Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

L ouise smoothed down her skirt for the final time as she listened to the patter of rain on the window.

For late March, it had been unseasonably cold, and she was glad of the fur that ran along the hem of her skirt. As a homage to the rumors about her, Louise had chosen to dress as the Ice Queen for the masquerade ball.

Not lacking wit, she had asked her father whether she should dress in armor to match her reputation as the Iron Harridan, but he had not taken kindly to the joke.

She picked up her mask, loath to wear it until they arrived, but she was satisfied with the final ensemble. The pale blue silk beneath the layers of chiffon dazzled with snowflake beading around the hem and bodice. Her pale blue gloves also perfectly matched the extravagant necklace that adorned her neck. The clasp at the back fastened the necklace securely, its jewels cascading down her skin in a graceful arc—fanning out at the base, finishing in teardrop crystals that caught the light.

Her mask, too, sparkled with jewels around the eyes, and the fur moved pleasantly when she walked.

She still could not understand why her father insisted that they attend this event. It was hosted by a rival club for whom he had intense hatred, and he famously detested any occasion where he needed to dress like a fool. Her suggestion that he attend as a jester also had not been received well.

Louise pushed the final pin into her hair, turned left and right to ensure that it was secured by the white ribbon running through it, and then headed downstairs.

She found her mother nervously standing in the entryway, waiting for her father to appear.

Lady Northbridge had chosen the guise of a peacock. She looked effortlessly elegant and much younger than her forty years.

They smiled at one another as Louise descended the last few steps. But just then, the Earl stormed out of his study with a face like thunder, pulling on his gloves as though an army were after him.

“Finally,” he barked when he saw them both waiting for him. “Why does it take an age for you to be ready, girl?”

“Perfection takes time, Papa,” Louise replied smoothly.

Her mother stiffened beside her.

Her father’s expression darkened, and he advanced on her menacingly, reminding her that it was unwise to provoke him when he was so on edge.

“There will be no foolishness this evening. I do not care what any man says to you—you will not behave in the manner you were accused of last Season. Is that understood?”

Louise bit her tongue and curled her fingers around her reticule, barely restraining herself from flinging the thing at her father’s head.

“Papa, I have explained multiple times that Lord Fortescue attacked me. I did not mean to hurt him. I believe the man simply has weak bones.”

“Whatever the cause, there will be no more of it, is that understood? This family’s reputation hangs by a thread as it is!”

“What do you mean by that?” Louise asked sharply, noting her father’s cheeks reddening alarmingly as blood rushed to his face.

With an effort, he seemed to recover himself, taking in a deep breath as he straightened his gloves and offered his arm to his wife.

“Why are we going to an event at Orions, Papa?” Louise asked for the second time. “I know you cannot be anticipating it with great relish. Would it not be simpler to send our excuses?”

The Earl closed his eyes as though centering himself. When he opened them again, the look on his face was almost guilty, but it vanished just as quickly.

“You should not be ungrateful for our attendance. Have you not been eager for news of Lord Marcus Wright? His brother is a founding member of the club, after all.”

Louise felt the same flutter of unease in her chest as she thought of Marcus’s disappearance.

“Has there been some news, then?” she asked hopefully.

“I know not, but the Duke will be able to tell us if there has. We should go, or else we’ll be late.”

With a long sigh, Louise followed her parents outside into the spitting rain of a brisk, hazy evening. The carriage was waiting for them, and as they climbed inside, she felt the familiar rush of anticipation for the ball ahead.

She was well aware that her reputation had not recovered from the incident with Lord Fortescue. She loathed the nickname the gossips had saddled her with, but she refused to be cowed into submission or hide in the shadows for defending herself.

Men could challenge each other to duels and be hailed as honorable, even if it cost them their lives. But a woman, attacked in a corridor by a drunken fool, was relentlessly mocked simply for standing her ground when he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“You will behave tonight,” Lord Northbridge warned as though reading her thoughts.

She glanced at him from across the carriage. His dark eyes were boring into hers without mercy. “Of course, Papa. I know my place.”

“Quite right.”

“You still did not answer me— why are we attending?”

“Because I have accepted the invitation. That is all you need to know.”

Louise rolled her eyes and looked out into the gathering dark. It seemed preposterous that her father would accept an invitation from the Duke of Egerton. It was common knowledge that they hated each other.

Why do I feel as though this has some deeper meaning behind it?

The high pillars and golden lettering above the door of Orions Gentlemen’s Club gave a sense of glamour to the event. Two gas lamps flanked the doorway, and as she alighted from the carriage, Louise was gratified to see that she was one of the few ladies in pale colors.

I was already bound to stand out this evening—at the very least, I shall do so in style.

Her parents preceded her into a large room where the other guests were assembled. The air was thick with perfume, and the candles around the room cast a shimmering light over everything.

She could already see some of the attendees turning to look at her. She would never get used to being the center of gossip, no matter how unjustified it might be.

“Come to meet her new lover, I see,” came a voice from nearby.

She turned to see two women wearing black masks tittering together. She frowned as they caught her watching them and swiftly walked away.

Two men at the refreshments table inclined their heads toward her in a most unusual manner, and she was glad of her mask because it hid her confusion. She was used to scrutiny, but this felt like something else. She glanced at her father, who was glaring at everything with intense irritation, and her unease began to morph into real fear.

What has he done?

Among the crowd ahead of her, a very tall person came into view, and she was momentarily frozen to the spot as he approached her.

Coming toward her through the milling crowd was a wolf. His mask and appearance were utterly flawless. He wore a tailcoat of midnight blue, double-breasted brass buttons cascading down either side. His waistcoat was richly detailed with golden leaves, their stitched outlines gleaming in the candlelight, and the wolf mask over his face was white—a stark contrast to the rest of his ensemble.

This could be no one but the Duke of Egerton.

I certainly do not recall him being so tall .

Louise kept her expression neutral, ensuring the cold facade she had perfected in public was firmly in place.

The Duke’s eyes were just visible behind his mask. Even in the low light, they were a startling green, roving over her in a way that felt predatory. She recoiled at it and glanced at her mother, who appeared just as bewildered.

The Duke came to a stop in front of her parents, but for an indecent amount of time, his gaze remained on her. Eventually, when her father cleared his throat, he finally shifted his attention.

The disdain the Duke harbored for her father radiated from him like a tangible force. Louise could almost feel it crackling in the air between them.

“I invited your daughter to attend this event, My Lord,” the Duke stated coldly. “I did not extend that invitation to her family.”

Lord Northbridge’s simple mask did little to disguise the deepening flush creeping up his neck in response to the Duke’s scathing words.

“Lady Northbridge may stay as Lady Louise’s chaperone,” the Duke continued, offering the Countess a curt bow. “But you, My Lord, are not welcome in my club.”

Louise’s gaze snapped toward her father. She did not doubt that an agreement existed between the two men. The thought was not a pleasant one, but her father’s expression gave nothing away.

After a brief hesitation, Lady Northbridge detached herself from the Earl and came to stand beside Louise. Lord Northbridge took off his mask. His mouth twisted into a snarl as several guests turned to stare at them.

“You may make a scene if you wish,” the Duke said as he lifted one hand, casually inspecting his fingernails. “But I would not advise it. I have excellent security who would be more than happy to show you the way out.”

The Earl opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping on the shoreline, struggling for words that would not come. His eyes met Louise’s, and in that fleeting glance, there was something almost imploring—was it desperation or even a flicker of regret?

But the moment passed. His expression hardened as he quickly composed himself. Without so much as a glance at his wife, he spun on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Louise moved closer to her mother, feeling a comforting arm curl around her own. She could feel dozens of eyes on them now.

The noise of the ball seemed to have dropped to a low murmur as the Duke turned to her. He had a strikingly sharp jaw and a firm mouth that made his face seem all the sterner.

He stepped forward, giving another low bow to her mother. “My apologies, Lady Northbridge. My quarrel is not with you. I would invite you to partake in the refreshments and enjoy your evening.”

“I thank you for the invitation, Your Grace,” Lady Northbridge replied evenly as she curtsied to him. Her eyes darted to the door through which her husband had departed, her back and arms rigid with tension, but she made no comment.

As the exchange unfolded, Louise found her gaze continually drawn to the Duke. There was something magnetic about him that set him apart from other gentlemen. Every detail of his attire was immaculate, except for his cravat, which hung slightly looser than fashion dictated.

When she looked back up at him, she was not entirely sure what to make of the calculating look in his eyes.

She watched in fascination as his hand moved toward her, and she stared at it stupidly, wondering what he might mean by it.

“You will follow me, Lady Louise.”

The words were spoken in a low, reverberating voice that sent a shiver through her. Everything in her rebelled at the thought of blindly following this man somewhere alone. The room was filled with gossipmongers who already wished to tarnish her reputation further. Yet, she could not see a way to refuse with so many eyes on them.

“Come to meet her new lover, I see.”

The words she had overheard suddenly echoed in her mind, and the cold seeped through her like nothing she had ever felt before.

With no choice but to comply, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her out of the ballroom.

“Right this way.”