Page 21 of The Duke of Fire (The Dukes of Desire #1)

A knock on the door had Amelia running to check who was visiting. The butler should be doing it, but she clearly remembered Sebastian saying, “I will send for you.”

There were no notes yet. It seemed like he enjoyed putting her in a constant state of anticipation. And yet, he had been sending her other things…

“Serenity!” Amelia exclaimed as soon as she saw who was at the door.“Come, let’s go to my room.”

They walked to her room quietly, as if both of them were afraid they would alert Octavia somehow. When they reached her chambers, they swiftly entered, and Amelia closed the door with a click.

“I have missed you dearly, and came as soon as I could,” Serenity breathed, looking flushed. Then, the excitement on her face stilled as her eyes scanned the room.

Flowers. So many flowers. There were also several wrapped boxes piled on top of each other.

They were all from him. From Sebastian. Yet, there were no letters telling her to get ready to see him.There were no notes either, just the seal of his grandmother, reassuring Finch and Octavia that the presents had been from her.

“Well, well, well,” Serenity said after catching her breath.

Her eyes seemed to bulge from the sockets at the sight.

“Are you being courted by some prince that I do not know of? Or has your Season been so successful that you have received so many flowers and presents? If only the dowager would sponsor me as well!”

“They are all from the Duke of Firaine,” she admitted, making sure to keep her voice low.“But nobody else knows. I told Octavia they were from the dowager. She was not too happy, as you can imagine.”

“All of them?” Serenity’s eyebrows rose so high that Amelia thought they would reach her scalp. “Amelia, what…” Serenity began, her fingers brushing against the silky wrapper of one present. “You do know what this looks like?”

She did. She was not a fool. She knew exactly what it all looked like—what it would mean to others. Trinkets and flowers from a known rake meant only one thing.

And yet… that was not all it meant to her. She did not want Serenity or anyone to know that.

“I am certainly aware,” Amelia said with a tight nod, even though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as her friend.

And yet, she remembered the way his eyes lit up when he listened to her.

How he looked at her when he thought she was not watching.

The tension in his jaw when his friends teased him about her.

That flicker of something— vulnerability —just beneath the cold, polished surface.

How he had taken care of her like no one had before.

She told herself she knew better. That this was all part of some game. That men like the Duke of Firaine did not feel things the way women did. But now she could not stop wondering if he did. If he had .

“You know what people say about him,” her friend said softly. There was something that looked almost like pity in her eyes. “Everyone in the ton knows what he is like.”

“Yes, I know that they say that he is a…” Amelia faltered. The word stuck in her throat.

“A rake, the worst kind!” Serenity gladly finished for her. “He does not form attachments, Amelia. Not like we do. He can make a woman feel like she is the most wonderful person in the world until he gets what he wants from her.”

“I know,” Amelia whispered, her fingers brushing over the edge of a note left on a bouquet. “It is all a game to him.”

Letting the words out of her own mouth did not make it hurt less. But it was the truth. While there might be more to the Duke of Firaine, she could not let herself forget about his true nature. Serenity was right.

“You know, but you are still tolerating this?” Serenity asked, sweeping her arm to gesture at the flowers and presents.

“He is only sending me these presents because his grandmother has requested it. I imagine Her Grace did not want me going out in shabby clothes and accessories,” Amelia explained.

Her friend narrowed her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. She traced a flower with her fingertips, obviously not convinced.

Before Amelia could say more, a footman came with a letter on a tray. A single red rose was placed right on top of it. The duke certainly had a way with things. He could have just added it to the various presents he had already sent.

Tonight. My residence. Eight o’clock. Come hungry.

Her eyes went back to the red rose. She took it and smelled its rich, provocative smell. Then, she remembered who it was from, and, as if burned, she set it back on the tray and nodded at the footman to take it away.

“Please, promise me that you will be careful,” Serenity begged. “A gift or two is one thing, but this? This is a man trying to win you in the only way he knows how. And men like him do not change.”

Despite all the warnings though, Amelia went to his house. As soon as she got there, she was led into a dimly lit room, its entrance hidden by heavy drapery. It was small and private.

Near the hearth, a round table waited. Silver candlesticks provided a low, golden light from the center. The glasses already held red wine, and the covered silver platters emitted steam.

It was a private dinner.

She had come hungry, but not because she wanted to devour the food at the duke’s place. Her nervousness had prevented her from eating properly. She was too anxious, questioning his gifts and gestures. She also questioned her own sanity.

“Freedom. This is for freedom,” she muttered to herself, envisioning a home of her own with a study where she could work at her leisure. Her heart almost burst at the seams at the combined hope and sadness. Would she feel lonely in her new life?

Something moved in the dark corner, and she gasped as she realized that Sebastian had been standing there all along. As usual, he was dressed in black. He must know how devastating he looked in the color.

“Miss Warton,” he said, as his way of greeting. “You came.”

“You asked,” she said simply, keeping her tone level even as her heart thundered in her chest. He could not possibly hear it. Could he?

“You wore the blue dress,” he remarked as he pulled out a chair for her.

“That was what you ordered. Did you not?” she asked, as she took her seat.

Amelia knew that everything was a game for the duke. So, she hunted for hidden notes amongst the dresses he sent. The blue dress had a note, ‘Be the angel to my devil.’ She guessed then that white was too suggestive of something else, one that she refused to think about.

“Oh, did I?” he asked with a smirk as he took a seat across from her.

The table was small. So, it would be easy for either one of them to reach for the other.

At this point, she would not dare, though.

She let herself focus on the sumptuous dishes before her—roast duck glazed with honey and sprinkled with rosemary.

Sweet apples. Spiced carrots. Then, there was the wine.

She was already feeling heady so close to him that she was afraid that spirits would further impair her judgment.

Still, she took a sip.

“This tastes perfect.” She could not help but comment.

Sebastian merely grinned at her, clearly pleased. He carved into his duck slowly, precisely, like he was trying to tell her something with each cut. Was it a message? Did he mean to tell her that he could be patient?

She could play that game, too.

So they ate in silence for a few moments. Amelia focused on the culinary heaven teasing her taste buds. She caught him watching her as she raised her glass again, finishing it this time. His gaze was unreadable, but intense.

“What would you say to a game?” she asked, her voice teasing as she twirled her wineglass between her fingers.

Sebastian leaned back slightly, intrigued. “Another game? Are we not already playing one?”

She smirked. “Are you afraid of playing if you are not the one who made the rules?”

He tilted his head, and for a beat, said nothing. Then, “No. Of course not.”

The tension between them stretched taut like a silken thread.

“What game do you propose, then?”

“Two truths and a lie,” she said, her smile widening, her eyes glinting with challenge. “I tell you three things about myself. You guess which is the lie.”

He regarded her carefully, his expression sharpening. “A ploy to extract confessions from me under the guise of entertainment?”

“Are you afraid you might lose?” she asked sweetly.

His lips twitched, but he did not smile. “Never.”

She leaned slightly closer. “Then play.”

Amelia hoped the duke would take it as a game when it was nothing more than a blatant bid for more information from him. Surprisingly, he looked like he was thinking about it. Finally, he nodded reluctantly. “Let’s see how this goes.”

“I will begin,” she reassured him. “I once ran away to become a governess. I wanted to become a boy when I was younger. I hate peonies.”

“Too easy. The only lie I can detect is the third statement. You need to work on this more, Miss Warton,” Sebastian murmured, shaking his head as if disappointed she did not challenge his mind more.

“Indeed,” Amelia agreed. “I wanted the freedom of being a boy. I also attempted to run away from home after my parents died. Thankfully, only Finch knew about it.”

“Your brother? Why would you even want to run away? Are they treating you badly at home?”

“They do not hurt me… physically.” Or at least they did not.

“There are other ways to hurt people.” Amelia hated that his voice had softened. It was making her forget what kind of person he was. “I have noticed, and others have, too.”

“Oh, have you?” she asked, sounding more bitter than she intended.

“If they behave like that when people are watching, I cannot imagine what they are like behind closed doors.”

“Never mind that,” she said dismissively. “What is important is that I love peonies.”

“I will take note of that information,” he promised.