Page 5 of A Duke for Hire (The Devil’s Masquerade #1)

CHAPTER FIVE

“ I am such a dolt,” Theo huffed, shaking her head.

Seraphina gave her a warm smile as she laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder. The poor woman could not seem to stop apologizing.

“You are no such thing,” she replied.

“I should have told the others the plan was delayed, or told you at the very least when I greeted you,” Theo insisted.

“You had neither the privacy nor the time!” Seraphina insisted, “You were helping Tristan coordinate his party, and trust me, I know how hopeless he can be on his own.”

She said the latter with a chuckle, and to her relief, Theo finally smiled for the first time that evening.

“Besides,” she went on, “It is not as if the plan did not work. It might have not gone as planned, but there were indeed positive results.”

“Yes,” Ophelia mused, “However you must admit, catching the attentions of the actual Duke of Caldermere was not within any of our plans.”

Seraphina pressed her lips together as she gave Ophelia a look, but she felt a flutter in her chest at the mention of his name. His intentions still repeated constantly in her mind, his words echoing in her thoughts. The way his deep voice had affected her when his hand had caressed her cheek and then slipped around her throat. Even now, her hand gravitated toward where his fingertips had rested, and she pretended to fidget with her necklace.

“I confess that was unexpected,” she murmured, “But his proposal still surprises me. Surely he did not mean it.”

“Why would he not mean it?” Amelia countered, throwing Ophelia a discouraging look, “You are a catch! And I wish you could have seen yourself dancing with him. The way you both moved. It was so enchanting.”

Seraphina gave her an appreciative smile. It had felt enchanting too, but that was now spoiled. His behavior at the house, despite the rush of desire it had caused within her, had been completely untoward.

“You are just being kind,” she replied.

“No, truly,” Theo chimed in. “It was as if the two of you had practiced; as if it were truly an act. I know I said I was worried for you earlier, but honestly, there was no doubt an obvious connection between you two. I also spoke to my brother. He tells me that the accusations regarding how the Duke treats women are quite false.”

Though she did not know how, Seraphina already sensed that her friend was right. There was something feral and untamed about the highborn Duke. Something, she suspected that even he found difficult to control. And yet…yet even as he had snaked his fingers around her throat, had leaned close and inhaled her as if she were a scent he needed to breathe, he did not feel dangerous. He felt- starved. Not just for anyone. For her, and it had awakened a hunger of her own.

Still, It did not matter. It was a hunger she needed to ignore. She would not end up like her mother.

“Even so, he was far too bold for my liking when he proposed,” Seraphina replied. “He spoke as if he could see within me, and it was—most jarring.”

She shook her head, forcing away the warmth and dizziness the memory made her feel.

“And if he had not done that, my mother made her decision quite clear. She is not going to allow it. The choice, I understand now, was never my own. It was always going to be hers.”

Her friends grew quiet.

“Either way,” Seraphina sighed, pushing away her self-pity, “You have nothing to apologize for, Theo. I will soon be taken off the marriage market one way or another, so I beg you please to stop.”

Theo’s lips twitched into a sad smile.

“Very well. Let us focus on the evening then; we are missing the art. That is why we are here after all.”

Seraphina nodded, and as one, all of them began their walk once again through the gallery. It was a nature display from a wide variety of artists, all of whom held a title of some sorts. Some were very good, Seraphina thought, while others were quite underwhelming, making it clear that titles, not talent, could lead someone to fame.

“Miss Seraphina,” a man’s voice called a time later.

Seraphina turned from a particular painting that had caught her attention, and saw Lord Fellon by her side. She glanced around her, and was surprised to find that her friends had wandered off to a different art piece. How long had she gotten lost among the pines of the painting? Their vivid green needles entwined by dawn’s early fog drew her in, promising peace. But that was no excuse for losing track of her actual surroundings.

“Lord Fellon, how pleasant to see you,” she greeted politely, dipping into a curtsey.

The gentleman gave her a curt bow, and nodded toward the painting.

“You seem quite taken by this one. I believe I stood here for quite some time without your notice.”

Seraphina blushed deeply.

“Please accept my apologies, my Lord, I meant no offense,” she replied quickly.

“Of course not,” he agreed politely. “Though I may be slightly disappointed that you have not found such interest in my painting.”

Her eyebrows drew up in surprise.

“You have a piece on display?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied proudly. “One that is much better than this one. Come, I will show you if you like.”

Seraphina nodded in agreement and let him lead her toward another part of the gallery. Immediately Lord Fellon began to tell her of his passion for the arts. She tried, in vain, to find what he said interesting, but her mind kept going back to the previous painting, and the familiarity it stirred in her.

“Here we are,” he announced, stopping in front of a large canvas encased in a gold frame. “Now this, is art. Would you not agree?”

Seraphina glanced up at the painting readily, wanting any reason to be other than quiet, but she felt a sweeping disappointment as she saw nothing but a horizontal blend of grays swiped along the canvas. Underneath it, on a rather large gold plaque, read the Lord’s name in bold letters.

“It is…most interesting, Lord Fellon,” she offered carefully. “Will you tell me what inspired it?”

Lord Fellon scoffed.

“Is it not obvious to you?” He asked.

Seraphina’s cheeks flushed as she felt a tinge of embarrassment. Though she’d had a rushed education of sorts, nothing she’d learned brought to pull meaning out of the rather bland painting.

“I am afraid I am not as versed in the arts as you are, my Lord,” she said with a faint laugh.

Lord Fellon smiled at her as if she were an unschooled child, then answered, “Fear not, I shall educate you. This, Miss Seraphina, is a representation of both the dawn and my soul.”

Seraphina’s brows flew up as she glanced from the painting to the young Lord.

“How- fascinating,” she replied, forcing a smile. His proud smile widened.

“Yes it is, isn't it?” He remarked. “Tell me, what do you like about it?”

Seraphina struggled to find her words as the man looked on at her in anticipation.

“It is…well I suppose it has-”

“Miss Seraphina, I thought that was you.”

A tingle traveled down Seraphina’s spine as she heard a deep, familiar voice say her name. She felt a smile pull at her lips as she turned toward it and found the Duke of Merrivale.

“Your Grace,” she greeted, feeling her pulse as she curtseyed. Without thinking, she extended her hand. “How good to see you again.”

“A mutual feeling, I am sure,” Hugo replied, bowing.

His thumb stroked over her knuckles, a trace of heat following his touch. It traveled through her hand and up to her cheeks, and suddenly she wished she had remembered her fan.

“I had no idea you were a supporter of the arts,” she went on.

“Some of them, yes,” he mused, casting a questioning look toward Lord Fellon’s painting.

“Your Grace?” Lord Fellon asked, inserting himself into the conversation. He took a step in front of Seraphina, as if attempting to separate her from Hugo. “You are a Duke?”

Hugo gave him a curt nod of his head. “Hugo Fenwick, Duke of Merrivale. Frankly I do not care who you are, though, so you may spare me your introduction.”

Seraphina’s brows shot up as Lord Fellon’s dropped down, both of them startled by the Duke’s rudeness.

“Ah, yes. I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” Lord Fellon grit out, “I have indeed heard of you. Quite a bit, actually.”

“All rather vicious, I am sure,” Hugo replied dryly, his gaze focused on Seraphina.

“You have been away for some time. Might I enlighten you on London manners?” Fellon answered, his voice equally dry.

“No need. I believe it is hypocritical to discuss manners when you are hinting at rumors,” Hugo replied with an uncaring expression. “I should say they are as unimportant as this painting before us.”

Anger eroded Seraphina’s previous mirth at seeing him again. He was being so rude!

“Perhaps if you were not so discourteous, he might not be inclined to believe said rumors,” She could not help but insist to Hugo.

“Not everyone deserves my kindness, Miss Seraphina,” he said to her, as if the other Lord was not even there.

“Miss Seraphina,” Lord Fellon exhaled, giving her a disappointed look, “I was not aware that you kept such ill company.”

“I don’t,” she answered quickly, which earned her a raised brow from Hugo.

“I mean I do,” she added with haste. “But we have only met once. Or, twice, actually. There was the dance, and then he called on me, but I-”

“I am not just her company,” Hugo said, saving her from blabbering she could not seem to stop, “I am her intended.”

Seraphina’s mouth dropped open in utter surprise as Fellon’s eyes narrowed at her for answers.

“Is this true?” He asked

“I- no. I mean, he asked, but I-” She paused, realizing she had not actually refused him. She had been too flustered by the instant, heated connection she felt to him when he’d laid his hands upon her.

“Our engagement is imminent,” Hugo answered for her, gaining Felton’s attention, “Now, I suggest you go find another lady to impress with your-” he paused, taking an elaborate pause to roll his eyes toward the painting- “ art.”

Lord Fellon sneered, but he took a step back.

“You should be careful, Miss Seraphina,” he said as he moved away, “There are certain perils attached to His Grace.”

Seraphina opened her mouth to apologize but Hugo was quicker.

“Perhaps you should heed them, Lord Fellon,” he warned.

Seraphina stared in shock as the two of men stared one another down for another long moment, and then Lord Fellon left without another word.

Hugo then turned to her, offering his arm.

“Come, let us find something more interesting to look at,” he encouraged, his tone suddenly light.

“I will not,” she said at once, scrunching her nose as she took a step back. Her frazzled state finally diffused, she now felt her angry words begin to line up perfectly.

Hugo scoffed and nodded toward Lord Fellon’s painting.

“You cannot honestly tell me you enjoy this one?”

“My inclination toward this piece has nothing to do with my refusal to go with you,” she said hastily, looking at him as if her were mad. “That was incredibly rude, Your Grace, and your behavior was most unappealing! What has that man ever done to you?”

“Aside from create this bland atrocity?” Hugo chuckled.

“I am quite serious, Your Grace,” she insisted, keeping her feet planted firmly in place.

To her surprise he smiled at her affectionately, and she was immediately annoyed at how it made her heart flutter. Despite his hardened looks, he was most handsome when he smiled at her like that.

“Your care for the people who only days ago mocked you behind your back is astounding, Miss Seraphina,” he replied.

“While you mock me to my face?” she shot back.

“On the contrary,” he replied, arching a brow as his voice dipped into a sultry tone, “I find your kind heart quite riveting. And rare, especially after living among the heartless. Tell me, however, did you keep it?”

Seraphina could not help but feel flattered by the seemingly sincere compliment. With her he could be so sweet, so kind. Yet clearly there was a brutality of sorts that he seemed very comfortable using with others.

She stepped away from him, choosing not to answer, and pretended to look for another painting to take interest in. Though she kept her eyes before her, she could not help but notice the glances she was gathering in her peripheral vision.

“Why are you following me?” She whispered, not needing to look behind her to know that Hugo was right behind her.

“Because you are my intended,” Hugo murmured, “and I do not want anyone else making the same misguided mistake as Fallon’s that your interest is available to take.”

Seraphina huffed at his boldness.

“I am not your intended,” she remarked quickly, “And I call you out on your previous lie. You did know who Lord Fellon was.”

“I did not lie,” he countered, “I said it did not matter to me who he was.”

Seraphina then felt his fingers clasp around her wrist, and she was pulled to a stop. She turned on him quickly, ready to insist he let her go, but then she caught the green in his eyes, and suddenly understood why she was so drawn to the painting of the pines. It had reminded her of him.

“And you are my intended, little lamb,” he said, his voice low but clear, “Unless you can truthfully tell me you want someone else. There is something between us, and I know you recognize it.”

His thumb then caressed over the flesh of her wrist, and despite her previous anger, she felt her body suddenly relax. As if he felt her response, his lips twitched upward.

“Is there someone else?” He asked. There was no judgment in his tone, no edge. Just a soft eagerness for her truth. And it spurred her to tell it.

“No,” she confessed, forcing her eyes to glance around them. Thankfully, despite the ton’s curiosity, no one had followed.

“I am not as kind-hearted as you may think. Unlike my mother, I have not easily forgotten all of the whispered laughs and snickers they once offered toward me. But that does not mean that I accept your proposal, Your Grace. In truth, your rudeness has put me off quite a bit.”

“And yet despite that, you are still interested,” Hugo mused.

That smug, arrogant–! Seraphina pulled her wrist away and took a step back.

“You do not know that, Your Grace,” she insisted.

“No?” His lips twitched almost into a smirk as he studied her face. He was not just taking in her eyes, but her lips, her cheeks; and she felt every glance toward each of her features.

“You are confounding, do you know that?” She whispered, pushing away the urge to look past his behavior.

“And you are fascinating,” he replied, taking a step toward her.

As Hugo stole away the space between them Seraphina felt a rush of excitement- just as she had when he’d pressed her against the wall of her home. She felt her blood warm as her body suddenly felt heavy and pliant, as if it wanted to pour itself into his arms and feel his support again.

But they were in public. They were not married. And despite the rush of new feelings, she knew to get close to him was wrong. Even if a part of her did want it.

“Stop,” she whispered, pressing a hand against his chest before he could brush up against her..

She felt her breath hitch as she touched him; even through the many layers of fine clothes he was wearing, her fingertips tingled as she felt the muscles and steady, strong heartbeat beneath. Hugo’s smile was slow to form, as was the way he brought his hand up to cover her own.

“Do you want me to?” He whispered back, caressing the back of her hand.

No.

“Yes,” she forced out, pushing through the mental fog he was putting her in, “Someone will see us.”

“Your pulse is quickening again,” he murmured, tracing his fingertips over her own.

“How do you do that?” She whispered back, searching his eyes. “How are you so aware of heartbeats?”

She tried to reach for her annoyance, but it was waning. Fast.

“Just yours,” he replied, cupping her cheek with his other hand, “It sings to me.”

Seraphina felt the subtle way he pulled her to him, and as his lips hovered closer to hers, she could not find the will to stop him.

“What is it singing?” she breathed.

Hugo’s eyes searched her own as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth, and she could not stop the whimper that escaped. He then dipped his head lower as she felt him tilt her chin upward and, softly, he kissed her.

Heat simmered in Seraphina’s veins as an enjoyable dizziness filled her head, and she felt herself sway forward. Hugo’s kiss was tender, his lips molding to hers then pulling away, just enough to let her catch a brief breath before they met again.

As if he could feel her giving into him, Hugo’s embrace grew tighter; his fingers caressing her waist and lower back. If she fell backward, that touch promised, he would catch her. For a moment she did, letting herself slip into the heady pleasure of both his embrace and his kiss.

The concern for time and place drifted away, and she found herself hungry for more. A soft moan escaped her lips as she allowed herself to kiss him back.

Then, all too quickly, yet somehow still painfully slow, he pulled away.

“Your song says you want me as I want you, little lamb,” he whispered against her lips. “That you are meant to be mine.”

Seraphina’s eyes flew open, her senses rushing back to her so fast that it made her head spin. She pushed at him, making him chuckle, but this time he moved his body back to allow her some space.

“You don’t agree?” He teased.

“Even if I did, I loathe such cockiness, Your Grace,” she retorted, feeling breathless.

Her heart pounded in her chest, making her aware of the ache that started in her lower belly and had spread into her entire being. Yet even if her body wanted one thing, her mind insisted she wanted another.

“You will not get your way by telling me how I feel,” she grit out.

“No,” he mused, allowing her to walk away, “But I certainly make you feel something.”

“You do. At present, it is rage,” she seethed, throwing him one last glare. She nearly stumbled as she forced her feet to move away from, the action fumbling and not at all smooth, betraying her words.

Hugo must have caught it, because he chuckled as he watched her, his head cocking like a predatory hawk did before it went in for its kill. She forced her eyes away from and pressed her lips together, forcing herself not say another word.

She expected him to follow her, and damn him if she did not feel a flare of disappointment when he stayed put, and merely bowed his head toward her with an infuriating smirk.

“That was dangerous,” Everett mused, appearing from around the corner.

Hugo lifted a single brow as he looked to his friend.

“You were watching me?”

“Just wanted to make sure you did not need any help,” Everett said with a shrug. “You are not used to the way things are done in London, Hugo. We may be just as vicious as you country nobles but we smother it with politeness. A skill you haven’t yet learned, it seems.”

Hugo smirked. “Are you referring to Fellon or Seraphina?”

“Fellon is dull and pompous,” Everett sighed, “But speaking to another member of the ton like that will earn you no good will. Nor will cornering young women in art galleries.”

Hugo looked away from his friend and toward the direction in which Seraphina had left.

“Fellon was being condescending,” Hugo remarked harshly, “He deserved what I gave him. And I am only interested in cornering one young lady.”

Hugo felt arousal stir deep within him as he recalled the way Seraphina melted against him. Submitted to him. And he drew a deep breath in through his nostrils as he felt his manhood thicken in his trousers. He may have not accepted the truth before, but he did now. She belonged to him. She just didn’t know it yet.

“She is mine.”

“You need to be careful, Hugo,” Everett warned. “Those are games we play at my little parties, but it is very different outside of them. You need to make certain of your hunting grounds.”