Page 46 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
The man froze at their approach, his face paling.
“Who are you?” Damian demanded.
“I… I was sent to retrieve something,” the man stammered.
“By whom?” Damian boomed.
The man opened his mouth and closed it when he heard a noise coming from outside.
Damian’s heart sank as he realized that Gwendoline had, again, followed them. So much for obeying. Then again, he did ask her to stay with him.
He groaned. All the plans in the world would go up in flames because of his wife.
Damian and Evan rushed toward the front door, the former prepared to give her a scolding. However, what he saw made him see red.
She was struggling against another man.
“Get away from my wife!” he roared, rushing toward them without even thinking of shielding himself.
The man’s hesitation gave Damian enough time to land a punch that sent him sprawling. Evan threw his arms aroundthe intruder while Damian rushed to Gwendoline. Concern and anger churned within him. He only just realized that he was trembling.
“You were not supposed to follow us,” he gritted out.
“And you think I would be safe outside?” she retorted, her hands on her hips. “Look on the bright side. I stopped him. He would have gotten away!”
Damian was caught between frustration and admiration.
Gwendoline was reckless, but she was also brave. He supposed the two had to come together. After all, he and Evan knew there were risks involved in their little mission.
“You’re impossible,” he muttered, roughly pulling at his hair.
“You’re welcome, Your Grace,” she returned smugly.
They managed to restrain the intruders and search the estate for more clues. Damian couldn’t help but keep glancing at Gwendoline. She had held her ground. Of course, she knew it was dangerous, but she showed great courage and strength.
They were not finished with the estate, however.
Damian’s eyes fell on Gwendoline. Oh, God, why hadn’t he thought about it?
“You knew this place. Where would your father hide important objects—documents—he didn’t want to be found?”
Gwendoline hesitated, her gaze sweeping over the dusty furniture and cobwebbed corners. Damian suspected that it wasn’t because she didn’t want to help. For her, it had been a long time. The estate was part of a memory that she held dear—a happy one, he assumed. Before Montrose. Before all the humiliation.
“There’s a hidden compartment in that desk,” she said at last, pointing to what felt like the room’s highlight. “My father used to hide his precious cigars in it.”
Damian felt a pang of sympathy when he heard the nostalgia in her voice.
“Show me,” he said softly.
He stepped aside to let her approach and inspect the desk. It wasn’t the mahogany structure his eyes were fixed on, though. It was her face.
Gwendoline knelt before the desk, almost caressing it with her palms. It did have intricate carvings that lent it texture and shape.
“It’s here somewhere,” she murmured. “There should be a latch or a false panel if I’m not mistaken.”
Evan leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. From time to time, his eyes would dart to the hallway.
Gwendoline’s fingers suddenly stilled. Her eyes lit up as she pressed on a decorative carving. They all heard a faint click. Then, a small drawer slid open from the side of the desk.
