Page 34 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
“Your Grace, I have some information that could be invaluable to you. About Montrose,” the man rasped.
Damian crossed his arms over his chest and leaned forward in his seat. He brought his face closer to the other man’s and sneered. “Why should I trust you? I don’t know you.”
The man’s hands trembled over the desk as he licked his lips. “Your Grace, I’ve nothing to gain from lying to you. Moreover, I’ve lost so much because of our common enemy. Montrose owes me a fortune, and I’m tired of his false promises. I’ll settle for revenge if I cannot claim my dues.”
“Alright. I will listen. However, know this. If I find out you’re lying, I will make you regret it,” Damian warned, narrowing his eyes at the stranger.
The man’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I’m telling the truth! Montrose had tasked me with hiding sensitive documents. They were proof of fraud and other unsavory transactions.”
More proof? Damian wondered how these would trump the ones he and Evan already had. Did he genuinely need the help of this unkempt stranger?
“Why not bring the documents here?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice calm. However, there was an undercurrent of menace there that he knew the other man had not missed.
“I-I’m being watched. The journey to Greyvale has been long and tiring. I can guide you to where they are, though, Your Grace. For a price.”
Ah, there it was.
Damian straightened, effectively putting some distance between them. However, he knew that he was no less intimidating. He had dealt with enough of his peers to know when men like his visitor cowered.
“How much do you need?”
Need.
Ha. Of course, Damian was not naive. The man looked like he only needed the money Montrose owed him, but would he back away from an opportunity?
The man uttered the amount with wide eyes, simultaneously anxious and thrilled.
Damian’s lips curled into a sarcastic smile. “You gamble with your life by demanding money from me. Know this, whoever you are. Nothing, not even money, can save you if I discover that this is all a trap. That you are working for Montrose and not against him.”
“It’s not a trap. I swear it, Your Grace,” the visitor whimpered, trying to avoid his gaze.
Damian would not have it, though. He kept his eyes on the man, refusing to break eye contact.
He opened the top desk drawer and retrieved a pouch of coins before tossing it to the man. “If everything you’ve told me is lies, this is the last thing you’ll get from me.”
The man might have looked hesitant, but he grabbed the pouch with trembling hands. He must have needed it badly.
“You won’t regret this, Your Grace. I promise you. You will find everything you need to ruin Montrose, and I’m willing to speak against him in court if needs be.”
“I will take your word for it now, and I do hope you have not brought me falsehoods. If I find out that you have, I will find you. You know that I have my resources.”
The man nodded and then bolted from his chair. He rushed out the door almost as fast as when Damian stomped through his own halls to get to his study. He didn’t dare look back, and Damian couldn’t blame him. His glare followed the man until he was gone.
The study fell silent.
Even though he was left on his own, Damian remained tense. His muscles were coiled, ready to snap at any time. Jaw clenched. Hands fisted over his desk. Brow furrowed. He could taste his revenge now, but he knew better than to become complacent.
For the other man, it was a means to an easy end. He merely wanted to get his money back from Montrose—that was if he were telling the truth. In Damian’s case, it was more than that. A lot more than that.
He wanted revenge for what the earl did to the people he loved.
Gwendoline walked down the corridor. More often than not, she skipped or strode, but this time, she was mulling over what had happened earlier that morning.
Damian taught her to use a sword. Yes, it was wooden, but a thrill still shot through her when she remembered how she was able to swing it with a precision she would never have imagined.The fact that she did it in the presence of her half-naked husband was commendable.
She giggled. Then, she recoiled at the sound of her giggle.
Before she could further ponder the virtues of sword training with her husband, a man collided with her. She staggered backward, but she saw enough of the man’s features. He was pale, with eyes that darted nervously everywhere. He wasn’t a complete stranger, though.
