Page 1 of A Duke for Stealing (The Devil’s Masquerade #4)
CHAPTER ONE
“ D rink up, gents!” Everett hollered.
Twenty-nine-year-old Everett Duskwell, the new Duke of Stapleton and illustrious rake, stood on his chair, nearly tumbled off, muttered a curse, and then raised his glass.
Surrounding the table, he stood Everett’s friends Tristan Briarwood, Earl of Briarwood; Hugo Fenwick, Duke of Merrivale; Dominic Astorfield, Duke of Ellsworth; and Alistair Harleigh, Duke of Caldermere, all chortled, but raised their glasses to him.
“After years of avoiding the harrowing walk of matrimony. I, Everett Duskwell, the Duke of Stapleton-” he paused after emphasizing his new title- “I am sadly, obligingly, joining you lot of pitiful men and getting married!”
“God, I hope this is not his wedding speech,” Hugo muttered.
“Quiet, you,” Everett slurred, sloshing whiskey over the rim of his glass as he waved it around his friends. “Devil blast it, look what you made me do. I have lost precious drops of my drink!”
“Someone call the physician,” Dominic joked, “Everett lost a few droplets of whiskey. What a travesty!”
“To me it is!” Everett slurred.
“I must remind you that I am still avoiding the- what did you call it?” Tristan asked, interrupting the jest, “The harrowing walk of matrimony.”
“Hush, you are all taking me off task and ruining my speech,” Everett muttered, only serving to make his friends laugh again.
“As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted,” he went on with an air of diplomacy, “I, sadly, will no longer be a bachelor as of next Sunday.”
“As if wedding vows would stop you,” Dominic mocked.
Everett frowned deeply and wobbled his knees, surely looking like a buffoon.
“So tonight we celebrate my final moments of unburdened life-”
“And give pity to your poor unsuspecting wife,” Hugo rhymed, causing another raucous of laughter to erupt from Everett’s friends.
“Bugger you all,” Everett slurred.
His speech ruined, Everett jumped down from his chair and flopped rather distastefully into the seat.
“Oh, come now, lad, we’re just giving ye a hard time,” Alistair said in his deep Scottish brogue, clapping Everett’s back. “Ye know we are here to celebrate with ye.”
“Turncoats, all of you,” Everett muttered, then swallowed his drink.
“Now, now, do not be so spiteful,” Dominic teased, refilling Everett’s glass.
“You all used to be just like me,” Everett pointed out, “Now you’re all simpering moonies for your siren wives. I am disappointed in the lot of you. Truly.”
Knowing he didn’t truly mean it, Everett’s four friends all chuckled as they shook their heads.
“And, you, good sir, have nothing to be disappointed in at all!” Tristan said. “You have snagged the season’s diamond! You have thrust every gentleman of our society into the deepest pits of jealousy.”
Everett’s head snapped up, a brow raised.
“Truly? You think so?” He asked.
“Miss Harriet Miller was deemed most precious by the queen herself,” Dominic pointed out. “Every eligible man- aside from Tristan here- tried to gain her affection.”
“I was too busy keeping our businesses thriving while you three went cavorting with your wives,” Tristan stated with a wide, slightly evil grin. “You are welcome.”
“Ugh, enough,” Everett groaned, rubbing his forehead, “Enough talk of wives, I am to be having fun tonight, not anticipating my doom.”
“God in heaven, I do hope your future wife is not lamenting as you are,” Hugo said.
“So what if she is?” Everett said with a shrug. “At least she would understand this will not be a marriage of love.”
“If you did not want to be married, why did you pursue her?” Dominic asked.
A sudden pain ebbed from Everett’s chest, and he suddenly felt uncomfortably sad sober despite joy and copious amounts of whiskey.
“I have to, you know,” Everett said quietly, bowing his head. “Out of respect for my brother…out of respect for what I inherited from him. It is…” he paused, sighing woefully, “It is my duty as the new Duke of Stapleton.”
A silence fell over the five friends as the sad reality of Everett’s new title weighed over him. What he had lost to gain the new rise in aristocracy was devastating to many.
“A toast to Everett,” Tristan said, his tone sincere as he broke the silence. “To the new Duke of Stapleton. May his reign be long and prosperous.”
This time, there was no snickering or chortling as the four friends raised their glasses toward Everett. A genuine smile curving on his face, Everett lifted his head and his glass toward his friends.
“To the new Duke of Stapleton,” they said in unison.
Same night
“Oh, no,” Rose whispered, her blue eyes going wide.
“Rose?” Ophelia, Rose’s dearest friend, asked, then followed her line of sight. In a matter of moments, Ophelia’s eyes widened as well, and she echoed Rose’s “Oh no.”
She plucked the glass from Rose’s hand.
“Go,” she insisted. “Go now.”
Wasting no time, Rose walked briskly through the crowded ballroom and straight to her mother and the poor young gentleman she had cornered.
“Mama,” Rose called.
The terrified young gentleman, obviously too polite for his own good, turned his eyes from the dowager Countess, who had him pinned, and looked visibly relieved to see Rose.
“Dearest, do not interrupt,” Betty said, her tone sweet as she kept her eyes on the young gentleman, “Can you not see I am in deep conversation with the young Mr. Brimsley?”
“Forgive me, Countess Lightholder,” Mr. Brimsley apologized, taking the moment to move away from the older woman, “But I see my father beckoning me. A pleasant evening to you both!”
Before Betty could stop him, Mr. Brimsley dashed into the crowded ballroom, no doubt putting as much distance between himself and Betty as possible. Slumping her shoulders and pouting, Betty turned to Rose.
“See what you have done?” She asked, the usual odor of gin rolling off her breath. “You ruined a perfectly wonderful conversation between that handsome young man and me!”
“Young, being the imperative word here, Mama,” Rose replied, trying her best not to sound too scolding. “It’s his first season away from his mother’s apron strings.”
“Which is the best season to catch a young man?” Betty sighed. “While they’re impressionable and easy to control.”
Rose flinched at her mother’s words, not liking them at all.
Betty had never quite been the same after her husband, Rose’s father, died.
She had not so much as mourned her husband’s death, but rather secretly- and at times rather impatiently- anticipated the day she could return to society as an eligible lady.
That was seven years ago now, and Rose had hoped that as the years passed, Betty would return to the proper, ladylike version of herself that Betty had once been while married.
Instead, she seemed to age backward to a startling time of immaturity and brazenness.
“What of you?” Betty asked, straightening herself, “Have you found yourself a suitor?”
How could I when I am too busy watching over you?
“Not yet, Mama,” Rose only replied.
Betty tsked her tongue as she shook her head.
“You really must stop wasting time, child,” she chastised, “You are aging out of the marriage mart as we speak. Soon you’ll either have to marry one of the older gentlemen who has no care or become a spinster! And you know how very disappointed I would be if that were to happen.”
“Yes, Mama,” Rose sighed wearily, “I am quite aware.”
“So take your eyes off of me and turn them toward the many eligible men here, girl,” Betty commanded, grabbing Rose’s shoulders and whirling her around to face the ball.
“I can take care of myself. Now go find yourself a husband!”
Though Rose was sure it was meant to be gentle, Betty shoved her back with force, and it was only by Ophelia’s quick-footed nature that she did not fall on her face and embarrass them all.
“Careful, dear!” Betty called, then turned away without a care, “Watch your step!”
Rose’s cheeks flushed a bright red as those around her all set their gazes upon her, and she suddenly wished she could disappear.
“Are you well, Rose?” Ophelia asked, steadying her.
“Oh, I am quite all right,” Rose murmured, stepping out of her friend’s protective grasp. “Just a bit embarrassed is all. Though I am not sure if it is more about my mother or my near fall.”
The two of them linked arms and walked calmly away, hoping the gossip of such a scene would not spread terribly fast.
“Your mother, clearly,” Ophelia stated, her tone adamant. “Does she not understand that it is not you that is driving your potential suitors away, but her own poor behavior?”
“I am sure that is not entirely true,” Rose murmured, keeping her voice down, “My Mama is not herself, true. Yet I am not necessarily opening myself up to suitors, either. I believe I am like you, and would rather prefer the solitary life of spinsterhood than marriage.”
“You are an intelligent woman, of course you do,” Ophelia cheekily replied.
Both women giggled.
“I suppose I should try to be kindly to the eligible gentlemen, though,” Rose said warily, taking a look around at the boorish, well-dressed men surrounding her.
“If anything, to say that an effort was applied. First, though, let us find a quiet space. I need a moment of recovery before I attempt such a feat.”
Ophelia nodded readily.
“I agree. Come, there is a library just down the hall with a balcony. Let us pluck some books and take some air. Get lost in another world for a few moments before we return to this travesty.”
“What a boring collection,” Ophelia mused as the two of them wandered the shelves. “Have you found anything?”
“Not at all,” Rose replied. “Just volumes on agriculture, husbandry, and-”