Page 6 of Unbound Duchess

“What ever is the matter, cousin?” Ellen asked as he grabbed her arm and began pulling her toward the side of the house.

Benedict didn’t answer, but his grip tightened as he picked up his already hasty pace.

“This is what you were doing?” he finally snapped once they were safe in the house. “Masquerading about as our family falls apart?”

Ellen felt that twisting in her gut again.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her panic rising. She glanced around the empty library; listening to the muffled voices from beyond the shut door that was now protecting her strange state of dress.

“Where is father?” she demanded, moving toward that door.

“Stop,” Benedict commanded, yanking her backward.

She expected his anger again as he forced her to look at him. As she saw the pity in his eyes, she realized she would have preferred it. A lump grew in her throat as tears misted in her eyes.

“Benedict,” she said, her voice trembling. “Where, is my father?”

“I am so sorry, sweet Ellie,” Benedict said forlornly as he pulled her into his arms for a far-too-tight hug. “But your father lost his battle with his illness. He is gone.”

CHAPTER TWO

“Iwill not do it,” Laurence swore. The Duke of Blackford stared coldly at his younger friend. In all his two-and-thirty years, he had never had such a request.

“Solomon,” he said, his tone full of warning, “there has to be another way.”

Solomon Rutley, the Duke of Wynter—and Laurence’s closest friend—shook his head, his piercing eyes glinting with determination.

“If we want vengeance for Annabel, this is how we get it,” Solomon stated firmly. “We destroy it from the inside out.”

Laurence sneered, appalled at the idea of going to the auction—to the place where his sweet sister had been sold two years ago. She had been lured by a man who, not long after purchasing her, would be responsible for her death.

“Unless you found out some new information at the masquerade you went to last week?” Solomon offered with a raised brow.

Laurence cast his green eyes down to the table, torn between disgust and guilt. He’d gone to the masquerade to eavesdrop on gentlemen far too along in their cups to keep their debaucherous secrets to themselves. Instead, he’d been too disgusted by the party itself, and had fled to the library to catch his breath.

That decision now weighed heavily on his mind because of what had occurred in the library and who had joined him. At first, he’d assumed that she was just as willing as the other guests to indulge in such scandalous behavior, but he’d found her both intriguing and amusing as she shared her opinion and her reason for attending.

Still, he should not have kissed her. He knew that. Yet, when she’d told him that he seemed safe, it had softened his defenses remarkably. He didn’t know her, and knew he should not want to know her either, but their kiss…their kiss had unleashed unexpected passions he’d long forsaken.

“Well? Did you?” Solomon asked, bringing Laurence back to the present.

“No,” he said gruffly, pushing himself away from the table. “I told you that you should have gone instead of me.”

“It is no easier for you to pretend than me,” Solomon retorted, reaching into his leather satchel. Two plain, gray masks clattered atop the table. “But I had my own mission, and it is mine that has proven successful.”

Laurence sneered at them.

“You found us entry?” he asked grimly.

Solomon gave a curt nod.“We go in two weeks.”

Laurence’s toned abdomen twitched and tensed with disgust. It was not just his mind that rebelled against the auction. It was his body and his spirit that rebelled against the idea. But he knew he had no choice. Not after what had happened to Annabel.

“Fine,” Laurence gritted out. “I want this finished.”

The heavy, wooden door creaked as someone opened it from the other side, and a moment later Laurence heard his sister’s heels clack atop the stone flooring toward them.

“Put those away,” he whispered, shoving the masks toward Solomon.