Page 33 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
Damian’s face was red with exertion, but he wore a big grin.
“Then, Duchess, I’d say your dreams have served you well.”
Bells rang in the distance. Gwendoline had gotten used to the routine at Greyvale. Therefore, she knew that it was almost midday. It was time to clean up before lunch. This time, she felt confident that her husband would easily say yes if she asked him to join her.
When Damian stepped back, she felt a strange sense of loss. It made her feel a little shaky. It was as if someone had pulled the ground from under her feet. She straightened up, ensuring that her features were calm or preferably blank. In her chest, her heart thundered.
He appeared to be conflicted as if he was about to tell her something more. His mouth opened and closed, but nothing else came out.
“Your Grace…” A voice cut through the tension between them, followed by the clearing of a throat.
Gwendoline saw the butler standing only a few feet away from them. How didn’t she see him coming?
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, inclining her head. “For the lesson.”
The formal words and tone did not fit the rest of the morning.
Damian’s gaze lingered on her. His expression was unreadable this time, and he still barely glanced at the butler. Gone were the teasing smiles and proud looks.
“It was my pleasure, Duchess. Perhaps next time, you’ll teach me a thing or two.”
She smiled, her confidence bolstered by his words. There was some relief, as well. She didn’t want to go back to how they were—indifferent and cold to each other.
“Perhaps I will.”
As she turned to leave for her chambers, she couldn’t help but glance back over her shoulder. Damian stood where she had left him, his eyes following her retreat. The heat in his gaze sent a thrill through her, igniting something unnamable within.
Chapter Ten
“Where is he?’ Damian demanded.
It almost sounded as if Greyvale was under siege. Damian marched toward his study, the pounding of his boots reverberating through the hall. Patience was a virtue, but it wasn’t the duke’s. It never was.
His body was tense with irritation and curiosity. He wanted to know—right now—what his unannounced visitor had to say. The butler was terrified when he announced the arrival belatedly, but all Damian wanted to know was whether the visitor had answers for him.
The man had insisted that his business with the duke was urgent. It was rare for anyone to come to Greyvale with such an introduction—barely any, really.
Damian hated being caught off guard, and that was precisely what had happened today. He liked knowing how his day wouldproceed, but he would rush to meet anyone who could provide him with important information about Timothy Landon. He and Evan were prepared, but any new detail would be welcome.
“Your Grace,” the butler panted, giving him a slight nod while passing him fresh clothes. He had tried his best to keep up with him.
Damian barely acknowledged him. He was busy dressing while the cogs in his brain rattled and turned.
He would have acknowledged his butler out of politeness and respect—just like he did with the other servants—but today was different. His mind was in chaos.
Could the visitor provide him with information to further tip the scales to his advantage?
He dismissed his butler with a nod and straightened his cravat while he waited for his visitor.
For some reason, the study door seemed to become bigger, its heavy wood becoming a contemptuous barrier between him and whatever revelation was to come. The butler pulled it open on his way out, and a wiry man entered.
Damian didn’t know what he expected, but it was not the nervous man who strode inside. He gestured for him to sit in the chair across from his own. Then, the two of them sat down.
The man seemed small in the leather armchair, even though he was only a few inches shorter than Damian. His eyes darted from left to right, and his thin fingers twitched on the mahogany desk.
“You claim to have information,” Damian began, getting right to the heart of the matter. His tone could cut through the air like a blade. “Speak quickly. We do not have much time, and my patience has nearly run out.”
He was not sure if the man blanched or if he had always looked like that. The study was illuminated by the flickering candlelight, which could cast shadows on faces. However, Damian was sure that his visitor felt uncomfortable.
