In two quick strides, he closed the distance between them, a crooked finger lifting her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. Amelia thought her heart would beat right out of her chest. How could someone with such godly features harbor such darkness?
“That is quite the flush on your cheeks, my lady,” he observed through narrow eyes. “And what might your name be?”
Amelia summoned the courage to pull her chin away from his touch—and silently prayed he couldn’t hear the thunderous beat of her heart. “Do you make it a habit of seducing ladies whose names you do not know?”
His expression darkened. “When the mood strikes, certainly. Now, your name?”
Amelia swallowed. She wasn’t foolish enough to assume he wouldn’t make good on his threat. “Lady Amelia Egerton.”
Suddenly, he cursed aloud, stalking away from her once more. Amelia found she could breathe a little better now that her senses weren’t being numbed by his heady cedarwood aroma.
“You are not who I believed you to be,” he murmured, raking his fingers through his hair once more. Amelia fought the urge to be captivated by the disheveled locks that cascaded across his face.
“And whom did you mistake me for, sir?”
“A French noblewoman,” he answered, catching her off guard. “And evidently, you are not familiar with my identity, else you would be addressing me very differently.”
I know precisely who you are, Masked Rogue. “Will you tell me?” she replied innocently instead.
His gaze sharpened, lips curling into a contemptuous smirk. “All you need to grasp is that my assumptions about you were flawed. Hence, I fully acknowledge the impropriety of my advances. It is quite apparent that resisting such temptation, even publicly, would be quite the challenge for you.”
Amelia gaped at him. “Tha-that wasn’t—”
“So, I will assume that what you did was simply an innocent mistake and I shall sweep it under the rug. You and I may forget that this ever happened.”
“That can’t possibly be the solution!”
“Oh, but it has to be. My reputation has been meticulously crafted over many years, and I shan’t allow the whims of a whimsical young lady to compromise it.”
Now, she flushed with humiliation and anger. “You have no right—"
“Ihave no right? What about you?” His tone had cooled, but the fire in his eyes remained undiminished. “I am allowing you the courtesy of assuming you did not purposely ensnare me in that whole farce you played. What would you have me do instead?”
“Take responsibility,” she stated boldly.
He scoffed. “I will not have my grand ball ruined because of one silly mistake.”
Amelia frowned. His words sank in a moment later, realization hitting her like a ton of bricks. “You’re the Duke of Stanhope,” she whispered.
His smirk widened, clearly enjoying her realization. “Now do you understand?”
But he is the Masked Rogue too?
All she understood was that she might have caught a bigger fish than she’d intended. Amelia bit her bottom lip in thought, her mind whirring from the madness of the situation she found herself in. It hadn’t crossed her mind that the famous duke would be the one to approach her, under the guise of another infamous character… But it didn’t matter, she decided. She still had to go through with her plan.
She would get him to marry her, then have the marriage annulled after thirty days, allowing her enough time to secure her inheritance. It was the perfect plan… if she could ignore the backlash she would receive from the ton. In the grand scheme of things, that was the least of her worries. As long as she was able to receive her inheritance, Amelia didn’t care how she went about it.
And she especially didn’t care about the implications for the Masked Rogue of Stanhope.
He was certainly right about one thing—his impeccable reputation might be tarnished by what had happened. Which was perfect. That made her wonder, however, why he wasn’t trying to do everything in his power to save it. Shouldn’t he, given the scandal, be eager to secure a marriage to save face?
“Aren’t you worried about what others will say if we leave it at that?” she asked him.
The Duke waved a dismissive hand. “Such concerns are beneath me. I can handle the fickle tongues of the ton.”
There was something about his tone that made her wonder just how much he believed that. “Then what of me?” she whispered in a small voice.
He leaned in, his voice dripping with condescension, “You should have thought of that before you decided to throw yourself at me, my lady.”
