Page 22 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke (Duke Wars #2)

CHAPTER 22

S he had vague memories amidst fluctuating consciousness. Of panic, of pain, of someone gathering her up and cradling her so tightly against their chest.

There was a vague understanding that she’d been in a carriage, the scent of chamomile alongside warm water, and the plush of a pillow that she sank so deeply into. Then there were the nightmares, breathless and cold, where she ran through the sinking snow as the shadows themselves stretched after her. And then…

Thalia’s eyes fluttered open, and she found herself staring at a silk canopy. She groaned, sitting up against a wide array of pillows while pushing tangles of hair free from her face. It was clear she was back in Stonewell.

Giles would never place her in such a nice room unless it were his own, and the distinct scent of earth and smoke she’d grown to associate within the Stonewell manor was all too present. Her face throbbed terribly, and she brushed her fingers lightly across small bandages, while the memory of grasping tree limbs skittered across.

She did her best to peer through the dimness, noting the partially-drawn curtains displayed a night sky full of stars. The bed table was covered in a variety of medical supplies—salves, linen, clean water—and as her eyes trailed across, Thalia took notice of the partially slumped figure curled up in one of the reading chairs. “Is someone here?”

Immediately, the figure was on their feet, rushing to her side as Mr. Harding—as Gabriel—came into focus. There was a wild look to his eyes, and as he grasped her hand, Thalia could feel seething heat rolling off his body. “You’re awake.”

Thalia nodded, still taken aback by his intensity.

He must have noticed, quickly releasing his hold before pulling away from her. Gabriel stood before her, disheveled and sleepless, a clear twitch of anxiety causing him to pace slightly.

“Gabriel–”

“You slept past dinner,” Gabriel stated plainly.

Thalia’s mouth closed, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

“You drifted in and out of consciousness, and whenever you were lucid—the things you said–!” Gabriel looked ready to tear something in half, though opted instead to pull a nearby chair across the way before dropping into it.

“Gabriel, I’m so sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he wanted you like that?”

Thalia’s blood ran cold. She could only stare helplessly at Gabriel, watch as his foot bounced and his fingers curled against the chair’s headrest. Smoke; gracious, but she’d miss the smell of smoke on him. “It… it doesn’t matter, now.”

“It does matter.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it–!”

Gabriel was suddenly at her side, barely a breath of space between them. The snarl that rumbled deep from his throat hummed in her chest, and Thalia found herself prone to swoon once more. “When will you understand there is nothing I cannot accomplish?”

Thalia opened her mouth to reply, finding herself at a loss for words. Lost in the intense glare of his eyes, of an anger not direct at her, but for her. The thought curled in the back of her mind, flickering into a gentle warmth that crept across her body and pooled into her middle. Had anyone ever been angry for her sake? Her breath hitched; she couldn’t rightly remember.

She suddenly felt quite feverish, trying to push the comforter off in an attempt to put distance between them. “What happened with Giles, then?”

“He was completely disarmed by my feminine charms, of course!” Charlotte’s cheerful demeanor broke through the tension, her grinning face appearing around the door’s frame as she welcomed herself into the room. “It was quite a sight, if I do say so myself. There was nothing he could do but submit to all my wishes!” She dramatically flicked a strand of hair behind her shoulder, smiling smugly.

Thalia couldn’t decide if she should be impressed, or horrified. “You…really are a Harding, through and through.” She turned to address Gabriel, finding he’d retreated back to the chair against the bedside. A slight pang of hurt filled her chest, but Charlotte quickly grabbed her attention, bounding over and gently grasping at her hands.

“How are you feeling, Thalia?” she asked. “I won’t pry and ask any details, but Gabriel’s been going quite mad with all the waiting.”

Thalia glanced Gabriel’s way, noting his shoulders visibly stiffen at the comment. “I’m… groggy, I suppose. How long was I asleep for?”

“Only a few hours,” Charlotte reassured. “It’s about… one? Maybe one-thirty in the morning.”

“One thirty-seven,” Gabriel corrected, a pocket watch suddenly set in his hand.

And you’ve been in here this whole time… Thalia realized. She sighed, giving Charlotte’s hands an apologetic squeeze. “You two are very sweet to be concerned with me. But, I promise, I’m feeling much better than before. She rolled her next words around in her head for a moment, then decided it would be best to give the Hardings at least a bit of information. “I went faint from exhaustion, for the most part.”

“You truly looked as if you’d been running for days,” Charlotte said. “And, Giles didn’t…?”

“Giles didn’t hurt me,” Thalia fibbed, her chin still aching from his grasp. “Not in any significant way, at least.”

The look Gabriel cast her way sent a shiver down Thalia’s spine. He knew the truth, though his gaze flickered back to the pocket watch.

“He made you faint in public! And he tried to play it off as hysterics and besmirch your good name,” Charlotte argued.

Not that her name wasn’t besmirched as it was, but Thalia opted to keep that thought to herself.

“At any rate, you can rest easy about him,” Charlotte continued. “Giles is, without a doubt, banned from entering Stonewell, for any reason. Not that Gabriel would let him take even one step inside,” she added with a wink. “But the staff and servants know to keep an eye out for him, or anyone associated with him. Servants, maids—heavens, even his butler won’t be allowed!”

Something horribly sour welled up in Thalia’s throat, and she nearly fell out of bed trying to stand. “Oh, God—I have to find him!”

“What? Find who—Thalia!?” Charlotte’s arms flew out, but Gabriel was faster, grabbing Thalia and catching her around the waist before she fell completely out of bed.

“I have to find George!” she cried out, trying to push free in a desperate bid for the door. “I—Giles let him go, and it’s all my fault!”

Immediately, Gabriel’s arms wrapped around her form, and she did everything she could to break free.

“Let go, Gabriel!” Thalia shoved her trembling arms against him, mind suddenly light and drifting. “I—I need to… it’s my fault he’s?—”

“Thalia, take a deep breath.”

Her face flushed, furious that her own advice was being used against her. “Gabriel, please?” But he kept his grip firm—not enough to hurt her, but enough to make his point. With a sigh, Thalia inhaled and exhaled sharply, trying once more to wiggle free.

“Thalia.”

It was an unspoken command, gentle, but unwavering in its intent. Thalia sighed heavily, then found her breath hitching painfully in her chest. She blinked furiously, the first few drops of tears streaming down her face well-outside of her control.

“Someone reminded my sister that her emotions are nothing to be afraid of,” Gabriel said softly. “I would hope that someone took her own lessons to heart.”

Thalia’s arms worked free to grasp Gabriel’s waist, and she took another, far deeper breath. She held on for dear life as everything rushed to the forefront—exhaustion, terror, resentment, shame—and she found her legs too weak to support her, allowing Gabriel to hold her in its place.

“Charlotte, go let the kitchen know we need a tray made up,” he said softly.

Thalia hardly saw the door open and close behind Charlotte; she held far too fast to Gabriel, trying desperately to remember how to breathe. All the while, he stayed there, holding her upright, ensuring she wouldn’t collapse under the weight of it all.

* * *

He couldn’t help but stare as Thalia gingerly took another sip of chamomile. Thalia. Yes, he was back to a first-name basis with her, after having so boldly proclaimed to himself to put distance between them.

But Gabriel found he couldn’t help himself, especially after his interaction with Giles. And he’d spent enough time waiting for her to recover, so now both he and Thalia took to the gardens, seated beneath the gazebo as the night sky shimmered with astral wonder.

The tea table held a small pot and platter of dinner leftovers, though Thalia seemed only keen to nibble on some bread. Not that Gabriel would push the subject; the mere fact she was willing to eat anything was good enough for now.

“And you’re certain that’s what Giles said to you?” he asked.

Thalia nodded, setting her cup back against its saucer. “It was never explicitly stated, but… I wouldn’t put it past Giles to fire someone I cared dearly for.” Her teacup trembled, hands rushing to her lap as she no doubt clutched them tightly. “Poor Mr. Cooke… it’s unlikely he’d get a proper letter of recommendation, either. I don’t know how he’s going to survive—his wife passed away years ago, and his children are scattered across England.”

“Remind yourself that Mr. Cooke’s misfortune rests solely in Giles’ hands,” Gabriel remarked.

“B-But he openly treated me with kindness,” Thalia argued. “Even after everything, and knowing full well that would create enemies.”

“That only cements him as a man I’d like to keep around.” Gabriel reached for his own cup, swirling the contents and watching curls of steam filter into the air.

“Worry not for him any further; you’ve already given me his address, and though I have no need for another butler, he is welcome to the small cabin farther out on the property line. That will at least expel his concerns for property tax.”

Thalia remained uneasy in appearance, staring at her hands as if they would come to life and bite her. Gabriel sat back against his chair, wrestling with what he wanted to say next. Everything felt too obvious, too patronizing, and he found himself well and truly stuck.

That was, until his little rabbit spoke up first, much to his surprise. “Would it be alright if I asked you something, Your Grace?”

He smiled, setting his cup down as his hands folded against the table. “No ‘Gabriel’ this time?”

Even in the dim, Thalia’s face blushed brightly.

“It’s quite alright,” Gabriel reassured. “I’m… pleased that you see me as being so approachable. If it does not cause you unease, I would ask you to continue using my name.”

Thalia nodded slowly. “Alright… Gabriel.”

Music to his ears.

“Then, you should refer to me as ‘Thalia’, consistently, from here on out,” she insisted. “Unless you find me unapproachable?”

Gabriel chuckled now; it was quite the opposite, in fact.

“No, I do not find you unapproachable… Thalia.” Her name tingled against his tongue, finally used in a context where emotions weren’t at their absolute pinnacle. It felt as if he’d passed a barrier held between them, one he’d been so insistent on keeping. Still keeping; she made it so easy for him to lower his guard.

“What is your question?”

Thalia exhaled, clearly still nervous to ask. But she did so anyway; another aspect he was growing to adore about her.

“From the beginning of our arrangement, it was very clear that I benefitted more than you. Even more so, now with your charitable aid to Mr. Cooke.” She glanced at her lap, then rose her gaze to meet him, those emerald eyes iridescent beneath the moonlight. “You even allowed my brother to come with me; a very generous offer, but not one you had to propose.”

Gabriel shrugged lightly. “I did not think it proper to leave him in Whitechapel. You would spend your days at Stonewell fretting over him.”

“I… would, yes,” Thalia admitted. “But you still didn’t have to do that. And, I admit, when I first arrived here, I had expected to play this grand role of infatuation. That I would be paraded about in public to showcase your interest in me, that I would need to fully convince your sister that I was in love with you.”

“Charlotte would believe you regardless,” Gabriel said. “The convincing was mostly on my end.”

“But certainly, more frequent social outings would solidify the ruse, and my end of the bargain would be more properly paid for?”

This was true, and it had been something Gabriel considered. He leaned back in his chair, taking his cup once more before giving it a long, considerable sip. “Did you wish to be paraded about, Thalia?”

The question gave her pause.

“Or did you wish to play the part of a lovesick fool to my sister, or to your old social group?” Gabriel set his cup down, giving her a long, careful look. “Did you hope to convince Giles, perhaps, that the terrifying Duke of Stonewell was pining after you?”

Her face blanched slightly. “I wouldn’t use you in such a way, Gabriel.”

She was being truthful. Painfully honest; if there was even a slight chance that Gabriel’s reputation would be affected by a decision on her part, Thalia would sooner put up with the consequences of her non-action. He shook his head, offering her a rare smile of warmth.

“So serious with your reply, Miss Sutton.”

“Thalia,” she corrected, managing a small, bashful grin of her own.

“Yes… Thalia.” Gabriel stood from his chair and rounded the table, getting down on one knee to fully face Thalia eye-to-eye. Gently, he extended his hand, and was delighted when she took it. “You have shown great courage and trust in me, Thalia, and I have kept many secrets from you. The very least I can do is grant you your own autonomy.”

Thalia chuckled weakly,

“It’s funny… when I first met you during Orion’s Hunt, your speech had a similar feeling to it.” She squeezed his hand light, a more genuine smile crossing her face. “I had thought your talk of a woman’s choice was merely for show, but… you’re not as unapproachable as you seem, Gabriel.”

He wasn’t. That thought scared him, the realization that, regardless of his pledge to his father, Gabriel Harding allowed himself this minor vulnerability.

“Do… do you mind if I give you a kiss?” Thalia whispered.

A brief squirm of guilt settled into Gabriel’s stomach at her. She truly trusted him with everything. And he had kept her in the dark, willingly used her brother to his own end. Gently, he lifted her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. “Ask me again when you are not so wounded, little rabbit. After all, I prefer my prey to be healthy when I take them for a hunt.”