Page 24 of A Duke for Hire (The Devil’s Masquerade #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“ E ase up, Fenwick,” Ezra Fernside, Duke of Frampton warned as he ducked another punch from Hugo.

“I do not want to wreck you, but so help me I will.”

But Hugo lunged, throwing his entire body into the punch aimed for Ezra’s jaw. He did want to be wrecked. Wanted to be punished. There was too much fury in his moves, compromising his skill, and Ezra once more stepped out of the way and delivered a shuttering blow to his kidneys.

“Tap out,” Ezra growled, squaring up again, “Tap out now before this gets worse.”

With a roar of rage Hugo charged him, fists flying, and tackled Ezra to the ground. Ezra was no unskilled boxer, however, and the fight was equally matched blow for bloody blow until the others hurried into the ring.

“Hugo, enough,” Dominic growled, pulling him off of Ezra and pinning his arms behind his back.

Ezra got himself off the ground, ignoring the blood gushing from the cuts on his face, and grabbed ahold of Hugo’s shoulders.

“Your anger and your remorse will not be the reason I don’t go home to my wife and children!” He roared into Hugo’s face.

Duncan and Ambrose Curtis, Duke of Colborne, each grabbed a hold of Ezra’s shoulders to haul him back.

“Let me go!” Hugo roared, trying to break free from Dominic’s hold.

“Not on your life, old friend,” Tristan said, rushing into the ring to help Dominic. “Not until you calm down.”

Together his two friends wrestled him out of the ring and into a chair, then Tristan turned to Ezra, Ambrose, and Duncan.

“Is he all right?” He called.

Ezra looked ready to lunge out of his chair at any moment toward Hugo as he held a towel up to his bloody face, but his friends stayed close to his side, ready to prevent it if need be. Ezra’s heavily muscled chest heaved in deep breaths as he stared daggers toward Hugo, but nodded his head.

“He’s going to be fine,” Ambrose replied, “But I think that’s enough boxing for today.”

“Jesus,” Everett muttered, walking into the room with Morgan Green, Duke of Grandhill. Both of them were holding a large jug of beer in each hand a sack of fried chips from a nearby street vendor.

“What in the bloody hell happened here?” Morgan chimed in. Both of them looked from one fighter to another, as if it were obvious this had not been a usual row in the ring.

“We were only gone for ten minutes!”

“That is what I want to know,” Tristan stated, turning a commanding gaze to Hugo.

“Your wife is at my parents’ house and your friend is sitting across from you with a very bloody face,” he said, his tone heavy. “You need to tell us what’s going on, and you need to do it now. Because I’ll be honest with you: with what you just did, if Ezra decides to come at you I will not stop him.”

“Don’t stop him,” Hugo seethed, trying once again to jerk out of his friends’ grasps. “Let him come.”

“You’re trying to punish yourself,” Duncan spoke up, letting his hand off of Ezra’s shoulder as he gave Hugo a knowing look.

“Why?”

“Why?” Hugo seethed, giving them all an incredulous look. “Because I am exactly what the rumors say I am. Because I have destroyed my wife in every way.”

He shook his head, self-hatred pouring through him. “I should have never looked for a wife, never cared about an heir, and never have come to London.”

“Hugo, no,” Everett said, suddenly serious.

Hugo glared at him.

“My line is cursed. It shouldn’t be allowed to continue. I knew better. In my bones, I knew it was best to leave it all alone, but I stupidly thought…I thought.”

He paused, lowering his head and shaking it.

“I thought with Seraphina I could be different. From the beginning she pulled something new out of me. I never told her that. Told anyone that. But I see now that I was wrong. That if she stays with me I will hurt her.”

“You are hurting her more by pushing her away!” Tristan insisted. “I have never seen a woman in more pain than Seraphina at this moment. You have to get over this, Hugo. You have to let the past go, or you’ll both slip back into it. For Heaven’s sakes, she’s even starting to allow her mother to visit, and you know how monstrous that woman is!”

Hugo’s head snapped up, the hair on his neck standing rigid.

“She what?”

“Seraphina! Oh, I am so glad you came.”

Seraphina’s body felt numb and rigid as her mother threw her arms around her. Stepping foot back into Mary’s house was something she thought she would never do. But, to everyone’s surprise, Mary had visited her at Theo’s house, offering her a comfort that she never knew her mother could provide. So, when she insisted Seraphina pay a visit in return, she felt obliged.

“Mama,” Seraphina answered quietly.

She let her mother lead her inside the home she’d lived in the past few years, feeling strange. Her stomach twisted with each step, and a dull pounding had arisen within her head. It felt wrong to be back.

“Come in, darling, come in,” Mary said cheerfully, taking her to the sitting room.

Seraphina froze at the doorway, feeling the urge to cry again. It was the room where she had first given into her attraction to Hugo. Had let herself finally go. Memories of their passion erupted in her mind. And then came the heartbreak.

“Have your feet decided to no longer work?” Mary teased, yanking her rather harshly. “Come on, Seraphina, take a seat and have tea with me.”

Seraphina brushed a tear away as she let herself be pulled further into the room, and she obediently took a seat in one of the high-backed chairs- making a point to go nowhere near the chaise.

“Oh, I am so glad we finally have an opportunity to speak alone,” Mary chattered away, pouring them tea. “Your friends are lovely, dear, but this is where you belong. At least until this little squabble between you and your husband is over.”

Seraphina flicked her eyes up to her mother, her face expressionless. Her friends. They had warned her not to visit with Mary.

“This is no squabble, Mama,” she said. “He has left me. He is not coming home.”

Mary’s brows dipped down.

“How do you mean?” She asked.

Seraphina accepted her tea, but lowered the cup and saucer to her lap, not thirsty.

“He has given me Merrivale,” she explained.

Mary’s face broke into a wide smile as she laughed.

“He has? Oh what wonderful news! I had heard he’d forced you out. I mean, you have been staying with the Briarwoods, so it made sense.”

She’d heard? Seraphina thought. More rumors. Wonderful.

“Well, that means you still have access to his accounts and a home to stay in. Which will be good for both of us,” Mary said happily.

Seraphina’s body grew tense. She now understood why her friends were insistent on not visiting Mary alone. As a guest of the Briarwoods, Mary had spoken to her like a compassionate mother. Now, though, Seraphina realized that it was a ruse. It was then she decided to take an actual look around the room, pushing past her bittersweet memories, and took stock of everything.

The paintings were missing from the walls, as were the silver and china knickknacks that had once graced the mantle above the fireplace. The fancy French rug that usually covered the hardwood floors was missing too. And at the door, she only then realized, it was Mary who had answered, not their butler.

“How is Papa, Mama?” Seraphina inquired, her gaze slowly making her way back to her mother. For the first time she took a closer look at her mother, and saw the new wrinkles that marked her face. Lines usually disguised with cosmetics.

Mary’s bright smile vanished, her lips settling into a grim line as her grip on her tea cup tightened.

“It is rude to change the subject so quickly, Seraphina,” her mother chastised.

“No, Mama,” she replied, pulling her shoulders back as she straightened her spine, “Something tells me it is not I who is the rude one here.”

She was no longer just a titled man’s bastard. She was a Duchess. A woman who commanded respect. And she would not be played.

“I ask again, how is Papa?”

Mary’s eyes narrowed as her lips twitched toward a snarl.

“Well if you must know,” Mary hissed, “He has given up his sponsorship of me ever since that horrid display you put on the night before your engagement to Lord Repington. I am lucky that he even allows me to stay in this house, as long as I am able to pay him for it.”

“I see.”

Seraphina put her cup of tea back on the table and placed her hands in her lap. Through her sadness, rage began to roil.

“So you did not invite me here to raise my spirits but in fact to ask me for money,” she stated.

Mary lifted her chin proudly.

“Well seeing that it was your poor actions that landed me in this predicament, I believe that you owe me something. I raised you to be a lady, not a maid, and if it weren't for that you wouldn’t have caught the attention of your precious Duke.”

Then, as if she couldn’t just stop at one barb, Mary added, “A man who, by the way, turned out to be as monstrous as the I warned you.”

Seraphina pressed her hands tightly to one another, fighting a more visceral reaction. Yes, what Hugo had done to her was cruel. But she was no dolt. She saw past the facade he so carefully portrayed and understood the utter agony that lay below the surface. Even heartbroken and angry, she knew that about her husband.

“You have no idea what kind of man he is, Mother, and you will do well to not speak so poorly of him ever again,” Seraphina warned.

“I see that this is not going to be a pleasant visit, Mary sighed, giving up her ruse altogether. “So let us speak plainly. I can continue selling things for another month or so to keep this house, but I will eventually run out of items to sell and I will be homeless, Seraphina. I need a place to stay. I need funds to live.

“Now, I am sorry that your husband hurt your feelings, but he did give you many things by not annulling your marriage. You have what I hear is a vast and extraordinarily productive estate in Merrivale. And, despite the previous rumors spread of the Duke’s finances, after a little research of my own I have discovered that he is in fact quite wealthy. He has more than enough to support not just you, but me. It will not take me long to pack my things. We will leave today.”

“Absolutely not.” Seraphina shot to her feet.

She shook her head, not sure if she was more disappointed in her mother or herself for believing that the woman would genuinely want to comfort her.

“I am so foolish,” she laughed bitterly, shaking her head, “For ever thinking that you would actually care for my wellbeing.”

Mary then shot to her feet, snatching at Seraphina’s wrist with a glare.

“I could have gotten rid of you the moment I discovered you were growing in my belly,” Mary hissed. “Life could have certainly turned out better for me if I had. But no, I gave you life, I gave you the opportunity to marry well, and you will give me something now, Seraphina!”

“You forget who you are talking to, Mother,” Seraphina warned, wrenching her wrist away. “I am the Duchess of Merrivale and anything I was before that is no longer of import. I outrank you in every way, and you will not speak to me that way ever again. In fact you will never speak to me in any way at all.”

“Seraphina, stop!” Mary called, panic rising in her voice. She let out a scream of pure frustration, and Seraphina heard the scraping of something heavy being lifted from the table. She turned, flung up a hand on instinct to catch the object in midair, and blinked at the vase her mother had thrown at her.

With controlled precision, Seraphina set the vase down on an end table and turned to leave. “You no longer control me, Mother,” she called over her shoulder, “And you never will again.”