Page 81 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
“Your Grace…” A woman with a honeyed voice approached her. Damian stiffened, ready to defend his wife. “That gown is quite…daring. For your assets, it may be, uh, a little revealing—perhaps provincial.”
Damian couldn’t believe the cruelty of women. Gwendoline had been to more social gatherings now, but there were still some people who were openly abrasive. They quickly flitted his wife’s way when they saw that he was distracted. They were testing her—or they were simply terrible people.
He walked a little closer, purposely making his approach stealthy. He didn’t want Gwendoline to feel as if he thought she needed to be defended. The sharp arch of her eyebrows and the pursing of her lips showed that she was losing her temper, but she was still trying her best to hold on to her self-control.
“Yet, you noticed it immediately, Lady Graham. You must be thoroughly fascinated with provincial fashion to quickly identify it.”
The quip was followed by titters, but this time they were no longer at Gwendoline’s expense, much to Damian’s relief and pride. His wife could defend herself well enough, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t boiling mad about it.
“Is there anything wrong here, Duchess?” he could not help but growl when he reached her.
“Oh, none at all, Your Grace,” Gwendoline replied smoothly. We were merely discussing the merits of various tastes and the importance of being gracious at such events.”
Lady Graham flushed a deep scarlet. She quickly muttered an excuse before she bobbed a curtsy and fled. Gwendoline grinned at her husband. He could see that she was proud of herself, but he also couldn’t help but see the tiredness in her eyes.
Later that night, as the music swelled and couples twirled on the dance floor, Gwendoline slipped to the balcony. Damian knew that she needed some respite. He would not let her out of his sight, though. He had made a vow.
So, he slipped to the balcony himself. Nobody would think much of it. After all, they were husband and wife. Their union was already surrounded by scandal, but their present status gave them a little space away from judgment.
It was a cool night. Damian found his wife breathing in the crisp air and watching the moon.
“You handled yourself well tonight, Gwen,” he murmured when he was close enough for his breath to warm her ears.
“Thank you. I do wish it didn’t have to be a battle every time,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. But there was a faint smile on her lips.
“They’ll definitely respect you after that,” Damian promised.
But as he made that fervent declaration, he thought he saw something moving in the shadows.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Iam tired of it,” Gwendoline confessed. “Every time the rest of the ton see me, they think of Montrose’s lies. I could understand if they acted like this in the beginning, but not now. Not when they have seen what I am like in person.”
Soon, the ballroom had begun to settle into a quieter, calmer rhythm. Even the buzz of conversation had died down.
After Gwendoline and Damian took a break on the balcony, they went back inside.
Gwendoline was no longer as apprehensive about the people around them, freely mingling, talking, and laughing. She especially became more relaxed when she found Abigail and Alexandra.
“Do not mind them,” Alexandra said. “There will always be someone like that, eager to make you feel less because they wantto hide their own insecurities. They want to feel and look better than others.”
“It can be a struggle with them,” Abigail agreed. “However, the ton most likely no longer think of that particular scandal. It’s not quite as scandalous as a marquis with a mistress, for example, or a young viscountess who left her home without a chaperone.”
“Oh.”
Gwendoline’s interest was piqued. She knew it was wrong to inquire about those incidents, knowing full well what it felt like to be the subject of gossip. However, she understood some of the allure of knowing such things about other people.
Soon, though, the conversation veered into more lively territory. The three young women promised to visit each other more. The promise of keeping in touch lifted Gwendoline’s spirits.
Perhaps things were getting better, after all.
“Let’s explore the garden,” Alexandra suggested with a smile. “That is if you want a respite.”
“Certainly,” Gwendoline replied, smiling widely. “How about you?” she asked Abigail.
“Let’s go together, before the gossips notice. We might even see some tales fit for the papers there,” Abigail said mischievously.
The three women felt rebellious walking out into the garden at night, wrapped in their shawls. They were freer with their stories away from the rest of the guests. The garden seemed to sprawl like a dark, tranquil sea, tempting and foreboding at the same time. Gwendoline heard the rustling of leaves in a corner near a copse of trees.
