Chapter 3: The Duke Behind the Mask
Moonlight poured over us. Julian’s blue eyes were wild, almost feverish with emotion.
When he finally spoke, his voice came out rough with jealousy.
“Why did you ignore me today, Emmeline? Is there someone else?”
I rubbed my aching legs, turning away from him, weakly insisting, “No…”
“Then why wouldn’t you talk to me? Why did you avoid me?”
“Really, I didn’t…”
Julian narrowed his eyes, his voice dangerously soft. “Really?”
I trembled and blurted, “Really! I promise!”
Only then did Julian finally ease up.
But my mind was spinning, replaying the original story in my head, over and over again.
I’d started out as the daughter of a merchant, no social standing in Boston. When a local crime boss tried to take me, I was rescued by the heroine, Charlotte Evans, and became her maid.
Later, the King arranged a marriage between Julian Ashcroft and Charlotte Evans, and their love story took off from there.
And me? I was so infatuated with Julian that I tried every trick in the book to get his attention, only to be married off to an elderly widower with a bad leg…
I bit my lip, cursing my rotten luck. I’d gone to such lengths to avoid Charlotte, running all the way to Maple Heights—and still, somehow, I’d ended up tangled up with Julian.
Exhausted, I finally drifted off to sleep.
I don’t know how long I slept before I jolted awake. Through the door, I could hear Julian’s voice, sharp and commanding as he dressed down his men.
“Where’s the shipment from the estate? Why isn’t it here yet?”
The men sounded nervous. “Your Grace… Boston’s a long way from Maple Heights. We can’t get everything here overnight…”
Julian scoffed, unimpressed. “And yet you all managed to get here in record time.”
The men stammered, “We had to find you first, sir, before sending the rest…”
After giving them a hard time, Julian finally waved them away. The men looked relieved as they hurried off.
From the bed, I listened, my heart pounding. When I heard Julian’s footsteps coming closer, I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep, willing myself to stay calm.
My nerves were stretched thin, and I couldn’t help thinking back to how the book had described Julian.
He wasn’t the gentle, decent man he pretended to be. Underneath, he was decisive and ruthless—anything but soft.
Yet, around me, he was absurdly tender. It almost didn’t make sense.
My eyelashes fluttered as my thoughts spun, tension mounting. I couldn’t keep up the act much longer.










