Page 17 of A Duchess to Reclaim

“Perhaps that is why I was so bothered when you revealed to me that you have been absent from her,” Tristan confessed, glancing up at Dominic with worry-filled eyes. “I have heard rumors. I thought that Amelia had been with you. That you had gone together. And though I was uncomfortable with the idea of Theo being there, too, I was at least comforted in knowing that you were there. In case any trouble unfolded. You have…you have a way of taking care of things. Of making issues disappear.”

Dominic’s brow furrowed as he sat on the edge of his seat. Were his little spies keeping something from him?

“Speak plainly, Tristan. No more subtleties.”

Tristan looked back at him, his eyes growing dark as a grim line settled on his mouth.

“The Devil’s Masquerades,” Tristan replied. “It is being said that Amelia and Theo, possibly, and Ophelia and Rose too, have been spotted at them.”

Fury trembled and seeped into Dominic’s muscles, sending them into a rigid tension.

“Tell me everything you know,” Dominic demanded, his tone low and deadly.

“Now.”

* * *

“Oh, Theo,” Amelia whispered worriedly under her breath. “What on earth were you thinking?”

A nervous tremor passed through Amelia’s arms as she once more reached into her bag and opened her small mirror to inspect herself. These parties- strictly for the willing- were a far cry from the debased auction she’d found herself forced into nearly a year ago, yet her mind still frayed slightly when approaching. The last thing she ever wanted was to be there again.

She shook her head subtly and focused on her reflection; needing to make sure everything was perfectly in place. That she looked nothing like herself. It was, as always, a requirement for parties such as this.

In the mirror she studied her black kohl rimmed eyes that bled perfectly into the black cat-eye mask she wore. The clay powder she used to disguise her porcelain skin was still intact, giving her a warm, sun-kissed glow; shimmering thanks to the powdered pearl she’d added to it. Her cheeks were tinted with a delicate flush, and her lips, painted a deep shade of crimson, appeared most exquisite. With practice, she’d learned techniques to make her lips look poutier, plumper, so that she looked completely unlike herself.

Carefully, she touched the slick backed updo that held her cascading curls almost in a tail; which were framed perfectly by the delicate, branchlike black horns of her mask. As usual for such parties, she’d also forsaken her favorite purples for a tighter black dress that hugged her figure in a most seductive fashion. A calling card, she imagined, that she always knew where she was and what she was doing. Even if at first she hadn’t.

“We have arrived, madam,” Her driver called as the carriage came to a stop.

“Thank you, Salty,” Amelia called back, drawing on her black silk cloak.

Though she was referred to as “Your Grace” and would have her door opened for her under normal circumstances, things operated differently when she was attending aDevil’s Masqueradenight. There were no proper addresses, no proof that she was royalty, a guest, or a worker. It was one of the many rules if one wanted to maintain an invitation to the devious and elusive parties. No one was to know anything about who one was truly was in their other life. They wereallto be wrapped in mystery.

After successfully procuring an invitation nearly ten months ago, Amelia and her friends had gone excitedly and willingly to these parties. However, tonight was different. She was going because her little spies- well, her and her husband’s little spies, had discovered that Theo was going to tonight’s party alone. Had been to others on her own. And that her caution in being nameless and faceless was starting to slip.

Amelia slid herself gracefully from the carriage seat and out into the empty, quiet, and unassuming street, and walked with her hood up and head down to the lone man that stood outside the door to the townhouse that blended perfectly with the rest on the street. Like the others it appeared clean and mundane.

“Welcome, Madam Artemis,” the man murmured, bowing his head slightly before knocking in a specific order on the door.

“Thank you, Sulta,” Amelia murmured back, stepping through the dark threshold.

She walked the normal few paces in total darkness and silence, her head raising elegantly as she drew back her shoulders and removed her hood; approaching another threshold where a masked servant stood on either end of the red-curtained entrance.

One accepted her cloak, then together they parted the curtains for her as they bowed, and she stepped into theDevil’s Masquerade.

Soft, undulating music greeted her ears and a warm, red light bathed over her as she stepped into the front room of the party. A hum of sensual excitement skittered over her skin as she stepped into the place where her freedom had soared.

People; some in couples, others in groups, all dressed in divine dark colors and masks, danced and clustered as they were carried by the hypnotic music and provided libations. The parties were centered around freedom and lowering one’s inhibitions, and everyone who received an invitation expected such.

Amelia moved with a feline grace through the room, nodding to those who raised their glasses to her. She had become rather respected in this circle; known not for the acts she committed within such walls, but the wit and sharp tongue she displayed when conversing such matters.

She had grown much in the past year. In a way, had come into her own regality now that rumors and sundering were worries for her. Still, she had yet to find the right partner to dally with. Her purity, ironically enough, still meant something to her, and she was not willing to give it to someone lightly. Even if her husband did not care. She did.

Amelia searched the rooms slowly, careful not to draw too much attention to herself, and finally found Theo. Shock and discomfort rippled through her as she saw her friend had slid her mask up to her forehead as she sat on a gentleman’s lap, her arm wrapped around his shoulders as he traced a lazy finger over her abdomen as they quietly talked.

Amelia slid her eyes toward the others in the room, and noticed that several were watching Theo as well; probably shocked that someone was openly breaking one of the most important house rules. Despite her frustration though, Amelia walked to her with her usual laidback grace, and reached down, sensually touching Theo’s chin and directing it to look at her.

“Calypso, my darling,” she purred, “How lovely to see you here. Might I have a word?”

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