Page 2 of The Masked Baron
Ellison smiled menacingly. He hated that name. “One and the same. And I am to assume you are Mr. Durante?”
The man removed his hat and gave a curt bow. Oddly enough, his face did not register fear—just wariness. Everyone in England believed Ellison to be the baron-turned-villain. “I am surprised, even impressed, you came.”
Mr. Durante’s grim expression did not falter. “Your business proposal interested me.”
“As it should, if you have any love for money. Follow me, and we shall discuss the details.” Ellison led the way to the earl’s table, where he’d brought fare from the local inn for them to dine on. “Please, you’ve had a hard ride. Eat while we talk.”
Mr. Durante’s eyes gave him away—he couldn’t believe Ellison did not just strike him a blow and rob him for all he had, which wasn’t much, based on Ellison’s inquiries. He could have laughed, but he needed to lure Mr. Durante into a feeling of security. The man watched Ellison sit before taking a seat himself. Ellison pushed over the plate of battered chicken legs and a bottle of Madeira brandy-wine.
“I am serious about wanting to invest in your salt-glazed stoneware. Your designs are unique and beautiful. I heard the Duke of Northumberland has several of your vases on display at his home in Alnwick.”
“A craftsman must know his market.”
“And a good craftsman knows that in a rural location with little resources, a deal with me could set him up for the rest of his life.”
Mr. Durante picked at the food, clearly wanting to expedite his business. “I don’t have a love for money like you’ve suggested. It’s a necessity.”
“Oh? Beyond just bread and a roof overhead?”
“My family—”
“Oh yes, your daughter is quite the beauty, I hear.”
Mr. Durante’s calm demeanor faltered, and he clenched his jaw. “How did you hear of my daughter?”
Ellison’s patience waned, and he yearned to pelt the man with all the questions he’d collected for the last decade. He pulled out his knife and sharpener from his boot and began pushing the blade against the stone. He’d found this activity aided him when bargaining. And while he did not want to overly intimidate Mr. Durante, he did want the man to respect the power that came from Ellison’s position.
“I didn’t plan to share all my cards, Mr. Durante, but you must understand I know everything there is to know about you. I know your circumstances are drastically reduced from the inheritance you would have received had you not abandoned your family.” The color drained from Mr. Durante’s face, but Ellison pressed on. “I know your daughter is all you have left and you would do anything to give her the life you once had. Oh, you’ve tried well enough. She’s as well-read as a Cambridge graduate, and her speech is as refined as that of the gentry, but she’s still a poor little tradesman’s daughter without a dowry or a future.”
“What do you want from me?” Mr. Durante asked, pushing to his feet.
Ellison touched the blade of his knife gently with his hand, testing its sharpness. A trickle of blood was enough to satisfy him. “Believe it or not, I am the kind of man you want on your side. This”—Ellison held up the knife—“is a harmless tactic to uphold my reputation and no more. If you are capable of trusting me, we can help each other.” He flipped the knife around so the handle faced Mr. Durante. “Here. If you agree to work with me, you must be on your guard.”
Mr. Durante stared at him for a long moment, not moving to accept the proffered gift. “You are not the only one who did his research before this meeting. Your knowledge of Andalin surprised me, but only that. I could share a few secrets of yours, if I was so inclined.”
Ellison raised his brow with impressed wonder. “Excellent. I think this equal footing will serve us well.”
Mr. Durante’s lips turned up into a half smile, and he finally accepted the knife. “What are your terms?”
Chapter 2
On the road northwest of Corbridge
Papa had returned from histrip only to tell Andalin he was leaving once more—this time with her. There had been no explanation, no questions asked—only time enough to pack her few possessions and absolutely no books. Their destination was Braitwood Hall, the lair of the infamous Dark Rider. Something awful must have happened to cause Papa to act so out of character.
They fled like wanted criminals in the dim light of the late evening in a wagon rattling from their hurried pace.
The small village of Corbridge, which functioned as a simple midpoint on the map for travelers, was the only home Andalin had ever known. All the memories of her mother pulled her back, while the dream of setting course to a new, exciting place beckoned her forward. Never had she been invited on a single trip. Never had she left Corbridge.
She had no reason to fear she would not return. Papa traveled a great deal, usually leaving her in the care of Mr. and Mrs. Young. However, Papa’s odd behavior told Andalin this trip would be different than she imagined. This was likely not the best time to bring up the proposal she’d received from Mr. Crow.
“Oh, look. The ocean. I have always wanted to see it,” Andalin said in jest, pointing to the River Tyne flowing near the section of road they traveled. Papa’s mouth did not so much as twitch in humor. He radiated tension, which pained her more than the jolts in the road. Only after many hours spent bouncing along in their wagon did Papa begin to relax and desire conversation.
“Would you like to be a lady, Andalin?” Papa took in her profile and then turned his attention back to driving the horses.
The question seemed rather peculiar. Andalin wrinkled her nose at the image her mind conjured. “A lady would not appreciate the finer points of travel by wagon.”
Still no smile.
