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

Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

“ W e will be fine,” Damian assured his wife as the carriage neared the Westgrave estate.

He wasn’t certain if he was reassuring himself more than anything. His muscles were all rigid with anticipation. He was ready for a fight.

They were on their way to another ball, and it felt more like they were going to war because, in a way, they were. Damian had finally brought Gwendoline not only as a wife but also as an ally. No matter what they did, Montrose would be threatening their peace anyway.

Only a fortnight before the pinnacle of Society’s gatherings—as some called it—Gwendoline fell off her horse.

Damian was certain that Montrose had something to do with it.

He didn’t know if mingling with the ton at this point would keep his wife safer or not, but here they were. They needed to see what Montrose’s next steps would be, and he wouldn’t let it happen without him being close to his wife. He had to be able to protect her this time. He had been lax enough that he was angry at himself.

Gwendoline still seemed fascinated by it all. She seemed younger under the glittering chandeliers, their soft glow casting an ethereal shimmer on everyone in attendance. However, Damian knew that his wife was more of a vision than anything in the ballroom, with her beautiful face flushed red and her gown a deep emerald silk.

Despite their happy glow, they knew that tonight would test their ability to face off against Montrose.

While there were still murmurs about them, most were no longer spiteful rumors that alluded to scandals. Damian could swear that some were compliments about his wife.

His back straightened. He couldn’t help but smile at the crowd. The smile was received with some shocked looks, and he even felt Gwendoline’s body quaking with quiet laughter.

“Ah, you found something amusing, wife?” he asked, with a grin.

“You look truly happy,” she commented, smiling at him.

“I am,” he admitted, resting his hand lightly on her lower back.

He pulled her closer to him, even though it crossed the boundaries of propriety.

He wasn’t surprised that she pulled away a little. His wife had been brought up as a lady and knew that they were too close, and somehow that made him feel satisfied. Whatever they had in private should, indeed, remain in private.

The couple moved toward a group of more prominent members of the ton. Damian’s focus sharpened. He knew that mingling no longer just meant making friends in high places, but about finding people who could provide the necessary support.

With Gwendoline’s hand on his arm, they proceeded to converse with a viscount and his wife.

While the people surrounding them seemed skeptical at first, their eyes intent and unfriendly, they eventually softened toward them. Even Gwendoline’s rigid body had relaxed. He rubbed the hand she had placed on his arm.

They were in this together.

However, his wife also needed to mingle with others on her own, spread her wings, and be independent. She casually slipped away from him to talk to women her age. Damian felt proud of her willingness to get out of her shell.

“Your Grace…” A woman with a honeyed voice approached her. Damian stiffened, ready to defend his wife. “That gown is quite… daring. For your assets, it may be, uh, a little revealing—perhaps provincial.”

Damian couldn’t believe the cruelty of women. Gwendoline had been to more social gatherings now, but there were still some people who were openly abrasive. They quickly flitted his wife’s way when they saw that he was distracted. They were testing her—or they were simply terrible people.

He walked a little closer, purposely making his approach stealthy. He didn’t want Gwendoline to feel as if he thought she needed to be defended. The sharp arch of her eyebrows and the pursing of her lips showed that she was losing her temper, but she was still trying her best to hold on to her self-control.

“Yet, you noticed it immediately, Lady Graham. You must be thoroughly fascinated with provincial fashion to quickly identify it.”

The quip was followed by titters, but this time they were no longer at Gwendoline’s expense, much to Damian’s relief and pride. His wife could defend herself well enough, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t boiling mad about it.

“Is there anything wrong here, Duchess?” he could not help but growl when he reached her.

“Oh, none at all, Your Grace,” Gwendoline replied smoothly. We were merely discussing the merits of various tastes and the importance of being gracious at such events.”

Lady Graham flushed a deep scarlet. She quickly muttered an excuse before she bobbed a curtsy and fled. Gwendoline grinned at her husband. He could see that she was proud of herself, but he also couldn’t help but see the tiredness in her eyes.

Later that night, as the music swelled and couples twirled on the dance floor, Gwendoline slipped to the balcony. Damian knew that she needed some respite. He would not let her out of his sight, though. He had made a vow.

So, he slipped to the balcony himself. Nobody would think much of it. After all, they were husband and wife. Their union was already surrounded by scandal, but their present status gave them a little space away from judgment.

It was a cool night. Damian found his wife breathing in the crisp air and watching the moon.

“You handled yourself well tonight, Gwen,” he murmured when he was close enough for his breath to warm her ears.

“Thank you. I do wish it didn’t have to be a battle every time,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. But there was a faint smile on her lips.

“They’ll definitely respect you after that,” Damian promised.

But as he made that fervent declaration, he thought he saw something moving in the shadows.