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

CHAPTER TWO

“P lease,” Amelia begged, her body trembling with fear as she clutched the woman’s hand to her left, “I do not wish to be here!”

“Quiet, princess,” the woman hissed through her wide smile, jutting her corseted chest further toward the excited crowd. “There’s no talking in the line!”

Amelia’s heart hammered wildly as she looked to her right, and saw the other women in line flaunting themselves just as the woman to her left did. It was clear that unlike her, they very much wanted to be on this stage before all these strange, masked men. There would be no help from them. But she should have known that the moment they had all narrowed their eyes and glared at her when her father had dragged her toward them behind the stage.

Her dread for what her father had in store for her had only amplified when she’d returned to the carriage in her favorite silk lilac-hued dress. He had immediately frowned as he saw the chaste cut of the neck line, the matching elbow length gloves and delicate ivory cameo she had pinned at the center of her throat.

“I suppose it’ll do,” he had grumbled. “It shall certainly make you stand out.”

“Papa, please. Where are you taking me?” Amelia had asked, her right leg bouncing anxiously.

“To finally have you dealt with,” he muttered back, then had refused to say anything else, despite her begging for more information.

When the carriage had stopped in front of a large, particularly normal-looking stone building she had felt a bit of relief, but her anxiety had quickly returned when her father pulled on a black mask and had forced her inside.

Inside, dark red walls and a matching ceiling closed the large space in, a long, gold and dark wood polished bar lining the far opposite one. Smoke choked the air, and dim, sparse lights alighted tables. The only real light came from a stage to her far right. Which, for some reason, made her skin crawl when she saw it. Something told her that that stage was not for a play, but an entirely different sort of performance.

Though she’d never stepped foot in a brothel before, she’d read enough books to surmise that was where she was based on not just the decor but the many masked men that were milling excitedly about. There were a few women sprinkled among them, too. Some scantily clad in just their corsets and skirts, others in slightly more modest but still provocative dresses. And none of them looked like her.

Her father’s grip tight on her wrist, she was forced to follow him through the crowd, her stomach growing more uneasy with every step and look she received. Some simply stared at her and scoffed before turning back to their conversation, while others took long, lingering looks at her; smirking wickedly when they finally caught her eyes.

“My Lord,” A man greeted her father as he finally stopped at a table close to a raised stage. “Your guest must be masked as well. You know the rules.”

“She’s not a guest,” her father had answered gruffly, then pushed her roughly toward the table. “She’s for sale.”

The masked man then gave her a long, studious look, as if inspecting her for any damages.

“You are late,” he said at last. “We usually request the women arrive an hour early so that they may mingle with the gentlemen and win favor.”

“It does not matter,” her father replied promptly. “Sell her. Tonight.”

The man took another look at Amelia’s frightened expression, and she could have sworn that a look of pity passed through his brown eyes.

“Papa, no,” Amelia breathed; growing dizzy with fear.

“Quiet!” He hissed.

“You understand that I cannot guarantee she will be sold for marriage?” The man had asked Felton. “Though most of our clientele is nobility, most come here for mistresses. Some even just for one nights. Once she’s in line, she will be sold to the highest bidder, no matter what he wants to do with her.”

“Papa, please,” Amelia sobbed, pulling at his grip.

“Quiet!” He seethed through gritted teeth as he snapped his head in her direction. “I warned you that you had one final week to find a match on your own, it is not my fault that you have failed!”

He yanked her forward then, and as she became unsteady on her feet, he pushed her backward; hitting a strange man’s chest. Before she could right herself, she felt hands clasp around her upper arms.

“Take her to the back and put her in line with the others,” Felton demanded.

The man in charge drew in a long, steady breath before holding out his hand.

“There is a seller’s fee, My Lord,” he drawled, flexing his fingers. “You have to pay just as the rest do.”

A look of pure annoyance flashed across Lord Hollowcroft’s face, but he pulled out his wallet.

“How much?” He demanded.

“One hundred pounds,” the man replied in that same drawling inflection.

“One hundred pounds!” Hollowcroft seethed. “That is ridiculous! Surely these women do not pay such an amount for your services!”

“ These women follow my house rules perfectly, My Lord, and they are here of their own volition. Something tells me this young lady is not. The large fee is to bypass the rules and provide insurance for any…disruptions she may cause,” the man explained, then shrugged.

“Pay the fee or get out, it matters not to me. But make your decision now. My man just rounded up the last of the members fees and we are to start momentarily.”

Amelia watched with dreaded horror as her father muttered a string of curses, then proceeded to put the notes in the man’s outstretched hand.

“Take her to the back,” the man said, closing his fist around the money.

He then glanced over to Amelia, and again, that slight pity passed through his eyes.

“Best of luck, my dear.”

Amelia had then been guided, surprisingly more gently than her father had done, to the back of the stage, where she was put into a long line of women and tied to their hands. She hadn’t even a moment to beg for help before the lead woman began walking, tugging the others along with her out onto the stage.

No, she mentally screamed as the emcee started calling out prices for the first woman. No, this cannot be happening! I do not belong here! Someone please, stop this!

She thought, for a moment, to scream such things aloud, to beg for help from the audience before her, but she was too frightened to do so. What if they liked her fear? She’d heard some men were attracted to that. And even if they didn’t, would any of them care enough to actually get her out of there?

“Sold for seventy pounds!” The emcee shouted, clapping her hands together.

“Please go to our dear coordinator and pay your fees to collect your prize. Next we have…”

Amelia’s anxiety and fear only grew as the line of women before her seemed to dwindle faster and faster. Seventy pounds. Sixty pounds. Eight-five. One-hundred and twenty. Forty pounds. Three-hundred and seventy-five pounds. Each woman went for a different price, and when the emcee clapped her hands, they hurried excitedly off the stage toward their winner.

Silent tears began to track down her cheeks as the line grew shorter; her thoughts a jumble of self pity. She should have tried harder to find a husband. She should have kept her temper in check when it came to the rumors spread about her. She should have-

“All right, gentlemen, would you look at this beautiful young lady!” The emcee shouted as Amelia’s turn came far too suddenly.

“Obviously from noble birth. Fair skin, healthy hair, and surely we must admire her figure! A chaste woman, no doubt, so a special treat lies ahead for her winner! Let us start her bidding off at one-hundred pounds!”

Heat flushed through Amelia’s cheeks as dozens of black cards shot up into the air.

“Two-hundred?”

Again she saw a multitude of cards go up in the air, but slightly less this time.

Higher and higher the number went, with less cards being held up each time.

Finally, when the emcee reached eight-hundred pounds- the highest price of the evening thus far- only two cards remained.

“Enough of this nonsense!” One of the men shouted, glaring through the card at the other man bidding against him. “A thousand pounds for the girl!”

A collective gasp went through the crowd, followed by shocked murmurs as the emcee yelled out, “Sir, might I remind you this is a silent auction! Decorum is mandatory. One more outburst and I shall-”

“Three thousand pounds,” the other man shouted, striding through the crowd toward the stage.

The entire room suddenly went silent again, and this time no scolding was delivered by the emcee. Even Amelia looked at the man in stunned, wide-eyed silence as he came closer.

“Three thousand pounds,” the man stated again, coming to the edge of the stage. “For this young lady. And a five-hundred pound donation to the house for me breaking the rules of your silent auction.”

Grey eyes flashed like liquid silver through that black mask as he looked at Amelia; and she suddenly quivered at their familiarity. She knew this man.

“W-well,” the emcee breathed out, clearly still startled at the offer.

“There we have it! Thirty-five hundred pounds for this lovely bird. Does anyone wish to counter?” She then asked, her voice loud and clear.

A tense silence was the only answer, and after a few seconds, the emcee nodded.

“Very well, My Lord,” the emcee announced, clapping her hands with finality. “We not only have our winner, but our highest bid ever!”

Amelia drew in a shallow breath as they all then turned to her. She knew she should move. But she couldn’t. Her feet refused to do so.

“Go on, girl,” the emcee ordered, clearly trying to hide her frustration as she nodded toward the masked man waiting. “Go to your winner. He has earned you.”

Seconds stretched with tension as Amelia still felt herself unable to move, save to meet her winner’s eyes. She knew those eyes. Had looked into them before. But when? Where?

A hushed rumble came through the crowd as she remained frozen with fear, and the emcee’s smile slipped into a look of irritation. She looked ready to unleash some most unkind words when the winner suddenly climbed the stairs of the stage and walked with a powerful confidence toward her, and then held out his hand just a scant space above her.

“Amelia,” he said calmly, startling her greatly as he said her name. “Come.”

That command. That small, one-word command spoken in that deep, patient tone, sent a shot of startling heat through every vein in her body, and as if her body had chosen without her mental will, she stretched out her hand, and took his.

* * *

“What a curious twist to the evening,” Wallace mused as Dominic approached him.

Amelia, pale as a ghost, had said nothing after he’d led her off the stage, and was moving with stiff, strange steps as he held her hand. He was worried she was going to collapse at any moment, so he tampered his annoyance at Wallace’s wit, and nodded.

“Indeed it is,” he replied. “Take my cut from this evening, and if there is anything left owed, send the invoice to my office. It will be paid within the day.”

“Your cut will cover her cost and we shall call it even,” Wallace replied, surprising him. It was not like him to round out payments; to not make sure he received every cent.

When he gave him a questioning look, Wallace merely replied, “My conscience was bothered by this one. Consider it my penance for accepting her.”

“Who brought her in?” Dominic asked. He glanced at Amelia again, and immediately regretted asking. He had to get her out of there. Now.

“Her father,” Wallace answered, looking perturbed.

Fury laced through Dominic as he heard this, but he bit back any further questions he had and bid Wallace farewell. Amelia’s hand was limp and cold in his hand, only serving to worry him farther as he led her through the crowd and to the exit.

To his surprise, once they made outside, Amelia spoke.

“I know you, my lord,” she said, her voice hollow.

“You do.” He confirmed, waving a hand at his driver parked down the street. “And you are safe.”

“How do I know you?” She asked.

“Into the carriage,” he commanded as his driver stopped the horses right before them.

“Who are you, my lord??” She shouted.

“Amelia,” Dominic growled, losing his patience over the situation. He let loose her hand only to snatch her by her waist and lift her up into his arms.

“ I said get into the bloody carriage.”

He ignored her sudden struggle with ease, and carried her inside the moment the driver opened the door.

“Take us to an empty street and stay there until I give you further direction,” he commanded to the driver.

“Let me go!” She demanded, squirming in his grasp.

He did so the moment the door shut, and Amelia sent herself sprawling onto the floor from the momentum of her struggling.

“Serves you right,” he barked, ignoring the flash of guilt that moved through him as he watched her scramble up and into the seat opposite, her back pressing tightly to the cushions as she tried to put as much space as possible between them.

“I am not doing this,” she declared, her nostrils flared, honey eyes wide.

She looked like a feral kit trapped by hunter; trying to appear vicious in spite of her fear. Dominic admired her for that, but it did nothing to tamper his annoyance. He roughly pulled off his mask, flinging it at her, and leaned forward on his knees so she could see his face plainly in the carriage’s lamplight.

Somehow, her eyes widened even further and her mouth dropped open.

“Dominic?” She whispered.

“Yes,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “ So glad you remembered me.”

“You? You bought me?” She asked. Then she shouted loudly “WHY?!”

“What else was I supposed to do?” He snarled back, “You are the best friend of my best friend’s wife, and a dear friend to my other best friend’s sister. You think I would allow you to be sold at auction to someone who might turn you into a mistress or worse?”

His explanation seemed to calm her, if only a little, and her rigid shoulders dropped.

“Now tell me how you ended up in that place,” he demanded.

“My father forced me,” she replied, her brows furrowing with disdain. Still a flash of hurt passed through her eyes. “What were you doing in that place?”

“That is none of your concern,” he shot back, leaning back. He let out a sigh as he brushed a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“What kind of father- especially one of noble blood, sells his eldest daughter in a place like this? No short answers, Amelia. You will tell me everything.”

He glared at her warningly, and though she stiffened again, she began tell her story.

“My reputation never recovered from my failed engagement,” she explained. “Over the years, I never could put forth the proper effort in finding a replacement. I had hoped as time passed I would become better, but instead I- I suppose I just became more weary with the process of finding a husband. And with dealing with rumors. Instead of trying to better my reputation I simply put myself against the wall. Avoided dealing with any of it.

“I knew my father’s patience was growing thin with me, but when he told me last week I only had seven more days to find a husband or he would handle it, I could have never suspected this is what he meant.”

As she spoke the last part her voice broke and her chin began to quiver. Dominic sneered at her reaction, not comfortable with such displays of emotion. He’d rather her fight him again than this. Still, he pulled his kerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

“No offense to you, but no self-respecting father sells their child at an auction,” he said, his tone grating, “The circumstances are not ideal, but perhaps it is best that you are now free of him.”

“ How ?” Amelia sobbed, then blew her nose into the kerchief. “How is this better? I was sold like chattel!”

“Yes but you were sold to me, ” Dominic retorted, “And I am arrogant enough to admit that my circumstances are much better than his. I can at least provide an assurance that you will never go through such an ordeal again. Unlike the others who might have bought you. Nor will I turn you into any sort of paramour. I am not fond of dallying with the unwilling.”

“ Christ,” Dominic then swore . “ What was he thinking? Only a handful of those men actually make the women they purchase their wives! And even so the mask policy has its limitations when it comes to identity protection. Word would have gotten out that he had sold you. It still might.”

Amelia’s tear-filled eyes widened once more and she shook her head vigorously.

“No. No it cannot get out,” she pleaded. “Not even for my own reputation, but for my sisters. If such a rumor would spread they would never be courted, and my father would do the same to them. He said as much!”

Disgust bloomed in Dominic’s stomach. Of all the messes he’d been entangled in through his life, this one was by far the trickiest. He took a ragged breath, pushing through his rage, and nodded his head.

“There is one way that can be avoided,” he said quietly. Even as he said it, his soul balked at the idea. He was of the right age for it. A part of him even felt inclined to it. But this was never how he wanted it.

“Tell me,” Amelia urged, leaning toward him. “Tell me what to do and I will. I cannot let this happen to my sisters.”

Dominic looked up at her, his gaze wary.

“We will marry.”