Page 62 of When He Was a Duke
“I have not dressed as a gentleman. Ever.”
“Tonight you reclaim what was stolen from you.” Hale moved tohis desk and withdrew a wooden box. “This was not easy to commission on short notice, but I know a woodworker who asks no questions.”
He lifted out a mask unlike any Sebastian had seen. It was carved from dark-stained wood, heavier than expected, with intricate details of leaves and vines that seemed to emerge from the wood itself. The face bore the squared jawline of a Venetian Bauta, but the organic patterns gave it an otherworldly quality.
“The Green Man,” Sebastian said, recognizing the ancient symbol.
“Precisely. He exists between worlds—neither fully civilized nor entirely wild.” Hale held the mask carefully. “Rather fitting, would you not say?”
“Perhaps too much so?” Sebastian took it, running his thumb along the smooth curves. The eye holes were narrow but functional, and the extended mouthpiece would not only conceal his features but alter his voice as well.
“I have prepared a bath.” Hale gestured toward a tub behind a screen. “Take your time. Call when you are ready.”
Alone, Sebastian stripped away his work-worn clothes and slipped into the tub. The warm water felt like absolution. He scrubbed away the grime of servitude, watching the dirt swirl away with something that might have been his old self.
When he emerged, he felt lighter somehow. Cleaner in more ways than one.
He began with the undergarments, then the black wool trousers that fit as though tailored for him. The white linen shirt was crisp against his skin. A charcoal brocade waistcoat came next, cut to flatter his lean frame.
Then the coat. The forest-green velvet seemed to transform him with its weight and richness. Dark embroidery traced the lapels like ivy on stone. He tied the emerald silk cravat, remembering his father doing the same. Finally, the black leather gloves that would hide thecalluses that marked him as a working man.
“Hale,” he called out. “I am ready.”
The steward returned, and his expression shifted almost imperceptibly. “Lord Ashford, welcome back.”
Lord Ashford. The man he was meant to be. Had he found him once again? He moved to the small looking glass and stared at his reflection. The man looking back was someone he’d not seen as an adult—straight-shouldered, well-dressed, every inch a gentleman. Yet the eyes held knowledge the old Sebastian had never possessed.
“I had forgotten what it feels like to be dressed in finery,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. He adjusted his cravat with fingers that trembled slightly. “These years… they have changed me. Made me into a man filled with rage and thirst for revenge. I can almost remember who I used to be when I see myself now.”
“Like it or not, our hardships define who we are.” Hale handed him the mask. “You understand suffering. Loss. That will make you a better man than you would have been. More compassionate. Generous even.”
Sebastian took the mask, weighing it in his hands. “And if I am discovered?”
“Then we shall face whatever comes. But tonight, you are Nathaniel Clarke—a merchant with money enough to attend but not so prominent that anyone will scrutinize you closely. The real Clarke rarely appears at such events, and the mask will ensure no one looks too closely.”
Sebastian positioned the mask carefully, tying it securely. The transformation was complete. He was neither Sebastian the gardener nor entirely Lord Ashford, but something new. Something dangerous.
In the glass, the Green Man stared back at him. Despite the seriousness of the occasion, Sebastian smiled.
“Shall we proceed?” Sebastian asked. Even through the mask, his voice carried a note of authority he’d thought lost forever.
Hale nodded. “It goes without saying that you must be careful. But I’ll be keeping watch too.”
Sebastian held out his hand and the men shook. “Thank you, Hale. Pray that all goes well.”
*
In his borrowedfinery, Sebastian stood in shadow watching carriages arrive at Wentworth Manor’s sweeping drive, steeling himself for what lay ahead. Though he’d learned to dance as a child, years had passed since he’d attempted such grace. He hoped his feet would remember what they’d once known. Tonight, he must not merely blend in. No, that would not be enough. He must convince the very people who had cast him out that he belonged among them.
From within the grand house, candlelight spilled through tall windows, accompanied by the soft strains of a string quartet.
Sebastian stepped from the shadows and fell in behind a newly arrived couple, checking his mask one final time as they climbed the marble steps.
A footman ushered him through the grand entrance hall, a cavernous space lined with white marble columns, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and elaborate floral arrangements. Flowers from the very gardens he tended. The irony was not lost on him.
Guests gathered in the foyer, removing cloaks and murmuring behind their masks. Sebastian forced his stride to remain confident despite the dampness of his palms beneath his leather gloves. When the doors to the receiving hall opened, he found himself face to face with Lord Wentworth and Lady Rose.
His pulse held steady as he approached.
