Page 12 of A Duchess to Reclaim (The Devil’s Masquerade #2)

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I want you to say that again,” Dominic commanded, “And this time speak slowly. I want you to truly hear your words as you say them.”

The Viscount before him shrunk in his chair, his face paling. Dominic was in a foul mood. Had been ever since he’d sent Amelia away. He knew it was for her own good, but the state he’d been left in since pleasuring her had put his body through an abominable torture. His loins ached constantly from being left un-sated, and though they’d by no means been spending frequent time together, Amelia’s absence was something he noted every time he stepped into his London house.

The information he’d just been given had only further served to darken his temper, and for the first time since his youth, he felt on the urge of losing his otherwise forthright self-control.

“These silk merchants work for me, Your Grace,” Viscount Tally said nervously. “It is my seal that embosses their crates; my name that is attached to these fabrics. If I continue to business with someone like you-”

The Viscount stopped as the pen in Dominic’s hands snapped in two, spilling ink down his fingers.

“Say it,” he growled out, ignoring the black, viscous liquid coating his hands.

“Your Grace, I-”

Dominic rose to his feet, and the Viscount visibly flinched.

“Your wife has a reputation of being loose, Your Grace,” he hurried out. “If your name is attached to mine no self-respecting seamstress or designer in Mayfair will want to purchase my fabrics. They’ll be maligned with prostitutes more than ladies.”

It sounded just as foul the second time as it did the first, and only served to exacerbate Dominic’s anger. He came around his desk with a quickness, seizing the Viscount by the jaw with his ink-stained hand.

“You disgust me, Tally” he growled out, his finger’s biting into the man’s flesh.

“As someone who impregnated a maid and now pay secret funds to keep the mother and pup quiet, I would expect you to be more careful with how you throw around such lascivious rumors. You see what you just said about my wife? I know it is false. But your situation, young Lord? Yours is far too verifiable.”

Viscount Tally’s eyes now bulged from their sockets; his face growing so pale Dominic could see the faint blue lines of his eyelids.

“How do you know that?” He rasped.

“I know all truths,” Dominic grit out, shoving the man’s face away from him. The black ink left a smeared handprint across his lower face; a brand of Dominic’s power.

“Get out of my office,” he then commanded, “If you are this weak, then I want nothing to do with your business anyhow.”

Tally rose from his chair only to go down to his knees, his hands coming together in a prayer.

“Your Grace, please, do not tell anyone of this. If my wife found out- if my family did-”

“You’d what?” Dominic snapped, “Be burned just as you have tried to burn me? We are finished here.”

“Your Grace I misspoke,” Tally said hurriedly, reaching for Dominic’s coat tails. “I was foolish to believe such gossip, please, let me remedy this.”

Dominic craved the ability to reach down and throw Tally out of his office himself, but in the business district he was situated in, it would not do be seen doing such things by those on the street.

Instead he called for Trayton, one of the Irish thugs he paid for assistance, and had him drag Tally to his feet and out the door.

“Ye have a choice, me lord,” Trayton’s deep Irish brogue said as Tally attempted to find his footing. “Ye can walk out or I can toss ye. And trust me if I be doin’ that, there’ll be more t’an t’at ink marrin’ ye noble face.”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Dominic heard Tally cry from beyond his office door.

Turning away from the door, Dominic went to washstand in the corner of his office and began washing his hands. He’d just started to towel them dry when Trayton returned.

“Did he walk himself out?” Dominic asked.

“His legs be like jelly they did, but he managed to leave on his own,” Trayton replied.

Dominic gave a terse nod. He hated losing out on deals; especially those regarding trade. He might have been able to save this one with a calmer approach, but he was absolutely out of tranquility.

“What’s the news on the man from the garden party?” He asked, bracing himself on the edge of his desk. “Have we found him yet?”

Trayton nodded.

“We tink so. We’ll need ye eyes to confirm it, though. He be at te’ gamblin’ hell as we speak. Te’ one ran be ye friends.”

Dominic raised a curious brow.

“In the middle of the day?” He asked.

“If it be him,” Trayton said with a shrug. “My guess is he be a second or third born son; nothin’ to do but spend his daddy’s money.”

“Let us go gambling then,” Dominic said, pushing away from his desk.

As he did so his office door opened, and Hugo walked in. He raised his brow as he looked from Trayton to Dominic, and leaned in the doorway.

“I just saw Tally hustling down the street with wild eyes and a black handprint on his face,” he said casually, looking Dominic up and down. “Something told me you might have had something to do with it.”

“Bastard pushed me out of a deal,” Dominic barked defensively.

Hugo gave a careless shrug.

“He should have known better then,” his friend replied.

Dominic smirked. Of the three of his friends, Hugo was most like him. While he didn’t share the utterly horrific traumatic childhood Hugo had, the two of them more feared than Everett or Tristan. Hugo by his reputation of being a literal beast, and Dominic’s by his seeming ability to know everything about anyone at any given time.

“If you are finished here come have lunch with me,” Hugo urged.

“I would,” Dominic replied, once more the gnawing sensation in his gut. It wasn’t for food, but he wasn’t going to tell Hugo that, “But I am heading to Ezra’s. It seems my little spies might have found the man from the garden party.”

Hugo brandished a devilish smile and stood straight.

“Let us be off then,” he answered readily.

“You don’t have to,” Dominic replied, “I can handle it.”

Hugo gave him a devilish grin.

“Oh, come on,” He urged. “It’s been too long since I’ve had the opportunity to unleash that savage part of me. Don’t deny me the pleasure.”

Dominic’s brow perked up in amusement. He thought he was the only yearning for a fight.

“I suppose we could convince him to a round of boxing,” Dominic mused. “Make him think he can take either one of us. After all there would not be much for him to talk about if he got his beating in the ring.”

“Now you’re thinking properly,” Hugo said with a savage smile. “Let us get to it then. We’ll get something to eat after.”

* * *

“It is lovely, Your Grace,” Eve sighed at Amelia’s side.

Amelia’s smile was wide and genuine as she looked up at the nearly finished aviary. So much work had been completed since she’d left, and the workers were now installing that stained glass windows into the domed structure.

“It truly is, isn’t it?” She marveled. “Once it is completed I shall have some trees brought in, and a fireplace to keep the room warm during the winter months After that I shall be able to order the birds. Imagine, Eve. Imagine all of the beautifully colored wings that shall be spread within here.”

It had been two days since she’d left Dominic in London, and though she wasn’t completely comfortable with the way they’d left things, she felt much improved. When she’d arrived back in Ellsworth she hadn’t expected to want to go back to London, but now that she was feeling better, she was eager to get back.

What had happened between her and Dominic in the boxing room had been passionate and almost loving- which sprung all sorts of questions into her mind. Their marriage was supposed to be a business transaction…yet it seemed to be transforming into something much more than that. Even now her skin heated at the thought of him; a yearning to feel his touch sung in her veins. She had to get to the bottom of it. Even if the idea of going back into society made her stomach twist with anxiety.

“Ada and Mrs. Morbate wanted to speak with you, Your Grace,” Eve said as they both turned away from the aviary. “They are preparing your things and just need your input on a few things.”

Amelia nodded, then stopped in her tracks as a familiar figure rounded the corner of the terrace and stalked toward her. Ice fractured in her veins, freezing her to the spot as her father came angrily toward her.

“Who are you, sir? What are you doing here?” Eve asked, taking a protective step in front of Amelia, then shouted for Mr. Morbate.

“Shut your mouth, woman,” Felton seethed moving to push Eve out of the way.

Amelia let loose from her stillness in an instant, blocking her father before his hands could touch Eve.

“Don’t you lay a hand on her!” She snarled, glaring up at her father. He stopped, actually looking surprised.

“She has every right to be wary of you,” Amelia went on, “We have guards surrounding the property. How did you get past them?”

Felton cast a dark gaze over Eve’s figure, a strange light flickering in his eyes before he turned back to Amelia.

“I am your father, ingrate,” he snapped. “Or have you forgotten so quickly how you got here?”

“Trust I will never forget,” she bit back.

Her body started to tremble with fear as memories of that fated night came tumbling back, and she prayed he did not notice.

“That still does not answer Eve’s question,” she stated as Mr. Morbate and two guards rounded the corner. “What are you doing here?”

Now that he had the attention of an audience, Felton seemed to gain control of his rage. He fixed his jacket as he sneered, and slipped his hands into his pockets.

“I am here to see your husband,” he answered. “We have unfinished business.”

Amelia’s brows tensed.

“I highly doubt that,” she replied. “Seeing as how you had no dealings with him directly. You handed that- and me- off to someone else, remember?”

Felton’s face twisted into a look of anger, his nostrils flaring as he grit his teeth.

“He may have paid the auction owner for you,” he said, his tone deep and dark as he took a step toward her, “But he never paid me .”

Amelia barked out an unamused laugh.

“That is not dowry’s work, Father,” she retorted. “It is you that would normally pay him.”

Felton closed the space between them but as he withdrew a hand from his pocket and reached for her, Mr. Morbate and one of the guards moved between them. He threw a disgusted glance at them, but stopped.

“I’ll get what I’m owed,” he ground out. “I hear your reputation has been causing him some trouble in London. If he doesn’t want anymore, he will pay me for my silence. I’m sure neither of you would want the truth of why you got married getting out, would you?”

Anger snarled and lashed through Amelia’s veins.

“If you try to damn us with what you did, you will only damn yourself,” she hissed. “Do not forget, Father, it was you that placed me on that auction block.”

A crude smile formed on Felton’s lips, and he huffed as he took a step back.

“And who would blame me, daughter? A single father, at his wits end with a ruined daughter? Our society is ruled by men and what they think, and no gentleman of London would judge me for how I chose to deal with a daughter like you.”

Amelia stared at her father with pure hatred.

“You would help spread such a rumor about me? For money?”

She shook her head in disgust.

“Did you ever love me at all, Father?”

Felton sneered at her.

“I needed boys,” he spit it. “But your mother gave me three useless girls instead. Then had the audacity to die giving birth to the third one. She was purposeless. You all are.”

“You are a vile, vile man,” Amelia seethed out, feeling the utter urge to lunge at him and dig her nails into his face. Instead, she straightened her spine and raised an accusing finger toward him.

“You won’t see one cent from my husband. You will destroy everything you grasp, Father. Everything you want will turn to ash. You will get nothing but what you are due.”

A look of pure rage came over Felton’s face, but as he tried to move toward her, the guards and Mr. Morbate upon him again; making it impossible for him to touch her.

“You curse me, witch?” He hissed. “Tell your husband he needs to meet with me. Or it will not be the auction block you stand on, but the hangman’s. It is men like me that sway the ton. Not you. Not him. Me.”

“Like hell it is.”

Dominic’s enraged tone jarred Amelia as he came stalking toward them, and even her father seemed to pale a little as the Duke in question made his presence known. Then suddenly she felt a flood of relief so intense that it wobbled her knees; the frustration she’d felt for her husband temporarily gone.

“Dominic,” she sighed.

But he barely threw a glance at her before heading toward Felton.

“Your Grace,” Felton stammered, stumbling as the guards and Mr. Morbate let him go.

“Men like you in control?” Dominic bit out as he looked down at Amelia’s father. “You are nothing compare to my wife, even in status alone. She is a Duchess and has risen far above any station you will ever reach.”

Amelia watched as embarrassment colored Felton’s face and felt a certain glee in seeing her father wither before Dominic.

“This is not about her,” Felton argued weakly. “This is about you. You owe me for marrying my daughter.”

“We owe you nothing!” Amelia shouted, curling her hands into fists as she took a step toward him.

Before she could take another, Dominic’s hand was at her abdomen with the lightest touch as he kept his eyes on Felton. It not only stopped her in her tracks, but sent a wave of peace ebbing through her body. She looked back at him in shock.

“Normally, I would take pleasure in hearing how you would think so,” Dominic said to Felton. “But I will agree to paying you.”

“Dominic, no!” Amelia breathed, hurt crashing through the brief sense of peace.

“If-” Dominic went on before she could say anything more.

The hand on her abdomen went to her hand then, and that wave turned into a spark. It traveled up her arm as he laced his fingers through hers and pulled her to her side. Despite the tension of the moment, heat coursed through her veins as he pressed her back to his chest, laid their joined hands across her abdomen, and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“You can recognize your daughter for what she is,” Dominic went on, “A duchess. A lady above your own station. Bow to her as she is owed. Refer to her as ‘Your Grace’ as you do so with a true sense of fealty. You do that. I shall pay you whatever you wish.”

Amelia felt another brief moment of pure glee at Dominic’s command, but it quickly faded as she watched her father bristle before them. Though Amelia’s face with right beside Dominic’s, it was not her Felton was looking at. The red shame that had stained his cheeks only a moment ago seeped out of his complexion as his eyes remained trained on Dominic’s face.

She could not see the expression on her husband's face, but she could tell by the one on her father's that it was a dangerous one. He was frightened, truly frightened at whatever he saw.

“Go on,” Dominic’s said by her ear, his voice strangely seductive.

But Felton said nothing. Instead he closed his open mouth and took a step back. Then another. And without a word, he turned around and left the property at a quick pace.

“Cowardly man,” Dominic said with disgust as they watched him leave.

He then stepped back and twirled her around to face him, both hands framing her jaw. There was a hardness to his intense gaze as he looked over slowly.

She’d forgotten. In her anger toward him for leaving her. For making her return to London the moment he got back. For confusing her senses. She’d forgotten that Dominic was dangerous. Ruthless. He was a man not to be angered.

He had saved her. Saved Eve, and nearly every person in his house. But he was not gentle; had not done so out of the generosity of his heart. He’d saved them all with a string attached.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, a snarl in his voice.

“I forgot,” she whispered.

“What?”

She blushed as she realized she’d just spoken her thought aloud, and stepped out of his grasp.

“Nothing. I meant to say no. He didn’t hurt me. Mr. Morbate and the guards stopped him before he could.”

“Glad to know they’re still doing their jobs,” Dominic grunted. “Though I am certainly going to have a discussion with them about Felton being able to make it onto the property at all.”

Amelia took another step away from him, her thoughts churning over her realization. She should be afraid too. And yet as she reached for the feeling, she grasped nothing of the sort. If anything, she felt her desire for him to return.

Dominic eyed her suspiciously.

“Are you sure you are all right?” He asked her.

He reached for her again and although she very much wanted to feel his touch, she stepped back.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she lied.

Though it was not her father’s visit she was now worried about, but her feelings for the man before her.

“I need to go check on Eve,” she said when Dominic’s look of suspicion grew more intense.

“We must get started on my packing if we are returning tonight.”

“No,” he said quickly, making her pause as she turned away from him.

“I promised you three days. We shall leave tomorrow afternoon.”

Gratitude washed over her, and again she felt that tug on her heart. Ignoring it, she simply nodded and continued to walk away.