Lord Lewis Rowley, the Earl of Janesbury stopped in the center of the room, his brown eyes darting from the mask to Gideon and back.
“You’ve gotten far too careless with that thing,” he commented at last with a vague gesture, as he swept back his blond hair behind his ear.
Gideon lifted the white mask, studying its diamond-embedded linings for what felt like the millionth time. He knew every groove, every dent, every hole carved into it. The mask was mostly white, save for the black stripes around the eyes, and with it on, Gideon became another person.
The Masked Rogue.
Ironically enough, it was Lewis who had come up with the name. Gideon put the mask aside and faced his friend. “There’s no need for me to hide in my own home,” Gideon commented. “I don’t expect anyone I’m not close to, to make it all the way to my study without my knowledge.”
“Is that so,” Lewis said drily, sounding skeptical. “So says the man who had nothing but panic in his eyes when he saw me walk in. Don’t think I missed your attempts to hide it.”
Gideon didn’t bother to deny it. Lewis knew him too well. This was the only person in the world who understood Gideon’s struggles, who knew why he did the things he did. Only with Lewis could he truly reveal the dark void that had been eating him alive for years. And only Lewis could help him get rid of it.
Their friendship began at a time that neither of them could remember, when their days had been nothing but easy and playful. Lewis was the second son of the fourth Earl of Janesbury, and had spent nearly all his life doing whatever he pleased. Unlike Gideon, he didn’t have to think about inheriting a title or any other pressures that came along with it. But as fate would have it, both his father and his brother died in a carriage accident. Leaving him with an unwanted title.
Rather than acknowledge Lewis’ apt observation, Gideon put the mask aside and asked, “Have you found the name of the last person on the list?”
The mirth that had glowed in Lewis’ eyes disappeared. “Straight to business, is it?”
“I assume that is why you’ve come,” Gideon said. “If it is my company you seek, you would have simply waited until the ball.”
If Lewis had an argument for that, he didn’t voice it. “I will have the name to you on the morrow, old boy.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” Gideon stated. He would just leave it at that. He had the utmost faith in Lewis’ ability to find anyone in England. Before he had been faced with the duties of becoming Earl, Lewis had been a private investigator. The very best in London, Gideon believed.
“Since we are already on the topic,” Lewis went on, claiming one of the armchairs near the desk. “Don’t you think you went a little too harsh on the last one? The Duke of Crowley?”
Gideon frowned. “And how, pray tell, was I too harsh? I only did what anyone else would have done in my situation. In fact, I would rather say I showed him some mercy.”
“You could have left him with a few dimes in his pocket,” Lewis pressed. “Now, not only is he suffering disgrace but also poverty at having lost everything. I have even heard that he has had to let go of half his servants.”
“Half his servants? He still has the breath in his lungs!” Gideon suddenly snapped, before calming himself. “Besides, a man who frequents the Serpent’s Den as often as he does knows exactly what is likely to happen if he is not careful.” Gideon picked back up his mask, studying it as those familiar dark emotions threatened to overtake him. He thought of the look of despair on the Duke of Crowley’s face when he realized he’d just lost everything. But Gideon could feel no pity.
All he had to do was think of what the Duke of Crowley had done sixteen years ago. All Gideon had to remember was how hisfather and brother had suffered at the hands of the duke—and the others—and how they ruined Gideon’s life.
For sixteen years, he had harbored anger and hatred in his heart, thinking of nothing else but revenge.
For sixteen years, the duke, and many others, had continued to live a lavish life without any consequences, uncaring of the lives they’d damaged.
And for sixteen years, Gideon had plotted how he would bring about their downfall.
Now that his plan was almost reaching its completion, he wouldn’t allow anyone to talk him out of it. Not even Lewis.
“The duke got what he deserved,” Gideon stated coldly. “And now that he is out of the way, it is time for me to move on to the last one. Once you find him.”
Lewis frowned at him long enough for Gideon to wonder if he truly intended to protest against this. He of all people should know why Gideon had to do this. He stared at his closest acquaintance, hoping that Lewis would not say what he thought he would say.
“Very well,” Lewis sighed at last. “As I said, I shall have a name for you by tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” Suddenly eager to be rid of the tense air between them, Gideon asked, “Do not be late tonight. Or else every lady and her mother will be badgering me for an introduction.”
Lewis chuckled, and the tension dissipated like smoke in the wind. “I doubt they will even remember to ask about me once they lay their eyes on the handsome, eligible Duke of Stanhope.”
“Oh? Do I sense a hint of jealousy?”
“I’m just stating facts, that’s all. Even if they were to find out that you leave nothing but broken hearts in your wake, I’m certain they will still be jumping at any chance to become your wives.”
“Then that is too bad for them. I have no intention of marrying until I have fulfilled what I have set out to do. And besides, I am still young. I only intend to enjoy my youth and virility while I can.”
