Page 7 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke (Duke Wars #2)

CHAPTER 7

“I hope this doesn’t sound too terribly rude, but…”

Thalia pulled her attention back to Charlotte, having been looking over her shoulder for quite some time. She’d tried to watch Robin for as long as possible, but as soon as they rounded the house, she found herself wildly uncomfortable.

Not that she didn’t trust her brother to behave himself, but this was such a vastly different world from the one he grew up in. And to be cornered by the Duke of Stonewell, of all people… it was a feeling she was well versed in.

“...that is who you are, isn’t it?”

Thalia blinked, realizing she’d completely missed Charlotte’s question. She smiled awkwardly, tugging at the fray of her old gloves. “I’m so sorry—who am I, exactly?”

Charlotte’s expression was soft, inquisitive—nothing at all like her brother’s. She let her hair down, brushing a long, curling strand of hair over her shoulder as it bounced just against the middle of her back. “Thalia Sutton. As in, the late marquess’ daughter.” Charlotte grimaced, adding almost hesitantly, “Whose… cousin banished you from Oslay Hall.”

A wave of nausea briefly overtook Thalia, and she began to shake her head.

“Oh, no, I don’t mean to sound judgmental!” Charlotte insisted. “What happened to you was absolutely unjust; if I had it my way, I’d have Gabriel storm the manor walls and simply bully the man into apologizing.”

A nervous snort of laughter escaped Thalia. “Th-that does sound like something His Grace would do.”

Charlotte made a slight face. “Ugh; he has you refer to him by his proper title? How horribly unromantic.” She shook her head and sighed lightly, her hands folding behind her back. “I love my brother, I truly do, but he’s absolutely hopeless when it comes to courtship. Perfectly adequate if you need to scare someone, but I hardly think he wants to scare you away.”

Thalia could only nod a nervous reply, keeping close to her hostess’ heel. It hadn’t been long since she treaded the grounds of a manor, but her time in Whitechapel helped her appreciate all the little things she never had before.

There was a lack of refuse, for starters, bunched into piles along the side of the white-polished walls curling with the start of blooming ivy, nor had it tangled itself between half-rotting stumps or chewed-apart bushes.

The air felt clean against her face, and inhaling deeply wouldn’t cause horrific wheezing. And the people; each gardener she and Charlotte passed offered a friendly smile or nod, and Thalia couldn’t believe how sorely she’d missed such basic acts of kindness.

She was so lost in her thoughts that Thalia hadn’t realized Charlotte stopped them long ago. They appeared to be beneath a wide gazebo, painted a beautiful birch-white and sparsely walled-off with beautiful, rose-hued silks. A cavalcade of rose bushes cradled the picnicking spot, filling the air with a rich, perfumed scent that mingled nicely with the fresh, spring air.

A tea table had been set at its center, decorated with lovely vases of white-and-red roses, and another finely-dressed woman closer to Thalia in years sat in one of the chairs, sipping delicately from a china cup. Bright red hair caught in the sunlight, and as a freckled-face turned to greet the pair, Thalia’s heart skipped a beat.

“Louise, I want you to meet my brother’s latest obsession.” Charlotte practically skipped to the side, hands held aloft in dramatic fashion as she introduced her guest. “Thalia, this is one of my dear friends, Louise. Her husband, Christian Wright, is the Duke of Egerton.” Charlotte paused, adding with a chuckle, “I suppose I should have technically introduced her as Her Grace Louise Wright, Duchess of Egerton…”

Louise, in return, waved a gloved hand in the air. “Entirely too much of a mouthful; Louise is just fine.”

“Her husband and my brother founded the Ton’s Orions together,” Charlotte grinned. “Thick as thieves, those two, though you’d hardly ever hear Gabriel admit it.”

Thalia could only smile and nod in response.

“And before it becomes far too awkward to broach,” Charlotte said. “Louise, this is Thalia Sutton, of Oslay Hall.”

Again, Thalia’s face lit up crimson. She wanted nothing more than to run inside the manor and hide away for the next five days, but much to her surprise, Louise’s expression held genuine sympathy.

“Thank goodness the new marquess is only your cousin; I couldn’t imagine being directly related to such a spineless coward.” She shifted in her chair, revealing the sizable bump against her dress, and gestured to the empty spot beside her. “You rode all the way from Whitechapel, yes? Come, don’t let us make you stand any longer.”

“I was just about to invite her to sit!” Charlotte insisted, quickly choosing a chair directly across from Louise. “You are ruining my first real hostess experience.”

Louise replied with a rich, deep laughter, the sort that filled one’s core instantly. Thalia moved to take her seat beside the duchess, eyeing their luncheon nervously.

“Do you want me to help with anything?” Charlotte immediately stood, reaching for a sampler plate and a pair of tongs. “I couldn’t help but notice your wrist; is it a recent injury?”

Thalia immediately tucked her splint beneath the table, feeling Louise’s eyes boring into it. “Ah, no. It—I mean, I suppose it is.” She dared a glance towards the duchess, a cold sweat breaking out against the back of her neck.

Louise looked visibly concerned, an obvious realization spreading across her face. Then, without warning, she let out a groan and eased herself upright, using the table for support as her other hand rested against her midsection.

“Gracious, I think the little one’s feeling restless. Charlotte, would you mind setting up another plate for me?” Louise asked. “I think I need a quick walk among the roses.”

Charlotte nodded, eagerly placing a finger sandwich onto the sampler plate. “Oh—do you want me to walk with you, in that case?”

“No, no, let Thalia come with me,” Louise insisted. “She hasn’t seen the loveliest parts yet herself.” Her attention then turned to Thalia, her expression flawlessly apologetic. “I’m terribly sorry for this; and here I just invited you to sit.”

“N-no, Your Grace, it’s quite alright.” Thalia quickly stood, looping an arm around Louise’s to help support her. “Um… I’ll follow your lead, then.”

“I’ll have tea and snacks ready when you return!” Charlotte grinned, waving the two off as Thalia stepped down from the gazebo. She dared one more glance at Louise, whose calm and unsuspecting demeanor hadn’t once faltered.

But her stomach knotted regardless, and she felt a pained twinge on her wrist. The Duchess of Egerton knew something was off, and Thalia suspected she wouldn’t be getting away from her interrogations so easily…

* * *

Gabriel had been staring across his desk at Robin, silently, for the past five minutes or so. He’d immediately led the Sutton boy to his out-of-home study, adjacent to the main library and stocked just as thoroughly.

Dozens upon hundreds of books lined the walls of the room, a few armchairs set behind a large, stained glass window currently filtering in slivers of colorful, mid-afternoon sunlight.

In the corner, a small fireplace crackled delicately, given only enough logs to create a soft ambiance and hold a slight tinge of smoke in the air. Robin had chosen to sit closest to it, staring at the flames in quiet contemplation.

No one seemed willing to speak first. Gabriel could respect that; he had been the one to call the meeting, as it were, and it was wise to allow one’s enemy to speak themselves into a corner. Whitechapel truly had made itself another distrusting member of London society.

“It was a foolish plan at best, you know.”

Robin’s jaw visibly clenched. “What was?”

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, his brow raised slightly. “Your forgery attempt.”

Robin’s expression remained dark, but Gabriel knew his assumption was right. So the young Sutton had been the mastermind behind Thalia’s infiltration; an interesting connection, indeed. “I consider it in rather poor taste, when a man sends someone else to do their dirty work. Their sister especially,” he added icily.

Robin’s expression remained dark. “That wasn’t my idea. You don’t know Thalia. You can’t stop her once her mind’s made up.”

“Excuses.”

His fist slammed against the chair, nearly toppling it over as Robin jumped to his feet. “I don’t need the approval of a duke, sir.”

Pain. There was clear pain in the man’s voice, and Gabriel could detect guilt just from the way the young man’s lip curled. Naive certainly wasn’t the word he’d use for Robin, but the young man was foolish to wear his heart so obviously on his sleeve.

“But your sister does, Mr. Sutton. High society has shaped her past and will determine her future; you should take that far more seriously than you have.”

Robin’s expression burned. He looked ready to make a grievous mistake, hands curled and trembling at his side. Briefly, Gabriel’s mind went back to that terrible, terrible night. To the little boy who held his sister close in bed, burning with as much anger as this young man showed.

He was a liability but Gabriel found himself unable to deny him the vengeance he so obviously craved. He knew a thing or two about such ambitions.

“What do you really want with my sister?” Robin finally asked. “No duke simply decides to help a disgraced daughter of society and her bastard half-brother. Not unless there’s something in it for them.”

Ordinarily, such accusations would’ve earned this man a quick trip into unconsciousness. But Gabriel was genuinely impressed with the young man’s insight. He leaned forward in his chair, his hands folding on his desk. “What do you know of the Ton’s Orions and Devils, Mr. Sutton?”

Robin’s expression visibly churned as he ran throughout his mind. “Gentlemen’s clubs. Wildly exclusive places, wildly hell-bent on taking the other out.” He paused, then hesitantly added, “through any means necessary, if you believe in rumors.”

“And do you believe in rumors, Mr. Sutton?”

Robin gave him a long, hard stare. “I believe what’s been said about you. And I believe you care quite a bit for the social standing of your club; enough that underhanded tactics would be something you’d store away within your repertoire.”

Gabriel nodded slowly, pleased he’d been correct in his assumption. Robin was entirely too knowledgeable about the truths of the world; there might be a use for him, yet.

“The real question,” Robin continued cautiously. “Is if my sister or I risk that reputation you’ve so carefully crafted for yourself, or the Orions. And if we do,” he added, “how you plan to handle this… problem.”

Gabriel offered a cold smirk. “Now, why do you think yourself a problem, Mr. Sutton?”

“Because you haven’t properly answered my initial question, and men who stall are men who quietly plan the demise of others.”

That got a dark chuckle out of Gabriel. Robin was good, and he would internally offer such deserved praise. The boy was incredibly perceptive for his age.

“So?” Robin asked. “What do you really want from my sister, Your Grace?” The last part was practically spat out across the floor; Gabriel was beginning to enjoy the Sutton family in its entirety.

“As your sister mentioned previously, I have a personal stake in the clubs’... rivalry, shall we say.” Gabriel shifted in his chair, producing a few papers from a drawer beside him. “So, anything I can do to cause the Devils trouble is a net positive.”

He brandished the paperwork for Robin to see, gesturing toward what appeared to be a list of names. “I like to keep track of who takes an interest in our rivals, and it seems your cousin has been trying awfully hard to catch their leader’s attention.”

Cautiously, Robin approached the desk. His hand reached for the list, but Gabriel quickly pulled away; there certainly wasn’t enough trust between them to share every secret just yet. And Robin seemed to respect that, enough to let it go and take a seat.

“If rumor is to be believed,” Gabriel continued, “the marquess has, perhaps, been a touch reckless in his pursuits. A new wardrobe, expensive gifts for Devil’s members, paying for multiple years on his membership card… Your cousin seems determined to drain the lake before the rains can replenish it.”

A slight smirk crossed Robin’s face. “And, do your sources give an exact number to his accruing debt?”

Good; the young man was hooked. Gabriel set the papers across his desk, hands folding once more. “Unfortunately, my club needs to stay above the law when it comes to the gathering of information. I can’t simply wander into Oslay Hall and check for myself. But if one was to, say, accidentally come across the marquess’ spending ledgers, and that person were to accidentally share those numbers with a more influential party…?”

Robin’s brow rose slightly. “An interesting hypothetical, certainly. Though it won’t distract me from your lack of disclosed intentions with my sister.”

Gabriel’s lip curled slightly upward, and he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. Oh, yes, this was a young man he could easily see himself adding to his vast array of resources. “For the next five days, she is under the protection of the Harding family. My title may mean little to you, but I’m certain you appreciate the promise of one brother to another.”

He could. Robin visibly relaxed in his chair, appearing far less guarded than when they first entered the study. He exhaled sharply, the last bits of his personal reserves blowing away, and he faced Gabriel as a new man. “Alright—where exactly do I fit in your grand plan… Your Grace?”