Sweet Revenge To The Duke (Book 1)

Chapter Five

Athene froze in her captor's arms. She couldn't see why the music had stopped and they'd all been told to remain still because she was facing the wrong way in the room. She examined the man's face for any signs of anxiety, but despite his big lips being firmly pulled together, there was no hint of dread.

"With my lantern, I'm going to walk among you and evaluate your outfits." Anyone who is found to be missing will be penalized. If you believe me to be an unreasonable taskmaster, you may transfer your forfeit to another ready to accept it."

Athene sat back and relaxed her shoulders. Their host, the Duke of Burlington, was up to his old tricks. This house party was unquestionably for his amusement, not theirs. She'd have to play along if she wanted to achieve her goal of finding a future husband.

She stared through the dim light at the gentleman who'd caught her as she fell, but saw no flaws in his attire. With his upright stance, deep chest, and superb manly proportions, Burlington would undoubtedly be impressed by how legitimately superior this Roman aristocrat appeared. His hair, which tumbled over the top of his half-face mask in an untamed tumble, was the only thing that didn't appear Roman. An ancient senator's hair would be more restrained, not a profusion of hair like Alexander the Great's.

She was well aware that her own outfit, hastily fashioned as it was, had to pass inspection. She and the unidentified male would be exempt from forfeiture.

Behind her, a cacophony of laughter erupted. She could turn her head to see what was going on if she was allowed to move. His Grace's advancement was accompanied by laughter and giggles that moved across the room. Thankfully, everyone sounded like they were enjoying tonight's Lord of Misrule's forfeits.

She was well aware that her own outfit, hastily fashioned as it was, had to pass inspection. She and the unidentified male would be exempt from forfeiture.

Behind her, a cacophony of laughter erupted. She could turn her head to see what was going on if she was allowed to move. His Grace's advancement was accompanied by laughter and giggles that moved across the room. Thankfully, everyone sounded like they were enjoying tonight's Lord of Misrule's forfeits.

Her attention was drawn to a little movement of her companion's hand. Now that she was back on her feet, his grasp had softened, but electricity surged through his fingers, sending a heady warmth up her arm. He then changed his grip once more, and she noticed his hand was trembling.

When she looked up, she was taken aback to see him peering down at her with the intensity of an eagle scouting for food. In his square jaw, a muscle was working.

She resisted the temptation to yank her arm from his clutches as a wave of fear rushed over her. Rushbourne. She could recognize those ferocious grey eyes from a mile away.

And he seemed to recognize her from the way he was looking at her.

Another person joined them just as the horrible realization of her captor's identity was sinking in.

"Aha, sir, I see we have a noble eques—a beautiful attire." Your two female colleagues, meantime, are wearing exquisite brooches. Capital! And here's a young Adonis, golden-haired and in great fighting shape. However, one of your party drank a large amount of Dionysian nectar and spilled it all over her robe. Madam, I'm afraid I'll have to exact a forfeit from you."

Athene tensed up. Elizabeth is in such a bad situation! Hopefully, she will view this in a positive light.

"Your Grace, mea culpa," Rushbourne murmured clearly as his fingers clenched on her arm once more. It is my libation that has landed on the lady's robe through no fault of her own. I humbly request that you grant her a reprieve and assign the forfeit to me."

Under his humorous mask, the duke's mouth broadened. "You are very gentlemanly. "I am grateful for your sacrifice."

Was Rushbourne attempting to impress everyone by treating Elizabeth with dignity? Athene's lips were pursed. If only she could yank his hand away from him and slam a bottle of wine down his throat.

"Your forfeit, Viscount—because I'd recognize you anywhere, my friend—is to kiss the young lady you've imprisoned."

She became stiff. What? He'd never do such a thing. He'd relish the opportunity to embarrass her by refusing. Or would he go ahead and do it anyhow, humiliating her by making a meal of it? It was a disaster in any case.

Her face flushed, and she hoped her mask would hide the worst of it. There were a few gasps from the other visitors, but largely all she heard were giggles. Was she going to be humiliated in front of everyone? Was there no one who could help her?

She snatched Rushbourne's gaze and silently appealed to him.

He nodded almost imperceptibly in response. "Your Grace, pardon me, but the forfeit would also harm the young woman, who has done nothing wrong." Her outfit isn't to blame, and neither is the lady herself. I pray you, think of another forfeit.”

She unfroze a little. Good. He must have done something selfless for the first time in their friendship. But there was still a mountain of retribution to pay for the way he'd devastated her youth.

"My decision is final." The tone of the duke had changed. "All four of you will be asked to leave the house party if you do not comply."

Rushbourne stepped forward after releasing her. "Don't be a jerk, Burley."

When Athene looked Elizabeth in the eyes, she shook her head and made frantic gestures. They couldn't risk being taken home before either of them had melted a man's heart—when would they get another chance to rub elbows with the Haut Ton like this?

With his head c****d and a triumphant smile, the young man Athene had been dancing with was watching the proceedings. He was having a good time with the disaster. But who else, besides herself, would like watching Rushbourne's nose get messed up? Unless the golden-haired youth...could this jovial, energetic young man be little Oscar Paviland?

Athene c****d her chin and murmured, "I won't allow my comrades suffer on my behalf." Elizabeth was still looking worried. I shall allow myself to be kissed if it pleases Your Grace."

However, if Rushbourne appeared to be having fun, the hill of atonement would become into a mountain. She gave him a frown. "Let's get this over with as soon as possible."

Her cheek was extended, but her chin was grabbed by a hard hand. "Miss Heartless, you don't get off so easy."

As he let out a short gasp and placed his lips on hers, his breath ruffled her cheek. The heat of one hand found its way to her waist, piercing her through the flimsy linen. She shivered, her wayward flesh overtaken by his virile presence, his aura of masculinity, even if their bodies merely met there and in the kiss. For a brief moment, she was lost, devoid of willpower, and enslaved by his spell. Then he backed away, and the flood of emotions receded, leaving her stunned and distraught.

The duke had gone away, presumably satisfied, and was torturing another bunch of masqueraders, she gradually became aware. The musicians began playing again shortly after, and the room was once again filled with joy.

"Athene, thank you so much." Elizabeth hugged her briefly before grabbing the golden-haired hero and running away.

"Your chaperone is a complete failure in this capacity."

He's a jerk. "Rushbourne, are you still here?" You have to be able to impose yourself on someone else. I'm not a green girl, so I don't need a chaperone anyway."

"You were never—except when you were in a rage, of course—I always believed you were older than your years." You were a cinch to provoke. But I believe I'll just stay here and keep an eye on you—this place is crawling with nefarious characters."

"No one is more so than you. "Now, please leave."

He didn't move, and she felt the magnetic heat radiating from his too-close body once more. It's too bad she didn't pack a fan. Alternatively, she could use a gladius to stab her self-appointed guardian.

"It's not every day that one has the opportunity to speak with an old acquaintance. I figured you'd be anxious to reminisce about our past antics or catch up on current developments. You don't want to know what I've been up to, do you? Or how about Oscar? Even though you claim to despise me, I've always assumed you loved my younger brother."

She'd much rather be alone at the far end of the room. Because she appeared to be single, some of the single gentlemen approached her and asked her to dance. Assuming Rushbourne's bold kissing of her didn't deter them.

There was always tomorrow, though. It would be much easier to avoid him if she had a clear brain and felt more like herself.

"Wasn't that OscarI was dancing with just now?" "Do you suppose he knew me?" she asked in response to Rushbourne's nod.

"I wouldn't rule out the possibility that he not only recognized you, but purposefully threw you against me."

Despite herself, she was interested. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"To cause a ruckus. Something is bugging the boy, but I'm not sure what it is. "As you can see, our papa—"

"Never mind," she says, "tell me about Oscar." "Can you tell me what he's been up to?"

Rushbourne placed his hand on his chest. "I'm hurt, and you don't seem interested in hearing about me." His mouth twitched, and his cheeks developed dimples. Attractive—but appearances can be deceiving.

"Perhaps I should just let Oscar tell me."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her close. "I'm not going to let you leave right now." Join me in dancing, and I'll tell you about Oscar."

As manipulative as usual, he used his considerable power against her, just as he had in the past. She could stamp on his foot and make a scene, but would that deter a man with Rushbourne's thick skin? He'd spend the remainder of the evening following her or hovering disapprovingly in the background, keeping the other gentlemen at bay.

She made the decision to appease him with a single dance. After all, standing up with him would put her in a better light, and it was better to be wanted than not. She couldn't dispute he was the most attractive man in the room, but it didn't imply he was a good dancer.

Curse him, he turned out to be a good dancer. In fact, he's one of the best. She had to admit he never skipped a beat, never collided with anyone else, and never resembled a puppet with its strings cut. He moved with the steadiness and determination of a stalking cat.

She felt the pull of his body, muscular and hard, as she was encircled in his arms. Who'd have believed the youngster would grow up to be such a handsome man? She couldn't help but be taken aback by the width of his shoulders, which were revealed beneath his toga by the sleeveless tunic. By candlelight, strong shoulders appear smooth-skinned and bronzed. But she must not be seduced by the heat and attraction of his body—she could be a casual observer, a note-taker, but never an admirer.

"Oscar is a ne'er-do-well," he was saying, "the despair of both Papa and myself." He must find work because there are no estates or titles to help him make his way in the world."

Definitely not worthy of admiration. Rushbourne was most likely fabricating this negative report about Harry in order to prevent her from rekindling their childhood friendship.

"He has considered a military career, has considered becoming a lawyer, and has recently professed his devotion to the church."

She swooped in to defend the young man. "Perhaps he's too young to make a decision." "At seventeen, he has a lot to look forward to before deciding on his future."

"Like gambling, womanizing, and investing his allowance in schemes as dumb as the South Sea Bubble?" No, I believe he should be settled as soon as possible."

“Oh.” This wasn't the Oscar she remembered. Rushbourne was maliciously portraying his brother—the man was a monster.

The music stopped, much to her relief, and while Rushbourne was still making his bow, she made her way to the far end of the room, pushing her way through the crowd. She crept into a dark corner behind one of the flaming cressets, wondering if she could ask Elizabeth's help in distracting the viscount if he approached her again.

"Still unpleasant, isn't he?" a masculine voice hissed in her ear almost instantly.

“Oscar! "Did you know it was me the whole time?" The sight of his stray golden locks made her heart skip a beat.

"Of course, Athene, I did." "A mask and odd attire can only conceal so much."

"However, we last met when I was twelve."

He chuckled and stroked her hair for a few moments. "Some things remain constant. When your aunt died and you had to move away, it was a difficult time for you, my dear buddy. After you left, Rushbourne tortured me severely. I believe it's because he didn't have you to torture anymore."

"He says he's not a bully."

"He wouldn't have regarded himself that way—no one does." He probably thought we were sap-veined and he was merely high-spirited. Do you recall being tied to a tree and being pelted with horse chestnuts?"

"I don't think so."

"How about when he grabbed you and dangled you over the horse trough?"

"Neither do I recollect that." She could recall hair-pulling, name-calling, mocking, and insulting... However, she had no recollection of violence. Regardless, Rushbourne had made her feel unworthy, and that feeling of inadequacy had harmed her confidence for a long time. And he taught her that she should never trust a man.

Except for Oscar, of course.

"I'm sure you've forgotten about it. Or perhaps it was forgotten—it was a long time ago. Every day, you must know, I wanted I was bigger than him, so I could tie him to a tree and throw something even more powerful than chestnuts at him, or toss him down the well—"

She gave a kind smile. "I used to wonder if I could tip him over into the dungeon. Or the Home Farm's manure heap."

Oscar snorted with delight, then became completely still. "It's not too late, Athene," he said. He grabbed two glasses from a passing footman, sniffed one, and handed her the other. "I believe it's Beaujolais." It should be good."

She took a taste of the beverage. The red wine was a little sour, but it was refreshing. "What do you mean, it's not too late?"

"It's not too late for us to avenge Rushbourne."

"It wasn't my main goal in coming here, but I'll keep going."

"No, before your trust fund runs out, you need to find a husband." "I was told by your guardian."

Elizabeth? Later, Athene would have something to say to her. "What makes you think she'd tell you that?" She inhaled deeply from her glass of wine.

"Oh, I simply persuaded her that you and I were old friends who had been very close, and that I would give my life for you." "All it took for her to unburden herself to me was that."

"Very well. What do you mean by revenge, regardless of my motivation for being here? "What makes you think I'd be interested?"

"Because if my brother follows in your footsteps, you won't be able to find a husband at Burley's housewarming celebration." No one is going to be able to stand up to Rushbourne. Nobody dares to stand in his way. Any potential suitor will see that he has you marked as his own and will stay away."

"Did he mark me as his own?" "What gives you the right to say that?" She took a breath and flushed. The only way the man could claim her would be as a toy, which he would torture and then dump. It's a revolting thought.

"I'm familiar with my brother." He is enamored with the opposite s*x, but he becomes tired very quickly. He's like Oscar VIII in that he enjoys the pursuit but gets bored once the prey is brought to bay and moves on. I observed him dancing with you. I observed the way he kissed you. He was never able to conquer you while you were young, so he plans to make amends now, while you are still susceptible. You could, however, beat him at his own game."

"Could I?" She drank another sip of wine. It's interesting that Harry's evaluation matches hers so closely.

“Yes. Encourage him to keep going. Pretend to be affected by his approaches, and entice him so subtly that he has no idea what you're up to. Burn his heart out. Cut him loose or make a joke of him in front of everyone once you've got him dangling after you."

Embarrassment in public? It sounded promising. Could she, however, be so cruel? She sipped from one glass before reaching for another.

What about humiliation in private? That, on the other hand, was a very other story. Rushbourne might already be intrigued, otherwise he wouldn't have kissed and held her the way he did...would he? But how would she be able to profit from it? Harry was right—no other suitor would come close if she appeared to be encouraging him. So, if she wanted her revenge, she'd have to be stealthy and quick.

But how could she pretend to care about a man she'd sworn to despise until the end of time? She wasn't a really talented actress. She'd have to come up with another plan, but now that revenge had been mentioned, there was no way she could leave things go.