Page 55 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke

Thalia met his eyes, weariness replaced with trepidation. “What is this?”

Gabriel extended a hand, disconcerted as she loosely accepted it. “Charlotte… told me you barely got a gown during your shopping trip.” He gestured towards the racks, a sour fury bubbling in his stomach. “I had thought this would be a pleasant surprise, but you look… disappointed.” He frowned, then shook his head. “No, you’re angry, aren’t you?”

Thalia opened her mouth to argue.

“You are,” Gabriel interrupted. “You just don’t wish to upset me by confirming it.” He tried to give her hand a reassuring squeeze, but she pulled free quickly, stepping ahead of him and into the sea of gowns. In three steps, Gabriel caught back up to her, trying again to grab her hand, snarling as she pulled away from him again. “What happened?”

Thalia turned to him, clearly shocked by his outrageous tone. She slipped behind a dress mimicking the ocean itself, her face partially obscured. “It’s nothing. I’m simply tired, your Grace.”

Gabriel could feel his temper beginning to rise into his chest. “This isn’t fair, Thalia. You’re clearly upset with me.”

Thalia pretended to be preoccupied by the gown’s beadwork, delicately tracing the pattern with her bandaged finger.

“What on earth happened to your finger?” Gabriel stepped forward, trying to grasp her hand once more. And, once more, she pulled away, his voice nearly snapping with impatience. “Thalia Sutton, I swear to all that is holy, if you don’t stop playing coy with me–”

“What, Your Grace? What will you do?” Thalia’s face flushed with anger, hands trembling at her side as she glared Gabriel down. “Will you hunt me through the mansion like the pathetic prey I am? Or perhaps you’ll simply drag me upstairs and take what you want from me once more!”

It was the first time a woman had genuinely wounded him in such a manner, as if she’d raised her hand and slapped him. Hard.

“What are you talking about? I do not take what hasn’t been given to me; you know that, Thalia.”

Thalia laughed, cold and cruel, teetering on the brink of collapse. “Do I, though? I hardly know you at all, so obscured in your own secrets and ploys. What sick pleasure do you derive from playing these games, Gabriel Harding? What does a wolf benefit by helping the rabbit live a few hours longer, knowing full well she’ll soon be left bleeding in the woods once more?”

Gabriel was positively reeling; it was getting harder by the second to remain composed. “You make it seem as if I’m going to simply abandon you.”

“Aren’t you, though?” Tears edged at the corner of Thalia’s eyes, but she completely ignored them, with every word she spoke to him. “Once you get what you want—once the hunt is over, and you’ve fed on your kill—won’t our little arrangement come to an end? That’s all it’s ever been about, hasn’t it? That’s why you’ve never explicitly stated what you truly desire from me—and I was stupid and naive enough to believe that… that…”

“Thalia…” he said, his arm outstretched, desperate to take her hand, to bring her in and dry her tears. “You’re clearly upset, and this is no place to discuss such delicate matters.”

“Everything I am has been stripped away, Gabriel,” Thalia sobbed. “My home, my title, my social standing—I have nothing left that remains a delicate matter.”

Those last words stung in a way he hadn’t expected. Gabriel’s mind whirled, their shared moment in the library rushing to the forefront of his mind. Fractals suddenly came together into one, devastating picture, and he exhaled sharply, realizing he’d been holding his breath.

“I knew it wasn’t real from the start,” Thalia said. “You told me as much. It’s my fault, at the end of the day, for allowing myself to get caught up in it all.”

He could have died there and then, struck down by the absolute hopelessness in Thalia’s voice. Gabriel internally berated himself for his weakness, for allowing them to develop beyond mere strangers.

There was a chance, here and now, to break their tether completely. To re-construct his image as cold and distant, repair walls built up over years and torn down in mere days. She was giving him a chance; his little rabbit stood in the open field, no longer hidden away, and waited for the inevitable.

And Gabriel remained still. Remained silent.

A short, breathy sigh escaped Thalia, still tinged in tears as she worked to wipe her face. “Thank you, Your Grace. The gowns… really are quite lovely. I’ll make sure to wear them, if you deem me worthy to be seen in public by your side.”

“Thalia…”

“I wish to go upstairs,” Thalia continued. “Rest before dinner, if Your Grace wills it.”

He wanted to reach out. Grasp her hand and pull her into his chest, then hold her so she would never escape him again. To snarl in her ear at the absolute lack of respect she was showing him as the master of the house, as the Duke of Stonewell.

But, even now, Gabriel stared at her bandaged wrist, and found his anger directed not at her, but the man who’d twisted her good nature in the first place. And, much to his concern, at himself.

“You are free to be yourself in this house, Thalia. Do as you wish.”

CHAPTER25

Neither lady came down to dinner that evening. Not that Gabriel had expected anything different, but a small part of him hoped they would have joined him, Thalia especially. He and Charlotte had had plenty of fights before—it was the nature of being siblings, after all—but Thalia… it was the first time he genuinely wanted a lady he was “courting” to come back to him. To let him speak, to properly explain himself. The fact that she was upset with him in any way was infuriating.

He sighed heavily, pushing cutlets of pork around his plate before eventually giving up completely, rising from his chair and gesturing towards the servants. “Clear this,” he instructed. “But make sure two plates are made up for Tha—Miss Sutton and Charlotte.”

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