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

Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

T hings were more exciting in Greyvale. The sunlight was not just a sign of a new day for Gwendoline as she perched on the ledge of her window.

Suddenly, the gardens looked beautiful again. She wished she could say that Damian had returned, but he had not.

On her lap was a letter. This time, it wasn’t for Abigail. It was a significant piece of correspondence, nonetheless. It seemed random at first, a letter that Hannah had found when she was in between tasks.

But it wasn’t random.

It was a secret letter between Timothy and a certain Lord Marston, a man notorious for criminal dealings not quite different from her cousin’s. They ran in the same circles, but what was the letter doing in Greyvale?

Then, she remembered how Daisy was tampered with. The letter must have been in the hands of a traitor in their midst, but who could it be? Everyone here seemed loyal to Damian.

And yet…

Gwendoline’s resolve hardened. She knew that she couldn’t just sit idly by, waiting for something to happen. If letters were being passed around freely in Greyvale, it meant that they knew she was no longer as mobile as she was before. Or at least, they suspected it.

After all, what did a wallowing duchess look like? Especially one who was too large, in her cousin’s opinion.

She must leave Greyvale.

The decision had come to her easily. She knew that Damian would be furious once he found out, but he should understand eventually. If not, why would he care? He had banished her. Even then, she didn’t want to undermine him. She was still trying to solve the problem—the one he said she had created.

Gwendoline hastily called for Hannah. The young maid immediately entered her room with eyes full of concern.

Gwendoline gestured for her to close the door. “I must see this Lord Marston. Therefore, I’ll need your help.”

“B-But Your Grace!” Hannah sputtered.

“This man might have the answers we are seeking, Hannah. It’s important. I am trying to help the duke.”

Convincing the maid wasn’t easy. Hannah was always concerned about Gwendoline’s well-being. She knew about everything that had happened so far and would not push her mistress toward danger. Her face was pale and her eyes red-rimmed.

“His Grace ordered the guards to keep you safe here. The traitor, whoever he is, can’t hurt you here, Your Grace. You can’t leave Greyvale.”

“I know,” Gwendoline said, her voice softening. “With the guards and many loyal servants, I am safe here. There may be a traitor in our midst, but so far, I have not noticed anything concerning. However, I can’t remain locked away while Damian is out there, facing Montrose. I want to help. You know I always want to help.”

Hannah nodded, biting her lip. “Your Grace, the guards won’t let you go willingly. They will report to Mr. Drake or His Grace as soon as they can.”

“I’ve thought about that,” Gwendoline reassured her, a mischievous smile curving her lips. She had not felt this alive in a long time. “I’ll have to be, uh, creative.”

Hannah’s eyes widened, dread and excitement flashing across her face. “Creative?” she repeated.

“I know some self-defense techniques—a little bit, anyway,” Gwendoline admitted, blushing a little.

She was pleased and embarrassed at the same time. She wished she could demonstrate her skills on her bastard of a cousin.

“His Grace had insisted on teaching me. I had never thought of ever having to use them, but I have important things to do now. A mission. Can you imagine that?”

Hannah looked just as excited as she was, but she also looked torn. “Your Grace, it looks like you are set on this. So, I’ll help you in any way I can. But please, Your Grace, be careful. I will never forgive myself if something terrible befalls you.”

Gwendoline heaved a sigh of relief. It was one thing out of the way, and she knew she would encounter more obstacles.

She squeezed Hannah’s hand. “Thank you, dear. I promise to take every precaution.”

Gwendoline waited until the household had quieted. She had been doing this for nights—listening to the sounds of the house. A large house had its own sounds, creaks, sighs, and footfalls. She had acquainted herself with them.

So, she knew when it would quiet down, like a tired old woman about to retire for the night. She was aware of where the guards stood or sat all night. They were loyal and uncomplaining, and she didn’t want to hurt any one of them… nor did she want to be tackled by one.

She wore a simple dark gown—black like the night. It had a hood to cover her fair hair, which was tied into a neat braid. She also had a few essentials with her, like a change of clothes, money, and a small dagger tucked into the inner packet of her satchel.

Hannah had helped her with gathering her essentials and devising a strategy. Then, they walked from her chamber to the end of the dimly lit corridor.

“The guard stationed down this hall,” Hannah whispered, pointing to the right, “is the easiest to slip past. He is still new to the job, and he’s not as sharp as the others.”

Gwendoline wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t. There was nothing humorous about her situation. She merely nodded, barely hearing her maid over her thundering heartbeat.

“Thank you. I will see how I can send you a message as soon as I can,” she promised, although she was not certain what awaited her in London. Not really.

“Godspeed, Your Grace,” Hannah said, her voice trembling and her eyes shimmering with tears. She leaned forward as if to embrace Gwendoline, but then she hesitated.

Gwendoline realized that her maid must have remembered her station. So, she made the first move and wrapped her arms around her. “Thank you, Hannah.”

Hannah sniffled her goodbye.

Steeling herself, Gwendoline continued navigating the corridors, muffling her footsteps by walking daintily over thick carpets. Every creak of the floorboards made her heart leap. Then, she saw the guard Hannah had mentioned—the one who was young and new to his job. He seemed no older than twenty and was too relaxed for the task at hand.

Taking a deep breath, Gwendoline prepared herself to sneak past him. Her mind raced through the moves that Damian had taught her. They seemed simple enough, at least in her head.

“Your Grace?” the guard called out, surprised. He straightened up, no longer the lazy young man she had expected him to be. Oh no. “You should not be here, Your Grace. Um?—”

Before he could finish, Gwendoline stepped forward and twisted his arm behind his back. So far, she could only picture the move in her head, but she was able to catch the guard off guard. A kick to his knee made him fall to the ground and groan in pain.

“I am so sorry,” she pleaded breathlessly, regret filling her. She knew the young man was merely doing his job. “I must go now.”

She sprinted into the stables, hesitating a little when she saw Daisy. She didn’t have a choice. The mare was the most familiar ride, and it was already saddled.

Hannah had made it all possible. She wouldn’t let her maid down. She wouldn’t let Damian down.

Whatever she was doing right now was necessary. So, she whispered soothing words to Daisy and swung herself up into the saddle. Then, they took off into the night.

For some reason, Gwendoline had managed to leave Greyvale undetected. Perhaps alarms were sounded minutes or hours after she left. It was also possible that nobody knew that she had even left—not yet.

The countryside beyond the estate was so quiet that Gwendoline cringed at the way Daisy’s hooves pounded against the dirt. After a while, though, she had gotten used to it. Nothing seemed to stir in the towns that night, and the houses were few and far between. She knew that the moment she started seeing more houses, she’d be near London.

Her cheeks stung from the chilly night air. Her heavy cloak didn’t shield her enough, but she pressed on. She had reclaimed an unwavering determination that she hoped would be enough to face her problems and her fears.

London was a half-day ride away from the estate. Gwendoline might have traveled almost the same distance when they went to her family’s old estate, but Greyvale was farther, and the road had more hills. Even with this new challenge, she intended to reach London before dawn. She would have to gain more ground.

As she rode, her mind wandered from Marston to Timothy to Damian. There were so many things she wanted to do, and yet it was difficult to find the words to describe how exactly she would do them.

What if she rode all night, only for Marston to refuse to help? After all, he was involved in shady business, too. Would he really say anything against a man he was working with? Even if he did help, what if Timothy had already covered his tracks? He was already doing it—starting by ransacking Damian’s study.

The most important question, however, was whether Damian would forgive her for leaving.

She shook it off. Damian should be thinking about whether she would forgive him.

Gwendoline also had to shake that thought off. She must focus on reaching London on time, and on keeping that focus the whole while.

There was no room for doubt. Every mile she and Daisy traveled brought her closer to answers. She was getting closer to ending the nightmare that had plagued her and Damian.

Timothy had done so much damage, caused so much hurt, and almost killed her a few times, but he would not get away with it this time. There was no way she would allow that to happen again.

Gwendoline didn’t reach London before sunrise, but she managed enough. The first rays of sunlight were peeking over the horizon when she saw more houses. She almost felt awkward being in a saddle instead of a carriage. However, the important thing was that she reached the city.

It made its first appearance with its sprawling maze of stone and brick that looked both familiar and strange to her after her exile in Greyvale. She guided her mare through less busy streets to hopefully not draw much attention.

Reaching Marston’s address, she dismounted and secured Daisy in a nearby alley. Her heart pounded in her chest. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure if she could do it. Her palms were cold and clammy.

The building was painted a dull gray, and the windows were shuttered. It felt uninviting, and it seemed like it was trying to hide in the middle of a row of townhouses. It didn’t seem like a gentleman lived there. However, at the same time, it didn’t seem like a place where criminal dealings took place.

She inhaled deeply. Then, she exhaled through her mouth before knocking on the door. Moments later, the door creaked open. A tall, severe-looking man with a skeptical gaze stood there, looking at her.

Was he the butler? He had a less-than-welcoming face. He assessed her from head to foot, not ashamed that he was blatant about it.

“Who are you?” he asked in a wary tone.

“Good day. I’m here to ask for an audience with Lord Marston,” Gwendoline declared in a calm voice. “It’s a matter of great importance.”

“Why should I let you in? He doesn’t know you were coming,” the man said, his eyes narrowing into slits.

There was no chance this man was a butler, and even if he was, then he was not the sort a lord kept.

Perhaps Gwendoline was being judgmental, but she didn’t care right now. She straightened her spine, keeping her composure despite his rudeness.

“Tell him that the Duchess of Greyvale seeks an audience with him. If he values his business, he will speak with me. He knows what this is about.”

At least, she assumed that he knew what it was all about.

The man gave her another look, hesitating. It made his face look more uncertain, not quite as arrogant. He stepped aside, letting her into the foyer.

“Wait here, Your Grace.”

Ah, so he knew enough to use her proper title. Perhaps it was the best way to introduce herself in places like this. Titles. Money. Influence. They affected the way matters were handled.

She knew she couldn’t be that certain about her safety yet. Her pulse quickened when she noticed the dark interior. Greyvale and Damian’s London residence both looked brighter at night.

Minutes later, another man stepped into view. He was slightly older than the first one, perhaps in his fifties. His hair was already thinning, but his smile suggested that he knew how to use his charm if need be. However, he obviously had not learned how to make it seem more genuine, for his smile did not reach his eyes.

“Your Grace,” he greeted smoothly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I’m here because of Timothy Landon, the Earl of Montrose,” Gwendoline declared, meeting his gaze steadily. She would not allow herself to be intimidated.

“Interesting. Montrose? What has that bastard done to you?” he asked languidly.

“I heard that you know him well. Don’t you?” she asked back, barely blinking her eyes.

This time, the man’s smile was gone completely, replaced by something colder. The ice in his eyes spread to the rest of his face.

This man should not be trifled with, but Gwendoline held on to the hope that she could make him see her way.

“Montrose and I have crossed paths. Yet, I don’t know how I could be involved in your affairs, Your Grace.”

“Oh, you are certainly involved in the affairs that I want to speak to you about. I want more information on Montrose’s illicit dealings. He’s my cousin. He hurt me and my husband’s friends. If you don’t help me, I can assure you that my husband has enough proof of your dealings with Timothy. Trust me, my lord, you don’t want my husband as your enemy.”

Marston chuckled at her words.

Gwendoline was not quite sure if he had heard her, but she kept her face impassive. She stared at him. She never smiled or showed any other emotion. That wiped the laughter off his face. His eyes then flickered with unease.

He knew that she was serious.

For a moment, he was silent. Deathly so. Gwendoline wondered if she had said too much. Perhaps she had miscalculated.

However, he nodded slowly as if in agreement.

“Very well, Your Grace. We’ll talk about Montrose, but I will need protection from the duke.”

Even though Marston had agreed to talk to her, Gwendoline didn’t reveal her hand. She didn’t tell him how her maid had intercepted the letters being passed around in Greyvale.

They sat in his study. All the while, Gwendoline could feel the cold blade tied above her right ankle. She could quickly pull it out if he decided to attack her, but so far, he seemed cooperative.

She listened intently to his narrative. He said that Timothy had been involved in many illicit transactions—from smuggling weapons and forging documents to helping gamblers cheat in Devil’s Draw.

“He’s planning on leaving the country, Your Grace. You must take action if you want to bring him down. While I’ve certainly benefited from our partnership, ending it was next to impossible. It made me look over my shoulder more often than I would have wanted.”

“Leaving the country?” Gwendoline echoed, feeling her pulse in her neck. They must take action immediately .

“He’s also been speaking about your husband. Montrose wants to ruin Greyvale. He’ll find different ways to do so. He is tenacious.”

“That he is,” Gwendoline murmured, her resolve hardening.

She would not allow her cousin to succeed. He had inflicted too much damage, and she could only imagine what he had done to other people.

“So, everything I’ve heard about him is true.”

“Yes, Your Grace. He’s a dangerous man, ready to explode. A second son who had to make do with what he had. When he became an earl, we thought he was going to settle down and focus on his title and estate. But he became worse.”

“That title was my father’s,” Gwendoline spat out. “He’s complaining about being a second son. Now, think of being a woman. We can’t even inherit titles.”

“You’re braver than I expected. Montrose mentioned a cousin who had run away with a duke. There were salacious rumors about her being caught in a compromising position and Greyvale having no choice but to marry her. That was you, wasn’t it?”

Gwendoline didn’t like the calculating look in Marston’s eyes, but she was grateful that he spoke to her at all. He was a criminal like her cousin and could easily be as or more dangerous.

She reminded herself that she didn’t really know the man.

“It was me. But those rumors are false. Timothy was selling me to the highest bidder when the duke came along and saved me.”

“Ha. Love at first sight, then?” Marston rasped, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. “Imagine that, Your Grace. You are not only brave but are also fortunate. No wonder Montrose is after you, that bitter man. But bravery alone can’t protect you, so you must be careful.”

A blessing or a warning? Gwendoline was not certain. Even then, she continued to match his steadiness. His gaze.

“I will. Thank you.”

“Oh, and there will be a transaction between Montrose and a new associate. They will meet at the warehouse this late afternoon. Oh, let me write you the precise time and location,” he offered, further bewildering her.

Why was he willing to help her catch her cousin?

She took the card he wrote the information on and then left the townhouse, walking fast but not fast enough that Marston would see that she was merely reining her fear in.

She mounted Daisy. Her original plan was to ride toward Greyvale right after gathering information about Montrose, but she was exhausted. Things had also changed when Marston said that there would be a meeting at the warehouse this afternoon. She couldn’t miss that. So, she headed for Damian’s London residence instead.

What would Damian think when he saw her riding the same mare she had an incident with? What would he think of her gathering information on Montrose’s movements and whereabouts?

Excitement surged in her veins. Perhaps the end was near.