Page 24 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
“He certainly can,” Gwendoline huffed.
Then, she paused. She didn’t want anyone to suspect that they were not the happy newlyweds they pretended to be. That probably needed a slight—er, major—correction.
But Damian didn’t seem interested in pretending. So why bother?
What she believed to be right somehow prevailed.
“I mean, he’s been spending more time in his study than with me,” she complained, jutting her lower lip as if she was hurt that he was not paying her so much attention.
“Oh, I am sorry, Your Grace. Have you tried bringing him some oysters and Turkish Delight when you visit him in his study?” Mrs. Albright suggested, with an innocent and enthusiastic smile.
“Why oysters? Why Turkish Delight?”
Gwendoline wondered if it was something only the wealthy knew.
“Oh, but Your Grace! Oysters are an aphrodisiac. Of course, he never needed them. Pardon me, but I’m assuming you heard about his reputation before you married him. But perhaps he needs a little boost. He’s been tired lately…”
“Oh…” Gwendoline felt her cheeks flush, and she could only assume that the older woman could see the red spots all over her face and chest.
“Pardon me, Your Grace. I sometimes forget that most young ladies of the ton, even when married, are still innocent in somany ways,” Mrs. Albright offered, her hands both up, palms facing Gwendoline.
“It’s quite all right,” Gwendoline reassured her. “And the Turkish Delight?”
“Oh, that one? It’s simply one of his favorite treats since he was a child.”
“I see,” she said, before sighing with relief. “Thank you, Mrs. Albright.”
As days went by, Gwendoline continued her efforts to get better acquainted with the staff.
Accompanied by Mrs. Albright, the various servants were keener to welcome her. Soon, the rest of them had finally warmed to her. It was evident in the enthusiastic greetings she would receive whenever she passed them. Even when she had a terrible day thinking about her fate, she made sure she returned their smiles.
There was one person that she had kept avoiding, though. But he had also kept avoiding her. Sometimes she could swear that she’d seen him lurking in the corners. She’d glimpse his profile sometimes when he strode from one room to another, from one task to the next. Sometimes she caught him coming home sweaty, but he would immediately retreat to his room.
There were no signs of other women, either. For a former rake, he had certainly turned his life around and become a recluse. She wondered how long he would be able to take it. Perhaps he would return to his old ways after getting his revenge.
The thought didn’t make her feel better. There was no relief there. No satisfaction.
That evening, Gwendoline went back to the sitting room where she had found the Eric Westback painting. It had a strange pull, like an enchantment.
She sat in front of it, prepared to spend hours inspecting it. She loved mysteries. That must be why she became the wife of the Duke of Greyvale.Hewas a mystery that she vowed she would solve one day.
One mystery at a time, though.
“Who are you, Eric Westback?” she whispered, her fingers boldly tracing the signature.
The curving lines didn’t feel like they belonged to an Eric. They felt too feminine.
She laughed to herself. Of course, she was being ridiculous. That was what happened to young women with wild imaginations when they were trapped in large mansions with grumpy dukes.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps, and her body went rigid. She knew that no one would dare ask her what she was doing there. She was the duchess.
Did they hear her laughing to herself? Would they think she had gone mad?
Gwendoline turned to see Damian standing in the doorway.
As always, he had a large, commanding presence. Instead of his glare, there was a soft look in his eyes.
He entered the room in long strides while keeping his eyes on the painting.
