Page 1 of A Duchess to Reclaim (The Devil’s Masquerade #2)

CHAPTER ONE

“I am waiting,” Lord Robin stated, his grip tightening on Amelia’s hand.

Amelia Hollowcroft, eldest daughter to the Viscount Hodge, blinked as her brows drew together, and she followed the Lord’s lead into the dance’s steps.

“For what, Lord Robin?” Amelia asked.

She flexed her fingers, trying to signal that his hold was too tight. He either did not notice or ignored it.

“For your gratitude, Miss Hollowcroft. For saving you from a night completely stuck to the wall,” Lord Robin replied.

He led her into a twirl, just as the other dancers were doing with their partners, but the force of his efforts had Amelia struggling to keep up. It did not help that his behavior, though kind at first, was now quickly crumbling into one that was most unbecoming of a gentleman.

“I have thanked you for the dance, Lord Robin,” she answered, her tone sweet and steady. “However, I willingly thank you again.”

It was not what she truly wished to say. She would have much rather preferred to push herself out of his embrace and tell him she preferred the wall to such behavior- but she could not. At least not right now. Not with her father watching like a hawk.

It had been three years since Roland, her former betrothed, had left her. Three years since he ran away to Italy with bruises on his face and a woman on his arm the very day of their wedding- at least according to the gossip. She hadn’t paid much attention to what was said about him though, not with her own tattered reputation to worry about.

A week ago, on the anniversary of her greatest shame, her father, Felton Hollowcroft, had come to her with a warning. She was to tarry by the wall no longer, but stop her moping and find a husband or at least a serious suitor within the week, or he was going to arrange a suitor for her. Amelia had tried in earnest to obey, despite loathing the idea, and had thus far failed in completing the task. Tonight was her last night, and though she did not want to, she had to put forth the effort to sway Lord Robin. Even if only to buy her a little more time.

“Please, my lord, tell me about yourself?” Amelia implored sweetly. “Do you enjoy your duties? I hear as a second son of a viscount, they can still be rather demanding.”

Lord Robin looked almost flattered as he twirled her again.

“Indeed,” he replied readily, “Most do not believe that the second born bears much responsibility, but we certainly do. Family affairs, keeping my younger siblings in order, all the while preparing for the possibility of suddenly having to take on the eldest son’s responsibilities should any misfortune befall him. It is most stressful.”

“I am certain it is,” Amelia replied, trying to sound compassionate despite her hidden lack of interest. “I am sure whoever you choose to marry may also need to take on such responsibilities as well. One might never know if or when the title of Viscountess might befall her.”

Lord Robin smirked.

“Do you have interest in discovering such responsibilities?” He asked.

Not at all, Amelia thought, but kept her smile firmly on her lips.

“Oh, yes,” she answered, “Though my mother has already trained me extensively on the duties of being a Lady of the House. I feel I would be quite capable.”

Lord Robin’s smirk transformed into a grin that made Amelia’s stomach tighten and twist. His hands grew tighter on her person, and she felt her skin heat with shame as they also furtively moved lower.

“And what other duties might you be capable of, Miss Amelia?”

It was a question that had been one of the many reasons she had placed herself on the wall at parties. Since Roland had left her, the most salacious rumors had been spread. One of which was that she’d given her virtue too early. Some said it was such a poor performance it did not please the young lord. Others whispered that it was so exemplary that it intimidated him into running away. It was obvious which one Lord Robin believed at present.

“Would you be so kind as to be more direct with your question, Lord Robin?” She asked, batting her lashes as a bit of venom escaped into her voice. “Just so as I know exactly what it is you are asking.”

Lord Robin’s devilish grin faltered for a moment, but he composed himself and flexed his fingers at her bottom. Even through the fabric of her lavender gown, she felt the grossness of it.

“I have heard that you are a very educated woman, Lady Amelia. In all sorts of areas.”

He’d danced her into the far corner of the dance floor, away from the others and hidden by the moving bodies so that when he gripped her backside and pushed her flush to his rigid manhood, no one saw.

Bile rose up in Amelia’s throat as she felt the disgusting shape press into her, and not able to keep her act up anymore, she wrenched her hand from his and pushed him away. The shove barely made him move, and only seemed to entertain him as he let out a chuckle and smiled with all his teeth.

“What a wild thing you are,” he mused, reaching for her again. “You like the chase, don’t you? Very well then, I can manage that.”

“The only wild thing here is the assumption you make, Lord Robin,” she spat out, stepping away from his grip. “I do not have the education you speak of yet even if I did, I certainly would not share that with you!”

Her voice had risen from a seething whisper to an incredulous shout, drawing attention from nearly every other attendee in the ballroom. Some even stopping their conversation or dancing.

Realizing her transgression, Amelia looked away from Lord Robin’s furious expression and toward her father, only to find an equally savage look on his face. She blushed wildly, fighting the urge to scream, and attempted to salvage the situation.

“Lord Robin, I apologize, I-”

“I knew better than to dance with a ruined flower,” Lord Robin interrupted, his tone vicious. “I only did so because your father offered me money. Clearly you are not worth the price.”

Amelia flinched at the hostility of his words, and watched with deepening embarrassment as he drew his composure, bowed stiffly, and walked away toward a group of men. Her heart hammered in her chest as Lord Robin immediately began whispering to them, and they turned their narrowed eyes toward her in apparent disgust.

She hated this. Hated all of it. Hated pretending that her reputation could be salvaged. Hated that she was forced to appear as if she actually cared. She had been ruined when Roland had left her. She knew it, embraced it, even if her parents didn’t, and she wished for nothing more than to be able to accept spinsterhood and go hide the rest of her life away in the country.

It would not be so bad. Her dear friend Ophelia would be by her side; another young noble woman who did not wish to marry. And her other dear friends Theo, Rosamund, and Seraphina would visit her frequently.

“What in heaven’s name do you think you are doing?” Her father seethed, grabbing her tightly around her upper arm as he appeared by her side.

“Papa, I am sorry,” she whispered, sweat forming on her forehead as her blush grew into a fever, “It is not my fault, he was being so unseemly, I could not-”

“I told you this was your last chance,” Felton hissed through gritted teeth.

Though he was furious, the calm expression on his face did not even show a hint of it. He’d learned to appear as such while his voice whispered of punishment through years of keeping up with the social standards of the London ton. If only the others knew what volatile anger laid beneath the disguise of such an unbothered look.

Dread filled Amelia as Felton led them casually through the staring crowd, nodding and smiling politely at every gaze he met. Though she had been grateful for her friends’ absence at the party at first, she suddenly wished they had been able to come. Perhaps their intervention would stay whatever punishment was certainly awaiting her in the carriage.

But alas, Seraphina was with her new husband and baby girls in Vanderbilt, Theo was at home once more nursing her mother’s slowly failing health, Ophelia was visiting her aunt in the country, and Rosamund was at another ball with her own mother across town. She was alone.

Amelia waited until they were in the confines of the carriage before she spoke to her father again, immediately begging for his forgiveness and time.

“Papa, please, you must know this was not my fault! Roland left my reputation in tatters and now the only men that show interest are the most crude,” Amelia insisted.

“Stop blaming everything on Roland,” Felton commanded, his face twisting into a look of pure fury. “You have had three years. Three years to prove those rumors wrong and you have failed impeccably.”

Amelia flinched, her lithe body tightening at the damnation, but she did not refute it.

“Very well. I have failed,” she admitted, “You still have two other daughters who could yet marry well. Allow me to retire to the country where I will be out of sight and out of mind to all. By the time Sarah comes of age, they will have forgotten all about me.”

Felton laughed darkly, shaking his head.

“No one will forget about you, darling girl,” his voice a clanging juxtaposition to the kind moniker. “Not after the scenes you have caused. And tonight’s was the last one. For the sake of our family name and your sisters’ future, I am taking care of this matter once and for all tonight.”

Amelia felt herself grow pale as a coldness seeped into her body. She stared at her father in disbelief, wide-eyed and mouth agape. He had not always been this harsh. In fact at one time he was a man that would call to her to sit on his knee, who would tickle under her chin to make her laugh and ask her what she learned that day. But when Roland had left her that night, after he had made the very public announcement at their party, it was as if her father’s personality had been stolen away, and in its place a demon had taken host.

He had not looked at her with true kindness since. Had not had anything but harsh words and reprimands for her. Had she truly done that to him? Had she somehow stolen her father’s joy by being made a fool on what was supposed to be the most exciting night of her life?

Amelia’s throat bobbed as she took in a gulp of air, trying her best to steady her fraying nerves.

“If you will not allow me to disappear to the country,” she said slowly, calmly, “Then will you at least tell me who you have arranged for me to marry? Do I not deserve to know that much?”

Felton stared at her, not a trace of emotion whatsoever in his eyes.

“How can I answer that?” he stated, his tone calm for once, “When I do not know the answer myself?”

Pain sliced through her chest, a sense of danger filling the air.

“What- what do you mean?” She asked. “Where are you taking me?”

The carriage stopped and her father flung open the door before the footman could get to it. For a moment she felt relief as she saw the front of their house. Perhaps her father was just trying to scare her. Perhaps he was-

“Go upstairs, put on your best dress, and come back to the carriage right away,” her father demanded quietly. “Do not talk to anyone. Do not tarry. If I have to come in after you, child, you will not like it. Now go.”

* * *

“Fancy a bid on me, My Lord?” A sweet voice spoke from Dominic’s side.

Dominic lowered the champagne flute from his lips and through the black mask hiding his upper face, he looked down at the sweet-voiced woman. Her lips were painted a garish red, her messy curls thrown into a heap atop her head. She was in nothing more than a corset that matched her lips and a black skirt, hiked up nearly to her hips.

“Polly, is it not?” He asked, remembering her from another time.

The dark rouge on her cheeks seemed to grow darker as she smiled, revealing stains of lip paint on her teeth.

“You remember me, My Lord?” She asked, her tone hopeful and giddy.

He remembered her as he remembered all of his conquests. His memory was excellent; a tool that had helped in many ways. However, when he had last won Polly, she had looked…different. She was fresh then, had a glow about her that he had thoroughly enjoyed. But time had not been kind to her. And apparently neither had the customers that had come after him. Though she was still young, probably not yet even thirty, she had a tired look about her that silently begged for rest and a different life.

“Of course I do,” he answered politely, “But I am not bidding tonight. The owner of this establishment is a friend of mine, and I am simply here to make sure that the winners pay for their prizes.”

Polly did not do well with hiding her disappointment; suddenly looking as if she were about to weep.

“Surely you jest, My Lord,” she attempted. “There are others who can see to such matters so you may have a bit of fun.”

Dominic felt a small slither of pity for the woman, but he would not be moved.

“You misunderstand, Polly,” he said, his tone insistent, “Controlling others is my fun. I wish you the best of luck on tonight’s bid. Perhaps this time you will find yourself bought by a noble seeking a mistress.”

Polly curtseyed to him, her chin nearly touching her pushed up ample bosom as she did so.

“From your lips to God’s ears, My Lord,” she murmured, her voice full of disappointment.

Dominic bowed his head politely, then let out a slow sigh as he watched her walk to another masked gentleman, no doubt trying to find exactly what he had proposed. There were many men tonight, all of them masked just as he to protect their identities. Some were there to buy whores for the night. Others to buy mistresses for a few years. A small few were even there to buy their future wives- those not willing to give the women a choice to refuse.

While he had found the market amusing in his youth, now that he was eight-and twenty, Dominic found it sad and a bit barbaric. It had been at least two years since he’d attended an auction, but when Wallace, the owner of the brothel had asked for his help in supervising and maintaining order, he was rather thrilled to come assist. It brought him an excess of coin and he loved the freedom of breaking a few bones without chance of reprimand when the time came to it.

By most he was known as a refined if not intimidating Duke with a penchant for command and success. By others, however- those that preferred to find their success in the dark of the night- his strength and air of brutality likened him to that of a common brute. He wore a mask, always, when handling the responsibilities of the latter, and rather enjoyed the stark duality of his rolls. It kept his hands firmly grasped in both worlds.

“We’re about to start,” Wallace stated when Dominic approached him with the collected member fees, “Are we ready?”

“Everyone has paid their due,” Dominic replied, handing over the thick envelope. “I will allow you to pay me my twenty percent at the end.”

Knowing better than to argue with Dominic, Wallace nodded, and handed off the funds to an associate.

“You are still comfortable with participating in the bidding war?” Wallace asked, getting up from his seat.

Dominic nodded. Another task he enjoyed. He would act as a participant to drive up the prices. Thanks to his intimidating stature and the mysterious air added by the mask, men would often bid against him, trying to prove themselves by using their wallets against his. It was a tactic that earned both him, and the house, much more money.

“Let us begin then,” Wallace stated, then nodded toward the stage.

The emcee, a robust, masked woman in a bright pink corset and a black and white striped skirt that rose startlingly to her knees, nodded back, and blew a whistle to the crowd. Silence immediately fell over the room as all the men turned toward her; eager to get started. Dominic walked, his powerful body striding through the crowd with a regal, lethal grace, and took his spot in the middle.

“Welcome, welcome dearest gentlemen!” The lady in pink greeted loudly, smiling through her golden mask at the crowd.

“Tonight we have a most vivid and wide selection available for purchase. But first let us go over the rules. As always place your bids by raising your black card high in the air when you see something you like, and the highest bidder wins the woman! No shouting or fighting over bids or you shall be immediately removed. Payments will be collected before you take your purchases home, and as always, discretion is mandatory. Are we in agreement?”

A chorus of cheers rang through the room, sending a shot of excitement through Dominic as the general energy of the room became instantly filled with a carnal exhilaration and anticipation. A moment later the men around him erupted into roars and whistles of glee as the long line of women were walked out on stage.

Dominic’s excitement suddenly stilled as his body stiffened, his eyes going wide as he saw a familiar face in the line. His hands clenched at his sides as he inhaled sharply. There, near the end of the line of soon-to-be- auctioned women- was Amelia Hollowcroft.

Damn it.