Page 11 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
Yes, the Duke of Greyvale—Damian Redmond was his full name—married her only two days after he had stormed into Montrose House.
It was a whirlwind affair that still left her breathless. In hindsight, though, she watched everything unfold with delightandhorror. If this were somebody else’s life, she would have clapped her hands with glee at the utter ridiculousness of it.
Gwendoline studied her new husband from beneath lowered lashes. She couldn’t believe that it had only been two days since Damian walked into her father’s townhouse, startling everyone inside.
They were now bound by law and title.
She noticed every sharp angle of his classically handsome face. She even eyed the hard muscles under his shirt. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t appropriate. But she was trapped here in the carriage, with him.
“For what?” he asked nonchalantly, his piercing eyes looking everywhere but at her. They looked distant, withdrawn.
“For marrying me.”
Gwendoline’s voice was steady, even though the knot of anxiety in her stomach had tightened further. When would she truly feel light? Unfettered?
“And for everything else,” she breathed.
An unwanted memory flashed through her mind.
After her mother’s death, her family’s finances had deteriorated. Even with her father still alive, Gwendoline had to rely on Timothy’s help. Turned out he had only been waiting to be repaid for his ‘generosity’. She hoped that it wouldn’t be the same with her new husband.
Finally, the duke looked at her. Briefly. It felt like mere acknowledgment. Then, he looked away again.
“Don’t,” he said curtly. “There’s no need to pretend that this is anything more than an arrangement. No affection, remember?”
His words felt dismissive. She bristled at them.
“You speak as if it is purely transactional.” Her voice had gained some strength, but it became huskier somewhat.
Stop it, Gwendoline. Of course, the whole thing is transactional.
She berated herself even though she recognized the truth in what he said. Wasn’t this what she had wanted all along? To be left alone?
“Isn’t it?” The duke met her gaze, but again, his eyes were unfathomable. “Wasn’t I clear?”
Her cousin was about to sell her off to the highest bidder. Without the duke’s intervention, Gwendoline would have been subjected to horrors she could only imagine. She could have been married off to a man who wanted her for children, or a man who just wanted a curvaceous woman on his arm. Worse, she could have been married off to a man who wanted to do to her the things that women spoke about in hushed tones.
Her blood ran cold.
Her union with the duke was practical, one that she should welcome with open arms. Yet, there was a niggling feeling that there was more to their marriage and more to this man.
If she had to find a way to pass her time, it would be to discover what the Duke of Greyvale was really about.
“We don’t have to be friends, but at least we should know enough about each other,” she said in a quiet, firm voice.
The duke’s eyes drifted out the window again. “I am a private man, Duchess. I do not like interrogations.”
Gwendoline exhaled in frustration. “This is not an interrogation, Your Grace. I am merely trying to understand the situation—oursituation. Surely, you can see why I need some clarity.”
“Clarity is not necessary in our case. What we have is a marriage of convenience, nothing more. You do not need to know more about me, nor will I force you to tell me more about yourself. We won’t be or know anything beyond what is required.”
“What is required then, Your Grace?” she asked, emphasizing his title, her indignation leaving no room for true respect.
Again, he gave her one of his enigmatic smiles, that small curve that he thought could pass for civility. Her breath hitched at the sight of him, impossibly handsome when dour and even more so with a slight curve of the lips.
And those lips…
“We have roles to fulfill. You as my duchess, and I as your husband. Nothing else matters beyond that. You can request the necessary things you will need to enjoy your solitary time. For reading. Embroidery. Or whatever else young married ladies do.”
