What luck! Lewis. I am either very fortunate to find this man or you have been hiding something from me.
The Earl looked a spitting image of the portrait Lewis had shown him some weeks ago. It was drawn up years ago when the man still had all of his hair, but his dark curling mustache and mousy features were not easily forgettable. Taking his opportunity, Gideon stood and strode his way over to the table the Earl of Appleby was occupying. A few of the men already seated shifted uncomfortably, while the others straightened as if preparing for something to come. Gideon only focused on the Earl, however, who was paying keen attention to his cards, which seemed to be for a game of whist.
He was a short man with balding hair and a large belly that was most certainly already full of whiskey. Up close, Gideon could see the flush on his cheeks and the glaze in his eyes.
“May I join, sirs? I am having quite the difficulty garnering any opponents, see,” Gideon asked, deepening his voice just a bit.
Annoyingly, Sir Clarkeson followed him. “Give it a go, lads. If you dare, of course. He has hardly ever been bested before!”
Now is not the time, Clarkeson. The last thing I need is scaring him off.
“Pah! I’ll take you on,” one lord, red-nosed from being deep in his cups, spat.
“I know very well who, orwhatyou are, boy. I’m out lads,” another grumbled. A few others murmured their agreements while two gentlemen took their vacated seats, clearly out-of-towners by the inflection in their voices.
The Earl of Appleby sat calmly, still saying nothing, still too focused on the cards in his hands.
“And what says you, Lord Appleby?” Sir Clarkeson asked, sweetening his voice a little, “If I recall correctly, you yourself were a prominent Serpent just over a decade ago. The old versus the new. What a delightful match-up!” he coaxed, waving his hands at the crowd who all roared in approval.
“Like hell you’re trapping me with the Masked Rogue, Clarkeson,” the Earl mumbled beneath his breath.
“Are you scared, milord?” a voice from the crowd jeered, followed by another person chortling, “He, a serpent? Blimey, the wife could ‘ave been a Serpent in those days!” Laughter and jeers quickly spread among the onlookers.
Lord Appleby waved a dismissive hand that nearly sent him toppling over in his chair. “Mock me if you wish, but I wager Iwon’t be seeing any of you grumbling buffoons take my vacated seat. I would advise you all to reconsider. I shan’t do it. I simply shan’t.”
“You flatter me, my lord,” Gideon taunted lightly. “I assure you, I am nothing tofear.”
“Pah! You think Ifearyou?” Lord Appleby fired back vehemently. “No chance. There’s not a gentleman of repute across all England’s expanse who could evoke a shadow of fear in me. No less in a game of chance—”
“My dear Lord,” Sir Clarkeson interjected, tongue dripping with sarcasm, “should this ruffian truly unsettle you, I am more than willing to show him the door.” The crowd jeered. Without missing a beat, another voice chimed in, “Perhaps we should summon the Countess Appleby to escort the Earl safely back to his chambers instead.” Laughter erupted through the group once more, but Lord Appleby simply cast his cards aside and rose to his feet. Gideon remained silent, his gaze locked on the man whose actions had left an indelible mark on his life as he stumbled away.
Another unwary challenger approached and took the seat recently abandoned by the Earl, drawing Gideon into a round of whist that, under any other circumstances, would be quite a simple and straightforward victory. Gideon’s mind, however, was elsewhere, frustrated at the fact that Lord Appleby was so close yet so far. How could he take him for everything he had if the Earl did not want to engage with him at all? Gideon understood the necessity of maintaining a calm anddisinterested demeanor, for if he came off too strong, he would lose any remaining chance the Earl would fall for his bluff.
As the card game concluded, with victory securely on Gideon’s side, he stood and began making his way over to the Earl’s new table. But when Lord Appleby saw him approaching, realization flashed in his eyes. And when the stakes were drawn, he hastily threw his cards down, mumbling that he was forfeiting because he had depleted his funds for the night, before he jumped to his feet and made a hasty escape. Gideon could only watch on in utter disbelief.
This was why Lewis was usually here to accompany him. He was the greatest of wingmen, performing most of the subterfuge in pitting others against Gideon. A shrewd word from one ear to another could do wonders to set about a confrontation with a man who felt as though his pride was at stake. But now that Gideon was alone, the dynamics had changed.
And never had he anticipated approaching the Earl would be half the battle in and of itself. He had garnered quite the reputation over the years, and now, it was catching up to him. Which meant tonight, even though he knew where to find the Earl, was an abject failure. If this pattern continued, reaching the Earl would become an impossibility. He had to find another way.
For a fleeting moment, Gideon toyed with the idea of adopting a new disguise, a new mask. However, he quickly dismissed the thought. The Earl, a former Serpent, would not entertain challenges from newcomers lacking a substantial reputation. Onthe other hand, he could remove the mask altogether, but that would jeopardize his standing as the Duke of Stanhope, a risk he couldn’t afford to take.
Despite his escalating frustration, Gideon lingered for a while longer, keen to dispel any suspicions regarding his real motive for being here: destroying the Earl. Nevertheless, within the hour, he found himself in his carriage, en route to his Mayfair apartment, his mind swirling with thoughts of revisiting and revising his plan of action.
This time, he would have to change his approach.
CHAPTER 18
For the first time since her arrival at Stanhope, Amelia felt comfortable enough to navigate the castle with ease.
She had established a routine, leaving her bedchamber at an appropriate time, starting her mornings with breakfast and a good book in the east wing’s library. By afternoon, she embraced her role as the Duchess, overseeing and managing the various household affairs. As the daylight began to fade, she would retreat to the castle’s splendid garden. This lush, verdant sanctuary, adorned with vibrant flowers and meticulously trimmed hedges, offered her a peaceful refuge from her simple life. On the odd days, she would even pen a letter to Dorothy there.
Interspersed between it all were lengthy conversations with Jenny, who she came to realize was quite chatty once she was comfortable, and she even found her appetite again to eat heartily during mealtimes, especially now that she was in full control of the menu.
All in all, the three days went by in relative comfort… save for the fact that she was counting the seconds until Gideon returned.
Each time she heard a carriage pull through the castle’s driveway, or the faint creak of the front door, her heart began to race, wondering if he had finally come home. Daily encounters with Thomas, the butler, were tinged with a longing to inquire about the exact moment her husband would arrive. There were countless questions still swirling in her mind, questions about why he targeted her father, and the mystery shrouding the Masked Rogue. Yet, overshadowing her curiosity was a simple, undeniable truth… she missed him.
So much so, that on the third night of his absence, Amelia could not fall asleep. She tossed and turned restlessly in bed with thoughts of him, memories of their intense rendezvous in the dining room plaguing her mind. It filled her with a need that she didn’t know how to satisfy, a need that she hadn’t a clue how to get rid of.
