Page 6 of A Duchess to Unravel (The Devil’s Masquerade #3)

CHAPTER THREE

“ G oodness! I forgot what quite the presence you are, Your Grace!” Amelia Astorfield, the Duchess of Ellsworth exclaimed.

Alistair Harleigh, the claimed heir to the Dukedom of Caldermere chuckled. As did Amelia’s husband, Dominic, while Alistair ducked and climbed into their carriage.

“I am indeed, Your Grace,” he replied, then swept his large hand toward Dominic--“but so is your husband.”

The Duke of Ellsworth was a man Alistair certainly considered as a business associate, but soon, he hoped to also count as a friend.

The man was fierce, both in business and life, just as Alistair was.

He had a moral compass all his own and he did not allow the pressures of society to change that inner navigation.

“That is for certain,” Amelia replied, leaning affectionately into her husband’s shoulder. Dominic’s mutual affection was clear on his face as he smiled handsomely down at his wife.

“You only think so because you are so very tiny, my love,” Dominic teased.

Alistair’s smile grew upon seeing the two together. Dominic was fierce in the business world, but with his wife, he was another man entirely.

“It is good to see you, again, Lady Astorfield,” Alistair stated, meaning it. “Both of you.”

“I implore you, Your Grace, after the hospitality you showed us on our visit to Scotland, you have earned the right to call me Amelia,” she replied, turning her eyes back to him.

“Then I must insist you both address me as Alistair,” he replied, “In fact I hope by the end of this dinner we may all be comfortable enough to address one another so informally. You have told me a great deal about these friends of yours, and it seems like an inner circle I would prefer to be a part of.”

“You will be, no doubt,” Dominic stated, “Our circle may be bit apart from society’s usual structure, but I believe that’s what sets our business success apart from others.”

Alistair cleared his throat, ran a hand through his thick, dark brown hair, and nodded.

“Yes, I noticed in the few social interactions I have encountered here that London, despite its reputation, is a wee bit of cutthroat society. Every man for himself. Seems there is no limit to how low a man will go to get what he wants.”

His thoughts flashed back to the Devil’s Masquerade a couple of nights ago when he stepped in between such a man and the woman he could not stop thinking about.

Alistair was no stranger to the pleasures of women.

He’d kissed many. Seduced even more. Yet the kiss he’d shared with the cat-masked woman that night had created a longing in him he’d never felt so deep.

“It is why the four of us stick together,” Dominic said, bringing Alistair back to the present. “Fenwick, Briarwood, and Duskwell, and I seem to be able to handle whatever this vulturous society tries to pluck from us.”

Alistair nodded again, liking the sound of that. Dominic had told him extensively about his close associates: the Duke of Merrivale, who had wed Alistair’s cousin; the Earl of Darlington and the Marquess of Harriden.

“Have you had much time to socialize since you have arrived in London?” Amelia asked.

Again, thoughts of the cat-masked woman filled his mind, but he shook his head.

“Not very much,” he replied.

“Well then, I hope you both will remember to take a rest from your work from time-to-time this evening and have some fun,” Amelia answered. “I for one know your cousin, Seraphina, is most anxious to meet you.”

Amelia had told him much about his cousin during her and Dominic’s visit to Scotland, and in truth, he was looking forward to meeting her as well.

They had much in common. Though Alistair’s birth was legitimate, his mother and father were cast out of London before he was born for their relationship and because of it, he had been raised in Scotland.

That did not stop his parents from building their own wealth, however, and because of that, they had ensured him the best education and his father had provided a proper tutelage on business.

To wit, he also taught him the importance of details.

Not just in spaces but within people. There was a lot a man could tell about a person, if he knew what to look for.

The father and son had worked side by side right up until the old man passed three years ago, just shy of a year before Alistair received word that he was the next heir to the Caldermere Dukedom.

Then, sadly, last year as he was readying to make his trip to London to take on the new title, his mother also passed delaying his travels.

He missed them. Terribly. Any family, no matter how estranged, was welcomed at this point.

“I am very much looking forward to meeting her as well,” Alistair agreed as the carriage came to a stop.

“Oh, good,” Amelia said, clapping her hands with excitement, “We have arrived. Come along! Everyone is simply dying to meet you.”

Alistair and Dominic both chuckled as the Lady was helped out of the carriage first.

“Your wife is a very warm woman,” Alistair noted to him as they had a moment to themselves.

“You have no idea,” Dominic replied, smirking, “I never thought anyone could thaw my heart of ice, but Amelia? She keeps it warm and full and beating every day.”

Alistair grinned.

“I never fancied you as a poet,” he joked as he took his turn climbing out of the carriage.

“Only when it comes to my wife,” Dominic replied, his tone holding a note of reverence as he took Amelia’s hand.

Alistair followed the couple up the short, pristine walk that led to the grand house that was the London Briarwood Estate.

Like the others in Mayfair it stood tall and proud, with many street-facing windows upon its white and mint green-trimmed exterior.

He noted the single dogwood tree on the trimmed green lawn and the purple and green hydrangea bushes that stood on either side of the wide, white front door.

It was a home designed for a large family, but as Alistair understood it, it was now only occupied by two siblings, who, like him, had suffered the loss of both parents in recent times.

The Earl of Darlington, and his younger sister, Miss Briarwood.

Theodosia, he recalled, from Amelia and Dominic’s many stories.

Inside, he once more took in the details.

Alabaster white walls with gold trim in the foyers.

A room to his left, another to his right.

A grand staircase sitting in the center.

Beyond the bottom of the staircase the long hall continued to the view of patio doors.

Hallways leading both left and right just before it.

“Ah, Dominic! You have arrived, and with our guest of honor.”

A handsome young man with short brown hair and bright blue eyes boasted as the three of them were shown into the parlor to his right.

Again, Alistair noted the details. It was what he did best. Noticed the little things.

Soft pink velvet drapes. White marble tabletops and fireplace.

A gilded mirror, a family portrait, and a few landscape paintings decorated the pale pink walls.

Greek style furniture laid out atop the polished dark wood floors.

A few pieces, but not enough to overcrowd the room.

Something he was thankful for, as Alistair’s size often made it difficult to move around more cluttered rooms.

He took it all in in a matter of a second and turned his attention fully back to their host. Not waiting for Dominic to make the introduction, Alistair bowed his head toward the man and then offered his hand.

Alistair took in the handsome face of the aristocrat.

Though already touched with a few stress lines, his charming, seemingly genuine smile was youthful.

His lithe athletic build was suited in a mint green jacket, a white shirt, and beige trousers.

Shiny dark brown leather shoes graced his feet.

All made finely. All expensive. As they shook hands, Alistair noted the veins along his hands, which implied strength. A boxer, perhaps.

“You must be the Earl of Darlington,” Alistair stated. “I am Alistair Harleigh, Duke of Caldermere. Thank you for graciously inviting me into your home.”

Tristan’s hand disappeared into Alistair’s much larger one, and as usual, he took care not to squeeze too hard.

Even in Scotland, where the men tended to grow a bit larger, Alistair had never met another close to his size, save for Dominic.

Even still, he was over half a head taller than he and more broad-chested.

“It is a pleasure and an honor, Your Grace, and call me Tristan, please. Your arrival has been much anticipated.”

“It has indeed,” a feminine voice stated from the left.

Alistair turned, and was greeted by the sight of a beautiful, dark-haired beauty who shared the shape of his eyes and the cut of his sculpted nose. A smile broke out on his face before he could help it, warmth spreading through as he took in the family resemblance.

Close to her side, an arm wrapped protectively around her waist, was a man as nearly as large as Alistair.

His shoulder length black hair, vivid green eyes, thin, straight lips, and sharp nose gave him a more brooding appearance, but the moment his wife gently nudged her elbow into him, the man’s smile appeared, and those sharp features softened.

“You must be my dear cousin,” Alistair said, reaching out both hands to her, “Your Grace, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. Your friend Amelia has told me much about you.”

Seraphina’s smile was so warm and hopeful that it caused a pang to shoot through Alistair’s heart. He knew of her past, how cold and distant his cousin, the former Duke of Caldermere, had been to her through most of her childhood.

“Do call me Seraphina,” she insisted, “I wish no formalities between us.”