A Rescue by the Rakish Duke (A Game of Rakes #5)

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

“ W e’ll have to tread carefully,” Evan muttered. “Something about the whole thing feels too convenient.”

The sun had not fully risen when Damian and Evan set out for their potentially dangerous journey.

The air was crisp the way Damian wanted it. It spurred him into action. Damp earth. Fading autumn leaves. Everything seemed set up for what was about to come.

Damian tightened his hold on his horse’s reins. Determination rolled off him. Anyone looking at him right now would know that he was not someone to be trifled with. Not at this moment. Not ever.

He didn’t like the risks involved in gathering more solid proof of Montrose’s schemes, but he could not leave the matter unresolved.

Justice.

Revenge.

Even Evan wasn’t smiling like usual. Instead, a deep frown creased the middle of his forehead. He had mounted his horse just as quietly as Damian did, his eyes also fixed on the horizon.

Damian nodded at him, his expression grim. His man was right, no matter how he looked at it.

“We’ll proceed as planned. You are right. The source isn’t trustworthy. So, we need to stay vigilant. I’ll be damned if I let down my guard this time.”

Evan looked at him curiously, but Damian only glanced at his friend out of the corner of his eye. They both knew that he wasn’t referring to only revenge this time. Damian had let his guard down, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about Gwendoline.

Her moans. How she felt when she reached her pinnacle on his fingers. How her walls clenched around him.

Damian stifled a groan and refocused on the path ahead. The two men rode out of the estate. The rhythmic sound of horses’ hooves was the only thing that could be heard. Damian wondered how they would disguise the sound once they were close to Montrose’s abandoned estate.

They navigated narrow lanes before turning onto wilder and broader terrain. Damian knew he should be concerned, for they were venturing into unknown territory and putting their lives at risk. However, he was more concerned about the woman he left behind.

What happened between them didn’t feel like the end, and he couldn’t wait to stop Montrose if it meant his freedom to choose his life and destiny.

Earlier that morning, Gwendoline was restless. She couldn’t explain it, but something about that day pulled her out of bed before dawn.

She was right.

She saw Damian and Evan preparing their horses. They also had water and what she suspected to be a few supplies with them. They were about to go on a journey, one so secretive that they didn’t want to bring the coachman with them.

“What’s going on?” she demanded, breathing heavily from running toward them.

Damian inhaled deeply before answering. Gwendoline suspected that he was holding back from saying his usual words.

“It’s a business trip,” he said coldly, acting so different from the man who made her see stars with his fingers.

“Then why are you not taking the carriage? It would be easier. What if it rains? Would you be able to seek shelter? How far away is the?—”

“You don’t need to know these things, Duchess. Make yourself comfortable in your chambers. It is still early and cold.”

Huh.

Gwendoline didn’t even notice the cold. She was so focused on catching up to the two men and finding out what they were doing.

“Your Grace, don’t you think your duchess needs to know?” Evan asked tentatively.

“Drake, remember that you are under my employ and not hers,” Damian snapped.

Gwendoline did not take offense this time. She kept quiet, which she believed was the best strategy. She pretended to return to her chambers, but she only went somewhere she could observe the two men undetected. She was fortunate to see Hannah passing by the corridor she was hiding in.

“Hannah,” she called, urgently beckoning the maid over.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Hannah asked, hurrying toward her.

“I need you to fetch me a plain riding habit. Something dark. I need it at once,” Gwendoline said, ensuring her voice remained soft despite the urgency of the situation.

The maid rushed to get what she asked for and was back in no time.

Dressed in her riding habit, Gwendoline felt more confident that Damian wouldn’t notice her. She didn’t worry about Evan, who could be persuaded to take her side.

She waited until the two passed the gates of the estate before following them. She knew enough about riding horses to gauge how much time she needed to reach a distance behind them where she wouldn’t be noticed.

It was not an easy task.

She had to keep her mare’s pace steady and her movements quiet. The thrill of rebellion spurred her on. However, she couldn’t ignore her growing unease as they ventured farther and farther from Greyvale.

She held her breath whenever Damian and Evan slowed down. At one point, they had no choice but to slow down because of the rocky incline. It made it difficult for her to hide her presence, although the denser and wilder terrain helped. Regardless, she had to hold her breath and urge her mare to remain still. The latter was the more challenging part. She had to wait for the two men to disappear behind the crest of the hill before she could nudge her horse forward again.

Even though she wanted the dense trees to cover her, her determination wavered when the trees became too thick. The gnarled branches twisted like skeletal hands. They also felt alive—human. The path then narrowed, forcing her to dismount. She had to lead her mare on foot.

She made a mental note to give her horse treats when they returned to Greyvale.

Oh, maybe she should have just listened and stayed there.

The dense forest made her look over her shoulder far too often as if she was the one being chased and not the other way around. There was something so forbidding and tempting about the forest. The earthy scent of moss blended with the decaying leaves. Every rustle sounded like an explosion.

Gwendoline tried her best not to scream to Damian for help. She was so tempted—ever so tempted—and they were too far from Greyvale now for him to send her back alone.

Damian thought he was imagining things at first. He swore that he heard someone gasping behind them. Not once. But twice. Still, with the sound of the wind and the rustling of bushes, he couldn’t be sure.

Then, his sharp eyes detected the faintest movement in the undergrowth. At first, he dismissed it. They were taking a route that few people used unless they were safe in their carriages. It was a place where deer and other creatures roamed. So, it shouldn’t be a surprise to hear something at some point. However, what he did see made his blood run cold.

The horse that was a few meters behind them was familiar. Very much so.

“Stay here,” he instructed Evan.

“Why? What is it?”

Instead of responding, Damian dismounted and walked stealthily back to the horse. With each step, his nervousness turned into anger. The closer he got, the clearer it was who was following them.

Sure enough, he immediately saw his wife cowering behind the tall grass. She knew she was about to get caught, but she was still trying to hide.

“Gwendoline,” he ground out.

He didn’t know how he should feel. Angry? Surprised? Both?

“What in God’s name are you doing here?”

She got up and patted her clothes, which now had some grass stains. She straightened, attempting to summon her usual bravado, but she sounded defeated. “I… I wanted to help, Your Grace.”

Damian squeezed his eyes shut briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? You could have been hurt, or worse.”

“I’m here. Can’t you see that I am unharmed?” she chirped, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m young, but I’m not a child, Your Grace. Please don’t treat me like one.”

He stalked closer, meaning to intimidate her, although deep down he knew she wouldn’t give up. “You’re coming with me to the estate, but you will stay by my side.”

“Fine.”

The fight had left her. Damian wondered if she had encountered something that terrified her enough to be so agreeable.

The estate loomed ahead, its silhouette making itself known. Its crumbling structure and shuttered windows made it appear like a relic. Damian’s unease grew the closer they got. He motioned for Evan and Gwendoline to stay back while he surveyed their surroundings.

The structure became clearer, defined, as they approached. Even before they walked past the rusty gates, they could see the place was falling apart.

Evan shook his head, his glare declaring that he was joining him.

“Stay here, Duchess,” Damian instructed, looking his wife right in the eye. “And I mean it this time.”

She nodded, her earlier boldness tempered by a caution, which might have been caused by the eerie atmosphere.

Damian and Evan pushed open the heavy wooden door. The creaking of the hinges echoed through the empty halls. Inside, the air was thick and stale, and there was a smell of damp stone and mildew.

The trio moved cautiously, their boots crunching on debris scattered across the floor. Damian’s hand rested on the pommel of his sword, his senses highly alert.

Then, he heard a faint sound, like the scuff of a boot against stone. He signaled to Evan, and the two crept toward the noise. Turning a corner, they found a man sifting through a pile of papers in a dilapidated study. A musty smell permeated the room.

The man froze at their approach, his face paling.

“Who are you?” Damian demanded.

“I… I was sent to retrieve something,” the man stammered.

“By whom?” Damian boomed.

The man opened his mouth and closed it when he heard a noise coming from outside.

Damian’s heart sank as he realized that Gwendoline had, again, followed them. So much for obeying. Then again, he did ask her to stay with him.

He groaned. All the plans in the world would go up in flames because of his wife.

Damian and Evan rushed toward the front door, the former prepared to give her a scolding. However, what he saw made him see red.

She was struggling against another man.

“Get away from my wife!” he roared, rushing toward them without even thinking of shielding himself.

The man’s hesitation gave Damian enough time to land a punch that sent him sprawling. Evan threw his arms around the intruder while Damian rushed to Gwendoline. Concern and anger churned within him. He only just realized that he was trembling.

“You were not supposed to follow us,” he gritted out.

“And you think I would be safe outside?” she retorted, her hands on her hips. “Look on the bright side. I stopped him. He would have gotten away!”

Damian was caught between frustration and admiration.

Gwendoline was reckless, but she was also brave. He supposed the two had to come together. After all, he and Evan knew there were risks involved in their little mission.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, roughly pulling at his hair.

“You’re welcome, Your Grace,” she returned smugly.

They managed to restrain the intruders and search the estate for more clues. Damian couldn’t help but keep glancing at Gwendoline. She had held her ground. Of course, she knew it was dangerous, but she showed great courage and strength.

They were not finished with the estate, however.

Damian’s eyes fell on Gwendoline. Oh, God, why hadn’t he thought about it?

“You knew this place. Where would your father hide important objects—documents—he didn’t want to be found?”

Gwendoline hesitated, her gaze sweeping over the dusty furniture and cobwebbed corners. Damian suspected that it wasn’t because she didn’t want to help. For her, it had been a long time. The estate was part of a memory that she held dear—a happy one, he assumed. Before Montrose. Before all the humiliation.

“There’s a hidden compartment in that desk,” she said at last, pointing to what felt like the room’s highlight. “My father used to hide his precious cigars in it.”

Damian felt a pang of sympathy when he heard the nostalgia in her voice.

“Show me,” he said softly.

He stepped aside to let her approach and inspect the desk. It wasn’t the mahogany structure his eyes were fixed on, though. It was her face.

Gwendoline knelt before the desk, almost caressing it with her palms. It did have intricate carvings that lent it texture and shape.

“It’s here somewhere,” she murmured. “There should be a latch or a false panel if I’m not mistaken.”

Evan leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. From time to time, his eyes would dart to the hallway.

Gwendoline’s fingers suddenly stilled. Her eyes lit up as she pressed on a decorative carving. They all heard a faint click. Then, a small drawer slid open from the side of the desk.

“There!” she exclaimed, sitting back on her heels.

Damian was instantly at her side, helping her pull the drawer further. Inside were several documents, some yellowing with age. He retrieved them almost gingerly. His heart stuttered as he unfolded the first sheet.

“Is that it?” Evan asked, joining them.

“Ledgers,” Damian said, his voice suddenly gravelly.

He scanned the pages, his frown deepening with each line. “Records of transactions,” he murmured. “Bribes. Payments to certain individuals. Oh, but this last one is perfect. Here’s a letter from Montrose himself outlining his plans.”

Gwendoline’s breath caught. “This proves his guilt?”

“Beyond a shadow of a doubt,” Damian confirmed. “You’ve done it, Gwendoline. You’ve given us the proof we needed. Names. Amounts. Transactions.”

“I t-thought you already had proof before?” Gwendoline asked, thinking back to the time the duke stormed Timothy’s townhouse parlor.

“It wasn’t enough. I also wanted to rattle Montrose a little. Make him sweat. Make him confess.”

Evan cleared his throat. “Before we celebrate, let’s think about the fact that Montrose is aware of the risk he was taking by keeping all his documents in one place.”

Damian tightened his grip on the papers, afraid that someone would snatch them. Tear them before he could do anything. “You think this is a trap?”

“It may not be, but we must consider everything. Montrose has been operating for a long time. He’s not a fool.”

“We certainly need to be careful,” Damian agreed. Then, he folded the documents and tucked them in his coat. “But these documents are worth the risk.”

Something crashed in the entrance hall.

The three of them froze, ready to tackle another intruder if need be. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, becoming louder and louder.

Evan drew his pistol, seemingly expecting the worst. “We’ve been discovered,” he hissed.

Damian pulled Gwendoline to her feet and stepped in front of her. “Stay close. I mean it, Duchess,” he ordered. “Evan, cover the door.”

The footsteps stopped just outside the study. Damian could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The door creaked open, revealing a figure shrouded in shadow.

Damian put his hand on the pommel of his sword and stepped forward at the same time Evan aimed his pistol.

“Who goes there?” he demanded.

The figure stepped into the light, revealing a young servant. He was perhaps a few years younger than Gwendoline. His face was pale, and his eyes were wide with fear.

“My lords,” the boy stammered. “Whoever you are, please leave now. The earl won’t be happy if he finds you here.”

Damian’s jaw clenched. “How much time do we have?”

“I’m not certain,” the boy replied. “Perhaps tomorrow morning. Make sure that his men won’t be able to escape to report to him, or else he will be here before nightfall.”

Damian exchanged a glance with Evan. The boy was too young to have seen too much.

“We’re leaving,” he said. “But first…” He turned to the boy. “Thank you. Your warning may have saved our lives. We didn’t know if he was still using this place. I pray Montrose does not find out about your betrayal. Do come to Greyvale if you believe your life is in danger.

The boy nodded vigorously. “Thank you, my lord. I will.”

Damian took Gwendoline’s hand and led her in the direction they had come from. This time, though, they exited through a side entrance they had spotted earlier. Evan followed close behind, his pistol cocked and ready.

Damian knew they must escape. He had made a promise, and he did not intend to break it.

Then, the rain fell.

Hard.