Page 36 of A Duke for Stealing (The Devil’s Masquerade #4)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“ W hat has gotten into you?” Rose whispered by Everett’s side.

He didn’t have to look in her direction.

He’d already been doing that all night. Ever since they’d gotten into the carriage to leave for the ball, ever since they arrived.

It didn’t matter who tried to talk to him, who tried to gain his attention.

His eyes were on her. Even if she was still barely speaking or looking at him in return.

“Whatever do you mean?” Everett asked.

“Your hand, Everett,” she murmured, flicking her eyes toward her waist, “It has been upon me all night.”

Everett raised a brow in confusion, then followed her line of sigh. Sure enough, his hand was resting on her lower back. He hadn’t even realized he was doing so.

“I thought it would be best that we play our parts,” he lied, “as you said, we need to show ourselves as a loving couple.”

“Perhaps not that loving,” Rose muttered under her breath. “Do remove your hand. It is growing quite bothersome.”

It took more effort than Everett expected to draw his hand away from her warmth, and the moment he did, he felt his body beg to reconnect with her.

The cold stare he got from Rose, however, told him that it was not preferred.

His heart aching, Everett drew his empty hand into a fist and placed it behind his back, holding it tight with his other hand as if it would wander back to Rose on its own if given the chance.

“As you wish,” he murmured.

Rose chortled as she fanned her face.

“As if you care what I wish,” she replied behind her fan.

Everett winced at her words. They came with a sting he well deserved. He needed to figure himself out once and for all, before the woman next to him shut him out entirely.

Just say it. Accept it. You love her!

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said instead, casting yet another look at how well her rose pink gown fit her.

“Do not,” Rose whispered, then frowned as she threw the smallest glance toward him.

“You are my wife,” Everett replied, “I am allowed to say such things to you.”

A look of hurt traveled through Rose’s eyes as she fanned her face faster.

“I wish you would not say such things to me,” she whispered.

“Why not? It is the truth.” Everett replied, leaning closer. “And it is also true that you are by far the most beautiful woman here.”

“Everett!” She whispered hastily, ceasing her fanning, “I implore you, stop! I cannot take this! Can you not see that I am attempting to respect the new boundaries you have put in place for me?”

Everett winced. Boundaries he had put in place for her. The harsh truth was a stringent slap to his face, and all attempts at flirtation ceased. He had done this. To her. To himself. He had taken his lovely, perfect Rose- and crushed her.

“We should…we truly must talk, Rose,” Everett replied. He could hear the begging tone in his voice and did not care. He’d go on his knees if he had to. If that was what it took to make her understand.

“The things I said before. About our marriage-”

“Do. Not,” Rose commanded, her whispered voice breaking as her eyes grew glassy. “Not here. Not anywhere. You have spoken your peace. You have made it clear that you do not lo-”

Her whispered voice hitched, and Rose snapped her fan open again and laid it just below her eyes.

“You do not love me,” she breathed, finishing out her sentence.

It’s not true. I lied. Rose. Please hear me.

Still, Rose was right. They were among the ton. It was not the proper place for a conversation. Worst of all, he had spoken his peace- and it had obviously, devastatingly, broken her heart.

Everett bowed his head, acquiescing to her damnation, and took a respectful step back.

“Apologies, darling,” he offered. “You are right. About everything.”

Rose’s brows tensed as her eyes reddened with unshed tears, and his heart broke when he heard a small sniffle come from behind her fan-hid face. It was as if his admitting she was in the right was somehow worse than his flirtation.

“You are insufferable,” she whispered, wrenching her eyes away from him.

“Rose?” Ophelia asked worriedly as she approached. She cast a quick, narrowed gaze at Everett, and he winced. He supposed he deserved her condemnation as well.

“What ails you, darling?” Ophelia asked, her tone gentle as she touched Rose’s shoulder.

Rose cleared her throat and shook her head, still hiding most of her face behind her fan.

“Forgive me. I just need a moment to myself.” Rose implored.

Before Ophelia could even offer to go with her, Rose was gone, walking briskly out of the ballroom.

“Well, you have made a right mess of this, haven’t you?” Ophelia asked, turning back to Everett.

Everett cocked his head and worked his jaw back and forth as he gave her a do not start look.

“I am trying to make it right,” he grit out. “I know I made a mistake.”

“Very large one, I should like to point out,” Ophelia remarked. “Honestly, I do not know why she went to such lengths to protect you. You have hardly proven yourself worthy of such.”

“I know,” Everett seethed, feeling his sadness tick toward anger. Recognizing this, he drew in a deep breath through his nostrils as he rubbed his temples and let out a slow breath through his mouth.

“Pray, forgive me,” he implored when he looked at Ophelia again. “You do not deserve my anger. The only one that deserves it is me.”

Ophelia’s brows perked with surprise.

“An apology? Well, that is not what I expected from you. Perhaps you are changing after all.”

Everett let out a weak laugh. Even if that were true, did it matter anymore?

“Teasing aside, I came over to speak with you, not Rose,” Ophelia went on, “She just appeared so upset that I had to investigate her well-being first. Now that she has requested some privacy, though, I believe we should have a must-needed conversation.”

“If you are here to put me to the rack for hurting Rose, I will not stop you,” Everett replied wearily, “I simply ask that you wait until we are in a less crowded space.”

“Tempting,” Ophelia mused, eyeing him up and down. “Alas, no. That is not what I am here for.”

Everett raised a wary brow; he took a step toward Ophelia to ensure no one was paying them any mind.

“What is it, Ophelia?” He asked in a low tone.

Ophelia’s musing smile dropped as her eyes filled with determination.

“It is about our Rose,” Ophelia answered, “I fear that her new reputation may put her in danger.”

The urge to protect came over Everett quickly and strongly; his expression became deadly.

“ What reputation?”

“It is bad,” Everett,” Ophelia warned, “And what is more, I know who started it."

“Stop,” Rose sobbed, leaning heavily into a marble pillar in the empty hall. “Stop this right now.”

She gave the demand to herself, trying to stay the tears that had been threatening to spill for so long.

She couldn’t take it. The look of longing on Everett’s face.

The imploring tone in his voice for them to talk.

She loved him. Irrevocably. But she needed to keep those feelings in a dark, far-away space until they didn’t seem so large and consuming.

“He is just flirting,” she whispered to herself. “It’s all he does. Do not take it so personally, you wet rag.”

Yet even as she said the words, her tears poured down her cheeks, and no amount of self-chastising was going to stop them.

She leaned her forehead into the cool marble pillar and sobbed openly.

Being around him was hard- so much harder than she had ever predicted it would be.

Not allowing herself to fall under his spell again was even harder.

He could seem so warm, so genuine when he wanted-

“Tears of boredom, I assume?”

Rose let out a sniffled gasp as she heard the man’s voice intrude upon her thoughts. She quickly pulled away from the pillar and dabbed her eyes, trying to destroy the evidence of her broken heart.

“Allergies,” she lied, snapping her fan across her face. “They are so bothersome this time of year, are they not?”

Behind her, a deep chuckle rose into the air.

“I hear that for you, there are many bothersome things,” the man mused.

Confused, Rose turned around and met the intense gaze of a blue-eyed noble she did not recognize at first. He was handsome, with a harshly sculpted jaw and cheekbones.

Blonde hair was neatly combed but long, and tied with a thong at his neck.

His pale blue jacket and trousers matched his eyes, but something about the way he held himself told her he’d look better in darker colors.

A sheep in wolves’ clothing.

“Do I know you, Sir?” She asked.

“Oh, perhaps you know of me,” the man mused, taking a casual step toward her with his hands behind his back. “I do not believe we have been properly introduced. I recently discovered, however, that our reputations align quite perfectly, so I thought I would remedy that.”

Wariness filled Rose as she took a step back, her back hitting the very marble column she’d just been crying on.

“What do you mean, our reputations align?” She demanded.

The gentleman smirked.

“My name is Maxwell Stonehurst, Your Grace,” he replied with a quick bow of his head, “And I already know who you are.”

Recognition rang within Rose’s mind as she heard the name.

He was a man like Everett- or like Everett used to be.

Rakish. Lustful. Though his reputation was far more infamous for many reasons.

He was a vicar’s son who had a taste for a more wicked way of life.

It was said that he pursued women viciously, specifically married women.

“Well, whatever you have heard of me, it is false,” Rose insisted, commanding her courage to rise above her wariness. “We do not… align in any way. Now, if you shall excuse me, I must return to my husband.”