Page 4 of A Duchess to Unravel (The Devil’s Masquerade #3)

CHAPTER TWO

“ O h no,” Theo whispered.

Her brother’s nostrils flared as his brow furrowed deeper, the breath he’d just taken seeming to freeze in his lungs as he worked his jaw back and forth and stood jarringly still. Utter rage poured from his eyes.

“Tristan,” she repeated, her voice steadier this time, “It is not what it looks like. I--”

“Do not dare lie to me right now, Theo,” he growled, cutting her off.

He moved, fast and with intent. He snatched her wrist and without breaking his quick stride, began hauling her further down the path that led to the stables.

Knowing there were no words to soothe his anger, Theo decided to not speak again, instead putting her focus into keeping up with him.

His grip on her wrist was not painful, but it felt like a shackle and he was dragging her with a quickness back to the numbness she’d wanted to escape from in the first place.

Tension roiled between them as Tristan curtly ordered the stable boys to fetch her carriage and their driver.

When they were readied, he opened the carriage door for her and released her wrist, quietly fuming as he waited for her to climb inside.

The carriage then began taking them back up the drive, then out of the gates.

It was only when they reached the road back to London that he exploded.

“What in God’s name were you thinking, Theo?” He demanded.

Theo hung her head. What could she say? What words could possibly defend her? She had lied to him outright. She’d made a promise, and she’d broken it.

“Answer me,” he snarled, “What is happening to you?”

And suddenly her ability to speak came roaring back.

“I do not know!” She shouted, snapping her eyes up to him.

Confusion ate at some of the anger in Tristan’s gaze, and he sat back in his seat studying her. He took a deep breath. Two. And when he spoke next, he sounded calmer, but still angry.

“Do you have any idea how precarious you have been with your reputation these last two years? How many times I have had to save you from unsavory situations such as these?” He demanded.

“Then stop saving me,” she shot back, ripping off her mask.

Tristan looked at her, startled.

“It is mine, after all, is it not? It is my reputation to ruin if I wish. You are not Father. He is gone. Now so too is Mother. You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do.”

Tristan blinked, his jaw working once more as he studied her.

“I am not our father, it is true,” he answered after a tense silence, “But I care for you, deeply, Theo, and I am worried that these choices you are making are going to have irrevocable consequences.”

She laughed, the sound bitter.

“Such as?”

“Such as you will ruin all prospects of marriage,” he replied.

“And what do I need marriage for, Tristan?” She retorted. “We are--” she paused. We are orphans. The thought weighed heavy in her heart, making pain and loneliness bloom in her chest.

“We no longer have parents to please or worry,” she pushed on. “You are the title holder, the oldest male heir. It is your responsibility to further our legacy, not mine.”

“It is not just about responsibility, Theo,” he insisted, “It is about life! And happiness in it. Finding a husband does not have to be a duty, sister, it can be a choice, a declaration of love. It can be someone that cares for you as you age. What if something happens to me? What if I am taken from you early as Father and Mother were? Do you truly wish to be alone?”

The thought gave Theo pause. This was not the lecture she was expecting. She could negate the idea of practical marriage all night long, but how was she to argue with that?

“And might I remind you, sister,” Tristan continued, “That your reputation is tied to mine.”

Theo rolled her eyes, feeling foolish for thinking that even for a moment that her practical, perfect, older brother could be so in touch with her feelings.

“Of course,” she muttered, “Therein lies the truth. You worry for yourself.”

“I worry for both of us,” Tristan countered. “Tell me, what do you know of our family finances, Theo?”

She was startled at the sudden change in subject.

“What does that have to do with anything?” She asked.

“Answer the question,” he demanded.

Embarrassment took over her as she realized she truly did not know.

“We are nobles. Nobles are rich. Through inheritance and such,” she guessed.

Tristan laughed bitterly as he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, little sister, how I crave to have your innocence at times,” he sighed.

He opened his eyes, rubbed his jaw, then leaned forward.

“Our inheritance is our title,” he told her.

“With that does indeed come some money but nowhere near enough to support our lavish lifestyle. We have three houses. All of them fully staffed at all times for means of convenience when we wish to travel. We eat the finest foods; we wear the finest fabrics.”

A sneer formed on his lips as he said the last words, his eyes raking down her dress.

“Even if your dress is barely made of any,” he added with distaste.

Theo wanted to be offended by that, but she could not. The dress was designed to scintillate, and she did not imagine she would fare well if she saw him dressed in just a vest and trousers as Poseidon had been. She pulled her arms closer around her, covering her cleavage, and blushed.

With a sigh, Tristan shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“That was cruel,” he admitted, “I apologize. I just--I do not wish to see my only baby sister in--” he waved a hand over her--“this.”

Theo just shook her head, wanting to be done with this particular part of the conversation.

“Continue, brother,” she said weakly. “Please. You have never shared such information about our family’s wealth before. I want to understand.”

Tristan shook his head.

“It is something I wished to shield you from,” he replied, his tone growing softer, more affectionate.

“But now, I think you must know our reality. Everything about our life costs something. Money. Reputation. Pride. Your reputation, which has barely been salvageable, is costing us money. Our income stems mostly from business earnings that I have nurtured since Father died. I have grown them some, I am proud to say. Thanks to Hugo and Dominic, we are very comfortable … but that can all change. It is changing. We are losing investors because of rumors still circulating about you and Amelia from over a year ago. Now if word gets out that you were seen here tonight, we will stand to lose even more.”

Theo’s brows furrowed. She’d been numb for the better part of the year. Had developed the talent of not hearing a thing as she stood silently along the wall at parties--but how could she have missed that people were still speaking of her and Amelia?

“I thought Dominic took care of those rumors?” She asked.

Tristan gave her an exhausted look.

“He can only truly control what others say in front of him. But no one can be everywhere at once, even with his little spies. There are plenty of spaces in our society where rumors can still run free. Surely you know that. You and your friends have gossiped extensively when you’re all together in the privacy of our home.

Or at least you used to. Before you started pushing them away. ”

Theo rubbed her lips together, guilt taking over.

“I have missed much in my self-absorption, haven’t I?” She asked.

Tristan pulled in a ragged breath that sounded full of relief. As if he’d been trying for months to make her understand something and she’d ignored him over and over again.

“You have,” he admitted. “We all grieve differently and I was trying to give you space to sort yours out--but after tonight, I am afraid I must intervene.”

Theo nodded numbly, feeling beaten down and defeated by all she had just learned.

“What do you want me to do?” She asked meekly.

“To start, I want you to have your friends over tomorrow. I know for a fact Seraphina and Amelia miss you terribly. I have no doubt that Ophelia and Rosamund feel the same,” Tristan replied.

Theo nodded again, a lump forming in her throat. Even if most of her last year was spent feeling numb, she knew deep down she had missed them too.

“What else?” She rasped.

Tristan moved from his side of the carriage to sit next to her and draped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into his side, accepting his comfort for the first time since their mother died.

“I need you to stay away from the Devil’s Masquerade , ” he answered.

“And put an effort into a finding a husband. I am not worried about title or rank. I will not push toward social climbing. But it is time you find someone who can understand you and love you. Accept you. Give you reasons to not want to go to such places.”

Theo’s mind flashed back to Cernunnos, and the uncanny way he’d been able to read her so very well. She’d never see him again, or even if she would, they would not recognize another. For once she regretted not letting him remove her mask.

“You think it will be so easy?” She asked, lifting her head to look at Tristan. “I do not even know if I understand myself. How am I to find someone else that can?”

Tristan chuckled, pulled her back into his side, and kissed her forehead.

“I will help you find him any way I can, sister,” he replied.

“And if the scandal sheets do reveal that I have been seen at the Devil’s Masquerade?” she asked. “What if we continue to lose investors because of the mistakes I have made?”

Tristan shook his head, “Let me worry about that. If you can promise me you will stop trying to sneak back to the Masquerade, I will handle the brunt of whatever such rumors do to us.”

Their carriage stopped, and moment later their driver announced that they had arrived back at their London home.

“Come along,” Tristan urged gently. “Let us get you to bed. Tomorrow morning, we start fresh. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” she replied.