Page 28 of A Duke for Stealing (The Devil’s Masquerade #4)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“ W hy, Miss Gravesmoor,” Gerald greeted warmly.

As Rose smiled at the butler she’d grown up with, he let out a hearty chuckle, shook his head, and bowed.

“My deepest apologies. I mean, Your Grace,” Gerald corrected himself. “My, it has felt so long since we have seen you.”

“No need for apologies, Gerald,” Rose replied as Gerald escorted her into the house, “It was how you knew me for so very long.”

“Would you entertain an old man’s curiosity and tell me how you are?” He asked, closing the door.

Rose thought for a moment about how to respond. At the moment, her feelings felt…precarious.

“I am well,” she decided to say. “I am hoping you are as such?”

“As well as to be expected, Your Grace,” adding a fond emphasis to her proper title.

She reached for Gerald’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“You have always been loyal to my mother and I, Gerald, and for that I thank you,” she told him.

“It is my duty and my honor,” he replied, but Rose did not miss the flicker of worry in his eyes.

“Has my mother been paying you properly?” She bluntly asked.

His moment of hesitation was all she needed.

“I will be taking over your pay from now on, Gerald,” Rose stated. “Rest assured, you will never have to worry about such things again.”

Gerald’s eyes glowed with an almost paternal affection.

“Your Grace, you have grown into such a fine, noble woman. Your father would be proud,” he replied, his tone emphatic and full of awe.

Rose was not at all sure if he would, but she nodded all the same.

“I am here to see my Mother. Is she in?” Rose asked, changing the subject.

It had been weeks since Betty had made her visit to the Lightholder Estate, and Rose wanted to check in. Even if part of her was resistant to the idea, Betty was still her mother, and she would not abandon her.

“She is,” Gerald agreed, sounding nervous again, “She is entertaining some guests in the parlor. I shall escort you.”

“Thank you, Gerald, but I know my way around,” Rose replied. She wasn’t sure what she was about to walk in on, but she wanted to save the butler from any unsavory images if she could.

She walked through the great hall alone, taking in the portrait of her father that hung across the door to the parlor.

His scowl had been painted with definite strokes, as if he’d always known what his wife was going to do to his legacy.

Rose heard her mother’s laughter from the parlor, and she could tell by the lilt of it that she was already drunk.

With a sigh, she turned away from the portrait and walked in.

“Rose!” Betty exclaimed, sloshing her wine as she shot both arms up, “What a lovely surprise! Gentlemen, you remember my daughter, do you not? She is a duchess now.”

Rose’s spirits sank lower as she took in the two gentlemen on either side of Betty. They were the two that her mother had invited home with her the night Rose had heard of Everett’s betrayal. The two gentlemen gave her charming smiles as they raised their cups to her and bowed their heads.

“Wonderful to see you again, Your Grace,” the one on Betty’s left stated.

“Felicitations on your grand match,” the one on the right added.

“Thank you,” Rose answered stiffly.

“Join us,” the one on the right insisted, picking up one of the many wine bottles scattered atop the table. “You must be parched from your journey. Allow us to libate you.”

“No, respectfully,” she answered with force. “I have come to speak with my mother. Alone. Would you gentlemen do us the courtesy of giving us some privacy?”

Betty’s smiling face transformed into a deep scowl as she held Roses’s gaze.

“Gentlemen. Do forgive my daughter’s rudeness. She’s gotten high in her steps with her elevation of status. Feel free to wait for me in my boudoir. I shall be up shortly.”

Rose didn’t look away from her mother’s glare as the two men stood up and took their leave.

“How dare you?” Betty seethed once they were gone. “Come into my house and make such demands! You may be the lady of your house, but here I am still the one who holds the reins.”

“Why do you do this?” Rose demanded, ignoring Betty’s rant.

“You are already the scandal of the season with that young boy you’ve been seen cavorting with. Why add more fodder for the ton’s gossip mill?”

“He is a man,” Betty snapped, raising her glass to her lips.

“And I would not be too sure that it is my reputation that is most spoken of, darling girl. For it seems a question has been raised about the former notorious rake that is your husband. They say he runs a secret club that caters to tastes far deviant than my own.”

Betty’s eyes sparkled with haughtiness as she kept Rose’s gaze and took a long sip of her wine.

“Tell me, darling, what dark, twisted things has your Duke of Rakes dragged you into? Do you watch? Or do you participate?”

Betty’s questions hit hard at Rose’s insecurities, and she took a step back.

“This was a mistake,” Rose stated, raising a hand. “I came here because I worry and care for you. But if you are not going to show the same for yourself, then I am no longer going to either.”

“I am fine,” Betty bit out. “When I am not disturbed by such petty persons as you.”

“Good,” Rose retorted, turning her back to her mother, “I’m happy for you, Mother. Worry not. I will not disturb you any longer.”

“She’s in here?” Everett whispered.

Mrs. Mulberry nodded, still looking worried.

A meeting had been called for him in London that day, but upon his late return, he had gone to Rose’s rooms to speak with her and found her gone. When he found Mrs. Mulberry to ask about his wife’s whereabouts, the housekeeper appeared worried as she explained that she was with the twins.

Everett had asked what her worried look was for, and Mrs. Mulberry told him that the Duchess had reason to venture to London as well, but when she returned only a short time later, she had seemed most distressed.

“Thank you, Mrs. Mulberry,” Everett whispered. “It is late, you may go to bed.”

“If it is well with you, Your Grace, I should like to stay a moment. Make certain that the Duchess is not in need of anything.”

Everett nodded and opened the door to the nursery. Leah’s bed was empty, but huddled in Diana’s were both girls and Rose. The three of them were sleeping deeply, with Rose in the middle. A hint of a smile touched Everett’s lips as he took in the sight of her, and he walked closer.

He gently lifted the storybook lying across Rose’s chest and closed it. He looked at the book for a moment and then turned his head to once more look at Rose. As he did so, he noticed the dark circles under his eyes and frowned.

She was exhausted. And why wouldn’t she be?

Everett had never seen such effort put forth into being not just a Duchess but a mother as well.

He thought of their day at the lake, at all of the effort Rose had put in to make such a day happen, and felt a wave of guilt crash over him for the day being cut so short by his actions.

Everett stood and motioned for Mrs. Mulberry to follow him back outside.

“I am going to take the Duchess to her own bed,” he said quietly in the hall, “I would like you to move Leah for me so I may do so. Be gentle. I do not want to wake them.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Mrs. Mulberry quietly replied.

He glanced back inside, at his exhausted wife.

“Another thing,” he added, “I know the Duchess has her maid wake her up rather early each day. I want you to find her maid before you retire for the evening and inform her that she is not to disturb Her Grace tomorrow morning. I believe she is in need of more rest.”

The stern housekeeper’s eyes softened, and she whispered her agreement. Once Mrs. Mulberry had Leah pulled gently away from Rose’s side, Everett slid his arms beneath her and picked her up with great care. Rose sighed and nestled her head into his shoulder, but did not open her eyes.

As he carried her down the hall, Everett found himself unable to look away from Rose.

He studied the creamy complexion of her clear skin, her dark, long lashes that swept almost to her cheeks, and her soft, plump lips, which were a perfect pink.

Cosmeticians could work their entire lives to try to achieve such a perfect color, and they would still fail.

Nothing, no one, he realized, could be like Rose.

With care, he opened her door and took her inside.

He gently laid her atop the bed and pillow and began to remove her pins.

When he finished, he tenderly brushed her soft tendrils from her cheeks.

It was then that he noticed an intense heat radiating from her.

His brows drew down, robbing him of the smile that had almost touched his lips, and he moved his hand to her forehead.

A fever.

A small whimper parted from Rose’s lips, and she stirred beneath him. Her delicate brows drew down as if she were in pain, and she turned on her side, reaching for her back.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Everett whispered, moving his hand down to hers.

Rose’s lashes fluttered, but it was as if she was too tired to open her eyes.

“Corset,” she whimpered, reaching further toward the back of her dress. “Too tight. Too hot.”

“I shall get it,” he soothed, and helped her turn onto her stomach.

As he gently freed her from her dress and corset, Everett’s mind spiked with worry. They’d had fun in the rain, and they had recovered, in a way, from their time at the lake. But being drenched so much in the short span of time seemed to have caused her to catch a cold.

Rose sighed as he pulled her corset from her body, looking a bit more relaxed.

Everett placed her clothes on the nearby chair and went in search of a clean nightgown.

When he found one, he eased her into it and then gently laid her back in bed.

He panicked for a moment, trying to decide whether or not blankets would make her fever better or worse.

When she shivered, he chose the covers and eased them over her.

Everett stroked her hair back from his face again, his touch lingering.

Before he could think whether or not she was contagious, he lowered his head and gently kissed her lips.

Rose then reached for him, and as her hands tightened weakly around the lapels of his shirt, he gave in to her and himself and kissed her deeper.

His hands roamed over her through the nightgown; his palms itching to take the thing off. He would have, perhaps, if he were not so worried, and that worry was what made him stop. Everett pulled away from the kiss, gave her lips one more peck, and then sat up.

“Rest now, my Rose,” he gently commanded, stroking his hand down her hair and over her back.

He lifted his hand away, but before he could take a step, Rose reached a hand toward him and grabbed around his wrist. Everett looked back at her. Her eyes were hazy and full of fatigue, but they were open and directly on him.

“I wish you were not so confusing,” she murmured, her voice full of drowsiness. “I want to.”

Everett felt a shred open in his heart as he saw the raw pleading in her eyes. He swallowed, finding the motion difficult.

“You want to what?” He rasped.

Then Rose’s lashes fluttered down, her grip on his wrist dropped away, and she fell back to sleep without answering his question.