Page 46 of A Duchess to Unravel (The Devil’s Masquerade #3)

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 to 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.”