Chapter 3

“It is in every single one of the gossip sheets,” Owen growled angrily, throwing the newspaper down on the table. “This is beyond the pale, Alice. How are we to recover from this?!”

Usually, Alice got a “good morning” or at least a “hello” in the morning from her father. Today she was greeted by a glare and those accusatory words. Lydia and their youngest sister, fifteen-year-old Juliet, stared sympathetically at her from their seats. This was not going to be a good morning.

“It is very early still,” Lydia interjected calmly, buttering a piece of toast as Alice took her seat. “She may receive a call today.”

Alice winced. She had not confessed everything to Lydia the night before. Unfortunately, their father caught her subtle movement and demanded to know what it was for.

“I do not believe he knows who I am,” Alice confessed, her cheeks flushing bright red.

Her admission was followed by a loud groan from her father and the sound of Lydia’s butter knife falling on her breakfast plate—both of them were mortified.

“Alice,” her father sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any idea—any at all—how this can impact us?”

“A marriage would make it all go away,” Juliet offered, trying to be helpful. “And planning a wedding would be most fun, would it not?”

“Indeed it would, darling,” Alice replied, smiling at her youngest sister fondly.

The youngest Knight daughter was trying so hard to help, to inject hope in the grim. The Viscount was not affectionate toward any of them, but Juliet’s sweetness had him catching his breath and keeping the rest of his thoughts to himself. He turned his judgmental gaze down to his breakfast, and let the subject die for a moment.

While Lydia had taken on the strict, matronly role after their mother had passed ten years ago, Alice had taken on the protective big sister role. Their father, after their mother died, barely ever involved himself in their business, leaving Lydia to raise them as best she could.

“This is the example you’ve set by being a spinster,” Owen said nastily, pouring his anger out on Lydia when he could not keep it to himself. “If you had married like I bid you to, your sister would not be so dim-witted and quick to follow your lead.”

“Papa, no,” Alice protested fiercely. “This was absolutely not Lydia’s fault! I saw her looking for me, and I chose to run away from her. Just like I chose to ask the Duke of Baxter for a kiss. This is all my fault, Papa. No one else’s!”

“Oh! I do not want to hear this,” her father pleaded loudly and wearily as his valet, Jonah, appeared by his side.

“My Lord, you have a visitor,” Jonah stated politely.

“I’m not receiving guests at the moment,” Owen gritted out, glaring at his daughters. “None of us are.”

“Of course, My Lord,” Jonah answered quickly and calmly.

The valet had worked for the Knights for thirty years and knew how best to guide his master.

“My deepest apologies, but I thought you would want to know that the gentleman introduced himself as Duncan Banfield, the Duke of Baxter,” he added.

Hearing this sent an immediate jolt through Alice, and she stared at the valet, her mouth gaping open. After the embarrassment she had put the poor man through last night, he was at her home? Why? Especially after the talk they’d had in the study. He was not the marrying type, and he had been clear about that.

In shock, she looked around at her family, who seemed to have the opposite reaction.

“Oh, thank Heavens,” Lydia breathed, her body sagging into her chair.

“Such excitement!” Juliet gushed, clapping her hands together quickly.

“Good man,” Owen said aloud, his eyes and large cheeks bright as nodded his head. “Good man. Jonah, get the Duke a refreshment and show him to my study.”

“Lord Hillburn, I presume,” Duncan said politely, accepting the man’s handshake. “Pleasure to meet you. I am Duncan Banfield, the Duke of Baxter. How do you do?”

The Viscount’s hand was large but clammy, and his grip was rather slippery.

Duncan gave the man a quick once-over and could tell by the way he was eyeing his mask that the man was both intimidated and intrigued.

“It is an honor to have a duke in my home!” Owen replied quickly, nearly stumbling over his words and his feet as he offered him a chair. “Though, why you are here, and how little I know of your reputation other than that you have been seen kissing my daughter, is quite worrisome.”

While Duncan was impressed with Owen’s boldness, he did not feel an ounce ruffled as he took the seat he was offered.

“I agree wholeheartedly, and I am here to rectify both issues,” he said with a nod. “To start, Baxter is in the Southern coast of England. It is there that I oversee a duchy of approximately twelve hundred souls as well as all trade and business that those souls commit to.

“I am demanding. I expect a lot from my people, and they expect a lot from me, so my reputation of being a bit of a controlling beast is quite accurate. I am not a boastful man, though, nor do I like the expectations of Society, so aside from that one trait, I am not often talked about or heard of, and I like it that way.

“In regard to your daughter, Miss Alice, I would like to ask for her hand in marriage. I am not an affectionate man, but she will never want for anything. Anything she desires, she will have. As my wife, she will always have a home, a title, and my protection.”

“Yes,” Owen replied sharply, rising from his seat. “Your Grace, the answer is yes. A proposal would be just the thing to get us all out of this ugly mess. And Alice is a decent girl. Mostly tends to—well, I don’t quite know. Read, I think? But she will make a suitable wife, I assure you of it.”

“Be that as it may,” Duncan said calmly, rising from his seat as well, “I first must ask the lady for her hand.”

Owen gave him a puzzled look. “But, Your Grace,” he ventured timidly. “You just did, and it was given.”

“Not from you,” Duncan countered, his voice suddenly sharp. “From the young lady. Please, bring her here, and I shall do so.”

“Your Grace!” Owen laughed suddenly, throwing his hands up in the air. “That is not necessary! Come, let us iron out a contract now. I can have my solicitor here in a moment, or if you prefer we can send for your own?—”

“It is necessary,” Duncan insisted, cutting him off as he felt the weight of his mask. “Your daughter and I met only last night at the masked ball. I assume she does not wear her mask every day?”

“Erm, no,” Owen replied slowly, his eyes once more focusing on Duncan’s smooth wooden mask.

“I do,” Duncan continued, his tone aloof and factual. “She deserves to see what I truly look like before we marry. She deserves to choose. Even if her refusal would permanently damage both of our houses, I cannot put blame upon her if she were to decline.”

“This is not how we do things in London, Your Grace,” Owen began to argue feebly.

His words faded though, as Duncan fixed his stare on him and waited silently.

“I shall send for her,” Owen sighed, buckling under Duncan’s dominance.

“Excellent,” Duncan said, settling back down in his chair. “Let us move this morning forward.”

“Be calm, Sister,” Lydia soothed, running a comforting hand over Alice’s hair.

“I cannot,” Alice whispered, feeling her entire body tingle and shake.

He was here. The Duke of Baxter, the man who had given her her first kiss and had filled her dreams the night before with wicked fantasies, was here. And he wanted to see her. The man who had kissed her so intensely that he stole her breath and made her entire world spin had actually put in the effort to find her.

“This is a good thing!” Lydia offered supportively, placing a hand on each of Alice’s shoulders.

Alice felt her sister look her up and down affectionately, her hand smoothing a curl here, straightening her broach there. Her sister then pinched her cheeks firmly, causing them to turn pink, and she nodded approvingly.

“You are beautiful,” Lydia praised, deeming her ready. “You did well choosing this gown today. It matches your eyes perfectly. Now, go on in. Trust me, Sister, all will be well.”

Taking a deep breath, Alice watched as her sister opened their father’s study door, and she tried to will her feet to carry her inside. Excitement, fear, nerves, and the feelings that only surfaced last night were bouncing chaotically inside of her, making it almost impossible to think. Then she saw him. The masked man from last night—still masked, still dressed in black—standing with her father. His head had turned toward her, and she felt a pull toward him despite the strange choice of fashion.

“Your Grace,” Alice found herself saying, much calmer than she had expected.

Her fingertips found the edges of her skirt, and in her brain, she pulled up the steps to a proper curtsey. Was it this man that had such an effect on her or the situation?

“Miss Alice,” Duncan greeted sincerely, bowing to take her hand. “I owe you the most humble apology for last evening’s events.”

The moment his hand slipped under hers, Alice felt the shivers in her body calm down, and she drew an easy breath. His dark blue eyes looked at her steadily, almost pityingly through his mask. As if he felt sorry that it was him that she had been caught with.

Like last night, his mask covered most of his features on his right side and forehead, but his smooth lips, angular cheekbone, and the sharp edge of his jaw were visible for all to see. His dark brown locks that fell just past his ears looked as if they had nearly been tamed but given up on. He was, she realized, just as handsome and mysterious in the light as he had been in the dark.

“Alice, darling,” her father called when she said nothing. “The Duke has come to marry you.”

Alice looked from him to the Duke in shock. Of course, she had thought perhaps the conversation would go that way, but she hadn’t expected the proposal to be so blunt—or to hear it from her father. She caught Duncan giving him a scornful look, but his gaze softened when he looked back at her.

“I have come to ask if you will accept my proposal,” Duncan corrected. “It is not a command. You do not have to say yes.”

“Then I will not,” Alice replied, pulling her hand away despite wanting to hang on.

It was a lovely offer, to be sure. But this was not what she wanted. She wanted him to look at her with desire. Perhaps if he had, she would have said yes. But there was only pity in his eyes.

“I appreciate your apology and your offer, Your Grace, but I must refuse them both,” she continued, ignoring the way her father’s face began to turn purple. “Last night was my idea, therefore it is my fault. You were as honest with me last night as I was with you, and I know how you feel about marriage. And yet here you are, willing to commit to what you despise the most, because of my failings. It is I who owe you an apology, Your Grace, not the other way around. And I will not make you tie yourself to me due to my foolishness.”

Alice heard her father groan loudly as she continued to look at Duncan, whose eyes first widened in surprise, then sparkled with… what? Amusement? Challenge? Alice was not sure, but it certainly was not anger or pity.

“Alice,” her father growled, stepping in front of her with his finger raised to her face, “you will not do this to our family, do you under?—”

“You will not raise your voice to her like that,” Duncan snarled suddenly, stepping protectively in front of Alice.

Desire once more lanced through her as she watched the man she barely knew stare her father down until he once more moved away from them. No one had ever handled Owen Knight like that, and Alice felt a smug satisfaction at seeing him be put in his place.

“If I may explain further,” Duncan said, slowly turning his gaze back to her. It was still sizzling with anger, but she could see that calm, silent strength he exuded begin to take over once again.

She nodded at him silently.

“You are not wrong about how I feel about marriage,” he relented. “But the responsibility falls on me as well. This might not be the result either of us intended, but I do think it is the right thing to do. You would have a good life, Miss Alice. One of freedom if you choose, and you will never want for anything. But I am a flawed man in many ways, some of which you already know, many of which you do not. I cannot physically show you them all, but I can show you what is behind my mask.”

Alice’s eyes shot to his mask. Of course, there had to be a reason why he was wearing one during the day. But it fit his persona so well that she’d almost forgotten about it.

“I shall remove it and ask again, Miss Alice, if you would take my hand. Not because of your father’s insistence or anything else,” he went on, “but because you wish to. May I?”

Alice could feel her father’s glare burning a hole into the side of her head, but strangely, she did not care. Not anymore. Duncan was giving her the right to choose. And she wanted to say yes.

“You may,” she replied.

Alice watched closely as Duncan raised his hands to his mask and lowered it, revealing a thick crescent scar around his eye and several other small ones surrounding it. Another one ran down his cheek, tugging at the right corner of his lips. From his temple, she saw another one running down his neck to disappear under his collar. She gasped at the sight of proof of traumatic pain. Not because of horror, but out of empathy. She could almost feel the misery that the old scars exuded, and she felt a sudden wish to take it all away.

“My appearance is beastly, and so is my countenance sometimes. But I can offer you protection. These rumors are not just hurtful words, Miss Alice. For some of the more twisted gentlemen, they are an invitation to force themselves on you. You do not deserve that.”

Duncan said the words quietly, but they still jarred Alice when she heard them. She had not thought of that, but she knew immediately that he was right. Protection, even from a man who did not want to marry her, was a welcome thought.

She studied him a moment as she regained her composure. As she did so, he waited patiently, only moving to slide his mask back over his scars.

“You are no more beast than I am,” Alice found herself saying, at last, her feelings about marriage starting to change.

He had some very valid points. The Duke of Baxter could not offer her the romance she wanted, but thanks to her actions, that was never going to happen with anyone now, was it? Protection was better than nothing. And protection from someone like Duncan seemed even more appealing.

He looked back at her with dubious shock, as if he could not even attempt to believe her, but made no remark about her comment.

“I accept,” she uttered, her eyes locked on his.

Behind his mask, Alice could see his gaze grow almost doubtful, and he began to look her up and down, as if he was not at all sure what she was.

What is he looking for?

“What joyous news!” Owen crowed, breaking the tense silence that fell over the room.

Alice and Duncan continued to say nothing as her father began to list off things to do in preparation for the wedding, their gazes locked as if they were two curious, wild creatures meeting for the first time.

“I believe that you shall find her dowry most substantial, Your Grace,” Owen rambled on, not noticing the silent exchange right in front of him.

“Whatever it is shall be suitable,” Duncan answered finally.

He turned away from Alice, finally releasing her from his intense gaze, and she felt a bit odd as she blinked and realized what she had just done.

“My solicitor will stop by tomorrow to finalize the details, and I shall be back for the wedding in a week,” he added, walking toward the door.

“A week?” Alice squeaked, barely finding her voice again as her new fiancé opened the door to leave.

How were they going to plan a wedding in a week?

Duncan paused, turning his dark gaze to her one more time. “You needn’t worry about anything but the dress,” he stated in a quiet, almost dominant tone. “I shall take care of the rest. I shall see you then, Miss Alice.”

He then politely bowed his head to her and, without another word, left.