Trapped with the Forbidden Duke (Forbidden Lords #5)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

“ W hat dealings?” Timothy huffed a forced laugh, but it sounded hollow to Gwendoline’s ears.

“Do not act coy, Montrose. I know you’ve been dealing with Jimmy and his gang,” the duke snarled. “And now, you are hosting an auction of flesh and blood. I wonder what that would sound like to a judge.”

“Jimmy and his gang?” one of the suitors echoed. “What does he mean by that, Montrose?”

“I don’t know what he is talking about,” Timothy insisted, his eyes wide with a panic that Gwendoline recognized all too well.

“Surely, the duke could not just have made such an accusation,” another suitor grumbled, looking uncertain.

“Y-Your G-Grace, as I s-said earlier, this is a family m-matter. Not an auction. No, no! I am merely trying to secure my cousin’s future.”

Even as the words came out of Timothy’s mouth, Gwendoline saw her ‘suitors’ avoid the duke’s gaze as he glanced over at them, finding an unusual interest in the threads of the carpet beneath their feet.

“It is best that you take your leave, gentlemen,” the duke addressed them with sheer disdain, glowering at each of them.

“Your Grace—” Timothy protested, but the duke glowered at him.

“Do. Not,” he said hoarsely.

Timothy clamped his mouth shut.

“Oh, yes, yes. His Grace is right,” one of the suitors agreed after clearing his throat, drawing the attention of everyone else in the parlor.

The duke stepped forward. “And if I hear a single word about what transpired in this room, I will hunt down each and every one of you. Do you understand?”

The men mumbled amongst themselves, nodding to him as several gulped.

“Good. Now get out of my sight,” the duke growled.

Each of the men bowed stiffly before making their hasty exit, rushing out the door like a pack of skittish sheep. If it weren’t for the fact that her situation was still dour, Gwendoline would have laughed.

“Your Grace. This is my house, and you have overstepped. You come here, waving accusations and driving my guests away. I cannot abide this!”

There was no hiding Timothy’s fury now. He seemed to no longer care that the man before him had a higher rank.

“Your house? Do you really want to be remembered for what you have here?” the duke asked. “Corruption. Depravity. You have no qualms about putting your own cousin on display like a piece of meat.”

Timothy could only glare at him. The fact that he had quieted down made Gwendoline wonder just how true the accusations were. He was a terrible man, but could he also be a criminal?

She was surprised when the duke turned to her, his expression softening. “Lady Gwendoline. You can stay here, remain a slave to your cousin, or you can leave with me. The choice is yours.”

“What?” Timothy spluttered. The rage that he had been holding back burst forth. “You cannot just?—”

“You know I can,” the duke said in a voice so cold and commanding that Gwendoline knew this was a man who was used to getting his way.

She wondered if she would fare well with such a man after she had already endured Timothy’s tyranny for so long.

“Uh,” was the only thing that came out of her mouth.

“Gwendoline, don’t you dare—” Timothy snarled at her but froze when the duke stepped in front of him.

“I have enough influence to obtain a marriage license without your consent, Montrose,” the duke continued. “I will do it if she wishes it. The lady gets to decide.”

Gwendoline’s eyes widened. Her heart raced. She watched the duke for any signs of hilarity or illness. Surely, she heard him wrong. Why would he offer her marriage when he barely knew her?

Her gaze darted between Timothy’s red face and the duke’s resolute one.

Here she was, staring at the freedom dangling like a fruit before her.

No words came out of her mouth. She opened and closed it, not sure how to proceed. At this point, she believed that the duke might think her hard of hearing or an absolute idiot.

“If you leave without my permission, you will regret it deeply, Gwendoline,” Timothy hissed. “You know that you are nothing—and I repeat— nothing without me.”

He took a step toward her, and she forced herself to hold her ground.

She had endured his threats for so long. Even though the fear was not completely gone, she wouldn’t let it control her.

Not anymore.

“That’s where you are wrong,” the duke declared. “I believe you can remember your dealings at Devil’s Draw. Think about it. Do you really want to test me when it comes to, say, achieving justice for one and all?”

“J-Justice?” Timothy echoed, blanching.

His whole body seemed to be stiff except for his trembling fists. It seemed that the duke’s words had hit home.

Interesting .

“Yes. If Lady Gwendoline comes with me, you will come nowhere near her. Her life with you will be nothing but a distant memory,” the duke said in a calmer voice as if relishing the redness and sweat all over Timothy’s face.

Gwendoline felt the gravity of the moment, and it was almost like her whole life flashed before her eyes. She couldn’t breathe. It could be the intensity of the situation, or the tightness of her dress, or both.

“I will go with you,” she finally said, meeting the duke’s eyes with a confidence she barely felt.

The whole room felt hot and stuffy, despite the cold weather. Strangely enough, Gwendoline realized that she’d forgotten the itchy, cheap fabric of her wedding gown squeezing her curves for those few moments.

She could almost smell freedom.

Timothy lunged toward her, but the duke was faster. He stepped right before her, shielding her body with his.

“Touch her again and you will regret it. You will find out just who I am,” he warned in a steely voice, looking Timothy right in the eye.

The duke towered over her cousin. He had to slightly dip his chin to get his point across.

Nobody had defended her before. Never like this.

“Y-You’ll pay for this, Greyvale. I don’t care that you’re a duke—I will not let this slide,” Timothy muttered, his fists still clenched and a renewed fire burning in his eyes.

Greyvale . He is the Duke of Greyvale.

Gwendoline gulped as all the whispers about the duke’s rakish escapades echoed in her mind.

Had she just given her freedom to one of the biggest rakes in London?

Yet, this rake claimed that Timothy worked with criminals. Could that be true? Was that the reason the duke was there?

“Go ahead then,” the duke challenged.

Gwendoline could see Timothy’s chin tremble. This was the first time she’d ever seen him cower like that. Then again, she had never seen him challenge anyone above his station.

“That’s what I thought,” the duke said and turned to her, offering her his hand.

Gwendoline gulped as her eyes flicked to his hand and then back up at Timothy, who glared daggers at her.

Not anymore .

She took the duke’s hand. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said.

He nodded once.

“Know this, Montrose.” He turned to her cousin before they walked out the door. “I will ruin you if you cross me again.”