Page 67 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
Damian knew of worse methods, such as forcing servants or animals to taste first. He didn’t like the barbarism of suchactions, but he didn’t want his apothecary to die trying to help him.
“It can kill easily, Your Grace. A small dose, however, can cause vomiting, diarrhea, weakness, and dizziness. The symptoms may seem similar to other diseases, as well. Arsenic, after all, is used to treat various conditions, such as psoriasis or syphilis.”
Gwendoline wrinkled her nose at the thought.
“I would have eaten a lot of the candy,” she admitted.
“Even those who ingest arsenic in small but frequent doses can develop some serious conditions. It could be devastating for a woman with child.”
The information quieted Gwendoline. She gently pushed Damian away and sat back next to her embroidery hoop. She picked it up, seemingly meaning to return to what she was doing.
Did she want children? Damian remembered the joy that lit up her face as she played with the children in the village.
It made him wonder if he’d ever feel ready to consider having children. Montrose was out there, and it looked like he wouldn’t give up without a fight.
The atmosphere in Greyvale became gloomier in the days that followed. It might be Gwendoline’s imagination, but the estate seemed colder and quieter. The sun seemed to set earlier.
Winter.
Yes, it was almost winter, but it was more than that.
Damian had become more vigilant, having servants inspect every package carefully. The apothecary was tasked with looking for more poisoned food. A physician was paid to spend his days and nights at the estate. They were fortunate to find a young physician who was yet to marry. So, he was willing to devote his time to looking after the duke and duchess.
Gwendoline complained about the extreme measures, but both Damian and Evan told her they were all necessary. The security was not only for her but also for them. She realized that the two of them knew exactly how to convince her.
She attempted to engage in her usual activities, but she could not help but think about what happened. If Damian had not been there, she could have already finished half of the box before anyone figured out that something was amiss. The thought that her cousin wanted her dead gnawed at her insides.
What was Timothy thinking?
The box of sweets felt like an attempt on her life and a taunt.
“Oh, look. Fat Gwenny still loves to gobble her chocolates.”
Gwendoline had grown in confidence as a woman. The only person who could make her remember the pain she experienced among other children—cruel children—was Timothy.
She could tell that Damian was genuinely affected by the incident. He tried to keep up the stoic facade, but he was failing miserably.
Up close, she could see the dark circles under his eyes. His jaw was perpetually tense. Clenched. Grinding.
He had made good progress in opening up to her, spending time with her in the drawing room. But these days, he spent long hours in his study just like he did before, poring over the documents with Evan.
Gwendoline was certain that they were planning their next steps fastidiously. There was a greater urgency, now that they knew what else Timothy was capable of.
“We can’t let him control our lives like this,” Gwendoline said one night as they lounged in the drawing room. “He’s now controlling our lives. Isn’t that a win for him?”
“I’m doing everything I can,” Damian gritted out, his hand gripping what looked to be his third glass of brandy or rum—or a mix of both.
Gwendoline was dismayed when she realized he was falling back into old habits.
“I know you are,” she murmured. “However, you are shutting me out. Can’t you see that? He’d be happy to see us suffer. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. Isn’t that worse?”
“You’re right.” Damian sighed heavily after downing his third glass. “We can’t let him win.”
Gwendoline felt a kindling of hope, but she knew the road to justice wouldn’t be easy.
Chapter Nineteen
“You have eagle eyes, Gwen,” he praised his wife, who was seated across from him in his study.
