Page 31 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke (Duke Wars #2)

CHAPTER 31

T he dining room erupted with a cacophonous uproar. Orions moved to try and defend their de facto leader, while Devils tried their best to shield Giles Tilbury from being completely massacred. Gabriel himself remained seated, keeping his gaze level with Sybella’s own as she simply stood in place, wearing a coy smile and a fiercely intent gaze.

He wasn’t certain how she’d discovered his ruse, though it was equally possible she hadn’t any inkling at all. She had simply sensed a vague intent, or was drawn in by the impending chaos he would soon cause. Whatever her reasoning, Lady Fitzroy was thoroughly enjoying herself.

It was uncanny, Gabriel realized. As if he’d been staring directly into a mirror.

“What on earth is going on over here?” Tristan’s voice easily carried across the room, he and Christian appearing through the parting crowd. But it wasn’t either man who led the way, nor were they the reason others moved so quickly to the side. That honor stood with the lord of the manor himself; Isaac Cecil, the Duke of Arkley.

With hair cropped so close to his head, it was impossible to ignore the wide myriad of scars across his face. In particular, one that dragged from the top of his brow to the bottom of his chin, vanishing beneath an eyepatch that hinted at whatever void remained of his eye.

He quickly moved to his sister’s side, offering a curious tilt of his head. She silently replied, an unspoken conversation held between the siblings, and Isaac locked onto Giles next, his expression cold and unmoving. Gabriel stood from his chair, allowing Tristan to draw closer to the little marquess. He took his place beside Christian, who looked just as rigid as the other men in power. An unspoken rule had been shattered; there would be hell to pay, one way or another.

“Lord Oslay, I knew you were easy to excite,” Tristan began with a smiling grimace. “But even I don’t have to tell you how incredibly rude it is to accuse anyone—our hostess especially—of such a vulgar act.” He offered a wider grin Sybella’s way, somewhat forcing Giles’ head to bow. “Apologize to our illustrious hostess, for indulging a bit too much in her collection of strong beverages.”

Nervous chuckling rippled throughout the crowd of club members. Gabriel’s gaze lingered on Giles, impressed at how red his face had become.

“I’ll do no such thing!” Giles straightened himself immediately, lurching free from Tristan’s grasp before pointing an accusatory finger Sybella’s way. “I saw her! She was making signs for Stonewell to interpret—they were about to steal my money and a number of estates from me!”

Another wave of incredulous murmurs followed soon after; Gabriel remained still, biding his time and waiting for his moment.

Isaac’s expression remained unmoving, his sister exhaling sharply. “How very dare you, sir. I hardly have any need for a little marquess’ trinkets; take yourself out of my home at once.”

“Prove it, then!” Giles snapped. “Show us the card you were about to give to Gabriel! I saw you, arching your brow his way. I saw you do it before; you planned to humiliate me, just like the duke’s so desperately trying to do!”

“Awfully bold, believing you even cross my mind to begin with.”

The room collectively held its breath as Giles swiveled, glaring daggers as Gabriel spoke up at last. He sighed, feigning irritation, and gestured toward their table. “Well, go on then. If you’re so certain, check my hand.”

“Gabriel,” Christian began.

“No one’s accusing you of anything,” Tristan interjected.

Gabriel shrugged, hands raised in mock-surrender. “I have nothing to hide. Go on; the total should be seventeen.”

Giles moved to check the cards, but Isaac’s reaction could barely even be perceived. The cards seemingly appeared in his hands, his eyes flickering across the top before he offered a nod.

“Seventeen, then,” Tristan confirmed.

“And I had nineteen,” Giles spat. “Which means the odds are entirely in my favor. You’d be stupid to pull another card, Gabriel Harding, which means you knew ahead of time what the card was!” He pointed an accusatory finger, words practically venom on his tongue. “Admit it! You’ve had it out for me from the start, Duke of Stonewell! Why else would you take such a keen interest in my cousin, unless you wanted to spite me?”

Gabriel exhaled slowly, doing his best to remain in control. The urge to knock the man off his feet was intense, but he had a role to play.

“A cousin you all but washed your hands of, you mean,” Christian snapped. “You’d better stop now, before you cross a line you can’t return from.”

“He started it!” Giles shrieked, turning toward Sybella with a wild glare. “And I’ll prove it—I’ll prove to all of you what a two-faced coward your beloved duke is!” The little marquess barely took a step towards her when he was suddenly on the ground, face smashed against the floor as a small puddle of blood ran out from his mouth.

His arms were pinned tightly behind his back, legs briefly flailing before one was pressed beneath the heel of Gabriel, causing the other to fall completely prone. “Temper, little marquess,” he commented lightly. “Attacking a Devil is one thing, but their leader’s own flesh and blood?”

Gile’s face twisted with rage, spitting incoherently as Isaac moved protectively to his sister’s side.

“Gracious, but I hadn’t meant to cause so much commotion.” Sybella sighed, the damning card in question twirling between her fingers. “Here; if it will ease your mind, Lord Oslay, I’m happy to show you what you accuse me of.”

Giles’ face went deathly pale as a card was revealed; the king of hearts. “Y-You–you mean…?”

“Terribly sorry, Gabriel,” Sybella crooned, flicking the card away without a second’s thought. “Suppose tonight just isn’t your night.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Tristan finally spoke up once more, moving towards Gabriel as the pair worked together to hoist Giles onto his feet. “Since Lord Oslay here decided to act like an absolute fool, I’m marking this game as a win for the Orions.”

“I suppose that will make up for this slight against my honor,” Gabriel sighed, stepping away to brush his coat clean.

“What?!” Giles gurgled, blood still streaming from his mouth. “B-But I would have won!”

“You would have, yes!” Tristan’s expression appeared cheery, but his tone could cut through metal itself. “A shame you went and caused such an unforgivable scene. Gabriel, let me know if there’s any problems gathering up your winnings this evening; I’d hate for the Devils to gain a reputation of not paying their debts. Even if it’s from an ex-member,” he added, perhaps a bit too chipperly after the fact.

Some unseen rush of adrenaline charged through Giles, and he nearly tore free from Tristian’s grasp “No! Y-You can’t do this to me! It—those estates weren’t even mine to begin with!” Realization crossed his face too late, and all Giles could do now was clamp his mouth shut as angry chatter began circulating around the dining room.

“That money wasn’t, either!” a club member shouted out.

“You said you’d win me back twice as much!” another snarled.

“Seems as if you have quite a few debts to pay off, my little marquess,” Gabriel replied coolly. “That is, after the members of Arkley are finished with you. I don’t imagine you’ll be letting this one get away with attempted assault against your sister, Isaac?”

The duke of Arkley slowly shook his head, a cold murder building behind his gaze. He easily took hold of Giles, the man letting out a pained squeal as his arms tightened behind him.

“Well! That was a fun little detour,” Tristan beamed. “I’ll walk with Isaac and make sure Giles is fully acquainted with local law. Until next time, Gabriel!”

Gabriel offered a shrug in response, watching as Giles was practically dragged kicking and screaming. “Th-this isn’t over! You can’t do this to me!” The little marquess met Gabriel’s gaze, burning with an intense hatred never seen before within those icy-blue eyes. “You think so highly of yourself, but I still hold the card you want most. Once you’re done with my cousin, I’ll take her back, ruined and all.”

He wasn’t quite sure when it happened, but Gabriel quite suddenly found his fist plowed into Giles’ face, blood spurting from the man’s nose as red filled the duke’s vision. Isaac had no trouble regaining control of the weak-kneed marquess, seemingly ignorant as Gabriel grabbed the man entirely by the collar of his shirt.

“Speak of her again, and I promise you it will be the last use your tongue has,” Gabriel snarled.

Somehow, Gabriel paled further than before.

It wasn’t long after that Isaac dragged him from the dining room, the crowd of club members dispersing back to their tables or higher ranking members in hopes of retrieving lost funds. Gabriel exhaled loudly, suddenly feeling as if a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He suddenly remembered the presence of his friend and, without missing a beat, turned to greet him properly. “Sorry—I hadn’t even asked if you lost the brooch or not.”

Christian stared at him for a long, hard moment, then broke out into laughter, slapping his friend against the back.

* * *

Thalia could hardly stand to look away from the clock. It was well past midnight, and she’d taken near-permanent residence in the drawing room closest to the entryway.

It’d been easier to pass the time when everyone was still awake; Charlotte was a non-stop chatterbox, poking and prodding for information about the “courtship”. Not that there was much to tell, but Thalia was willing to look at past interactions with a new lens, disregarding any stories about the library. Or the stables.

It had been nice, thinking back throughout the week with fresh perspectives. Orion’s Hunt, the park opening, their walk through the field; everything suddenly had a far more intimate tinge to it, and Thalia wasn’t afraid to view it as such, now.

Of course, that only made it harder when Charlotte could no longer keep her eyes open, whisked off to the guest bedroom a mere fifteen minutes after ten. And Louise, ever the wonderful hostess, had long periods of time where she needed to step away, whether to handle matters of the home, or because the little one demanded more attention than she could muster in front of guests.

Thus, Thalia sat in the lightly-decorated drawing room, an embroidery project long since abandoned amidst a small pile of novels. Currently, a sketchpad provided by the servants sat across her lap, charcoal stick abandoned across the tea table as she remained fixated on the clock.

“Five till one,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Her body certainly was tired enough to head to bed, but her mind refused to settle. Not until Gabriel came back.

A gentle rap sounded against the drawing room’s door, Louise lingering beneath its archway. She held a silver tray with two cups of steaming tea, offering Thalia a sympathetic smile.

“Mind if I join you?”

Thalia immediately shifted over, opening a space beside her on the settee. Louise moved with a carefully cultivated grace, hardly impeded by the swell of her stomach. Even so, Thalia moved to take the tray from her, setting it across the table as Louise gratefully took her seat.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, Louise.”

“I certainly did,” Louise insisted. “You are still my guest, regardless of my circumstances.”

Thalia offered her hostess a cup first, accepting hers next as she inhaled the pleasant aroma. A hint of sweetness and a fair share of earth and apple; it warmed her to the core after the first sip.

“I still stay up sometimes,” Louise sighed lightly. “Especially when the little one is just as restless.”

Thalia blinked, the tea’s warmth flushing across her face.

“I think it’s just natural,” Louise continued softly. “To worry about the one you love. It doesn’t matter how often I hear it, or how much I know it myself; until I can see Christian for myself, I am simply unwavering.”

“Love…” Thalia repeated the word gently, as if afraid it might shatter in her mouth. “That’s… a strong word, Your Grace. I don’t know if we can use it for my and the duke’s… situation.”

Louise chuckled lightly, taking a sip from her cup before awkwardly leaning forward in an attempt to set it back against the table. Thalia moved quickly to assist, and her hostess let out a far louder sigh, practically sinking into the cousin of the couch.

“There’s no need to rush toward it. Honestly, I’m impressed you managed to wrap Gabriel’s mind around the idea of proper courtship at all. Christian was convinced he would live out his life a bachelor.”

“I imagine they had a bet going about it,” Thalia giggled.

“If not between them, then certainly between my husband and his clubmates.” Louise laughed, hands folding against her midsection with a slight wince. “Ooh, so particular, this one is. Just like his father; must have every little detail perfectly so.”

“Are you in pain?” Thalia asked.

Louise offered a warm, if somewhat strained, smile. “Some days, I am. Right now, I’m simply uncomfortable.”

“I really don’t need the company, if you require–?”

“–Oh, lying in bed sounds positively dreadful at the moment,” Louise interrupted with a groan. “You’re only some of the reason I’m sitting out here.” She shifted in her spot, looking terribly uncomfortable while doing so. But, after a moment, her expression looked less tight, and she let out another relieved sigh.

The question danced around her mind, but Thalia bit her tongue to ensure it didn’t slip out.

“Some days, I don’t feel it was worth it.”

Thalia let out a startled gasp, her hand shooting to cover her mouth. Louise laughed loudly in reply, pulling an embarrassed flush across Thalia’s face.

“Gracious, Louise! I thought I had said something aloud!”

“You’re very easy to read,” Louise admitted. “It’s what I adore most about you; I’m sure that’s what drew Charlotte in.” Her smile softened, and she held her hand outward. Hesitantly, Thalia accepted it, allowing her hostess to guide it over her stomach and settle atop.

“Some days, it’s very painful. Some days are filled with anger, or anxiety, or a fight that seems impossible to overcome.”

A slight flutter passed underneath Thalia’s hand; she couldn’t help but inhale sharply once more.

“Then… I imagine my life without any of this,” Louise said softly, a note of somber recollection in her tone. “And I know it’s all entirely worth it. It’s frightening, certainly, to trust someone with all you are. But I think you’ve already gone through one of the hardest parts, Thalia.”

Before Thalia could inquire further, the telltale crunch of carriage wheels immediately caught her attention. She nearly dropped her cup as she stumbled to her feet, managing a hasty apology before moving towards the door.

She almost missed Louise’s words after the fact, though they didn’t fully process until she’d run through the hall and rounded the corner into the entryway. She was out of breath, her hair a mess from hours of nervous fidgeting, and she hadn’t changed out of what was certainly a wrinkled mess of a gown.

But the moment those double doors opened, and Gabriel came tumbling in, equally out-of-breath and somewhat scattered in appearance, nothing else mattered to Thalia.

And as his expression lit up like the moon in the sky, Louise’s last sentence came flooding back to her mind.

You’ve made Gabriel Harding smile.