Page 18 of Dearest Beast
“Get out,” she screamed, pointing to the door. “Now.”
Berab did not need to be asked twice. Without a word, he stepped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Rebecca stared at the paneled wood long after it stopped vibrating, before racing back to the bed, pressing her face to the pillow to muffle her tears as they fell.
What an irritating, belligerent,beastlywoman. 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 richburgundy 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 quitethe 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.
