Page 79 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
“What happened?” he demanded, looking at the cowering Mr. Wilkes accusingly.
“H-Her Grace fell off Daisy, Y-Your Grace,” Mr. Wilkes stammered, but he never let go of his mistress, who was trying to straighten up.
“Hand her over,” Damian commanded as he stepped forward to steady his wife.
She reached for his shoulders as he held her by the hip and assessed her injuries.
“I’m all right, Damian,” she insisted, even though her hip still smarted. “It was Daisy. She, uh, was behaving strangely. She had not done that before, and I know I have not made any sudden movements. I don’t understand it.”
“Where is she now?” Damian asked, his jaw ticking.
“Daisy bolted into the woods, Your Grace,” Mr. Wilkes replied, still sounding and looking terrified. “I’ll send someone to go after her.”
“Something isn’t right, and we all know it. Daisy has never acted like that before,” Damian murmured thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing.
They were all quiet for a moment, meeting each other’s eyes. It couldn’t be, but it was always a possibility.
Damian turned to Mr. Wilkes, rubbing the spot between his eyebrows. “Check everything, Wilkes. Her feed. Her tack. If everything else like the saddle is fine, then something else must be wrong.”
“We will do so right away, Your Grace,” Mr. Wilkes promised, nodding grimly.
This time, his fear was replaced with a strong conviction, Gwendoline could tell.
She remembered Damian’s warning before she even reached the stables. He didn’t think that she’d be safe from Montrose’s machinations, and he was likely right. The whole thing couldn’t be an accident because it was too coincidental. How could Daisy simply change her behavior like that?
Damian wanted her to rest for a little while, and she did. She had a hot bath and a good scrub, getting rid of some of the evidence of her fall. While the soil and damp grass were quickly gotten rid of, the bruising stayed. Later, Mr. Wilkes returned to meet them in the parlor to confirm Damian’s fears.
“Your Grace,” he began, his voice steady but low. He removed his hat and held it in front of his chest. Gwendoline noticed that his hand was trembling a little. “We found signs of tampering. It’s something that can’t be easily detected at a first or even a second inspection.”
“And you’re certain of this?” Damian asked, his face hardening even more.
“It…” Mr. Wilkes hesitated at the thunderous expression on his master’s face. Then, he met Gwendoline’s eyes. “It seems likely, Your Grace.”
“Not an accident, then. This was no accident,” Damian muttered, pacing the length of the parlor.
Gwendoline met his eyes. She was sitting on the sofa, drinking tea. Her nerves had not completely calmed down, but she kept her composure. She didn’t want her husband to see that she was still jittery.
“Montrose,” they uttered at the same time.
“Who else could it be?” Gwendoline murmured.
She knew that while dukes were envied, the ton would not resort to attempted murder. They would spread gossip. Lies. They might pretend to like them while telling tales behind their backs, but they wouldn’t take such a big risk.
“And how did they tamper with her?”
“They placed something on her tacks, Your Grace,” Mr. Wilkes explained. “They placed soap on them. When you took off, the soap began to melt, and it irritated Daisy.”
“Montrose is behind it, Gwen,” Damian grunted. “That should no longer be much of a mystery. However, I am wary and furious to know that someone could be working for him right here in Greyvale.”
His eyes scanned the room and landed meaningfully on Mr. Wilkes.
The elderly groomsman paled and raised his hands in front of his chest, his palms facing outward. “Your Grace, s-surely y-you don’t think I could do that? I have been working for your family since before you were born. I would never.”
“I believe him,” Gwendoline said calmly, leaning forward to put her teacup on the table in front of her.
Though she was outwardly calm, the implications rattled her, too. Her hand trembled slightly, and she hoped that Damian didn’t notice.
“What should we do?” she asked him.
