Page 11 of The Duke’s Masked Wallflower

“Rosalie?” her mother asked, her eyes ablaze with excitement and suspicion. “What do you think about His Grace’s request?”

She thought she wanted to die, and if not die, then at the very least crawl into a hole and never surface again. Instead, she said, “I think you should fetch May,” knowing that the longer they argued about whether to grant the Duke of Hartmere what he wanted, the more chance he would expose her.

Once her maid had been told to come and chaperone, Rosalie’s parents took their leave. May was asked to remain outside the door rather than inside the room with them to ensure His Grace was made comfortable.

The duke stood by the hearth, the tips of his boots lined up with the fire rug. Rosalie thought about sitting but remained upright instead, staring at the dark-haired gentlemen across the room. The soft orange light of the fire warmed his silhouette. It was dark outside. A storm was coming. The house felt suddenly small and stale.

“I only wish to ask you one thing, Miss Winthrop. You may find my question vulgar in its banality, but so be it.” He turned from the hearth to look at her, and her breath caught in her lungs. “Why did you do it?”

“Why... did I do what?”

He smirked. The expression made her knees go weak with fear and something else. “You know precisely what I mean. Would you have me say it aloud for all to hear?”

Rosalie’s mouth went dry. “You may say what you want, Your Grace. It will not change my answer. I do not know what you are talking about.”

“No?” He took a step closer, and it took considerable effort not to step back in turn. “Let me refresh your memory then. Last evening, on the terrace, a woman ran at me in the dark and kissed me soundly before fleeing as if nothing had happened. I did not imagine her. I do not imagine women kissing me as a rule. Fancies of that sort are better suited to poets like your father and young ladies who read too many novels, like you.”

She opened her mouth in surprise, figuring that Lady Chipping must have spoken about her. “How fortunate for you that you are neither,” she said. “A young lady who reads too many novels can come up with the wildest ideas... and start seeing villains everywhere.”

It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. Something flickered behind his eyes.

“You have a little cheek in you,” he said, seemingly amused. “I did not expect that, though maybe I should have.”

“You did not expect much of me at all, I think, Your Grace, for we do not know each other, and you have mistaken me for another—which makes this conversation rather difficult to continue, you’ll agree.”

The lies came so easily it shocked her. Their parish priest would have been horrified. Rosalie was a good and serious woman most days. But I cannot admit to something that would doom my family and me forever. My soul is forfeit and likely was the moment Emily asked me to kiss her betrothed.

“Difficult, why?” he asked.

“I cannot give you what you want.”

“On the contrary. You will give me exactly what I want.” The duke clasped his hands behind his back again. Rosalie had the sense of being circled, though he had not moved an inch. “I have met many young ladies who would like to secure a duke by whatever means necessary. A compromising kiss in a dark garden, discovered at a convenient moment... It is not the most original scheme I have encountered, but it is far from the least effective, and worth talking about, definitely.”

Heat flooded her face. “You believe I meant to trap you?”

“It is not beyond the realm of possibility.”

“Then perhaps you should read more books. It would be a foolish plot for all concerned. To accuse me of something like that is beyond the pale. You insult my intelligence by suggesting I would come up with something so base and unoriginal.”

He looked at her from above. His face was arrogant now, which made him less appealing but not less infuriating. Evidently, this gentleman was used to thinking he was the most clever and desirable man in the room—used to getting what he wanted from women, just like he said.

“Are you suggesting I imagined you there?” He tilted his head menacingly to the side. “Five minutes to midnight. A pink mask. Oh, heavens no. Shall we bring your parents back and ask where you were at that time? Whether my description of you sounds familiar?”

“No!” Her voice shook, her body going cold and hot. She couldn’t feel her hands and balled them tight. “I did not know it was you. Is that what you wanted to hear? I did not intend to kiss anyone at all that evening, let alone a duke!”

She stopped herself before she said too much and Emily’s name slipped loose. But the rest of it was out in the open for the taking. And the duke looked eager to seize what was his.

“At least we have that out of the way,” he said.

“It was a mistake. I am sorry for it, and for lying, too. I should like very much never to discuss it again.”

“A mistake?” He said the word slowly. “That is not quite the word I would have chosen.”

Rosalie bit the inside of her cheek. “What word would you choose?” she said through gritted teeth.

“I’m not sure. I am out of practice being kissed by women who did not mean to kiss me.” His mouth curved into a half-smile. “Most of them mean it a great deal.”

“I am sure... that must be so terrible for you.”