Page 6 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
“Gwendoline, don’t you dare—” Timothy snarled at her but froze when the duke stepped in front of him.
“I have enough influence to obtain a marriage license without your consent, Montrose,” the duke continued. “I will do it if she wishes it. The lady gets to decide.”
Gwendoline’s eyes widened. Her heart raced. She watched the duke for any signs of hilarity or illness. Surely, she heard him wrong. Why would he offer her marriage when he barely knew her?
Her gaze darted between Timothy’s red face and the duke’s resolute one.
Here she was, staring at the freedom dangling like a fruit before her.
No words came out of her mouth. She opened and closed it, not sure how to proceed. At this point, she believed that the duke might think her hard of hearing or an absolute idiot.
“If you leave without my permission, you will regret it deeply, Gwendoline,” Timothy hissed. “You know that you are nothing—and I repeat—nothingwithout me.”
He took a step toward her, and she forced herself to hold her ground.
She had endured his threats for so long. Even though the fear was not completely gone, she wouldn’t let it control her.
Not anymore.
“That’s where you are wrong,” the duke declared. “I believe you can remember your dealings at Devil’s Draw. Think about it. Do you really want to test me when it comes to, say, achieving justice for one and all?”
“J-Justice?” Timothy echoed, blanching.
His whole body seemed to be stiff except for his trembling fists. It seemed that the duke’s words had hit home.
Interesting.
“Yes. If Lady Gwendoline comes with me, you will come nowhere near her. Her life with you will be nothing but a distant memory,” the duke said in a calmer voice as if relishing the redness and sweat all over Timothy’s face.
Gwendoline felt the gravity of the moment, and it was almost like her whole life flashed before her eyes. She couldn’t breathe. It could be the intensity of the situation, or the tightness of her dress, or both.
“I will go with you,” she finally said, meeting the duke’s eyes with a confidence she barely felt.
The whole room felt hot and stuffy, despite the cold weather. Strangely enough, Gwendoline realized that she’d forgotten the itchy, cheap fabric of her wedding gown squeezing her curves for those few moments.
She could almost smell freedom.
Timothy lunged toward her, but the duke was faster. He stepped right before her, shielding her body with his.
“Touch her again and you will regret it. You will find out just who I am,” he warned in a steely voice, looking Timothy right in the eye.
The duke towered over her cousin. He had to slightly dip his chin to get his point across.
Nobody had defended her before. Never like this.
“Y-You’ll pay for this, Greyvale. I don’t care that you’re a duke—I will not let this slide,” Timothy muttered, his fists still clenched and a renewed fire burning in his eyes.
Greyvale.He is the Duke of Greyvale.
Gwendoline gulped as all the whispers about the duke’s rakish escapades echoed in her mind.
Had she just given her freedom to one of the biggest rakes in London?
Yet, this rake claimed that Timothy worked with criminals. Could that be true? Was that the reason the duke was there?
“Go ahead then,” the duke challenged.
Gwendoline could see Timothy’s chin tremble. This was the first time she’d ever seen him cower like that. Then again, she had never seen him challenge anyone above his station.
