Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

" A re you certain about this, Your Grace?" Thomas asked again for the umpteenth time.

Gideon let out an irritated groan. He shrugged on the heavy black evening coat he'd often don during these nights, then made for the neatly packed trunk beside him. "Thomas, I assure you, if I changed my mind, you will be the first to know," he told his butler, who was hovering like a fussy mother behind him. "Besides, I have been waiting for this moment for a long time. It will be over soon."

Thomas looked as if he was about to disagree but then thought better of it. Instead, he asked, "Will Lord Janesbury be accompanying you at least?"

"I'm afraid Lewis has more pressing matters to attend to," Gideon responded, his tone betraying his frustration. "Or so he claims. It doesn't matter, however. His presence is not needed tonight."

Thomas held his silence. Gideon, meanwhile, reached for the pristine white mask positioned on a nearby console table, then tucked it into his inside coat pocket. He planned to be away for three days, staying in his accommodations at Mayfair where he could come and go more discreetly. Should any prying eyes from the gambling den trace his path, he had no intention of leading them back to Castle Stanhope.

The mask settled perfectly in his coat pocket. It felt as if a missing appendage had been reattached, as if he was whole again.

Yes, this is nothing to be ashamed of , he reminded himself, casting a final glance at the reflection in the mirror at the end of the foyer. This is who I am.

His wife's disapproving scowl flashed in his mind and he shook his head to banish the thought. Even now, he couldn't understand why he'd informed her that he would be away for a while. There was no reason for her to know. Now she would bother him with more of her questions and Gideon didn't know how much patience he had left for them.

Pushing thoughts of Amelia aside, he refocused on the task at hand. Lewis had done so much beating around the bush that Gideon resolved to simply visit the Serpent's Den himself and verify Lord Appleby's presence. It was said he frequented the place on Thursdays in the Winter seasons, so it was his best bet. If he wasn't there, Gideon intended to spend the following days canvassing the city's most prominent gaming hells until he found the Earl.

He didn't have much more time to waste. Night had fallen hours ago. Right now, lords from all corners of London would be flocking to the gambling tables at the Serpent's Den. And many more would leave early in the night with their tails between their legs—some never to return. Such was the fate inflicted on his father once upon a time long ago. With a decisive nod to Thomas, Gideon strode towards the door.

At the last moment, he paused and threw a look over his shoulder, "Ensure the Duchess is well-cared for in my absence. Make sure she eats regularly."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"And that she is not holed up in her chambers all day."

"Yes, Your—"

"And suggest, implicitly , that she takes frequent walks in the garden to stretch her legs. She does not like being told what to do."

"Yes—"

"And she has full access to my personal library. Oh, and she has full reign over the breakfast and dinner menus," Gideon paused, musing for a moment, "perhaps the lack of choice is why she has avoided eating lately," he muttered under his breath.

"Yes."

"And there should be—"

"Pardon my interruption, Your Grace, but do not worry your mind. Her Grace will be well-accommodated in your absence."

"Ah." Gideon nodded sheepishly. "Right. Well, if she requires anything that cannot be immediately provided, you should write to me as soon as you can."

Gideon thought he might have detected a tinge of surprise in Thomas' features, but he was out the door a second later before he could be questioned. Outside, one of his unmarked carriages stood there waiting for him, shrouded slightly in the fog that had settled over the grounds. The night was perfectly cold but Gideon's veins burned with anticipation.

The hours-long journey to St. James' Street passed in a blur as Gideon mentally rehearsed his course of action and attempted to banish thoughts of the woman he had left behind in his absence. Amelia should have been the furthest thing from his mind when he was this close to getting his revenge, yet every time he imagined sitting down with the Earl of Appleby behind the sheath of his mask, he saw his wife instead. He heard her disapproving tone and her pestering questions.

He saw her eyes roll to the back of her head and a desperate gasp escape her lips. Her face contort in a state of ecstasy, and her nails dig into his shoulder blades.

Get yourself together man!

Gideon shifted uncomfortably as the carriage finally pulled to the front of the infamous Serpent's Den. Drawing in a deep breath, he retrieved his mask and fastened it behind his dark hair. Like a soothing salve, it chased away Amelia's lingering memory and helped him to remember why he was doing this in the first place.

With renewed confidence, Gideon alighted the carriage and made his way through the grand doors of the gaming hell. The moment he stepped past the threshold, a hush fell over the patrons. The infamous Masked Rogue had arrived. But for the first time in a long time, Gideon felt ill at ease.

The part gambling establishment-part gentlemen's club, owned by Sir Clarkeson, was once renowned for its game cuisine and exotic reptile menagerie. However, a forty-foot ceilinged grand lobby adorned with a number of gaming tables, each reserved by a ‘Serpent' and positioned strategically to allow its spectacles to be viewed by all those around, had become its primary draw over the years. The Serpents were the elite of the elite, those prestigious enough to carry the highest titles to their names, while being skilled enough to hold their own against any of England's finest players.

Gideon despised them. There was a time when these men epitomized honor, integrity, and fierce courage—men who would stake their lives on the table and earn the prestigious rank of a Serpent. In more recent times, however, they were nothing more than charlatans, resorting to deceit and trickery to maintain their ranks, all while exploiting those na?ve enough to trust their goodwill. Gideon, as the Masked Rogue, had spent nearly a decade becoming a Serpent and had cut the throats of those who had ruthlessly taken his father for everything. Now, there was only one relevant Serpent remaining.

The architect of his father's downfall, and the manipulative force that had driven his father to gamble away their family's legacy. And, in turn, his younger brother's life.

Appleby.

Gideon's unyielding gaze swept over the patrons as he stepped past the threshold of the lobby in the main hall. The air was thick with cigar smoke and the heady aroma of brandy, mingling with the heavy perfume of courtesans. Laughter and the clink of coin punctuated the rumbles of conversations, as fortunes were made and lost with the flick of a card.

Navigating through the clusters of dandies and fops, their silk and brocade catching the light from the crystal chandeliers above, Gideon proceeded with confident and unhurried steps toward his customary central table. It was not long before gazes began turning his way, gawking at him with a blend of fear and fascination. He ignored them, as per usual.

When he approached his reserved table, a plush chair was promptly provided for him. Gideon didn't look to see who brought it forward, but then he heard Sir Clarkeson's familiar gruff. "You are early, sir. It's been a while. Didn't think I'd be seeing you again after the last incident—"

Gideon cut him off with a subtle nod. He made a point never to speak too often while he wore the mask, needing to protect every aspect of his identity the best he could. Though he doubted any of the inebriated nobles around him would remember the tone of his voice come morning anyway.

Sir Clarkeson pulled over a passing waiter, whispered something in his ear, and then sent him on his way. It was not long before Gideon heard a bellowing rain down from a balcony up above, lionizing Gideon like some kind of spectacle. "Who has the courage to take on the Masked Rogue?!" the voice came. Clearly, Clarkeson was thrilled to see the Masked Rogue return. Gideon's presence was profitable for him after all; the Masked Rogue had a history of bringing in substantial earnings.

He reclined in his chair. At this point, there was nothing he needed to do but let the first few bold challengers step forward.

All eyes quickly fell his way. Dozens of men in finely tailored coats huddled around to get the best views. Several others abandoned their games, drawn by the spectacle that was to unfold. But, much to his chagrin, not a single challenger stepped forward. Gideon idly reached for the pack of cards in the center of the table, shuffling them with deft fingers as Sir Clarkeson tried to encourage the spectators to sign up for the pummelling.

All the while, Gideon skimmed the crowded hall, all for one specific person. The ostentatious splendor of this place, with its gold leaf accents and red velvet draperies, had not changed one bit.

Beginning with the obvious spot, the table Appleby would likely occupy when he was a Serpent, Gideon scanned among the faces.

Bizarrely, he instantly spotted him.

What luck! Lewis. I am either very fortunate to find this man or you have been hiding something from me.

The Earl looked a spitting image of the portrait Lewis had shown him some weeks ago. It was drawn up years ago when the man still had all of his hair, but his dark curling mustache and mousy features were not easily forgettable. Taking his opportunity, Gideon stood and strode his way over to the table the Earl of Appleby was occupying. A few of the men already seated shifted uncomfortably, while the others straightened as if preparing for something to come. Gideon only focused on the Earl, however, who was paying keen attention to his cards, which seemed to be for a game of whist.

He was a short man with balding hair and a large belly that was most certainly already full of whiskey. Up close, Gideon could see the flush on his cheeks and the glaze in his eyes.

"May I join, sirs? I am having quite the difficulty garnering any opponents, see," Gideon asked, deepening his voice just a bit.

Annoyingly, Sir Clarkeson followed him. "Give it a go, lads. If you dare, of course. He has hardly ever been bested before!"

Now is not the time, Clarkeson. The last thing I need is scaring him off.

"Pah! I'll take you on," one lord, red-nosed from being deep in his cups, spat.

"I know very well who, or what you are, boy. I'm out lads," another grumbled. A few others murmured their agreements while two gentlemen took their vacated seats, clearly out-of-towners by the inflection in their voices.

The Earl of Appleby sat calmly, still saying nothing, still too focused on the cards in his hands.

"And what says you, Lord Appleby?" Sir Clarkeson asked, sweetening his voice a little, "If I recall correctly, you yourself were a prominent Serpent just over a decade ago. The old versus the new. What a delightful match-up!" he coaxed, waving his hands at the crowd who all roared in approval.

"Like hell you're trapping me with the Masked Rogue, Clarkeson," the Earl mumbled beneath his breath.

"Are you scared, milord?" a voice from the crowd jeered, followed by another person chortling, "He, a serpent? Blimey, the wife could ‘ave been a Serpent in those days!" Laughter and jeers quickly spread among the onlookers.

Lord Appleby waved a dismissive hand that nearly sent him toppling over in his chair. "Mock me if you wish, but I wager I won't be seeing any of you grumbling buffoons take my vacated seat. I would advise you all to reconsider. I shan't do it. I simply shan't."

"You flatter me, my lord," Gideon taunted lightly. "I assure you, I am nothing to fear ."

"Pah! You think I fear you?" Lord Appleby fired back vehemently. "No chance. There's not a gentleman of repute across all England's expanse who could evoke a shadow of fear in me. No less in a game of chance—"

"My dear Lord," Sir Clarkeson interjected, tongue dripping with sarcasm, "should this ruffian truly unsettle you, I am more than willing to show him the door." The crowd jeered. Without missing a beat, another voice chimed in, "Perhaps we should summon the Countess Appleby to escort the Earl safely back to his chambers instead." Laughter erupted through the group once more, but Lord Appleby simply cast his cards aside and rose to his feet. Gideon remained silent, his gaze locked on the man whose actions had left an indelible mark on his life as he stumbled away.

Another unwary challenger approached and took the seat recently abandoned by the Earl, drawing Gideon into a round of whist that, under any other circumstances, would be quite a simple and straightforward victory. Gideon's mind, however, was elsewhere, frustrated at the fact that Lord Appleby was so close yet so far. How could he take him for everything he had if the Earl did not want to engage with him at all? Gideon understood the necessity of maintaining a calm and disinterested demeanor, for if he came off too strong, he would lose any remaining chance the Earl would fall for his bluff.

As the card game concluded, with victory securely on Gideon's side, he stood and began making his way over to the Earl's new table. But when Lord Appleby saw him approaching, realization flashed in his eyes. And when the stakes were drawn, he hastily threw his cards down, mumbling that he was forfeiting because he had depleted his funds for the night, before he jumped to his feet and made a hasty escape. Gideon could only watch on in utter disbelief.

This was why Lewis was usually here to accompany him. He was the greatest of wingmen, performing most of the subterfuge in pitting others against Gideon. A shrewd word from one ear to another could do wonders to set about a confrontation with a man who felt as though his pride was at stake. But now that Gideon was alone, the dynamics had changed.

And never had he anticipated approaching the Earl would be half the battle in and of itself. He had garnered quite the reputation over the years, and now, it was catching up to him. Which meant tonight, even though he knew where to find the Earl, was an abject failure. If this pattern continued, reaching the Earl would become an impossibility. He had to find another way.

For a fleeting moment, Gideon toyed with the idea of adopting a new disguise, a new mask. However, he quickly dismissed the thought. The Earl, a former Serpent, would not entertain challenges from newcomers lacking a substantial reputation. On the other hand, he could remove the mask altogether, but that would jeopardize his standing as the Duke of Stanhope, a risk he couldn't afford to take.

Despite his escalating frustration, Gideon lingered for a while longer, keen to dispel any suspicions regarding his real motive for being here: destroying the Earl. Nevertheless, within the hour, he found himself in his carriage, en route to his Mayfair apartment, his mind swirling with thoughts of revisiting and revising his plan of action.

This time, he would have to change his approach.