Page 86 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
“Mmm?”
As if on cue, Gwendoline stirred. Did she hear what he had whispered? He knew that Evan did.
“We’re almost home,” he said.
Upon arrival, Damian noticed the strange stillness of the house. It was never a noisy apartment, even though it was located in London, but it did have the usual hum of activity—of servants walking back and forth to attend to their duties. Some would talk a little during this constant shuffling about.
Yes, it was nighttime, but there would still be something. Mrs. Albright might be briefing a young servant about their day. She liked pointing out areas of improvement, as well as giving praise for a job well done. Cook would still be in the kitchen, examining her ingredients by candlelight and complaining to the cleaners about her suspicions—like a mice infestation or someone stealing some slice of meat. They were mostly unfounded, but she was just passionate about what she did. What she cooked.
Cook, Mrs. Albright, and Hannah were the only servants who constantly traveled with them. Gwendoline loved them.
Tonight, though, there was none of that. Damian could only hear the grandfather clock ticking, and it felt ominous. He turnedto his companions, and he could see the same unease on their faces.
“Something must have happened, Your Grace,” Evan remarked tensely.
Gwendoline remained silent, biting her lower lip. She seemed to believe the same, her eyes darting left and right with worry.
The door slammed behind them. Damian had let it. It was an announcement of their arrival, although the sound of horses’ hooves and the front door opening should have been enough of an announcement when the house was dead silent.
Soon, Hannah was rushing toward them. Her face was pale and pinched, but her movements were rushed. Urgent.
“Your G-Grace,” she stammered, after curtsying to both Gwendoline and Damian. “There’s been, uh, an incident.”
“An incident? What kind of incident?” Damian boomed.
“Your study, Your Grace,” the maid explained. “It’s been ransacked. Y-Your papers and ledgers are all over the floor. We tried to intervene, but the masked man swung a knife at us. There was a second one, too, who caught everyone by surprise.”
Without another word, Damian marched toward his study. He could barely hear the others following him, but he could hearGwendoline calling his name. He was not going to stop for anything. He wanted to see what had happened to his study.
And damn, it was quite a sight.
Hannah had given him an idea of what to expect, but it didn’t prepare him for what had actually happened. It was not simply documents strewn all over the floor or open drawers. No. The room was adisaster. It was as if a natural storm had swept over London and focused its full force on the study.
So many papers littered the floor that one could barely see the wood. Shelves had been pulled down, and there were so many holes in the mahogany desk, as if someone had stabbed at it in a fit of rage.
Damian sniffed. He could smell something metallic in the air. He could hear Gwendoline whimpering as she took in the trail of blood that led toward the doorway. It was not completely surprising, given Hannah’s account of the attack.
He felt something inside him trying to explode. His feet were rooted to the floor, and his fists clenched at his sides even though the culprits had most likely fled a long time ago.
But perhaps not that long?
“Did you see who did this?” he asked his servants, even though there was no doubt in his mind who did it.
There was nobody else. Despite his former rakish ways, Damian had no enemies. His former lovers had always known what they were in for—not a lifetime of love but a few stolen moments that would end quickly. He had always chosen the ones who weren’t looking for husbands, but pleasure.
He saw his wife flinch at the tone of his voice. Instead of approaching him to calm him down, she had recoiled from him. She bent at the waist, seemingly studying the trail of blood.
One of his footmen wore a makeshift sling around his arm, and blood stained the gauze. His face was also red and would no doubt become purple come morning.
“Two men, Your Grace. They broke into your study while you were at the ball. They must have left their carriage a distance away and walked the rest of the street. We didn’t hear the sound of hooves or the creaking of the door. Everyone was focused on their work.”
Ah, so that explained the silence. One, it was nighttime. Everyone should have retired or been preparing to retire. Two, the attack had left the servants terrified. Three, they wanted to hear if anyone else was approaching.
Fear.
It was no longer just Damian, Gwendoline, and Evan who felt it. Even the servants were afraid now. Even the ones in Greyvale were aware of the danger after the poisoning attempt and thehorse tampering. It was a miracle that both Gwendoline and Daisy had survived with minimal injuries.
“They took things?” Damian asked, his eyes assessing the wreckage.
