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

Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

W hen things became rough, Damian found himself in his private boxing chamber. It was not anything huge, but just enough of a space to take out his anger and frustration. It was a sanctuary. He knew that Westgrave and the others also boxed, but he preferred to exert himself alone or with Thomas and Evan.

He had been spending more time in the chamber. The rhythmic thud of his fists against leather echoed through the walls. He needed a way to let out his frustrations, and the punching bag was the best target. He didn’t have to hurt anyone, and it couldn’t fight back either.

Even then, he knew that his efforts were futile. His anger seemed to increase day by day. Guilt gnawing at his insides.

The image of his wife’s pale and hurt face kept flashing before his eyes. It was almost as if she were there, and he didn’t want to envision her face when he was at his most violent.

Gwendoline had already been through so much. She was hurt, but he had let his pain prevail. His doubts had led him down a dark path. He had expressed his mistrust in her, and he saw how much that shook her.

Was he right in saying that he did it to protect her? Or was he simply making up excuses to push her away? She was a constant reminder of his growing vulnerability and how he had easily veered away from the path he had set on a long time ago.

When Gwendoline had given away the location of those critical documents, Damian had long lost his way. He had taken too long to gather enough evidence against his mortal enemy.

He had started with mere murmurs. Mostly word of mouth. None of them would have been enough to have Montrose arrested, but he was too angry to realize that he should have been quieter with his investigation.

Yes, it was on him. He was the weak one.

The door creaked open almost tentatively. Damian barely spared it a glance. It might be a servant coming in with refreshments. Who else would want to see a miserable duke punch his way into oblivion?

Yes, with Gwendoline gone, Damian and Evan didn’t really do anything. He sulked. Evan tried to get some new information to no avail.

“I thought I might find you here, Your Grace.”

Damian stopped punching the bag for a moment, watching his old friend walk in with a concerned yet frustrated expression on his face.

“That won’t solve your problems, Your Grace. Why can’t you at least talk to Her Grace? Explain things. Beg for forgiveness. Pardon me for overstepping, but you’re the only one I know and tolerate who sent a woman away for receiving a blow to the head.”

Damian didn’t respond. Instead, his focus remained on the bag. It was as if it took over his field of vision, blocking everything else.

Damn. It was some sort of protection. For him. The coward.

The thud of his fists against the leather startled him more than Evan.

Evan sighed. He barely hid his exasperation, it seemed. He stepped even closer to him.

“This isn’t you, Your Grace. I know you. You’re not a man who runs away from your problems. But what you have been doing these past few days…? You’ve been hiding. This isn’t preparation for war. It’s an escape. Please go to her. Have you ever wondered what she’s doing now? How she is feeling?”

Damian stopped his assault on the punching bag, his breath coming in heavy pants, but he managed to ground out, “I sent her away to keep her safe. You wouldn’t understand.”

He also wondered if he was the one who did not understand. He had always been a good decision-maker. He was a natural leader, his father used to say proudly. Not that he was proud of that old bastard.

“I’ll try to understand. I want to know what you really feel. It looks to me like you’re afraid. Yes, Her Grace was right. You are afraid of something.”

Eyes blazing, Damian rounded on his friend. “I am not afraid. Have you ever seen me afraid of something? Anything? We have grown up together, and you are throwing this accusation at me?”

He jabbed a finger in Evan’s chest. The action made him think of all the things he had accused himself of.

“You are, and you know it,” Evan shot back. “You’re not afraid of Montrose or of losing to him. You had let yourself grieve. You know that he wouldn’t stay on his little throne in his little empire forever. But what you are truly afraid of is losing her . You want to push her away to make it look as if it’s your decision and that you are in control. It’s clouding your judgment—the one that we need in battle.”

“That’s not true,” Damian muttered, shaking his head and giving him a sarcastic smile.

“Sending her to Greyvale to languish might keep her out of Montrose’s reach for now, but it’s also destroying what you have. She’s your wife. Why didn’t you ask her what she wanted? She was attacked, but she was afraid for your life. She’s not a porcelain doll. Never has been. Not even when she had to live under the same roof as Montrose.”

The words struck a nerve, but Damian was not ready to back down. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Evan!”

“Think about it this way. What I’m going to say will hurt. Tell me I’m wrong. Your father didn’t like your mother’s behavior. So, he sent her to the convent for her own good. Her own good! He did it to protect himself from scandal. Then, she killed herself. She should have been with her loved ones in her hour of need.”

He paused for a moment before he continued.

“What about you? You didn’t like what your wife did—giving away the documents that could take Montrose down. Then, what did you do? You sent her away. You’re starting to be like your father!”

A storm was brewing inside Damian. Conflicting emotions crashed over him from different directions. Past and present mingled, ratcheting up his anxiety.

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. He clenched his fists at his sides, afraid that he would do something that he would regret.

“What I did isn’t the same,” he muttered in a low and dangerous voice. He was near snapping.

“Isn’t it?” Evan pressed. “You were so focused on controlling the situation. You were afraid that she had betrayed you. You were afraid that she would disappear. So, you chose to imprison her in your estate. You decided to break her spirit instead of lifting her up after the attack.”

“Stop it!” Damian roared. “I am not like my father!”

“Then what do you do now, Your Grace?” Evan challenged.

It pained Damian. Everyone was catering to his whims and decisions. He had always loved being in control. Then, she came along, making things more complicated. She was complicated.

He turned away from Evan, his shoulders unbearably tense. “You don’t understand what is at stake.”

“I do,” Evan insisted.

“What if Montrose gets his hands on her again? He would not just hurt her this time. He m-might—he might d-do worse. I had to keep her safe.”

“She’s already in danger, Your Grace. She will always be as long as Montrose is free and roaming about. It doesn’t matter if she’s at Greyvale or with you. The earl will find a way to strike. He has proven to be resourceful. However, if she is with you, she will at least know that you trust her. She will know that you believe in her and will do anything to comfort her.”

“You really don’t understand, Evan. I want to protect her from many things, including myself!”

The words hung heavy between them. Minutes passed, and the two men stood in silence.

Finally, Evan squeezed his eyes shut and sighed as realization dawned on him. “You love her, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Then show her. Act like you do. You can’t let your fear drive a wedge between you forever. Trust her. Let her be your partner in every sense of the word. Remember how all three of us were so thrilled to find the evidence together—how she knew how to open the drawer for us.”

Damian’s guilt multiplied at the reminder. Gwendoline had been willing to help, and he had abandoned her when she was still hurt. He didn’t even stay with her for the night to ensure that she was safe. That the blow to her head was not fatal. He had not asked about her in days.

Oh God.

It seemed like Evan could see the devastating realization on his face. It was a painful breakthrough. Yes, he loved her, but he was not ready to give away more of himself. He didn’t know how to trust people.

Evan left him to his thoughts, and he slumped on a bench, trying to catch his breath. Everything his man said echoed in his mind, mingling with images of Gwendoline.

There was no news from Greyvale. Damian had assumed that it was because there was nothing to report. They were all well there. However, the same could be said about his mother after she was sent to the convent. She had stayed there for a while, and they had received no reports that would suggest she wasn’t well.

Until she killed herself.

His father was a stern and unyielding man. Some people thought they were virtues, and perhaps they were if he was merely dealing with estate matters. But he didn’t know how to deal with his own family. He had left his wife isolated and ill when he could have shown her love.

Damian had vowed never to repeat his father’s mistakes, but Evan was right—he was certainly on the same path.

He let out a frustrated growl. Gwendoline and the fire in her eyes haunted him. But was that fire still there, or had he extinguished it?

“You’re a liability, Duchess.”

A wave of guilt crashed over him as his words came back to haunt him. He had doubted her loyalty and strength. If he had done that to a man, it would have been considered an insult. But he had done it to his own wife when he had been at fault. He chose to recruit allies rather than watch where his wife was going. The truth was that he had lost the documents because of his own actions.

He clenched his fists in determination. He would no longer hide, and while he couldn’t undo the past, he could do better. Make amends. Beg for forgiveness. Tell her how he felt.

She told him that she cared about him. Add the anguish in her eyes, and it was a confession. He loved her, and it was time that she knew. She could reject him, and he would deserve it, but she must know.

Rising to his feet, he grabbed a towel and tidied himself up. He must take action and not stew in his anger and frustration. He needed a clear head not just to exact revenge but to also win his wife back.

Reconciliation might be far off. She might still be hurt and angry. But he would keep trying. How could he win if he lost her and himself to the shadows left by his father?

No. He must confront his mistakes and offer his humble partnership to his beautiful wife.