when the man did not join in. “Sir?”
“I don’t foresee this being a problem,” Teres continued. “There are very few worthwhile events scheduled, and the remaining ones are likely to be canceled if this snow continues.”
Roger’s mind stuttered, attempting to make sense of the words.
“Are you suggesting that I… ?” He stopped, unable to quite finish the thought, as it was much too outlandish.
“That you decline all public engagements until an official agreement with my daughter is announced? Very much so.” A ghost of a smile flashed over Teres’s lips. “Except that it’s not a suggestion. I do not want anything jeopardizing Leone’s future happiness.”
“I do not either,” Roger said quickly. While he loathed the idea of missing opportunities, the reward was too great. He needed the seat, needed this marriage.
“Good. We’re in agreement.” Teres wagged another finger in Roger’s direction. “I knew I was making the right choice coming to you.”
“You most certainly are,” Roger affirmed, shaking the man’s hand. “I promise. Our union will ensure that both our families get everything they deserve.”