Page 7 of His Scarred Duchess
The din of the party faded as Adeline ventured down a dimly lit corridor.
Without thinking, she rushed forward, a sharp instinct screaming that her sister was stepping into danger.
Chapter Three
“For God’s sake, Edmund, would it kill you to look a little less like you’re marching to your execution?”
Edmund Pemberton, the Duke of Holbrook, shot a withering glance at his companion as their carriage rattled over the cobblestones. Even behind his simple black mask, his long-time friend Daniel, the Viscount of Ravenshaw, had an irrepressible grin.
“Remind me again why I let you drag me to this circus?” Edmund growled, tugging at the high collar of his costume.
The fabric felt suffocating, much like the social obligations he’d been desperately trying to avoid since inheriting his title.
Daniel’s laugh echoed in the confined space. “Because, my dear Duke, you’ve become a veritable hermit since returning from the war. It’s high time you remembered how to enjoy yourself.”
Edmund’s jaw clenched, his gray eyes fixed on the passing scenery. Enjoy himself? As if he had time for such frivolities when Holbrook was teetering on the brink of financial ruin, thanks to his father’s years of mismanagement.
The carriage came to a halt, and Edmund’s stomach knotted with dread. Through the window, he could see the grand townhouse ablaze with light, masked figures flitting about like exotic birds. His hand tightened on his cane—a remnant of his war injury that he usually tried to ignore.
“Come now,” Daniel said, his voice softening. “I only wanted to give you a proper welcome back to London. One night of revelry won’t bring Holbrook to its knees.”
Edmund sighed, feeling a pang of guilt at his friend’s obvious concern. “Very well,” he conceded. “But I reserve the right to leave the moment some scheming mama tries to foist her daughter on me.”
Daniel’s grin returned in full force. “Deal. Now, let’s see what delights await us behind those masks!”
As they ascended the steps, Edmund couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking into enemy territory. The war might be over, but the battles he faced now were of a different sort—no less dangerous, but far more insidious.
The moment they entered the ballroom, he felt the weight of countless eyes upon him. His title might be hidden behind a mask, but there was no disguising the command in his bearing,the power in his stride. He could practically hear the whispers beginning, the speculation about his identity.
A group of young ladies nearby tittered behind their fans, their eyes gleaming with interest. One, bolder than the rest, detached herself from the group and approached.
“Good evening, Sir,” she purred, her voice pitched low and sultry. “Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”
Edmund’s spine stiffened. This was precisely what he’d been dreading. “I believe the point of a masquerade is anonymity, Madam,” he replied coolly.
The lady’s smile faltered for a moment before returning, brittle and forced. “Of course. How foolish of me. Perhaps you’d prefer to let our dance do the talking?”
She extended a gloved hand, invitation clear in her eyes.
For a moment, Edmund was tempted to accept, if only to avoid causing a scene. But Daniel’s words about enjoying himself rang hollow in the face of this blatant social maneuvering. What harm could one dance do?
Plenty, he realized, if it encouraged more unwanted attention.
“I’m afraid I must decline, Madam,” he said, his voice polite but firm.
The lady’s smile faltered for a moment before returning, more determined than before. “Oh, come now, Sir. Surely one dance won’t kill you?” She stepped closer, lowering her voice to a sultry whisper. “I’ve been told I’m quite light on my feet… among other things.”
Edmund stiffened, bristling at the implication in her tone. Did she think him so easily swayed by a pretty face and a few suggestive words? The wound Joanna had left might have scarred over, but it still ached in moments like these.
“While I’m sure you’re a delightful dance partner,” he replied, taking a step back, “I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for dancing this evening. If you’ll excuse me.”
The lady’s hand shot out, grasping his arm. “But Sir, the night is still young! Surely you didn’t come to a masquerade ball just to stand about? I could show you a much more… stimulating time.”
Edmund gently but firmly removed her hand from his arm. “Madam, I appreciate your persistence, but my answer remains the same. I wish you a pleasant evening.”
With a curt bow, he turned on his heel and strode away, ignoring the lady’s huff of indignation.
Edmund scanned the room for Daniel, eager to remind his friend that this excursion was to be brief. The sooner they made an appearance and left, the better.
