Page 73 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
“Perhaps that explains the wide hips and large bosom,” the friend commented maliciously, not even hiding the fact that she was watching Gwendoline.
In another time or place, Gwendoline would have run to her room and cried her heart out. Not tonight. She was no longer a pawn.
“Wasn’t she just drinking champagne?”
“Yes. It may be her fourth flute now.”
Liar.
“Your Grace,” another lady greeted. She had a smile on her face, but Gwendoline could see that it was forced. She felt her stomach turn sour. “How lovely to see you here. We, uh, weren’t expecting you to attend.”
Gwendoline had judged the event too soon. She thought it would all be pleasantries.
“And you as well, Lady Ethel,” she replied, keeping her tone polite but distant.
She wouldn’t give them more excuses to say terrible things about her. She wouldn’t let them. She had learned how to navigatesocial circles with care. It was like a dance. She used to stumble, but now she had learned the steps.
She distanced herself from the group, telling herself they weren’t worth her time. She was there for a reason. Yes, she was there to support Abigail, but she was also there to watch out for Timothy.
Across the room, Damian stood silently. He was as discreet as a ghost. While Gwendoline had learned to distance herself from the wallflower that she was, her husband had learned to blend in. It was necessary.
Then, Oliver Audley approached him. They engaged in conversation. It seemed to be something serious, given Damian’s expression, but it could be anything. Her husband could look grave even among his closest friends on an ordinary day.
Finally, he seemed to notice her watching him. His expression softened. A small smile played on his lips as he continued watching her. She smiled back. She couldn’t help it. Even Oliver had to turn around to see who his friend was looking at. His mouth formed the words, “Of course,” and he made sure she could see it.
A tap on her shoulder burst her blissful bubble. Startled, she turned around to find Abigail standing there, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Come with me,” Abigail urged—or rather commanded.
Gwendoline felt like she didn’t have a choice but to follow. It wasn’t like she wouldn’t do it. Command or request, Abigail’s invitation was tempting.
Abigail led her out of the crowded ballroom.
They ended up in a sitting room not too far from the main hall. The dim lighting, highlighted by flickering flames, was a welcome respite for Gwendoline.
Knowing her friend well, Abigail closed the door behind them. Then, she turned to her with a grin. “You’ve changed, Your Grace.”
“Have I?” Gwendoline asked, blinking. It wasn’t what she had expected her friend to tell her. “Even if I had, call me Gwen like before. That doesn’t need to change.”
“You have. Gwendoline Landon would have found an excuse to leave the ballroom much earlier. Tonight, I could see that there was hesitation in your eyes. You only followed me because I’m your friend. There’s strength in you—and confidence. They’re lighting you up. I love that for you, my dear.”
Gwendoline couldn’t help but blush. She thought she was done revealing her emotions through something she couldn’t control. Turned out she was wrong.
“I suppose I have learned to adapt,” she admitted softly. “I needed to. While I’m more secure now, being Damian’s wife presents more complications.”
“Ah.”
“It’s not simple,” Gwendoline rephrased, flushing again.
“I don’t imagine life with a wealthy and handsome reformed rake can be simple,” Abigail said with a laugh. Gwendoline’s heart soared upon hearing the soft, melodic sound. “It suits you, though. I like seeing you glow as you should. You look marvelous!”
“Apparently, I look like I’m with child. Have you listened to the gossip?” Gwendoline realized that she still had difficulty accepting compliments.
Abigail merely laughed. “Don’t listen to those brainless chits. They have nothing in their lives that they particularly like. So, they use other people’s stories to entertain themselves. They talk about you. You’re more important,” she reassured her earnestly.
“Thank you, Abigail. I’m grateful that your family has sent us invitations for this soiree even though scandal has been following me of late.”
“It’s our pleasure, Your Grace. Really.”
