Unmasking the Duke (Rogue Hearts Series Book 5)

by Donna Hatch

  “Then you shan’t. He’s probably figured out who you are by now, but duke or no duke, he cannot make you see him. If he calls upon you, we’ll turn him away. It’s as simple as that.”

  Hannah let out an exhale, releasing her tension, and leaned against her sister, basking in her affection and the sense of order she exuded. All would be well. Hannah had survived her ball without tripping or getting tongue-tied, thanks to her false confidence due to her costume, and hadn’t brought public embarrassment to Alicia and Cole. How she’d ever survive London, she couldn’t say. But the Season was months away. Maybe by then she would develop some poise and grace without the aid of a mask. And she’d certainly avoid going into a room alone with a man ever again.

  As she went to bed, the memory of Bennett’s arms around her, his mouth kissing her so tenderly, crept over her. If only it had been real. Having tasted such sweet pleasure made her long for more. The next time she kissed a man, she’d be sure his intentions were more honorable than the duke’s.

  Chapter Six

  Still wearing his Musketeer costume, Suttenberg stood in the study of Tarrington Castle, awaiting the arrival of Cole Amesbury, the Earl of Tarrington. No doubt, after the earl finished seeing his guests out, he’d return and demand an explanation. Or satisfaction. Suttenberg paced to the windows.

  If Tarrington called him out, what would he do? He respected, even liked, the earl. He couldn’t fight him. Would an apology suffice? Drawing a weapon at a party was a serious offense. But then, so was kissing a lady he’d only just met. He couldn’t believe he’d done either. Had he completely gone mad? Perhaps his maternal grandfather’s Italian blood had finally taken over as he’d always feared it would.

  He ran his hand over his face, the memory of well-deserved slap burning his skin as if she’d delivered it moments ago. He paced back toward the other side of the room. He’d always prided himself on doing everything exceptionally well, on exceeding societal expectations. He served faithfully in Parliament, did his best to care for his properties and tenants, achieved a fearsome reputation for fencing and fisticuffs, avoided gambling and excessive drinking, and never trifled with ladies’ hearts or their virtue. But tonight he’d broken every social and personal rule. Worse, he’d lost his Aphrodite.

  Tarrington entered, eyeing Suttenberg as if he’d never seen him. “What were you drinking tonight?”

  Suttenberg let out his breath. “I don’t even have that as an excuse.”

  Tarrington sat and laced his fingers together. “Well, at least now I know you’re human. For years I wasn’t so sure.” His lips quirked.

  Suttenberg blinked. “I apologize for my conduct.”

  The earl waved him off. “The guests think it was an act.”

  “Thanks to your quick thinking.”

  Tarrington inclined his head. “My wife considers the evening a success. Everyone will talk about it for weeks.”

  “Still, I cannot excuse my temper.”

  “What happened? Did he insult you?”

  “He insulted a lady.”

  Tarrington nodded sagely. “I have risen to the defense of many a lady, once to the point of dueling.” Frowning, he stared down at his hands.

  Suttenberg didn’t pry. “It would have been better form to challenge him rather than draw a weapon.”

  “No need to flog yourself—no harm done.”

  “You truly aren’t angry?”

  The earl grinned. “Angry? Are you kidding? Even if no one else knows it, I had the singular experience of witnessing the mighty Duke of Suttenberg in a rare moment of weakness. It may never happen again, so I’m relishing in it.” Chuckling, Tarrington got up and clapped a hand on Suttenberg’s back. “No one got hurt. No one became truly alarmed. The matter is closed.”

  The muscles in Suttenberg’s shoulders loosened. At least he hadn’t offended Tarrington, and he didn’t have to face the prospect of a duel. Yet the earl’s words offered little comfort. Suttenberg had behaved badly toward his goddess. He had to find her and beg her forgiveness. And convince her to give him another chance.

  Tarrington interrupted his thoughts. “Is there something you wish to discuss?”

  Suttenberg looked up.

  The earl watched him carefully. “Unburden yourself, duke.”

  Perhaps he’d gotten into a habit this eve of speaking frankly. “You wouldn’t happen to know the identity of a young woman dressed as a Greek goddess, would you? She had long, blond curls. That might have been a wig, I suppose, but it looked genuine.”

  Tarrington cocked his head. “Shy?”

  “No, she was very poised and confident. Even a bit flirtatious.”

  “Hmm. I saw more than one goddess. My wife’s sister is blond, and she was dressed as a goddess, I believe. But she is painfully shy, especially at large gatherings. I can’t imagine her flirting.”

  “Your wife’s sister? Miss Palmer, isn’t it?”

  “That’s her. You’ve met her a few times, I believe.”

  A few times? He vaguely remembered a very young lady barely out of the schoolroom this morning. He nodded. “I don’t believe she could be my Aphrodite.” He let out a long breath. “Would you ask the countess? I must find her.”

  “Your Aphrodite? Ohhhhh…..a lady caught your eye, eh?” A brow raised, and the earl’s mouth quirked to one side. “I don’t recall you showing preference for a lady before.”

  “No, ’tis true. But this one was different.”

  “And she gave you no clue as to her name?”

  “None. And then I made a fool of myself and kissed her.”

  Tarrington choked. “You kissed her?”

  Suttenberg put his head into his hands, surprised that he’d confided in Tarrington, and relived the shame all over again. “Truly there must be something wrong with me. I don’t blame her for slapping me. By the time I caught up to her, the pirate was talking to her. Apparently she spurned him, and then he grew insulting. And I snapped.” He raised his head, expecting a condemning stare.

  Tarrington’s expression was a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “I’d like to meet the girl brave enough to slap the Duke of Suttenberg. Of course, you were in costume, so . . .”

  “Ah, no. I removed my mask after I kissed her. She knew my face and called me by name before she slapped me.”

  “You do have a problem.”

  “I have several, in fact. I must come to terms with my own behavior. I must find a girl whose name and face I do not know, and I must convince her to give me another chance.”

  Tarrington nodded. “I’d only known my wife a few moments before I became equally obsessed.”

  Footsteps neared, and the door flew open. The Countess of Tarrington burst in, eyes snapping and chest heaving. The men leaped to their feet as the countess marched up to Suttenberg, wearing an expression of outrage.

  “You kissed her?” she demanded.

  Taken aback, Suttenberg could only nod.

  “You scoundrel!” She raised her hand, and for the second time in his life—both in the same night—a lady slapped the Duke of Suttenberg.

  Chapter Seven

  Sitting in Alicia’s sun-drenched parlor, Hannah glanced at the clock and sipped her tea while Alicia played hostess to her neighbor, Mrs. Potter. They rhapsodized about the triumphant ball two nights past, and all the delights of the evening, sprinkled liberally with speculations on who had worn what costume and who had been seen in whose arms.

  At this, Mrs. Potter stopped and glanced at Hannah as if remembering her presence, before she returned her attention to Alicia. “Well, you know what I mean, of course, Countess.”

  Hannah nearly rolled her eyes. Just because she was newly out didn’t mean she knew nothing about the foibles and passions of men and women. And after the ball, she had a better understanding.

  Mrs. Potter smiled at Hannah. “And how are you, my dear? You didn’t overtax yourself?”

  “No, ma’am. I am quite well.”

  “I do worry
about you. When you had to leave my dinner party a fortnight ago with a sick headache, I really was quite concerned. Young ladies with delicate constitutions cannot be too careful.”

  Hannah’s hackles rose at the insinuation that she was so sickly neighbors must worry for her. She tried to sound gracious. “I’m quite well. Thank you for your concern.”

  “You know, my great aunt suffered from the sick headache, and she found it helpful to use leeches once a month. You might try that.”

  Nearly choking on her tea, Hannah gasped. “Oh, er, thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “And don’t exercise too much. My aunt simply couldn’t tolerate going for walks. The exercise and sunlight always brought on a bad spell.” Mrs. Potter tutted. “She never had children, poor dear.”

  Hannah’s stomach dropped at yet another reason to fear she’d never know the joys of motherhood.

  Alicia broke in. “I always keep careful watch over my sister.”

  Mrs. Potter said hurriedly, as if she feared she’d somehow offended her hostess, “Oh, yes, I’m sure you do, my lady. I’m sure you do. Well, I must be off.”

  After they bade farewell, Hannah let out a sigh of relief. Just to be contrary, she turned to her sister. “I’m going for a walk. A long one.”

  Before Alicia could reply, Hannah went to her room and changed into a sturdy pair of walking boots and took up a wide-brimmed hat. She carefully wove a hatpin into her hair to keep it in place. After donning a spencer against autumn’s chill, she went outside. Meandering through the gardens didn’t satisfy today; a good ramble through the country called to her. Forgoing the driveway, she took a circuitous route past the gardens out toward the river leading to the lake. The river, slow-moving and sluggish, gurgled in the autumn stillness. A songbird trilled overhead. She strolled along the river, following it toward the lake, passing the bridge over which the driveway crossed.

  After a bend in the river, she came upon the lake. It spread out before her in shimmers turned golden in the afternoon light. Swans floated on the surface, leaving V-shaped wakes. Wild geese crossed the sky against the azure backdrop. She skirted the lake’s edge as waves lapped against the shore. The solitude filled her with peace. Clean, earthy scents mingled with heather, freshly mown grass, and hay. Shadows grew long and a chill bit the air reminded her of the hour. If she stayed much longer she’d be late for dinner. Reluctantly, she turned back and followed the river toward the castle.

  As she stepped over the path strewn with rocks and blanketed with a damp carpet of leaves, her foot slipped. She sat down hard. Pain splintered up her leg.

  “Oh bother!” Her clumsiness usually originated from nervousness in the presence of others, but she certainly had her share of ungraceful moments in private, as well.

  Sitting awkwardly on the damp ground, she righted her legs. She tried to climb to her feet, but pain in her ankle stopped her. She paused, resting, and tried again to put weight on that foot. This time the pain lessened. Perhaps she could walk out the soreness. At least she hadn’t fallen in the water, which would be more her usual style.

  She took a few more paces. Her ankle throbbed worse with each step. She found a boulder and sat, careful to keep her ankle straight. The river’s song filled her ears, and she watched it ripple toward the lake, momentarily forgetting her discomfort and her desire to return home. Gold and red leaves fluttered from overhead to land on the surface and ride the current like tiny boats. The shadows grew long, and the temperature cooled. Alicia would worry if Hannah didn’t return home soon.

  Hannah stood and continued. Each step sent waves of pain up her leg. At least she could walk, if a bit slowly. If she followed the driveway, she’d have the smoothest path and the shortest distance back to Tarrington Castle. After only moments, she reached the driveway.

  A horse’s hoofbeats approached from behind. A lone rider astride an enormous stallion cantered around the bend in the narrow driveway. He rode beautifully, like one born for the saddle. Hannah moved to the side of the road to allow the rider plenty of room to pass without bringing the frightening animal too close.

  The rider slowed to walk next to her. “Are you in need of assistance, miss?”

  The Duke of Suttenberg’s smooth voice drew her gaze. He sat astride, looking at her like she was some kind of waif. Her cheeks heated. Not him. Not the duke who’d kissed her like she was some kind of tart.

  With any luck, he’d go away and take his big, scary horse with him. “No, thank you.”

  He leaned in as if to peer at her around her hat. “You look familiar. Have we met?”

  What a question! She lowered her head to use the brim as a shield. However, he never seemed to remember her the other times they had been introduced, so the odds of him knowing her face or name now seemed unlikely. At least he didn’t mistake her for a servant today. Just a waif. Oh, that was so much better!

  “I don’t think so.” She flushed at the lie. But telling him any different would be pointless. As often as they’d been introduced, how he never seemed to remember her was a mystery. Either he had the worst memory of any person alive, or she was truly forgettable—to all but the Buchanan twins and Mr. Hill.

  Go away, go away, go away, she silently chanted. She couldn’t bear it if he discovered her to be the hussy who had dressed and acted like Aphrodite and brazenly kissed strangers. And liked it. But despised herself for liking it.

  “You’re limping. Have you injured your foot?”

  “I’m perfectly well. No need to worry. Continue on.” She made a point of walking on her fiery, throbbing foot as evenly as possible.

  He stopped his horse. Just as she began to believe he would leave, the creaking of leather drew her attention again. With practiced grace, he dismounted and walked next to her, leading his horse by the reins. Good heavens, the beast was huge! But at least the tall man next to her walked between her and the animal. He appeared to have control over the creature.

  “I cannot leave you here to limp along this road, miss. Are you going to Tarrington Castle?”

  She wanted to deny it, but since she walked along the private drive leading to the castle, the truth seemed obvious. And she couldn’t concoct a believable story as to why she would be here otherwise. “I am.”

  “Then please allow me to assist you. You shouldn’t be walking on an injury.”

  She shivered at the thought of putting herself at the mercy of a horse again. Or the duke. “I can’t ride your horse.”

  “I supposed you could sit crossways, even if it isn’t a sidesaddle.”

  “I can’t. I will walk. It isn’t far now.”

  He stopped. She moved more quickly to put some distance between herself and the duke and bit her lip against the pain. Seconds later, the creaking of leather and metal reached her ears. She looked back. He unbuckled the saddle, carried it to the side of the road, and set it down. She turned around to watch. What on earth was he doing?

  He went back to the horse, took up the reins, and trotted toward her, leading the horse. As he reached her, he gestured to the horse where only a blanket remained on his back. “You can sit in sidesaddle position on the blanket. He’s very steady. He likes ladies; he won’t throw you.”

  To ward him off, she held up her hands. “I’m not riding that horse, not now, not ever.” She made no comment on his claim that his horse liked ladies. She didn’t want to know how many ladies had ridden his horse nor under what circumstances.

  Narrowing his gaze, he bent down a little and peered at her face under her hat. “Aphrodite?”

  The blood left her head so quickly that she nearly lost her balance. Her mind emptied of all intelligent thought. “W-what?”

  The corners of his mouth lifted. “It is you! Aphrodite. But I suppose it’s Miss Palmer. Isn’t it?” His smile spreading in triumph, he removed his hat. That shock of blond hair nestling among his ebony waves mocked her.

  She let out a frustrated sigh. She should never trust fate to keep her secrets.


  “I’ve been trying to talk to you ever since I found out who you are, but the countess won’t let me near you.” He rubbed his cheek, and his smile turned rueful. “The Countess of Tarrington is a formidable woman.”

  Hannah folded her arms and glared. “I can’t imagine why my sister wouldn’t want you near me.”

  His smile faded. “You’re still angry with me.”

  “Your powers of observation are truly astounding. Your Grace.” She practically snarled his title.

  “You have every right to be angry, but please give me another chance. I’m not normally so rash.”

  “Really,” she said dryly.

  “Miss Palmer, please, if you knew me at all, you’d know I normally have excellent control over my impulses.”

  “How kind of you to lose control at my expense.” She shifted her weight onto her good leg.

  “I was completely undone. You were so elegant and mysterious and witty.” Glancing down, he smiled and brought up his hand filled with a small bouquet. “I brought these for you.”

  Lilacs. He’d remembered. She squelched her delight at the gesture and made no move to accept them.

  His gaze darted over her face. “You are even more beautiful without the mask than I imagined. Younger than I suspected, though.” A tiny crease formed in his brow.

  She let out an exasperated huff. “Do you recall meeting me before the masque?”

  He paused. “Yes, I believe we were introduced a few days ago.”

  “We have, in fact, met on five separate occasions prior to the ball.”

  He froze. Blinked. “Five?”

  “Yes, indeed. The first time was at a dinner party a year ago. You barely glanced my way, so I’d be surprised if you remembered me. The second time was at your brother’s house early this summer. My sister and I came to have tea with Meredith. It was a short visit, and again you barely looked at me. You seemed preoccupied. Or perhaps simply disinterested.”

  His eyes searched the air as if reading an invisible book in search of memories that matched her words.