Page 47 of A Duke for Stealing
Rose ignored the undertone of her mother’s words, not wanting to get distracted any further.
“Speaking of younger beauties,” Rose said, taking a seat across from her mother, “I have heard some unsavory gossip of you in particular finding one.”
Betty shrugged as she emptied the bottle of wine into her glass, refilling it for the third time in less than ten minutes.
“I do not know what you are referring to,” she replied.
“I believe you do,” Rose replied readily. “It is one thing to take a- a-friendwho is of your same age. But it is being said that your new caller is vastly younger than you. Nearly a child!”
“Oh, he is not a child,” Betty groaned, rolling her eyes. “He is nearly twenty. Plenty old enough to understand what he is doing.”
Rose’s mouth dropped open as her hand flew to her throat.
“He is…he is younger thanI?”She asked.
“Enough,” Betty snapped. “I am your mother, not the other way around!”
“But Mama, you must know how poorly this will-”
“I said that is enough,” Betty insisted, glaring at Rose.
“You have your own life to worry about now. You are a Duchess. You arefinallya wife! You should be focusing on having children of your own, so those little brats you introduced me to do not inherit all of this once your husband passes,” Betty criticized, her words starting to slur.
Rose winced at Betty’s harshness and decided to give up on her attempt at talking some reason into her.
“I think that is enough wine, Mama,” Rose said, taking the nearly empty glass from Betty.
“Fine,” Betty scoffed, rising from her chair. “I want to go home anyway.”
“I am just stating the facts,” Tristan said, then hopped back from Everett’s swing. “Perhaps you should spend more time with Rose.”
For the first time in ages, Everett joined his friends at the boxing club sober enough to go a few rounds. He was woefully out of practice, and thus far, Hugo, Dominic, and Alistair had been willing to help him regain some form. Tristan, however, was not as helpful. As if his strange mood and confusing thoughts surrounding Rose were not enough, Tristan’s words startled Everett, and it slowed him down enough to get clipped by Tristan’s fist on his right shoulder.
“What are you going on about?” Everett asked, quickly taking his stance again.
His friends had no idea. None at all that every spare thought, every spare moment, was starting to gravitate toward Rose. It was as if an obsession had taken over him, and he couldn’t stop himself. Even if part of him wanted to.
He was not used to this. Not used to having such intense cravings for a singular woman. He was trying to stop. It was part of the reason he’d joined his friends today. He needs to find a way out of her gravitational pull and remember what he used to be. What he was comfortable being. Yet even now, just boxing with his friends with no other women in sight, he felt strange.
Too far. I’m too far away. I want her. I need her.
“I am just saying,” Tristan went on, breaking up Tristan’s thoughts as they circled one another, “That perhaps Rose needs your attention now. Not theDevil’s Masquerade.”
Everett’s brows furrowed with a quick but heavy flash of annoyance, and he threw a jab with surprising speed. Tristan yelped as it made contact with his cheek and sprang back after the hit. Everett did not let that stop him, and he took two quick steps forward, landing a hit to Tristan’s left abdomen. His friend grunted, made the shape of aTwith his gloved hands as he stumbled back.
Everett dropped his gloved fists, letting his friend take the rest.
“Where did that come from?” Tristan asked, rubbing his cheek as Alistair rang the bell, signaling the fight to stop altogether. “I was expecting a witty retort, not a facer!”
“I suppose I am not so witty when I am sober,” Everett replied, his tone bitter.
“Easy, old boy,” Dominic said, meeting Everett as he left the ring, “Tristan was just offering some advice.”
He offered to help Everett remove his gloves, but Everett shook his head, using his teeth to untie the strings at his wrists himself as he walked off the mat.
“And what advice would that be?” he replied once he finished removing his gloves. “Pray, what secrets do you, the only unmarried man here, have to depart upon my marriage?”
“Just that you should maybe step back from the Masquerade is all,” Tristan answered. Holding his hands up as a symbol ofsurrender. “There’s a lot of eyes on it again. The latest talk is that it has something to do with Ezra’s group. Or ours. We do not need that type of talk surrounding us right now. Not with our success so close at hand. Do you not realize how close we all are to never having to worry about money again?”
