Page 4 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke (Duke Wars #2)

CHAPTER 4

A nger was an excellent tool, when used in the proper circumstances. It could motivate the weaker willed to action, be channeled physically to defend one’s self, and when tempered to a frigid chill, command absolute respect.

Gabriel had spent much of his life exploring the depths of his anger, honing it like a finely pointed blade. It was never unsheathed to settle petty matters, but for circumstances most dire. And yet, the moment he’d seen that splint, almost three decades of carefully built walls nearly came crashing down.

He led his little rabbit throughout the manor, easily evading detection through the longer routes and lesser known corridors. If he wanted to be found, he would be, and for the safety of both the guests and Orion members alike, he forced himself into obscurity. Not only because his unexpected guest was understandably skittish, but Gabriel was certain that the first man he came across would be beaten well past submission.

Anger—true, boiling anger, the kind that burned in one’s veins and lit their vision in red—had overtaken him completely. No one deserved to become a casualty of his lack of sense, not unless he discovered the culprit of her injuries within these walls.

It took a mere seven minutes before Gabriel finally slipped into the infirmary. He’d nearly lost count of the seconds, distracted by the occasional whimper or stumbling gait from his little rabbit.

She’d said nothing as he led her on, and the occasional glance over his shoulder revealed her injured arm to be firmly pressed up against her chest.

If she did belong to a Devil’s member, it was a terrible shame; even with the mask, Gabriel could tell there was something uniquely alluring about this prey in particular.

“Choose one of the cots,” he commanded. “We’ll get that wrist properly dressed.”

An air of indignation briefly enveloped her, but his little rabbit eventually relented. She gently stepped towards the closest bed, gathering her lace skirt before sitting along the edge.

Gabriel couldn’t help but note the obvious shift in the mattress as her body settled; she was no mere wisp of a woman, but a fully endowed lady deserving of proper admiration.

The curves of her waist, the fullness of her chest—God, but it really would be a damn shame if the Devils had gotten to her first. He shook the thought free, gathering a few supplies from the medical drawer before joining her. “The time for secrecy has ended, I’m afraid.”

His little rabbit hesitated, clearly struggling with whatever she was debating on doing next. Eventually, she exhaled softly, lifting her good hand towards the face of her mask.

Gabriel’s hand stopped her, surprising even himself. “Not you; I won’t be able to see properly with mine on.”

The corners of her mouth fell into a befuddled frown.

“You have not willingly given me your trust, yet,” he explained coolly. “Though you were not meant to be a part of the games, you will still benefit from them. Your mask may remain, but I would appreciate an explanation.”

Soft. Am I being too soft with her? Surely, there was nothing wrong with creating a sense of security. She would do him no good in a panicked state, and as soon as he got what he wanted out of her, Gabriel resolved to snap the trap shut without hesitation.

* * *

Thalia found it difficult to speak for a number of reasons. Her wrist had begun to throb terribly, and she was still very much coming down from a massive rush of anxiety and excitement. And, as the speaker finally removed his mask, the grand reveal left her a touch more breathless than she’d expected.

Beautifully dark curls, beautifully dark eyes—if the common man had been sculpted from the earth, he had been expertly crafted from the night sky itself. But more than anything, the man was instantly recognizable as Gabriel Harding.

As in, the Duke of Stonewell. As in, the co-owner and founder of the very club she’d broken into. As in, a man so terrifyingly high up the social ladder, Thalia was shocked she hadn’t simply been struck down after her first utterance against him.

And she had thrown an entire stack of papers in his face, taunted him so casually beforehand. A brief dizzy spell overtook her, and she felt herself beginning to sway.

“Easy, now.”

The duke had been so quick, hands immediately moving to support against her shoulders. She stared at him for a moment, brain still whirring from such a major revelation, and inhaled for a breath. A dry, heady scent of wood filled her being—his scent, Thalia realized with a start—brought on especially after exertion, mixed with the slight musk of natural perspiration. And, now that they weren’t chasing each other, she could appreciate the… the…“Gracious, but you’re strong.”

The duke’s brow rose slightly. She could now see his every expression, quickly realizing how foolish she sounded. Thalia buttoned her lip in a panic, suddenly interested in the corner of the room.

He worked in silence after that, occasionally brushing his hand against her wrist and waiting for her to… give permission, she guessed. Eventually, her attention drew back to his diligent task, and she watched as he gingerly cradled her wrist in the flat of his palm, muttering the exact number of times he wrapped her wrist with gauze before suddenly stopping.

“That should be far more reliable, now.”

Again, Thalia inhaled sharply. He sounded so… cold. Angry, she supposed, and for good reason. She’d taken him on quite the chase, and here he was, fixing her up without even so much as asking for her name.

Gently, too—every interaction between them had been considerate, though if she wasn’t previously injured, Thalia wondered if that would have not been the case.

The duke simply could be following the rules of the hunt as well, and every bit of this was a ploy to get her guard down. She would be right where she had been two days ago, on the grounds of her familial home, the looming shadow of a far-too powerful man leering at her.

Thalia exhaled, long and controlled. This wasn’t a path she wanted to tread; she didn’t want to wander in this lightless tunnel without hope. Life was give and take; an exchange of trust between individuals.

And, though her initial plan had been horribly slapdash, and she deserved whatever punishment the duke thought fit… everything had to happen for one reason or another. It had to, or all the suffering up until this moment would have been merely that.

Slowly, she lifted her hand and removed the rabbit mask.

* * *

When Gabriel lifted his gaze after finding the new splint, he was surprised to find his little rabbit’s face revealed in its entirety. She looked terrified, yes—wide-eyed and visibly trembling—but he had expected as much.

What he hadn’t expected was how breathtaking she really was; strands of dark, ebony hair grasped against her face like briars, protecting the flowers that thrived within their barbed grasp.

Every moment that passed, he found something new that delighted him—the flush in her cheeks, the curl of her lips, the soft features of her chin—and her eyes. It was like watching spring coming to life, grass revived from the death of winter and fighting to free itself from the frozen earth.

Yes—his little rabbit was in a perpetual state of blooming. It was the only way to describe it. Gabriel had to quickly clear his throat, refusing to show whatever brief trickle of weakness she’d managed to coax out of him. Beauty. It was her appearance that took him off-balance.

She’s like any other woman, he fought to convince himself. Like every other prey he’d hunted and caught in his lifetime.

“I… appreciate you trusting me with your identity,” he began. “Though I suspect you know me already, allow me to introduce myself properly. Gabriel Harding, my lady; Duke of Stonewell, co-founder and owner of the Ton’s Orions.”

She hesitated, but that spark of courage he’d seen during their chase welled up in her throat. “Thalia.” A beat passed, and she sighed, sounding almost defeated. “Thalia…Sutton, Your Grace.”

Sutton. The name rang with familiarity, and Gabriel thought back to the idle gossip and chatter he’d picked up from within London’s inner circle. “Oslay Hall, yes? The marquess, God rest his soul—you were on everyone’s lips for quite some time, Miss Sutton.”

And she clearly knew that, given her expression.

“I recall hearing about the new lord’s interest in the Devils,” Gabriel went on, satisfied as the pieces quickly fell into place. “Did he promise you a room back in Oslay in exchange for this act of espionage, Miss Sutton?”

Immediately, her timid glance fell into a frown far darker than Gabriel expected. “Certainly not. He could promise the Queen’s palace to me, and I’d sooner return to Whitechapel.”

Interesting.

“No, I…” Thalia paused, inspecting her splinted wrist with a tinge of regret in her tone. “I’m afraid my reason for the intrusion is far more childish than that, Your Grace.” Her fingers picked at a stray strand of gauze. “You give me far too much credit. My scheme was not nearly as clever as you make me out to be.”

Anger. Again, it bubbled unexpectedly in his chest, and Gabriel fought to keep it under control. At least he had a name associated with Thalia’s pain, now. “Elaborate.”

Thalia hesitated, her splinted wrist pressed against her chest.

“You’ve come this far, haven’t you?” He had to know how much fight she had in her. How long would his little rabbit struggle in the snare life had caught her in? “Truly, I have nothing to gain from knowing of your inner machinations. And truthfully,” he offered the slightest smirk her way. “I’m curious to hear how such a strange woman’s mind works.”

That did it; a split second of anger crossed Thalia’s face, building that bravado he’d seen in her during their chase. God, but it was exhilarating to watch it unfold.

Gabriel wanted nothing more than to prod her further, explore the depths of her resilience in a more… intimate situation. But it was hardly the time or place; he was content with observing from a distance. For now, at any rate. “Let’s start simple, then. How did you manage to get in without proper invitation?” Forgery was the obvious answer, but the ‘who’ was far more interesting to Gabriel.

“I…had someone forge an invitation, your Grace.”

Gabriel waited for a beat or two, somewhat disappointed that was all she would offer up. Still, at least he knew she wasn’t capable of such an act, meaning the late Marquess’ daughter still had rather fascinating connections. “And your reason for coming tonight?”

“I,” Thalia paused, still picking at her linen dressing. “I was hoping to find information, Your Grace. Not about the Orions, but the Devils.” She sighed, seemingly fixated on her sprained wrist. “My cousin—the new lord of Oslay Hall—he’s slighted me terribly, you see. I wanted to find something about the gentlemen’s club he’s grown so interested in, but…”

Gabriel nodded slightly. “You assumed we, as their rival, would have sufficient ‘dirt’, as it were.”

Thalia chuckled bitterly. “Hearing it aloud, it all sounds so childish. I’m not even sure what I could possibly find that would help me.”

“Nothing specifically about your cousin, no,” Gabriel agreed. “And nothing about the Devils that could land him in any real trouble.”

Another soft sigh escaped Thalia’s chest, and she eased her wrist to her side. “Well… thank you, Your Grace. I certainly haven’t earned this much kindness from you.” She paused, visibly wrestling with what to say next, before settling on an apology. “I… am sorry for coming to your event without permission. It wasn’t my intention to cause so much trouble.”

“On the contrary, Miss Sutton, you’ve made my evening infinitely more… interesting.” He enjoyed her startled expression, the way her eyes quickly whipped upward to greet his gaze.

Truly, a rabbit fighting to free herself from the snare. “I find myself quite drawn to your plight; truly, you had my attention when the Devils’ name crossed your lips.” It certainly helped that she gave him an excuse to tamper with the Devils’ proceedings, but to get revenge on the man who wounded her? “I wish to offer my aid.”

She blinked, utterly taken aback.

“You mentioned your cousin slighted you,” Gabriel continued. “Though I am uncertain in what way, I’m sure you would be more than willing to give more detail. Not tonight, though,” he added. “As I still very much have an event to help run. You understand.”

Thalia nodded, hope sparking across her gaze. “O-Oh, yes—of course, Your Grace! I’m not even sure what to say.”

Gabriel held up his hand, a warning edge seeping into his tone. “Say nothing further until you hear my offer, Miss Sutton. You’ll come to find I am a man who often deals with a detailed set of rules.” One by one, he lifted a finger into the air, until his hand had completely unfolded. “Five nights; to earn my assistance against your cousin, you will spend five nights with me.”

Oh, but it was entirely too easy to send her into a panic.

“F-Five nights, your Grace?”

Gabriel took a bit too much pleasure in watching Thalia squirm. “Your thoughts betray you, Miss Sutton. I mean for you to spend five nights in my mansion as a guest. But, to the social world, you are my one and only, attending formal events and sharing your arm with me and only me.”

Quietly, Thalia mulled the offer in her head, seemingly looking for any loopholes he could exploit against her. “Five nights… and you swear it never goes beyond a proper courtship?”

Again, Gabriel nodded.

“But, why?” Thalia asked. “It seems this offer far favors me over you. What do you gain from this, Your Grace?”

“Let’s just say… ” he paused, rubbing his temple as a headache began to bloom. “A little birdie has been singing rather loudly on my shoulder as of late.”

A gentle knock interrupted their conversation further. Thalia scrambled to place her mask back over her face, with Gabriel leaning to block her from view.

He spotted Christian propped against the frame, Louise by his side with her crown of roses adorned with a red one. Her smile quickly faded to a gasp as she hurried past, to Thalia’s side.

“Gracious—what happened, Gabriel? Are you alright, Miss?”

Christian tsked, his arms crossed in mock-scorn. “Breaking your own rules, are you? I suppose you’ll have to walk back out and pummel yourself into submission.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes as Thalia quickly spoke up on his behalf. “Oh, no, no! His Grace isn’t the culprit—I chose poor footwear tonight, you see.”

Louise didn’t seem entirely convinced, but her husband’s reassuring arm against her shoulder seemed to soothe her worry. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, and I’d quite like to get home and rest after all the excitement.” Thalia stood, gathering her gloves before crossing Gabriel’s path. “Thank you again, Your Grace. I’ll… happily accept your help, should we cross paths again.”

As she left, Gabriel felt a weight against his back, Christian’s face pulling into view. “Ah, that’s a shame, friend. Looks like your prey got away this time.”

Gabriel smiled knowingly, hand brushing against his red rose. “On the contrary, Christian; I say the hunt has only just begun.”