Page 56 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
Gwendoline was startled that her husband was directly asking her about anything related to their investigation.
“His name is in the documents.”
Their investigation. She was part of it now, and it made her heart swell. She would not disappoint them. Like them, she wanted to take revenge on her cousin.
“From what I know, he is friends with Timothy. Some may say he is a very close ally.”
“Mm. Well, they are more than just friends, that is for sure. There is a consistent money trail from Hargrove to Montrose.”
“I am no longer surprised by anything we discover about my cousin,” Gwendoline said drily.
“Well, the duchess has certainly provided us with reliable information. We have some people working for us, but the facts you shared, Your Grace, are priceless,” Evan remarked.
Gwendoline might not be able to see his face, and she was indeed focused on the rocky path ahead, but she felt warm all over, even though the air was chilly.
She wanted Damian to like her. She also realized that she wanted his friends to like her. Evan had taken her side before, but it felt more momentous this time—perhaps because he also had her husband’s approval.
“I know how Timothy operates. You may be thinking, how is that even possible? Well, I don’t know if he was involved in criminal dealings, but I know his habits and preferences,” she explained,flushing slightly when she realized that she had been talking so earnestly.
She was glad that they couldn’t see each other’s faces at that point.
“Good work,” Damian praised, sounding very proud of her.
Gwendoline bit her lower lip and smiled. The rest of the journey home was smoother, with the sun smiling brightly down at them.
Chapter Sixteen
“Ithought that the whole thing was a dream,” Gwendoline admitted with a soft smile, swirling the wine in her glass as she stared off into the distance.
Damian watched his wife. It was all that he had done—and been doing—lately. While he wanted her to focus on him, he cherished her unguarded moments. If only he knew how to paint like Eric Westback—he would repeatedly paint her face and fill a room with images of her.
The first time he met her, he was struck by her beauty. He could admit it freely now. However, back then, he was bound by the need to avenge the people he had lost—the ones Montrose had hurt. He was also riddled with suspicion. He didn’t know if he could trust her.
A sensible man might say that he still couldn’t trust her. What they had was still new. Still, the past few weeks had proven justhow insatiable he was when it came to her—and she was the same.
Gwendoline had moved into his room. Her clothes and perfume were still in her bedchamber, but she always spent the nights with him. He now knew each freckle and curve and had memorized the sound of her sighs and moans.
During the days, though, they were occupied with their responsibilities. It was a blessing to have a wife who reminded him of the dangers of not managing the estate well. He needed a sensible woman to pull him away from his obsessions, except the one that mattered.
Her.
“What was a dream?” he asked.
“That time during the storm, when you…” she trailed off, her cheeks pinkening.
“When I claimed you as mine, you mean?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he rested his hand on her thigh.
She gasped softly at his touch.
“Yes. We never really talked about it, Damian,” she said.
It was a wonder to him that she still got embarrassed about calling him by his first name.
“We did other things that made up for it,” Damian quipped.
He loved seeing his wife blush. She had always been beautiful, but she looked phenomenal when her cheeks turned pink.
“Oh. Well, Damian,” she teased back, “you need to do more talking to persuade me to do more of those.”
