Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

T he Duke of Gendway was the kind of gentleman who would fit in rather well at a decrepit tavern as well as he would in a lavish gentlemen's club. Gideon had always liked that about him, even though the elderly Duke had a tendency to prattle on about unimportant matters like the state of his horses.

The Duchess of Gendway, on the other hand, lived to impress the ton. She was always done up in the most extravagant manner, hosting a number of impressive balls and soirees. The social season in London was her self-proclaimed time of the year—when she could truly shine. Gideon typically maintained his distance from her, because he had little tolerance for her pretentious personality. However, tonight was an exception. It was the Duke's eightieth birthday celebration, so Gideon thought to make the effort to attend.

The moment he stepped into the ballroom of Gendway Manor, the duchess flocked to his side with a broad smile and eyes gleaming with interest. "Your Grace, how lovely of you to attend!" she all but squealed in Gideon's ear.

Gideon suppressed the urge to scowl at her. Her presence was already souring his mood, a mood already dampened by the silent carriage ride he had shared with Amelia an hour prior. She remained quiet by his side, though she didn't protest when he offered his arm for them to enter together.

"I would not miss it for the world, Lady Gendway," Gideon responded with polished ease, but the Duchess was barely listening at that point. Her attention, not to Gideon's surprise, was on the lady on Gideon's arm.

"And you must be the new Duchess of Stanhope," she cooed. "I have been hearing so much about you, my dear! You must know that you and your wedding are the talk of London. I must say, I was quite disheartened to not find an invitation in my post."

"It was a small and intimate ceremony, Your Grace," Amelia answered before Gideon could interject. Her voice was gentle, perhaps a little uncertain. But she spoke clearly. "We certainly did not mean to offend."

"Oh, think nothing of it! I am only delighted that His Grace thought to bring you along with him this evening. It would have been an utterly tedious affair without your presence!"

Gideon's annoyance shot to the ceiling. The Duchess was making it no secret that she planned to gossip about him and Amelia now that they were here.

To her credit, Amelia maintained her polite smile. "I look forward to our future meetings, Your Grace."

"How wonderful! In fact, why don't you meet a few of my friends?" the Duchess offered, gesturing to a group of older ladies standing a short distance away. "I'm sure they would be thrilled to make your acquaintance!"

"Actually, we have prior engagements at the moment, Lady Gendway," Gideon cut in. He had no intention of allowing this conversation to drag on any further. "We should seek out the Duke of Gendway and extend our congratulations to him for seeing another year."

"Yes, well, my husband is quite preoccupied at the moment—"

"Ah, then we shall catch up with him later," he interrupted smoothly, offering her a polite bow. "Now, if you would excuse us."

Without waiting for a response, Gideon walked off, dragging Amelia with him. Now that he wasn't in the presence of this evening's host, a few people attempted to engage with him but Gideon was in no mood for any of them.

Leaning in, he murmured to Amelia, "Are you doing all right?"

"No," she replied quietly, and the candor in her voice took him by surprise. "I do not enjoy these kinds of events. I have never truly grown accustomed to them. And now, as the new Duchess of Stanhope, I suspect I'll be even more the focal point."

"How unusual. When we first met, you did not strike me as so reserved."

"Conversation is not a feat I have mastered, sadly."

"You seem to be quite adept at it when we are alone," he noted.

Amelia studied him for a moment, as though trying to figure out the hidden intent in his words. She fidgeted with the tips of her gloves before responding, "Growing up, my sister was my only true companion. We could sit in silence with each other as easily as we could talk for hours. I have never been able to find that kind of connection with anyone else."

"Not even your cousin?"

"Nadine was not very keen on being in my company," was all she said in response.

"That sounds rather…"

"Pitiful?"

"Lonely," he ended. "I can understand."

"Is that so? How would the great Duke of Stanhope understand loneliness?"

"More than you could imagine," he answered without thinking. He kept his eyes on the milling guests, avoiding Amelia's sympathetic glance.

I must remain focused on my task—pushing her away so that she will annul the marriage.

"Well, if you don't wish to be lonely tonight, I know what might help," he suggested with a suave smile. The tenderness in Amelia's eyes disappeared, shadowing with mistrust. But Gideon was certain that anyone watching them would think them to be an ordinary, albeit handsome couple. "You're welcome to stay by my side the entire evening if you so desire. I shall protect you, fair lady, from the burdens of being engaged in tedious discussion."

"And what will be expected of me in return?" she quietly challenged. "My body?"

Gideon slowly ran his gaze down the length of her. She truly did look beautiful this evening, and from the way she flushed under his scrutiny, he didn't think she understood the half of it. He forgot for a moment that he intended to make her uncomfortable and was hit once again with the desire to pull her close and pick up where they had left off from earlier. The carriage ride of silence had all but driven him insane, the phantom feel of her soft bosom tingling his fingertips.

"That's quite a forward proposition, Amelia," he murmured in return, his voice thick with need, "considering what landed us in the marriage in the first place. But perhaps it would be best if we waited until we were alone?"

Amelia's blush began at the root of her hair and disappeared into her dress. She took a stiff step away from him. "Excuse me," she pushed through clenched teeth.

"Where are you so suddenly off to, my dear?" Gideon called after her, but Amelia didn't answer him as she turned and walked away, her hands tightly scrunched at her side.

Gideon stared after her, grinning to himself. He toyed with the idea of trailing her, to torture her some more, but ultimately decided there was plenty of time for that later in the evening. Besides, there was no telling how Amelia would react if pushed too far and he didn't want to risk an outburst in a place like this.

The downside was, now that Amelia had gone off on her own, Gideon could already see lords and ladies heading towards him. His patience for social niceties was thin, and so, spotting his friend, Lewis, near a secluded corner of the ballroom provided a welcome escape. Gideon made a beeline for him, only realizing at the last moment that Lewis was not alone.

The lady by his side was captivating, her features sharp and cat-like. Her blond hair was elegantly curled at the top of her head, kept there with a blue headdress, complementing her vibrant green eyes. She watched Gideon approach with a glint in her eye, boldly tilting her head to the side in her study of him.

"Lewis," Gideon began eagerly. "I see you have decided not to be tardy this evening. Were you simply excited to congratulate the Duke of Gendway on his eightieth, or afraid you might miss his death?"

Lewis rolled his eyes, sending a sidelong glance to the lady by his side. Gideon didn't give him much of a chance to answer, swiftly shifting his focus to the lady instead.

"Good evening, miss," Gideon greeted politely. "I take it by your confused expression that you did not know Lord Janesbury has a penchant for arriving tardy wherever he is expected."

"That is a stretch of the truth," Lewis attempted to defend, but Gideon hardly gave him the chance to elaborate.

"Ah, there is no need to be embarrassed, my friend. It is simply a part of your charm, and I have come to enjoy it," Gideon reassured, before turning his attention back to the lady. "Forgive my lack of manners, fair lady. I did not introduce myself. I am the Duke of Stanhope, and Lewis' closest friend. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Perhaps you could fetch us a glass of claret, Gideon?" Lewis cut in. He even took a step forward, as though intending to place himself between Gideon and the lady.

"But it would be quite ungentlemanly of me to ignore your company, wouldn't it?" Gideon replied, his attention undeterred.

It was the lady who had spoken, her voice sultry and commanding. She leaned slightly to the side, away from Lewis' protective stance, and met Gideon's eyes with a smile. "It is lady , for your information. Lady Harriet Turner," she charmed. "The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace. I must admit that I was unaware that Lord Janesbury had any close friends at all. Save for me, of course."

"Is that so?" Gideon arched a brow at Lewis. "Then it seems he has been keeping secrets from us both."

"Now, now," Lewis quickly interjected. "Let's not jump to conclusions. Lady Harriet, it's been delightful seeing you. I shall seek you out when it is time for the first dance."

Lady Harriet's eyes flashed with something Gideon couldn't understand, but then she blinked and it disappeared. "I understand," she said smoothly but made no explanation of what exactly she understood. "Your Grace, may we meet again."

"Perhaps you could save me a dance too," Gideon suggested, and she smiled, curtsied, and left without another word.

Gideon looked curiously at Lewis. But his friend's attention remained on Lady Harriet's departing figure, seemingly unaware of anything else.

"So," Gideon spoke up, drawing Lewis back to where he stood. "How did you come to know Lady Harriet?"

"Through an event here and there," Lewis answered vaguely. "Like any other lady or gent, I suppose."

"Is that… so." Lewis liked her. That much was obvious. But why he was trying to hide that fact was a mystery to Gideon. He studied his friend, not missing the way Lewis' eyes kept darting back in the direction Lady Harriet had gone in, and wondered if he should try to press him on the matter at all. "Is there something going on, Lewis? You seem very unlike yourself."

"Are you worried about me?" Lewis asked with a cheeky grin.

Gideon rolled his eyes. "Interpret it as you will."

"Look at you," Lewis laughed. "We have been close friends for as long as we've known each other, and yet after all these years, you still struggle to express your affection. It is quite—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"Adorable. I wonder what others would say if they were to learn that the great Duke of Stanhope struggles with showing genuine affection?"

"They would probably think you've lost your senses and question why I bother with you," Gideon grumbled, but that only humored Lewis further.

"Fine, fine, I'll let it go," Lewis conceded, still chuckling. "In answer to your earlier question, I am quite well, though I have been finding this soiree a tad dull. And what of you?" Lewis said. "Surely you did not arrive alone?"

"Of course not. I brought the Duchess along, though I'm sure she would have much rather stayed confined in her bedchamber."

"The two of you do not share the same chambers?"

"She rejects me at every chance she gets," Gideon scoffed. "I'd wager she'd choose the dining room floor over sharing a chamber with me."

"Truly?" Lewis sounded genuinely surprised by that. "I understand this marriage was not born out of love, but I assumed she would have fallen for your usual charms by now. She is not quite as I'd imagined her to be. And where is your beloved wife now?"

Gideon skimmed the room, searching for the refreshments table. He spotted Amelia instantly, standing to the very end with a glass of what looked like lemonade in her hands. But she was not alone.

A tall gentleman stood at her side, conversing with her. Well, he was doing all the conversing, while Amelia only nodded along, her eyes sparkling. Something stirred in Gideon, a dark emotion that took hold and began to grow. The room seemed to disappear as his attention honed in on his wife and the man slowly inching closer to her as he spoke. Amelia glanced up into his eyes at something he said and laughed.

"Pardon me," Gideon muttered under his breath as he broke away from Lewis. He didn't take his eyes off Amelia as he stalked toward her. And she didn't notice him, so caught up was she in whatever this gentleman was saying—until he was all but standing before her.

Her smile fell. Gideon held her gaze for a moment longer before turning his attention to the gentleman right beside her. "Excuse me, but I don't believe we have been introduced," Gideon said, his voice politely cold.

"Lord Harold Fenton, the Baron Fenton, Your Grace." The gentleman stuck out a hand. "It is nice to finally be acquainted with you."

"I'm sure it is." Gideon didn't take the hand. Instead, he stepped closer to Amelia, sliding a hand around her waist and pulling her into his side. She hiccupped in surprise. "I see that you have done a good job of acquainting yourself with my wife."

"Oh!" Lord Fenton's eyes went wide. "I did not know…"

"I did not think it mattered for me to say," Amelia said quietly.

"I see." Gideon fixed the baron with a hard stare. "Well, I trust you won't mind if I steal her away. The evening's first dance is about to begin, after all."

"A-ah, well, Your Grace," Lord Fenton stammered to Amelia. "Perhaps we could continue our conversation another time. Perhaps during a dance—"

"She will be otherwise engaged," Gideon interjected briskly. "Now, if you'll excuse us."

He turned, guiding Amelia along his side, just as the orchestra struck the first chord to signal the commencement of the first set. Couples began to break away from the crowd of guests to meet in the center of the ballroom and Gideon joined them. Once there, he smoothly swept Amelia into his arms without a word, readying for the waltz.

"Well, that was rather rude," Amelia said after a long moment.

He still didn't acknowledge her, moving mindlessly through the beginning steps of the dance. Now, he understood the dark emotion—jealousy. It wasn't the sort of emotion Gideon experienced often. Or at all, for that matter. He couldn't understand it.

"Lord Fenton should know better than to flirt with another man's wife," Gideon whispered darkly.

"F-flirt?" Amelia gasped, looking up at him. Her steps didn't falter in the slightest, easily moving in perfect harmony with Gideon as they drifted back and forth. "He was not flirting with me."

"I know what I saw."

"But what does it matter to you if he was?"

"It doesn't. I was only ensuring he understood what he was doing."

For some reason, Gideon was having a hard time meeting her eyes. Because of that, he was all too aware of the fact that she was pressed up against him, her bosom brushing against his chest now and again. The hand he had rested on the small of her back twitched, tempted as he was to lower it. He took a discreet step away from her, hoping that she would not notice the fact that his breeches were tightening.

If Amelia had a retort to that, she swallowed it, allowing the silence to fill the air. Her delicate floral fragrance all but assaulted his nose, his mind now heady with unspeakable things. Yet every time he thought back to the way Amelia had laughed at whatever Lord Fenton had said to her, he felt his jealousy smother his lust.

"So, what were the two of you discussing?" he asked after a long while.

"Why does it matter to you?" she countered.

Gideon sighed. "Must you answer all my questions with ones of your own? I am merely curious, that is all."

"I am under no obligation to satisfy your curiosity."

This time, Gideon could not resist looking down at her, taken aback. It seemed she was capable of biting back when aggravated enough. And he had certainly annoyed her if the frown marring her brows was any indication.

That troubled him for a moment but he didn't know how to diffuse the tension brewing between them. Nor did he bother to ask himself why he cared to.

"Fine. Let me ask you something else then." She shot him a glare and he quickly tried to rephrase. "It is simple enough to answer, I'm sure. Do you have any hobbies?"

Her glare softened. "I like to read."

"Is that so?" A boring answer.

"And write."

"Poetry?"

"You were paying attention?"

"Of course," he shrugged.

"Yes, poetry. But also other things…"

"Like?"

"I…you wouldn't understand."

"Try me. You'd be surprised to know how open-minded I can be."

Amelia huffed what Gideon thought might have been a chuckle. "I suppose it should not surprise me that you managed to make a question posed for me all about yourself. Nevertheless, I'll indulge you. I like to write fiction stories, oftentimes about mystical beings that are usually spoken about in fairytales."

Now that surprised him. "I must say, I did not expect that."

"Yes, well, I have always had a rather active imagination. And I found that writing fiction has been a very helpful way of clearing my mind."

"Writing about wives who know when to accept apologies helps to clear your mind?"

"I knew I should not have said anything," Amelia muttered.

"Ah, forgive me, I could not help myself. But I am truly intrigued by that. It isn't often I come across a lady who weaves tales with pens rather than her tongue. I would be honored to read your work someday."

"Perhaps," she replied noncommittally. "But I do not quite trust you yet."

"I do not trust you either," Gideon countered and he didn't quite like the way the words felt on his tongue—as if he was lying. "After all, I do not yet know your intentions for forcing this marriage."

" I forced the marriage?" she asked, sounding somewhat skeptical. "If I recall correctly, you were the one who came to my aunt and uncle and all but professed your undying love for me."

"Surely you know I only did what was expected of me. Given the choice, I would not have married so young."

"So young?" She eyed him curiously. "What is your age, might I ask?"

A look of realization flashed in Gideon's eyes. She did not know his age. Well, it was quite understandable considering they had both gone quite out of their way to make sure they knew very little about each other. "I am thirty," he answered simply. "And I take it you are at an age quite close to spinsterhood. It is the only reason I can think of to explain your eagerness to marry."

"I am one-and-twenty," Amelia told him. "And yes, I was growing desperate—as many women my age would. Feel free to resent me for that all you like, not like you don't already anyway."

Her tone of finality caught him off guard. Gideon immediately felt bad for the way he'd spoken, though he didn't dare to show it. An apology rushed to the tip of his tongue and he tucked it into his cheek to keep from saying it aloud.

"Do you regret it then?" Amelia's voice was barely audible as she spoke. She kept her eyes trained over his shoulder, her fingers tensing slightly in his grasp.

Gideon felt the truth on his tongue before he could restrain it. "I do not."

Blue eyes flicked up to him. "Why?"

"Because you are not who I expected you to be." It was the truth, as much of it as he would allow himself to reveal, anyway.

Gideon glanced down at her, just in time to catch the makings of a smile dancing across her lips before she swiftly averted her face. "You are not what I expected either. I do not fear you at all, which is rather unexpected seeing that you are the Masked Ro—"

"Hush!" he hissed. A surge of panic forced his eyes to glance around but no one seemed to have overheard them. "Are you out of your senses? How dare you even think of saying that name here?"

"Why do you do it?" she pressed on. He was squeezing her hand tightly but if it hurt her, she didn't show it. Challenge sparked in her eyes. "Why do you insist on turning into that monster?"

"That monster is my true self. I only wear the mask of the Duke. If you know so much about my secrets, you should have realized this by now."

Amelia tugged her hand free, stepping away from him the moment the music came to an end. He didn't know if she'd timed that perfectly or if it was a mere coincidence. But there was hurt and confusion in her eyes and that distracted him for a moment.

"But I cannot understand it," she pleaded. Others began to disperse, making way for the next couples arriving to dance the upcoming set. Yet, she seemed oblivious to it all. "If perhaps you could explain to me why you do the things that you do, then perhaps I could help you? Maybe we could find a way to put an end to it—"

"There is nothing to end. That is as much a part of me as the man you've come to know these past weeks. Enough of trying to change something you do not understand."

"Then help me understand it!"

"I will not!" His voice rose, teetering on the edge of a shout, as his frustration slowly began morphing into anger. "What could you possibly do to help me? You are nothing but a young chit who has shackled herself to my side and that is all there is to it."

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. It wasn't true. Somehow, Amelia had become something more to him, something he hadn't really considered before. But the pain on her face was already transforming into anger.

"How could I forget?" she spat. "You are nothing but a monster who tramples all over the lives of others, not caring about whom you've hurt along your way."

Gideon reached for her. "Don't cause a scene—"

"Don't touch me!" She recoiled from him, eyes alight with fury and accusation. It paralyzed him to the spot, unable to do anything as she marched away from him.

Only after she had gone did he realize that the dark emotion had vanished, leaving a void within him that lingered throughout the rest of the night.