Page 24 of A Duchess to Reclaim (The Devil’s Masquerade #2)

CHAPTER 1

“S eraphina!” Theodosia Briarwood giggled, clasping both of her friend’s hands tightly. “There you are. Amelia and I have been looking for you. Where have you been?”

“Theo, my darling,” Seraphina exclaimed happily, glad to be among her friends again, “You know my Mama, always trying to win me a dance at these things.”

Her turquoise-blue eyes glanced around the ballroom she had just walked around with her mother with, trying to keep the grimace off her face. It was always the same since her mother, Mary Kinderson, and her paramour Peter Godwin, Duke of Caldermere, had decided together to thrust their illegitimate daughter into society two years ago.

Her mother continually tried, in vain, to find a suitor for Seraphina to dance with, hoping to catch her a husband. And each time it ended in failure, with Seraphina clustered with the other wallflowers. Which, in truth, was where she preferred to be. She understood her mother’s preference to be wed to a noble rather than a commoner. The lifestyle was better by far- but the company was questionable. Most nobles looked down on her for being the illegitimate daughter of the Duke of Caldermere, and rather than embrace her, gossiped about her.

Fortune had smiled on her, however, when she had met Theodosia, Rosalind, Ophelia, and Amelia, four noble daughters with hearts of gold. Two of which were presently by her side, offering her the most wonderful support.

“Ignore these stuck-up young bucks,” Theo urged, then held Seraphina’s hand up to give her a spin, “If they cannot see your beauty and grace, then woe be to them.”

“Hear, hear,” Amelia agreed, “Your gown is incredible! Such a creamy yellow! It pairs perfectly with those chocolate curls and blue eyes of yours.”

Seraphina blushed at the compliments her friends bestowed her, still not used to such support.

“You are both far too kind,” she replied, sweeping her eyes down their ballgowns.

The Duke had given her and her mother an account at the Modiste’s so that they could dress appropriately, but his idea of fashion was much more conservative. And, while she agreed her own gown was lovely, it was nothing compared to what her friends’ wore.

Theos ballgown was a mint green bedecked with silver and gold threads, which highlighted her sea green eyes and shining blonde hair; her hairstyle artfully hid the long, thin scar that raced from her temple to the edge of her brow. Amelia’s was a shimmering lavender, which complimented her honey brown eyes and light brown updo.

Seraphina understood why she herself was the wallflower; both due to her questionable lineage and lack of luster, but she could never fathom why the two friends were there by her side. Still, she cherished them all the same.

“We are being honest,” Theo answered, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “You truly look lovely, and I was at your last dance lesson, remember? Your steps have improved considerably.”

“I am trying,” Seraphina replied earnestly, “These last two years have been a whirlwind of lessons. The only reason I wish my father had recognized me when I was younger was so that I could start training for society earlier. What you have had your entire lives to learn, I have only had two years to master.”

“It is not the time that is important, but the dedication,” Amelia told her. Her eyes then flicked over the crowd, landing on Seraphina’s mother.

“Though, I fear your mother may be doing more harm than good,” she leaned in and whispered to Seraphina. “High society does not take pressure from the lower classes well. Perhaps she would benefit your chances more if she stepped back a little?”

Seraphina chortled behind her hand and whispered, “Good luck telling her that. She thinks that now that the Duke has put her in fine dresses and allows her to flutter me about these things, that she is as good as them. Even when their faces clearly relay that she is not.”

“Well, at least your debut is less of a scandal now,” Theo said, “Remember how poorly they treated her two years ago?”

“I will never forget,” Seraphina said, and meant it.

Her mother had once been a maid in the Duke’s home. According to Mary, she and the nobleman had fallen in love. Only there had been two problems with that.

Mary had been born a commoner. And the Duke already had a wife.

Seraphina’s birth and her very existence had been kept a secret until the Duchess of Caldermere sadly died shortly before Seraphina’s twentieth birthday. She blushed now, thinking of how her mother had forced her into the Duke’s office not even a week after the woman’s funeral, and demanded that Seraphina be turned into a Lady.

“Sera, my love,” Theo said softly, calling her back to the present.

Seraphina shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the unpleasant memory, and forced a wan smile as she turned to her friend.

“Apologies, dear friends,” she said, forcing a small laugh.

“No apologies necessary, darling,” Amelia said warmly, reaching out to give Seraphina’s arm a squeeze.

A burst of affection bloomed within her as she focused back on Amelia and Theo. Though they looked nothing alike, they were the sisters she had craved deeply growing up as an only child. Together, they had formed a pact to get one another away from the wall and into the arms of a suitable husband. Though, admittedly, the task had proven difficult for all of them thus far.

“Let us not focus on the problem, but more on the solution,” Theo said hastily. “You need a husband. Not just for status, but a way to escape from your predicament with your parents.”

“Well I am ready to listen if you have any ideas,” Seraphina replied resolutely, drawing in a grounding breath. “What have you got?”

Theo’s small, sincere smile grew into a wide, mischievous one, and she pulled both Seraphina and Amelia closer to her.

“Actually, I believe I do have something,” she said, casting a glance at the dancing surrounding them.

“Do tell,” Seraphina urged, “Anything to get me out of this predicament.”

“The men of this society are weak-minded,” Theo explained, “They follow one another. Therefore, if we find one gentleman to dance with you, I will conclude that more would follow.”

“Well, that is obvious,” Amelia scoffed.

“Indeed,” Seraphina sighed, “If it were easy to have a single gentleman ask me to dance do you not think I would have done so by now?”

“Which is why we do not try to convince any of these gentlemen,” Theo whispered excitedly.

“What are you on about, Theo?” Amelia asked. “A man of the ton must ask her to dance and all are present.”

“So we think, ” Theo replied wagging her brows, “But, what if that is not so?”

Seraphina felt interest pique.

“Go on,” she urged.

“As you know, Rose and I are avid readers and we often borrow one another’s books,” Theo explained, “In the recent one she lent me, there is an actor pretending to be a prince to woo the princess. He looks, acts, talks, like royalty, but in secret, he is just a peasant boy. He fools everyone, including the princess, until the villain, a sorcerer, reveals his true lineage then kidnaps the princess. The peasant boy saves her in the end, and due to his bravery is awarded a title and is able to marry the princess in the end.”

“What a lovely story,” Seraphina sighed, “But our circumstances are different. Everyone in the ton knows one another, we cannot just make up a new noble.”

“No,” Theo agreed, “But we can hire an actor to play the part of a known one. One, perhaps, that the ton knows of, but has not seen in a while.”

Seraphina and Amelia both burst into laughter.

“You and your imagination,” Amelia giggled.

“It is quite whimsical,” Seraphina agreed, “But a bit preposterous, don’t you think?”

“Hear me out,” Theo urged, dropping into a whisper, “I know it seems a bit ridiculous but it could work! My brother, Tristan, is friends with the Duke of Merrivale, whom–”

“The name does not sound familiar,” Amelia protested.

“He is a bit older than us,” Theo acknowledged, “I suppose he is thirty by now or so, and he is a recluse. Does not leave his Dukedom for anything, according to my brother.”

Seraphina opened her mouth to protest, but found she had no words to say. The idea was wild- but also interesting.

“I know of an actor who works in a traveling troupe,” Theo went on, “We became friends one summer when he and his companions came to the countryside to put on A Midsommer Night’s Dream, and every time he returns, he regales me with his travels. He is very good, you know, and is coming back to London for the season. I am sure for the right price, he could play our estranged Duke at a party.”

The reality of such an idea set in, and Seraphina shook her head as she let go of the possibility.

“It is a lovely idea,” Seraphina sighed, “But come now, we all know it would not work.”

Theo’s lips parted to protest, but before she could speak, Mary’s voice invaded their small circle, sending all of their shoulders up to their ears- especially Seraphina’s.

“Seraphina, what are you doing against that wall?” Mary said with disappointment, reaching for her daughter’s hand. “You will never find a husband if you spend all your time conversing with other ladies.”

Mary, who some would still consider beautiful, turned a forced smile to Amelia and Theo.

“Lady Theodosia, Lady Amelia, don’t you both look beautiful this evening.”

“Thank you, Ms. Kinderson,” they said in unison, each giving Seraphina’s mother a polite but small curtsey.

“Far too beautiful to be fused to the wall,” Mary went on, squeezing Seraphina’s hand tighter as she pulled her away from her friends, “You should be out there, trying to attain a husband just as my daughter should be.”

Seraphina gave her friends an apologetic look, but both their eyes warmed with forgiveness. Both knew not to attempt a disagreement with the woman, and simply muttered their agreement.

“Come now, Seraphina,” Mary said, turning her full at attention back to her daughter, “It is time that we make another round.”

Seraphina felt a swell of disappointment rise up from her stomach. It had not even been ten minutes since they had last done so. And, just like all the times before, she knew what the outcome would be.

“Are you certain we are not being too persistent, Mama?” Seraphina asked, glancing around the ballroom. “Do we not appear too eager?”

“Oh, what do you know about it,” Mary hissed, pulling her along, “If it were up to you, you would not be trying at all. Now say goodbye to your friends and come along!”

Seraphina threw her friends an apologetic glance, which was answered by smiles of support. She also saw the look of pity in their eyes. Every Mama with an eligible daughter had a certain sharpness to her, Seraphina knew, but hers had an air of desperation that the others never reached. They did not have to. Their daughters were legitimate.

“Good evening, my Lord, Your Grace. Pleasant tidings, once more, my Lord.”

Seraphina meekly repeated these greetings to the men that had already politely but absolutely refused her yet again, trying her best not to let the look of discomfort on their faces brand themselves into her mind. On and on this went, as it had at every ball for the last two years.

They do not want me, Seraphina thought, staring hard at her mother’s side profile. I can accept that. Why can you not do the same?

“Lord Gerard,” Mary called gaily, approaching a gentleman newly arrived at the party.

“He has just arrived and has not been asked yet,” Mary whispered to Seraphina under her breath, “This may be your chance.”

Seraphina drew in a breath, and though she knew it was futile, put on a polite smile and hurried to catch up with her mother’s pace.

“Ah, Ms. Kinderson,” Lord Gerard greeted with a bow, “Miss Seraphina. Lovely to see you both this evening.”

“A pleasure to see you as well, my Lord,” Seraphina greeted with a curtsey. “How is your even-”

“Indeed, my Lord, indeed,” Mary agreed readily, cutting her daughter off, “I see you have yet to take the dance floor with any of these lovely young ladies.”

Lord Gerard blinked repeatedly as he took a step back, though he kept his polite expression intact.

“Well, I have only just arrived,” he replied, “I usually take my time greeting my friends before I bother the young ladies for a dance or two.”

Seraphina appreciated his attempt at humor, and offered him a more genuine smile.

“I am sure it is no bother at all, Lord Gerard,” she said kindly.

He chuckled as he shifted his gaze from Mary to Seraphina, and gave her an appreciative nod.

“That is most kind, Miss Kinderson,” he said, “Untrue, but kind. I know my…stoutness is not what the young ladies all pine for.”

Seraphina almost giggled, but her mother’s grip had her lilt turning into a soft gasp.

“My Seraphina cares not for bodily stature, Lord Gerard,” Mary retorted hastily, “In fact she is quite the humble and accepting young girl.”

“I am sure she is,” Lord Gerard answered, his smile slipping.

“She is also quite amicable in nature, if not a bit shy,” Mary went on, “I believe you would find her quite easy to get along with.”

Heat spiked in Seraphina’s face, her cheeks turning a crimson red as Lord Gerard’s smile disappeared entirely.

“To be sure, Madam,” he attempted his tone now curt, “However, I-”

“Perhaps if you took her for a dance and maybe a glass of punch, you could see such good qualities for yourself,” Mary insisted. “Now, Seraphina, would that not be lovely?”

“Ms. Kinderson, that is enough,” Lord Gerard snapped, his bushy brows furrowing as Mary attempted to push Seraphina toward him.

He took a step toward both of them, a sneer forming across his face.

“Have you no shame, woman?” He whispered with disgust. “You think there is not a single person here is not aware of your reputation? Of hers?”

Hurt sliced through Seraphina as Lord Gerard threw her a disgusted glance; his polite facade broken. Her mother had been insistent, yes, but she herself had been nothing but kind.

“I assure you I do not know what you are talking about,” Mary protested, her tone growing hard.

Lord Gerard laughed cruelly as he shook his head.

“Either you think I am a fool or you are truly two of the daftest women I have ever met,” he seethed. “You think you can pass yourself off as a Lady, Ms. Kinderson, after you played the part of mistress? And you, Miss Seraphina, you cannot honestly believe that you will ever be seen as a noble, despite your father’s name. To continue to thrust this pretense upon us true members of nobility is insulting to us all, and I suggest you stop at once before you truly make a mess of things. The Duke of Caldermere might have a soft spot for commoners, but I assure you, the rest of us do not.”

Seraphina’s embarrassment ignited into rage as Lord Gerard’s disparaging words went on and on. She had put up with much, especially in the last two years, but the scene the man was beginning to make was about to push her over the edge. She glanced around, noticing how the others were starting to look their way, then looked back up at her mother.

Her usual look of superiority was gone, wiped clean away by the Lord’s despicable words, and in a rare moment, she saw an emotion her mother desperately and constantly tried to hide: shame.

“That is enough, my Lord,” Seraphina said, her tone soft but clear.

To her surprise, Lord Gerard stopped his tirade, and looked at her with wide, shocked eyes.

“What did you dare say to me?” He demanded.

Seraphina blushed as she tempered her rage and her words, and curtseyed toward him.

“We have clearly taken up too much of your time, Lord Gerard,” she answered, hiding what she truly wanted to say. “We offer our sincerest apologies.”

“I should say so,” he retorted.

Though he kept on speaking, Seraphina blocked out his words as she led her mother away. For a moment they walked together in stunned silence, both ignoring the looks that still fell upon them. Another ball. Another failure. Seraphina had known this would happen from the beginning.

“Perhaps we should go, Mama,” Seraphina suggested as they reached an empty corner of the room. “It seems we have outworn our welcome yet again.”

At this, Mary seemed to snap out of her stunned silence, and she yanked her hand from her daughter’s grasp as she sneered at her.

“Why do you have to always ruin everything, Seraphina?” She hissed. “If you would have just apologized and kept your chastisement to yourself, we could have turned the conversation around!”

“Mama,” Seraphina half-laughed, half-gasped, “You cannot be serious.”

Mary tsked her tongue as she shook her head in disappointment.

“You are not trying hard enough, my dear,” she insisted, “You must be better than this. Oh, this is clearly not working. Perhaps it is time we take more drastic measures.”

Seraphina looked on at her mother in bewilderment, unable to follow the connections Mary had made in order to make the scene her fault.

“Drastic?” Seraphina rasped, waving a hand toward the ballroom. “What could be more drastic than this? You are throwing me in every man’s face!”

“Obviously not hard enough,” Mary retorted, “Perhaps a good push into a closet or such with one will produce better results. Better a scandalous marriage than no marriage at all.”

Seraphina’s jaw dropped, unable to believe her mother’s words.

“Oh, do not dare give me that look, Seraphina,” Mary snapped. “I swear, it is as if I am the only one thinking of your future! Do you want to end up a maid as I did? Only getting as close as I have to a life of leisure?”

When Seraphina only answered with silence, Mary gave her a disappointed look, then grimaced as she scanned the room.

“God, look at what you have done,” she then sighed. “Everyone is talking about us now. This night is ruined. Come. It is time for us to go.”

Relief intermingled with Seraphina’s disgust and confusion, and she nodded her head. At least, on this matter, she could agree with her.

“I believe I left my hand bag with Theo and Amelia,” she told her mother, “I shall go fetch it.”

Mary rolled her eyes as she shook her head, somehow appearing even more disappointed than before.

“I am not waiting here for you, not after the scene you just caused. “Go, be quick. I shall be in the carriage.”

Seraphina nodded as Mary turned away from her, and as she made her way through the sea of stares, she kept her eyes locked on the affectionate looks from her friends.

“Seraphina, are you all right?” Theo whispered, holding her bag out to her.

“What an awful man,” Amelia offered, laying a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. “He had no right to make such a scene!”

Seraphina forced a smile as a well of tears suddenly threatened to spring forth from her eyes. It was almost as if her friends’ kindness was too much, though she appreciated it greatly.

“I shall be fine,” she rasped, feeling her throat grow tight. “But Theodosia?”

“Yes, darling?” Theo answered immediately.

“I changed my mind. Call on your actor friend. I fear the measures my mother may force me to take if I do not get at least one dance soon.”

* * *

Hugo, Hugo stop! You shall kill him!

He deserves nothing less for what he has done to you! What he tried to do to me!

You are not Father! Dear, brother please, Stop!

Hugo felt blood on his hands, the splatters of it over his face. He roared, feeling a new type of wetness in his eyes as he pushed himself away.

You are not Father. You are not Father. You are not Father.

Hugo?

Hugo?

“Hugo?”

Tristan’s voice, not Leah’s, broke through Hugo’s memories. He blinked, and the past faded away. In its place came a view of the darkened, foggy London streets. The street lamps. The expanse of the Mayfair Fenwick house.

He turned to the man sitting opposite him in the carriage. Tristan Briarwood, his friend. The man that had made it possible for him to return to London.

“We’re here,” Tristan said.

Hugo nodded, and turned back to the view of the house.

“This is a good thing, Hugo,” Tristan urged. “Returning to London, I mean. Your father died six years ago. You are free. You have spent enough time in seclusion. It is time to move forward.”

Yes. It was true. The Monster of Merrivale had died in a true monstrous fashion. His heart, so full of alcohol and rage, had practically exploded in his chest, according to the autopsy. At the moment Hugo had been freed from his father’s abuse…and yet in a way, he still felt the monster’s blows railing against him from the inside at any given moment.

“So you and Leah keep telling me,” Hugo replied, a frown etched in his face.

Tristan raised a brow.

“You think we are wrong?”

No. He knew they weren’t wrong. He was thirty now, too old to be hiding from the world. It was time, as his friend said, to move forward. Begin a new journey…and find a wife. If for no other reason than to produce an heir. The Fenwick line had to continue. He just hoped that he wouldn’t make a beast of a father as his own had been. That, he knew, was what he was most afraid of.

“No,” Hugo sighed, forcing himself out of his somber attitude.

He reached forward and clapped his hand on Tristan’s knee— brief touch that still sent needles of discomfort rising from beneath his skin.

“You are right. I just…slipped. For a moment. Come, let us get out of this box and stretch our legs. I want to see what you’ve done with the house.”

Tristan gave him a smile of approval, and threw open the carriage door before waving his friend to go first. Hugo stepped out, stretching his confined muscles, and peered up at the looming London house. It looked exactly the same from the outside, but Hugo knew Tristan had been hard at work.

Tristan had been the only friend brave enough to visit him in Merrivale. Brave enough to withstand the truth. When Hugo had told him that changes needed to be made to the house in order for him to make the move, his friend had readily agreed to take over the project on his behalf.

“Thank you again for doing this for me,” Hugo said as Tristan got out of the carriage.

“It really was no trouble at all, old boy,” Tristan replied, patting him on the back. Again, those uncomfortable needles.

“Your staff is entirely new, so no old faces to run into,” Tristan went on as they walked up the steps, “and the designers had an absolute ball redecorating. No antiques, as you suggested; all completely new furniture built by some of the best woodworkers in London. There is not a stitch of your father left behind.”

Tristan then opened the front door with a flourish, illuminating the front steps with a welcoming light. Still, though, Hugo wavered at the threshold. Tristan said nothing, knowing this moment was about patience, acceptance.

Flashes of how it looked years ago shot through his mind, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to force them away. He had taken many trips to London with his father. Learning from him to be the next Duke while simultaneously surviving his crueler instincts.

He took a steadying breath, stepped in, and when he opened them, he smiled, genuinely, at the light that surrounded him. No more dark colors. No more dead animal heads on the walls. Instead he was greeted by pearly white walls, gold trim and matching sconces, and paintings of lush greenery. It was a complete transformation.

“I owe you a great debt,” Hugo said, his dark green eyes roving around the bright foyer.

“I was hoping you would say that,” Tristan said, his tone enthusiastic.

Hugo ventured a chuckle.

“So you wish payment?” He asked with a smirk.

Tristan’s lips twitched into a smirk of his own.

“In a manner of speaking. As you know I have moved into my own house. I love my parents and little sister dearly, but I needed my own space.”

“Yes,” Hugo answered slowly, wondering what his friend was up to. “You mentioned that.”

“Well I am hosting a dinner party on Friday to celebrate, and it would mean a great deal to me to have you attend.”

Hugo balked. Friday was only two days away, and he had hoped to wait a little while before easing back into society.

“I’m not sure, Briarwood,” he replied. “It’s been too long since I have been among the ton.”

“Which is why this would be a great way to wade back into it,” Tristan urged. “It’s a small gathering, only a dozen people or so. It shall give you an opportunity to socialize on a much smaller scale than that of a ball or such. Besides, the men I am inviting are more apt to be curious about your lands and investments—, not your past.”

Hugo shifted on his feet. He appreciated his friend’s optimism, but he very much doubted that latter part to be true. Everyone was curious about his past. And the reputation attached to it. Still…

“Very well,” he agreed begrudgingly. “I suppose you are right. I shall attend. But Tristan, I am only coming to make contacts. If anyone asks about my reputation, I am out.”

“Marvelous!” Tristan praised, smiling from ear to ear as he loudly clapped his hands together.

Hugo almost winced at the explosion of sound, but caught himself.

“Well I shall leave you to get settled,” Tristan went on matter-of-factly. “

“I shall see you tomorrow at ten in my office?” Tristan asked, nodding toward him. “We have much to discuss regarding our new investment endeavor, and I want to see that edge you hold that has made Merrivale flourish.”

Hugo’s concern vanished as he pulled on a confident smile. Bad reputation or not, he had become very good at quite a few things. One of which was being ruthless and successful when it came to making money.

“I shall see you then.” Hugo agreed.

“Welcome back, Fenwick,” Tristan sighed happily, heading toward the door, “London welcomes you with open arms.”