“And I am quite good at staying out of sight. I shan’t anger you.”
“Will you be fine with bastards then?” He came closer still, drawn in by the gentle floral scent wafting from her. It had driven him mad on the balcony and it was having the same effect now, making it a little harder to focus. “Will it not bother you to know that I have mistresses and bastard children that may one day threaten your peace and comfort?”
“No.” Her tone was soft but unwavering. “It does not.Willnot. I do not mind at all, Your Grace.”
That confused him. “You would rather take on an ill-fated marriage as opposed to a fleeting rumor from the ton? Are you that desperate to become a duchess?”
She licked her lips, drawing his attention to them. For an instant, he was transported back to that intoxicating moment on the balcony, recalling just how soft and tasteful they had felt pressed against his own. Yet, her next words snapped him back to the present. “If that is what you wish to believe, Your Grace.”
Gideon scowled, turning abruptly from her. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You would be much better off marrying someone else, I assure you.”
“Given the likely ruin of my reputation, Your Grace, if you refuse this proposal, both of us stand to lose more than just face.”
At that, Gideon turned back to look at her again. The determination he’d heard in her voice was shining in her eyes and he knew, there and then, that he would not be able to convince her. She would certainly make good on her threat to reveal who he truly was and then everything he had been working toward would be for naught. He couldn’t take his revenge on the Earl if his true identity as the Masked Rogue was revealed.
With a brief curtsy, and still avoiding his gaze, she shuffled away from her corner. “I shall give you some time to come to terms with the idea, Your Grace,” she said, slowly inching her way to the door. “But do not keep me waiting long.” After a moment, she added, “Please.”
Then she hastily curtsied again and hurried out the door, avoiding his eyes. Gideon was left staring after her, open-mouthed, lost on what to say or do next. Lady Amelia had successfully tied his hands with her ultimatum.
Which meant, he had to play along. At least for now.
CHAPTER 5
Tiny dots of the late-night mist chilled Gideon’s red cheeks as he strolled through his garden. The final wave of guests from the ball had departed almost an hour ago, and though dawn was creeping closer, he knew he stood no chance of sleeping tonight. Every time he closed his eyes, the hauntingly determined gaze of Lady Amelia's blue eyes filled his vision.
And the memory of her only confounded him further.
Grimacing, he spun the mask in his numb fingers, not thinking as he idly made his way down a short set of steps that delved out of his garden and into the grove of trees behind his manor. He had brought the mask with him on a whim, but now he wondered if it might have been a mistake. It was usually an extension of his arm whenever he was alone, whenever his mind overtook him. But now he couldn’t help but think that perhaps his attachment to the old mask was what gave him away to Lady Amelia. Perhaps she had seen the Masked Rogue before and connected the dots when seeing the mask again.
“Nonsense,” he mumbled under his breath. Most of London had hardly seen himwithoutthe mask, let alone with it.
He exhaled heavily. As soon as he’d returned to the ball after Lady Amelia’s hasty retreat, he’d spent most of the night trying to douse the rumors that were spreading like wildfire. Both lords and ladies who were even slightly acquainted with him were bold enough to interrogate him about them, and while Gideon hadn’t been able to convince them that they’d seen someone else, he’d managed to make them believe that it was not entirely what they thought. That the lady they’d caught in his arms was no casual acquaintance. It was the only thing he could think of at the time and he knew he might have just damned himself into accepting Lady Amelia’s demands by doing so. He’d bought himself a few days of reprieve from the rumors but Gideon was acutely aware of the looming expectations for an announcement of courtship or marriage.
He cursed under his breath, frustrated that he had backed himself into a corner like this. Looking back at the mask, he knew he had very limited options. Right now, his years of meticulously planned revenge were being jeopardized by a brazen chit with aspirations of being a duchess, and he had little choice but to accept his fate in all of this. Not to mention the fact that his reputation would be severely affected if he didn’t.
Perhaps I should be rid of the mask from now. Perhaps I should simply get it over with.
He stopped, battling with the insane urge to crush the mask in his hands and leave his fate to chance. But then he realized justhow far he had wandered from home. Little moonlight filtered through the dense canopy of trees above, and his eyes needed some time to adjust to his new surroundings. But when they finally did, he realized just where his feet had taken him.
The small slab of gray stone was the only thing that marked the area as special. Gideon swallowed thickly, the frustration melting out of him. Slowly, he approached the grave and sank onto the ground without hesitation.
“Hello, brother,” he greeted under his breath.
Heavy silence met his words. Gideon reached out, brushing his fingers against the stone. It was encrusted with dirt and growing moss, so he made a mental note to have it tended to in the morning. But for now, it was only him and his brother, even though the latter was no longer around to answer him.
“I’m sure, if you were alive right now, you would know what I should do,” Gideon said softly. “You always had the sharper mind, even as a child. I admired you for that.”
The words ‘Jasper Terrell’ stared back at him in the quiet. Gideon gently brushed away the grime that obscured the name. Jasper had been a mere boy of ten at his passing, having spent the majority of his life bound to either his bed or a wheelchair. Which meant he spent much of his time consuming the written word and had the wisdom to show for it. Gideon remembered their late-night meetings, when Jasper would sweat and pant in pain, unable to sleep, and Gideon would crawl into bed to comfort him with his favorite books.
“I still miss you,” Gideon whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He took a deep breath, struggling against the sorrow that threatened to draw tears.
For so long, Jasper had been the center of Gideon’s world. Born with a disease that kept him under the care of the family physician, Jasper wasn’t given many opportunities. And born as the strong and healthy heir of the dukedom, Gideon had carried nothing but guilt knowing that his brother was bound to suffer most of his life.
Jasper’s life was tragically cut short at the age of ten, when Gideon was merely fifteen years of age. And that death was the reason Gideon wore the mask.
The soft crunch of gravel behind him signaled Gideon of an approaching figure, but his eyes never left Jasper’s gravestone.
“I suspected I’d find you here.”
