Page 37 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
“What do you want? Didn’t we just talk and set the plan in motion?” Damian growled after Evan closed the door behind him. “Must you always test my patience?”
“No, no. It’s not about that. The planisin motion,” Evan said, chuckling. He didn’t seem bothered by Damian’s foul mood. “This is just a friendly visit. And I’m glad I came because I walked in on something far more interesting. And oh, I’m glad to be of service. At least the duchess has a sense of humor. Somebody in Greyvale should have one.”
Damian took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried to hold back a curse and muttered under his breath instead. It wasn’t Evan’s fault that he was seeing through him.Gwendoline had stirred so many emotions within him—feelings that he thought he had managed to stomp on and numb.
The worst thing? He felt like it was only the beginning. He did not doubt that the tension that already hung heavy between them could explode at any time.
“A friendly visit? You’re here for tea or brandy, Drake?” Damian asked, raising an eyebrow.
His shoulders slumped a little, easing some of the tension. Perhaps he needed a break from thinking about Montrose. His obsession with the man had become all-consuming.
“I wouldn’t mind some tea or brandy or whatever else you have, Your Grace,” Evan said, shrugging. The unrepentant bastard. “However, I must admit that I’m also here because I heard that you had a visitor today—someone associated with Montrose.”
“Ah. And you heard this where? The man left not too long ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw him on your way in. He looked like the snivelly kind.”
“Don’t be cruel, Your Grace. I might have seen someone with that description leaving your house in a rush,” Evan said thoughtfully. “Was that the man?”
The study’s heavy oak doors were closed, muffling the hum of activity in the manor. It was too easy to get swept up in his obsessions in this mansion.
Damian leaned against his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. He regarded Evan, who sat on his leather armchair as if he had no care in the world. His boots rested on a red, embroidered footstool. The warm light from the fireplace provided a coziness that Damian knew was absent in the room. The study had become a place for planning revenge, perusing ledgers, and taking on the full responsibility of his title.
It was a challenge to relax. He felt justified when his man turned to him with a rigid jaw and intense eyes. Beneath the humor and easy-going demeanor, Evan understood their mission.
“The man claimed that he has documents that could tie Montrose to fraudulent schemes. If he’s telling the truth, we’ll further solidify our claims,” Damian explained.
“You paid him?” Evan asked.
“Yes, I did,” Damian answered, looking him right in the eye as if to challenge him.
He grabbed a bottle of brandy and poured Evan a glass. He pushed the glass across the desk.
A challenge.
A bribe.
Damian realized that he was not beneath either, as long as he could achieve his goals. His mission in life. As a young boy, he never thought he would be hellbent on punishing someone else.
Evan took a long, deep breath. He knew when to be careful with his words and was aware of how serious the matter was to Damian. They had grown up together. Even though their status separated them, they understood each other. They had been friends since they were children, although Damian’s father did not approve.
“What if he’s lying? You have easily given him money. Who is to say that nobody else will be coming in with the same claim?” Evan asked, his eyes trained on the brandy in his glass.
“Then we will deal with him accordingly. My instinct, however, tells me that he is not lying. He seemed eager to rid himself of the information but also wanted his money. I can’t blame him,” Damian replied coolly.
“Money. Of course. That’s the eternal motivator,” Evan commented, chuckling. “We don’t need his documents, though we certainly need additional leverage to send Montrose straight to jail and keep him there. It can’t simply be from you because you?—”
“Because I have some personal vendetta against him?”
“It will appear that way, Your Grace.”
“And it’s the truth,” Damian said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with two fingers.
“However, what I want you to focus on right now is the possibility of walking into a trap. The man may still be loyal to Montrose. We don’t know him.”
Damian nodded. He understood the risks, and his friend was willing to eliminate as much of it as possible.
The plan didn’t include him going to the estate. He had insisted several times. In the end, Evan didn’t want him anywhere near Montrose’s territory.
“That’s why I’m going with you. I won’t have you facing danger alone, especially if it’s a trap,” Damian offered, his face suddenly serene.
