Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
D espite the crisp air, the sun was shining bright, and the grass was dry. Gwendoline was thrilled about being able to enjoy both worlds—bright sun and cool air.
She wasn’t much of a warm-weather woman, even though lounging next to the hearth on a freezing night was always welcome, especially if it was with Damian.
Her already ruddy cheeks flushed at the thought of her naked husband kissing the length of her spine as they lay on a blanket not too far from the fire.
Something about Greyvale made her feel healthier than she ever had before. Damian always made sure that her favorite dishes were prepared by Cook, who was glad to please her mistress. The fresh air, so different from that of London, also nourished her mind, body, and soul.
Of course, there was Damian himself.
She didn’t know what exactly he thought of her, and if whatever they had was how it should be between married couples or simply a man and a woman who had found a way to live together. However, she enjoyed spending time with him. She felt safe with him.
She scanned Greyvale’s sprawling countryside. She could not get enough of its lush foliage, the greens and browns highlighting the brighter pinks and reds of a myriad of flowers. The gardener certainly did a wonderful job, aided by nature.
The day seemed to promise tranquility, a rare respite from thoughts of Timothy and the danger he posed to them. Even though she and Damian had found some comfort in each other, forgetting his initial rules, they still had to face each day under the shadow of their common enemy’s treachery.
Today, Gwendoline chose Daisy, her favorite mare. She loved the freedom of riding on horseback, with the wind whipping her face and her hair. It gave her a sense of peace. Whenever Damian had to tend to estate matters, she looked for a way to clear her head.
She trusted the gentle creature, which had been her companion on many rides. The stable hands had also been taking care of the mare. So, she was in good health. She was steady and predictable, just right for someone like Gwendoline, who didn’t get to ride as often as she would have liked before she arrived at Greyvale. In fact, she never had an opportunity after her father’s finances plunged.
She didn’t expect any conflict today as she put on her impeccably tailored riding habit and tucked her hair beneath her hat. As she was making her way to the stables, a familiar deep voice called out to her.
“Gwendoline, where are you going?” Damian demanded, sounding distraught.
“To the stables, of course. Have you seen what I’m wearing?” She smiled at him, hoping that he would just let her leave. “Are you not supposed to leave for Elden Village?”
“You know the risks, Gwen,” Damian pressed, his voice tinged with concern. “After the poisoned chocolates, I’d rather we do not take any more chances. Stay with me.”
“And I’m staying with you,” she retorted cheekily. “I’m in Greyvale, and Daisy and I will remain within the estate grounds.” She walked back to him and placed her hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “I won’t take long. Daisy and I will take a short ride nearby. What could go wrong?”
“You know exactly what could go wrong, Gwendoline,” Damian said, a little exasperated.
“I won’t take long.” Her voice started to take on a defensive tone.
She had been looking forward to the ride for days, but the rain had thwarted her plans.
“Gwen—”
But she was already half-running toward the stables, where Mr. Wilkes, the head groom, waited. She looked back to see that Damian was no longer following her, and she felt a little disappointed.
“Good morning, Mr. Wilkes. Is Daisy ready?” she asked in her usual friendly way, even though her heart felt heavy.
What if Damian was right?
She wouldn’t take long. She just needed to take Daisy for a little trot.
The elderly man doffed his hat, smiling at her. He was missing a tooth, but he was otherwise healthy. Damian made sure that his servants were regularly examined by the physician. Gwendoline didn’t know that there were masters like him.
“Daisy’s waiting for you, Your Grace. She’s ready. I have never seen a mare finer than her.”
Gwendoline smiled, walking over to Daisy to rub her neck affectionately as the groom helped her mount.
“Have you checked if everything is in order?” she asked, suddenly feeling anxious.
She clasped her hands to quickly calm herself down. She didn’t want to alarm Daisy.
“Yes, Your Grace. She is safe. Your side saddle and mount are secure, and I can see that you have your gloves and riding boots on,” Mr. Wilkes replied as he scanned her from head to toe.
Daisy’s ears flicked back and forth. It could be a subtle sign of unease, but it could be the crisp air, too. So, Gwendoline brushed it off. Anyway, Mr. Wilkes and his son would be riding behind her.
She started off at a leisurely pace, breathing in the fresh air and embracing the countryside’s calm and quiet. The only thing she could hear aside from the horses’ hooves were the birdsong and the whistling of the wind.
“I won’t take long…”
She recalled her promise to Damian, but she was thoroughly enjoying the relaxing ride.
“A few more minutes,” she muttered to herself as she gently flicked the reins to urge Daisy on.
About twenty minutes into the ride, however, the mare’s behavior became strange. Erratic even. She usually had a predictable run, but her steady gait became more uneven. She tossed her head nervously and neighed. Gwendoline tried to soothe her by murmuring and stroking her neck, but the mare was uneasy.
Suddenly, without a warning, the mare reared up on her hind legs, her front hooves pawing at the air.
“Daisy!” Gwendoline cried, just as Mr. Wilkes and his son called out, “Your Grace!”
Gwendoline barely had time to react. She clung to the reins as tightly as she could, grateful that she hadn’t forgotten to wear her gloves. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized that Daisy was becoming more frantic. The mare bucked violently and let out a high-pitched whinny.
The force of the movement threw Gwendoline off the saddle, and she landed hard on the ground.
She lay there, barely feeling the grass and soil. All she could feel was the pain shooting through her shoulder and hip. Her vision was a little blurry. She blinked, and a lone tear rolled down her cheek. She could hear Daisy’s hooves thundering away from her and into the woods.
Mr. Wilkes and his son spurred their horses forward to catch up with her.
“Your Grace!” Mr. Wilkes called, quickly dismounting and rushing toward her. “Are you badly hurt?”
Gwendoline groaned at the searing pain, but she knew from the way she could move her limbs that nothing was broken. At least, nothing was obviously broken.
“Just bruised and in pain, I believe,” she moaned.
Mr. Wilkes and his son helped her sit up. Both looked pale with worry. Gwendoline could almost read their minds. They were concerned for her well-being while afraid of what the duke would say.
“Jack, fetch His Grace immediately!” Mr. Wilkes commanded as he helped Gwendoline stand up and walk slowly.
“I’m all right, Mr. Wilkes,” she said quickly. “You don’t have to alarm him needlessly. Just walk me to the house.”
“No, Your Grace. As much as I don’t want to disobey your orders, I have to consider your condition.”
As soon as he heard his father’s words, Jack ran as fast as he could. Meanwhile, Gwendoline walked gingerly, not because she was seriously injured but because she was still shaking with fear and shock.
Not long after they started their walk back, Gwendoline saw her husband striding toward them. He was an impatient man, and he was quickly closing the distance between them. His face looked thunderous, his eyes flashing and his lips pressed in a thin line. His eyes drifted to her limping leg, and he nearly leaped the last few inches between them.
“What happened?” he demanded, looking at the cowering Mr. Wilkes accusingly.
“H-Her Grace fell off Daisy, Y-Your Grace,” Mr. Wilkes stammered, but he never let go of his mistress, who was trying to straighten up.
“Hand her over,” Damian commanded as he stepped forward to steady his wife.
She reached for his shoulders as he held her by the hip and assessed her injuries.
“I’m all right, Damian,” she insisted, even though her hip still smarted. “It was Daisy. She, uh, was behaving strangely. She had not done that before, and I know I have not made any sudden movements. I don’t understand it.”
“Where is she now?” Damian asked, his jaw ticking.
“Daisy bolted into the woods, Your Grace,” Mr. Wilkes replied, still sounding and looking terrified. “I’ll send someone to go after her.”
“Something isn’t right, and we all know it. Daisy has never acted like that before,” Damian murmured thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing.
They were all quiet for a moment, meeting each other’s eyes. It couldn’t be, but it was always a possibility.
Damian turned to Mr. Wilkes, rubbing the spot between his eyebrows. “Check everything, Wilkes. Her feed. Her tack. If everything else like the saddle is fine, then something else must be wrong.”
“We will do so right away, Your Grace,” Mr. Wilkes promised, nodding grimly.
This time, his fear was replaced with a strong conviction, Gwendoline could tell.
She remembered Damian’s warning before she even reached the stables. He didn’t think that she’d be safe from Montrose’s machinations, and he was likely right. The whole thing couldn’t be an accident because it was too coincidental. How could Daisy simply change her behavior like that?
Damian wanted her to rest for a little while, and she did. She had a hot bath and a good scrub, getting rid of some of the evidence of her fall. While the soil and damp grass were quickly gotten rid of, the bruising stayed. Later, Mr. Wilkes returned to meet them in the parlor to confirm Damian’s fears.
“Your Grace,” he began, his voice steady but low. He removed his hat and held it in front of his chest. Gwendoline noticed that his hand was trembling a little. “We found signs of tampering. It’s something that can’t be easily detected at a first or even a second inspection.”
“And you’re certain of this?” Damian asked, his face hardening even more.
“It…” Mr. Wilkes hesitated at the thunderous expression on his master’s face. Then, he met Gwendoline’s eyes. “It seems likely, Your Grace.”
“Not an accident, then. This was no accident,” Damian muttered, pacing the length of the parlor.
Gwendoline met his eyes. She was sitting on the sofa, drinking tea. Her nerves had not completely calmed down, but she kept her composure. She didn’t want her husband to see that she was still jittery.
“Montrose,” they uttered at the same time.
“Who else could it be?” Gwendoline murmured.
She knew that while dukes were envied, the ton would not resort to attempted murder. They would spread gossip. Lies. They might pretend to like them while telling tales behind their backs, but they wouldn’t take such a big risk.
“And how did they tamper with her?”
“They placed something on her tacks, Your Grace,” Mr. Wilkes explained. “They placed soap on them. When you took off, the soap began to melt, and it irritated Daisy.”
“Montrose is behind it, Gwen,” Damian grunted. “That should no longer be much of a mystery. However, I am wary and furious to know that someone could be working for him right here in Greyvale.”
His eyes scanned the room and landed meaningfully on Mr. Wilkes.
The elderly groomsman paled and raised his hands in front of his chest, his palms facing outward. “Your Grace, s-surely y-you don’t think I could do that? I have been working for your family since before you were born. I would never.”
“I believe him,” Gwendoline said calmly, leaning forward to put her teacup on the table in front of her.
Though she was outwardly calm, the implications rattled her, too. Her hand trembled slightly, and she hoped that Damian didn’t notice.
“What should we do?” she asked him.
“We root them out,” he replied, breathing heavily. “We make sure that we deal with them. I will deal with them. And you, Gwen, must rest. I promised that I would protect you. So far, I’ve failed.”
Gwendoline couldn’t take it anymore. Tears pricked her eyes. She didn’t mean to cry, and she hated doing so in front of anyone, but the stress of the situation made her emotional. It was a betrayal of sorts.
Even though Timothy had always been a terrible person, he was her flesh and blood. It didn’t feel right that a relative would do that to her.
He had betrayed her. He had tried to sell her to the highest bidder.
But to kill her? It was too much to bear.
She was grateful for Damian’s strong presence. He exuded determination and strength.
As he left the parlor, she thought of how Timothy’s reach was wider than she had expected. She had to admit that she only thought he’d be a nuisance at best and a gossip at worst.
When she perused the evidence of his criminal activities with Damian and Evan, she still couldn’t believe that he was capable of anything quite as nefarious.
It was time to heal, but it was also time to be more vigilant.