Page 44 of A Duchess to Unravel (The Devil’s Masquerade #3)

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, freshen up and change, 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 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.