Page 45 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke

“Says the one who still hasn’t presented me her plan for her Seasonal event,” Gabriel noted lightly. “Perhaps a stroll through town will inspire a final decision on your part, hmm?”

She offered a cheeky grin in return, practically pulling Gabriel out of his office and down the hall.

* * *

Her legs refused to listen to her mind’s desperate scream to run. Unladylike behavior be damned; Thalia couldn’t stay here, not with Giles looking at her like that. Blood rushed through her body, her heart pounding in her ear, and it was all she could do to remain standing.

He observed her, inspected her, leered at her with those eyes of ice. It was as if winter had come crashing into the grove, racing to claim every inch of her in its terrible frostbite.

“Well?” Giles asked. “Aren’t you going to greet your dear cousin?”

Thalia’s lips trembled, and somehow, she managed to speak past the growing lump in her throat. “G-Good afternoon, Giles.”

He cocked his head, stroking his chin in mock-contemplation. “No; I think I’d prefer it if you address me properly.”

A cold sweat formed on the back of Thalia’s neck. “Good… afternoon.”

“Properly, Thalia.”

Something primal flashed across Giles’ eyes, tearing a hitched gasp from her throat. His look of satisfaction nearly brought her to tears, and Thalia bit the inside of her cheek, clinging to the taste of copper and faint throb of pain to keep herself together. Slowly, she lowered herself into a curtsy and held it, avoiding Giles’ wandering eye. “Good afternoon, Lord Tilbury.”

She didn’t need to see his face to feel his utter contempt. “Yes, it has been a good afternoon, hasn’t it? Especially now, with your sunny disposition here to brighten it considerably.” His shoes appeared in her vision, his hand snaking out to grasp her chin.

She grew rigid, forced to rise from her curtsy and meet his gaze.

“You looked very at-home just now. On your knees, rummaging for God knows what on the ground.”

Thalia remained silent, jaw aching at his vice-like grip.

“Suppose a duke’s hospitality means very little, if you’re forced to scavenge for your daily meal.” His expression softened alongside his grip, and for a moment Thalia wondered if he truly felt any ounce of remorse.

Pity, she supposed, was a closer guess to his feelings toward her. “You shouldn’t have to debase yourself like this, you know. Come home, sweet Thalia; it truly pains me to see you in such a state.”

A spark of anger melted through her hesitance, and Thalia forcefully stepped back, breaking free from her cousin’s grasp. “You shouldn’t speak of others so brazenly, my lord. One hardly knows who could be listening in.”

Giles’ face hardened, and he stepped to close the distance between them. “I agree! To speak such open disdain about one’s superiors; why, it’s liable to get you in quite a bit of trouble. Shame no one ever seemed to teach that butler of mine—or, I suppose former butler, is more indicative of his status.”

Thalia’s foot caught against the stream bank, fighting not to lose balance as her cousin’s words sunk in. “Y-You didn’t.”

Giles shrugged simply. “I can’t have disloyal staff at Oslay, now can I? Rather unwise of him, speaking so candidly about his new lord and master.”

“You’re lying.” Thalia was surprised at how sharp and direct her voice was, compared to how horrifically terrified she remained. “Mr. Cooke isn’t one to stoop to such juvenile acts.” Her fist tightened, casting a brief glance over her shoulder at the churning stream. “Your childish vendetta is against me; don’t take it out on others because you lack the appropriate grace to handle your emotional tantrum.”

His hand came as a blur, grasping for her neck as rage overtook Giles completely. By instinct alone, Thalia managed to duck down, his legs catching against her curled form before he went crashing into the stream.

Then, pushing her hands against the ground, she flew across the grove and into the woods, sprinting blindly while the furious howls of her cousin lingered behind her.

Every inch of her screamed, every breath she gasped for burning inside her lungs. Twigs whipped at her face while roots seemingly rose to catch her in a stumble; the very forest was conspiring to cause her end.

Just run, Thalia repeated in her mind, over and over.Just run, Thalia.

There was no chance of tripping, of falling down and allowing Giles any form of advantage. The blinding panic, her mindless sprint, a lack of direction and a numbing resolve to escape—Thalia knew if she were to be caught, it would mean death for this little rabbit. There was no honor in this hunt; her cousin would be out for blood.

She stumbled through a row of brush, blinking furiously as full sunlight greeted her. No longer was the sky obscured by a canopy of trees, but bright and expansive, complementing the neat and tidy look of the park.

A brief spark of hope spurred Thalia onward, ignoring the scrutinizing looks of society as she kept to the outskirts. The path meant accessibility, a lack of cover on her part, and judging by the startled outcry of folk behind her, she hardly had the luxury to take the paved ways.

Eventually, her cover came to an end, replaced with towering buildings and confined flower plots of perfectly curated florals far too tiny to hide behind. Thalia’s head swiveled, trying to find another place to go, another direction to run, only to let out a startled shriek as a hand clapped against her shoulder.

---