Page 60 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
The boy with freckles, who seemed to be the eldest at about ten or eleven, handed Gwendoline the top. Her first attempts were clumsy, to which the children laughed nervously. She gave them a reassuring smile to show them that she wouldn’t throw a tantrum like possibly another member of the ton.
For the children, they saw a wealthy woman trying to do well in their game. For Gwendoline, it was so much more. It was a means of reclaiming her childhood. Her confidence. She laughed with the children at every mistake—something she would not have minded doing if she had friends at a young age.
Each attempt became better and better as her heart seemed to grow bigger and bigger. The hem of her dress was already dirty, and her hair was loose, but she felt more alive than she ever had before.
Well, aside from when she was with Damian.
Damian watched his wife play with a spinning wooden toy with children aged four to eleven. He couldn’t help but watch the five children and their mother with some judgment.
How can someone have so many children they can’t afford to raise?
Then, he saw what the children were doing to Gwendoline. Making her laugh. Making her not care about being dirty. Making her forget her insecurities.
He realized that his thoughts were born from prejudice based on what his father had taught him growing up.
His arms were crossed over his chest, but he found himself opening up to the scene.
Evan stood next to him, quiet admiration evident on his face. “She’s good with children,” he noted, sighing appreciatively.
Damian looked at him sharply. He knew that his man used to play such games when they were children. There were other games that he had begged his father to let him play to no avail.
Damian had envied Evan, back then. For his ability to play with any toy or in any game. For his sweet freedom.
His gaze returned to his wife, entranced by how she easily interacted with the children. Her smile was warm and genuine, unlike many women who had tried to win his affections.
Damian nodded, his eyes not leaving his wife as she continued to play with the children. “Better than I’ll ever be with children or with villagers. All kinds of people,” he admitted with a sigh.
“You are husband and wife. Perhaps you should let her handle this side of things,” Evan suggested tentatively, watching for his reaction. “You have never cared what others say about you, but you may need to work on your diplomacy. Her Grace may be your way to the people’s hearts—not that you are unlikable. But you have your other priorities.”
Under different circumstances, Damian would have taken the comment as criticism. However, he could see that Evan was right about Gwendoline. She could connect to people in a way that he couldn’t. It came naturally to her. Still, there were some things about her that he was still figuring out.
After a few more minutes, Gwendoline rejoined Damian and Evan. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was disheveled, but it looked great on her. Her eyes were still dancing with excitement. Damian wondered what she would be like as a mother. Then, he recoiled from the thought in horror.
“I had so much fun with Antonia’s children!” she exclaimed, looking even younger than she already was.
It reminded Damian of her inexperience and how Montrose had taken advantage of it. It reminded him of one of the reasons they were at Willowbrook at all. He needed to know whether Montrose had been poisoning the people’s minds against them.
Damian felt several emotions at once—joy at Gwendoline’s happiness, anger at what Montrose had done, and uncertainty at how the woman in front of him had managed to get under his skin. His bones.
“You seem to have made a good impression on the children,” he observed, his throat suddenly tight.
“Did I?” she asked, her face glowing. “I thought they just wanted to show me how to play with their toys.”
“Oh, they loved you! I’d wager they’ve never seen a duchess spin a top. You will be the talk of the village by nightfall.”
“I’m already the talk of the village,” she muttered.
Damian felt the urge to shield her rise in his chest. It was unfair that she was even related to Montrose and that he wouldn’t give up on making her life hell.
Damian did not comment, though. He let his anger simmer. The fiery feeling did somehow abate as they continued their stroll. He couldn’t help but smile at his wife’s eagerness to visit more shops. There were fancier ones in London, but she pranced fromone shop to the next like a child who was promised candy. By the time they returned to the carriage, the sun was about to set.
For the first time in a long while, Damian was awed by the orange, pink, and purple hues in the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon. He hadn’t expected that they would take so long to return to the carriage, but the coachman was prepared for anything.
“It certainly went well. Don’t you think?” Gwendoline asked.
Damian felt slightly annoyed she was looking at Evan more for a reaction.
The duke and duchess sat together, with Evan across from them. Damian reasoned that perhaps it was easier for his wife to look across than turn to him.
