Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

P erhaps it would be best if I didn't attend the ball at all.

Amelia silenced her glum thoughts as best she could, but they kept resurfacing with a vengeance with every passing second. She bit her bottom lip so hard that she was afraid she would draw blood, yet the pain served to distract her from the waves of trepidation assaulting her at the present moment. She didn't know where to bury herself – under the covers of her bed or leave the house altogether.

"Oh, goodness, will you stop breathing so loudly?" The sharp tone snapped Amelia from her dour thoughts. She jolted at the force of it, twisting slightly on the tiny stool she sat on to look at her aunt.

The older woman's glare could have sliced right through steel. Barbara Egerton, the Viscountess of Hendale, curled her upper lip in utter disgust and Amelia felt her heart twist at the sight. The viscountess could have been a beautiful lady despite her age, but Amelia surmised that years of scornful looks and a horrid personality had twisted her features. Somehow, though she'd only just turned forty, Barbara looked like she already had one foot in the grave.

Still, she sat upright with a healthy posture, though that also had much to do with the plush mahogany chair she was sitting in.

"Pardon?" Amelia murmured, loud enough for her aunt to hear.

"I can hear your breathing," Barbara complained, her tone dripping with malice. "I thought I told you to simply sit in that corner and pretend as if you don't exist. I should not even know that you're there."

For a moment, Amelia could only gape back in astonishment. Even though the bedchamber they occupied was shared between Amelia and her cousin, it was still considered rather sizable. Barbara was sitting near the only vanity table in the room, next to her daughter, while Amelia had been forced to claim the furthest corner away from them. And, as her aunt had requested, she'd gone about getting ready in complete silence. She couldn't fathom how she could have done anything less.

"Oh, leave her be, Mother." Lady Nadine's voice was innocent and sweet—a perfect mask for the bitterness that lay within her. "She has no one but herself to talk to. I'm sure it must get lonely."

Barbara huffed, very unlike the fashionable lady she so strived to be, but she heeded her daughter's words nevertheless, turning back to face the mirror. Nadine glanced over her shoulder at Amelia, giving her a pitiful look and a shake of the head, before she faced ahead again.

With the viscountess and her daughter distracted, their lady's maids returned to styling their hair.

Amelia turned back to her corner and blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. This sort of treatment had been going on for three years, so she ought to have been used to it by now. But she hated facing this level of humiliation in front of the servants.

The maids often paid her little mind. Amelia didn't know if it was an order from their mistress or if they simply decided she was not worth their time, just like her aunt and cousin. Either way, she was forced to prepare for the ball by herself. Slipping into her delicate underpinnings, adjusting the layers of her petticoat, and finally, pulling on her jade green dress—which was already out of fashion. Amelia didn't even consider the thought of adorning herself with rouge or jewels.

"Mother, do you believe he will ask me to dance tonight?" Nadine's voice came floating back to her as she struggled with the lacing of her dress. If she wasn't ready by the time they were, they would certainly leave without her.

"Of course, dear!" Barbara gushed. Her voice grew shrill when she was excited and Amelia winced, fumbling with the final lace and unraveling the rest. "In fact, I will make sure to get you an introduction. All you need is a dance, my dear, and the duke will certainly be besotted with you."

"Oh, I'm not so sure," Nadine sounded uncertain. "He is hailed as the most eligible bachelor in the ton for a reason. Every lady there will be throwing herself at him. What will make him look twice at me?" she pouted.

Barbara gasped as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Amelia wasn't so surprised. Nadine had mastered the art of getting others to compliment her under the guise of humility. "You forget yourself, my dear," Barbara said, her voice impassioned. "You are the most beautiful lady in all of London! He would be a fool not to pay you any mind."

"Do you truly think so?"

"Of course! Ask anyone else and they will tell you the same."

Amelia didn't have to look to know that Nadine was smiling from ear to ear. She couldn't agree with her aunt though. Nadine was by no means hard to look at, but calling her the most beautiful lady in all of London was an outright lie. She had brown hair that lay flat and dead at her shoulders, always breaking off before it could grow out—which was why she never wore her hair down. Her face was bordering on plain, but when she sneered like her mother, Amelia thought her to be the most frightening being she'd ever seen.

But Nadine had the confidence of a queen, which Amelia envied and many-a-gentleman were charmed by.

" The Duchess of Stanhope ," Nadine purred. "It is the end of the Season, Mother. Perhaps I should discard my suitors when the duke asks me to court him. I will be the envy of all the ladies in London."

"Even more than usual," Barbara added, only contributing to Nadine's hubris. "To think your father managed to secure us invites to His Grace's ball this year. It's always been the pinnacle event of the season. Such a splendid way to conclude it!"

Nadine nodded. "I've even heard that only a chosen handful from high society receive invites. And very few are invited twice ." Suddenly, Nadine gasped. "Do you think he will be there?"

Barbara frowned in bemusement.

Nadine leaned closer to her mother to whisper, though she didn't do a very good job of it. "The Masked Rogue."

The name sent a jolt through Amelia. Memories flashed in her mind and much of her annoyance melted into anger.

"The Masked Rogue?" Barbara jerked back. "Nonsense! Not that hogwash again. This is the Duke of Stanhope's Grand Ball! Do you truly believe he would risk tarnishing his esteemed name by inviting such a notorious figure? Nadine, you would do best to stay away from such characters," she chided lightly.

Nadine winced at Barbara's sharp tone and quickly tried to placate her. "You're right, Mother. I am simply quite curious to see just who the man behind the mask is."

Amelia couldn't say the same. She wouldn't mind if she spent her entire life never finding out the Masked Rogue's identity. Or better yet, if she did, she wouldn't mind spending her entire life bringing him to ruin.

After a moment of silence, Nadine began again, "Though, if he truly is an Earl as rumors suggest, I wouldn't object to the title of a countess…"

Amelia suddenly felt a desperate urge to leave the room. Her hair was already arranged in a modest chignon, with a few loose strands framing her face, leaving only her shoes to be put on. She wanted to escape as soon as she was finished. Having to listen to the praises of that man made her feel sick to her core.

Though, she supposed it would be unfair of her to pretend as if she did not wish for marriage too. At one-and-twenty, her prospects were diminishing. Beyond this Season, many would consider her past the prime age for marriage, practically a spinster. She couldn't allow that label to befall her. Securing a suitor at this ball was paramount—it might be her final opportunity.

If she didn't find a suitor, she would never be married. She'd never receive her inheritance and would be forced to remain as her uncle's ward in this unpleasant place where she was treated so horribly.

But most importantly, she wouldn't be able to save her sister.

After slipping into her shoes, Amelia got to her feet and promptly made her way to the door. She was ignored, to her relief. Sometimes she preferred being invisible to enduring her aunt's malice and her cousin's bitterness.

The moment she was out the door, Amelia released a long, quiet breath. She couldn't let her aunt and cousin's words get her down. Throughout the entire Season, they had done nothing but step on her toes and push her aside. Amelia understood her aunt wanting to put her daughter first, but they'd made this Season nothing but a failure for her—to be used as a pedestal for Nadine's future.

Well, she couldn't allow it to end on a failure.

"My lady?"

Amelia jolted at the soft voice, startled by the sudden appearance of the maid by her side. She stepped away from the door so that those inside could not hear when she asked, "What is it?"

"This came for you a short while ago." The maid held out a folded piece of paper.

Amelia's heart began to pound against her chest. "From whom?"

"The Countess of Talley, my lady."

Amelia snatched the paper from the maid's hands, muttering a thank-you under her breath as she hurriedly unfolded it. The words written within were simple and to the point but they sent Amelia's heart sprawling.

She hadn't heard from her sister in months and from the state of her writing, it seemed her sister had hastily penned the letter. It stated that Amelia could come to visit her in Brighton next month since the Earl of Talley would be out of Brighton for a week. The thought of seeing her again had Amelia's heart weak with relief. Not receiving any word from her had slowly sent Amelia down a spiral of worry, wondering with each passing day if something bad had happened.

"Where is my uncle?" Amelia quickly asked the maid, her voice breathy with urgency.

"He is in his study, my—"

She didn't wait for the maid to finish. She picked up her skirts and swiveled on her heels, racing down the narrow hallway. Amelia nearly twisted her ankle twice as she rushed down the staircase and she mentally chided her clumsiness but didn't stop. Her heart raced with excitement, a controlled smile barely gracing her features.

Because of it, she didn't think twice about bursting into her uncle's study without knocking.

Thankfully, he was without company, but the look he gave her upon her entrance made her realize the mistake she'd made.

"Forgive me, Uncle," she panted. "I hope I am not interrupting."

Harold Egerton, the Viscount of Hendale, plopped his quill pen back into the inkpot and leaned back in his chair with a grunt. Amelia was once more struck by how much he resembled her late father—his brother. They had been close in age but her father had been the one to inherit the Earldom. And as the younger son, Harold had opted to marry the daughter of the late Viscount of Hendale.

Ever since she began to live here, Amelia wondered if their difference in status was what caused such animosity toward her. After all, she was the daughter of the late Earl of Marlowe and her sister had become the Countess of Talley. Even though she was unmarried and without a title, her father had left her a sizable inheritance and she already had access to her dowry.

But if that was what caused her aunt and cousin's disdain of her, Amelia couldn't say if the same applied to Harold. The truth was, she didn't know what he thought of her. She'd met him only once before her father passed and when she came to live with them, he'd been neither cold nor warm. He took care of her in all the ways that mattered, but nothing more. He allowed her to attend events during the Season, as it was her duty to marry, but Amelia couldn't remember the last time she'd been in his presence for more than a few minutes.

"What do you want, Amelia?" he asked, ignoring her earlier words.

Despite his lacking tone, Amelia's excitement did not waver. She approached his desk and laid the letter open for him to see. He read it quickly, then looked back up at her. "State your point, girl."

She hated when he called her that but she'd never voice it. "Dorothy has extended an invitation for me to visit her," she explained in between breaths, even though it was made rather clear in the letter. "I've come to ask that arrangements be made—"

"That will not be happening. Now leave me be." And just like that, he resumed his task, returning to his quill and paper.

Amelia stared at him, unwilling to understand his words right away. "I have not seen my sister in three years, Uncle," she tried again. "You know her husband makes it difficult for her to receive my letters, and even more difficult for her to send them. And Brighton is not that far. If I could have someone take me there and back—"

"I said that it will not be happening. What do you not understand?"

The finality in his tone had already wiped any signs of hopefulness from Amelia's face. "But why?" she asked, hating how her voice cracked.

He didn't bother to look back up at her. "Dorothy is a married woman now. She has her own life, and you, your own. You should focus on yourself. I will not waste my time traveling all the way to Brighton. If she wishes to see you so urgently, she should come to London herself."

But Talley will not let her! Amelia wanted to shout the words from the top of her lungs. She would have, had she not known how indifferently her uncle would react. And the last thing she wanted was for Barbara or Nadine to catch wind of what was happening with her sister. Their tongues would be wagging relentlessly by the end of the day and Amelia would not risk her sister's reputation by revealing that the Earl of Talley was an abusive man. It was knowledge that burned within Amelia alone.

And it was the only thing driving her this Season. Not to start her own family, nor to complete her duties as a lady and produce an heir for her husband. The only reason she wanted to be married was to gain access to her inheritance. That way, she could afford to liberate her sister from her abusive husband. And they could live alone, just the two of them, away from the world in some countryside cottage, as they would spend hours speaking of when they were younger.

Harold glanced up at her, then back to his paper. "You may leave," he dismissed with a cavalier wave of a hand.

Amelia didn't move. Her body grew hot with anger and frustration and, to her annoyance, the tears began to spill. No one would understand how often she lay awake at nights thinking about her sister, about the beautiful smile she'd last seen on Dorothy's wedding day. After that, there had been no communication. Dorothy had left for Brighton with the husband she loved and Amelia had instantly lost all contact.

Amelia had tried to visit her herself, back when her uncle hadn't cared if she came or went. But the Earl constantly denied her, sending her away. And her letters often remained unanswered.

Until one day, a year and a half ago, Amelia received a letter from her sister, scribbled hastily and dotted with dried tears. She spoke about the treatment from her husband, how the man she had loved for so long had seemingly changed overnight. Since then, Amelia had feared for her sister's life.

And now, to hear that she could not even go to visit her….

Amelia felt as if every part of her chest was being ripped to shreds. Rage mounted in her at the helplessness of her situation. How could she have an uncle who didn't seem to care about his nieces? Who only cared for one out of necessity and turned a blind eye to the other's suffering? Amelia couldn't help but think about what Dorothy might be going through right now and that frustration tipped over into sorrow.

If she had her inheritance, Amelia could save her. But she could only do that if she married.

If only her family had never encountered the Masked Rogue.

Over the years, Amelia tried not to think about it too much. She didn't like the anger and hatred that swarmed her at the thought of that horrid person. But right now, she welcomed it, a black void opening in her chest and eager for any dark thought.

The Masked Rogue was the reason for all her troubles and why she was in this position in the first place. Had he let her father be, hadn't taken advantage of him, and hadn't so coldly ripped everything from her family, perhaps they would all still be together. Perhaps her father would still be alive…

Wiping her tears, Amelia turned and left the room without a word. She made her way to the foyer where she sat in the small chair by the door. She would have liked to wait in the parlor, alone, away from prying eyes, but she didn't want to risk her aunt and cousin leaving her behind.

She steeled her resolve. If she couldn't go to see her sister, she would bring her to London instead. And tonight was her final chance of making that happen…