Page 56 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke

His servant nodded, curtly clearing the dishes and slipping back to the kitchen. Gabriel stared at the table for a long, absent moment, then pulled his pocket watch free from his vest pocket. The subtle tick of mechanism once held great comfort to him; now, it cracked against his skull, punctuating every word spoken by Thalia not hours ago.

What sick pleasure do you derive from playing these games, Gabriel Harding?

Another sigh, and Gabriel clicked the watch’s lid shut. “Summon a carriage for me,” he ordered. “I’ll be going to the club for a few hours.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the servant bowed. “Would you like us to place the gowns in a spare room for now?”

Gabriel nodded curtly, wanting them out of his entryway and out of sight as quickly as possible. God, but he needed a strong drink right now.

* * *

The club’s manor was packed to the brim with members, loitering about the entryway while chatting amongst their peers. Many greeted Gabriel’s entrance with a polite nod or a firm handshake, and he settled into his usual visage among his fellow Orions. His brow remained somewhat furrowed, mouth dipped into a perpetual scowl, and he ensured his tone remained neutral and uninterested.

He strolled through the walkway and straight through the dining room, where a number of men smoked and drank together with loud conversation. A few had card decks sprawled out on the main table, no doubt practicing for the upcoming tournament.

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose, realizing how little he’d done to prepare for the event. The last few days had felt like a whirlwind of activity; hopefully Christian hadn’t slacked off on his duties.

“Gabriel?” Speak of the devil; the perfectly-preened man appeared from the kitchen doors, quickly moving to greet his friend. He hardly waited for a reply before grasping Gabriel’s hand and shaking it vigorously, a wide—if not somewhat fatigued—smile painted on his face. “What on earth are you doing here so late? Not that I’m disappointed, mind you, I’m just a bit surprised.”

Gabriel’s expression darkened slightly.

“Oh, no need for that face,” Christian joked. “I simply meant that your current company at home was far more interesting.” He paused, smile loosening as his gaze narrowed slightly. “Unless… you’re here because of said company?”

The drone of chatter amidst the dining room softened, and Gabriel became acutely aware of a few dozen eyes turning their direction.

“No, wait,” Christian said with a slight smirk. “You probably want to see what progress has been made on the cards tournament, and your being here has nothing to do with Miss Sutton! Not to worry, Gabriel. I promised I would handle it this year, and I am not one to break my word so easily. Come; I’ll show you what I’ve put together so far.”

Without another word between them, Gabriel trailed behind his excitable friend, watching as he took the time to greet and hold polite conversation with passing members.

They wound through the hall and up the staircase, having finally been cleared of its blockade from Orion’s Hunt. As they made their way up the stairs and further into the manor, Christian occasionally offered a glance behind his shoulder, clearly concerned, but unwilling to voice it just yet.

Finally, they reached the end of the hall, a large plaque carved with, “Christian Wright, His Grace the Duke of Egerton” in bold lettering. He twisted the knob and pushed it open, allowing Gabriel to pass through first before following after, pulling the door shut behind him.

Christian’s office was as neat and organized as his appearance, with few to no personal touches or decorations to distract him from club work. At least, there hadn’t been previously; Gabriel took note of a dried bundle of wildflowers in a hand-painted vase, a knitted scarf hanging on the back of his work chair. He passed by his friend’s writing desk, catching a glimpse inside a partially-opened drawer with a black, oblong box tucked away inside.

“Louise was hinting about getting a one-of-a-kind writing quill,” Christian beamed. “Don’t tell her you saw anything, though.” He crossed towards a small reading corner as Gabriel dropped into an armchair, glancing through the shelves before pushing a few books aside and producing a beautifully-aged bottle of scotch.

“We’re obviously going to need this,” he mumbled, grabbing a pair of glasses before joining Gabriel in an armchair set across from him. He quickly poured and served his friend a glass, then worked on his own before settling into his chair.

In the blink of an eye, Gabriel polished his glass off and set it loudly against the glass table.

“You really are in a sorry state, aren’t you?” Christian mused, having just barely put his lips to his own drink.

Gabriel shot daggers in reply, reaching across their table to take the entire bottle’s worth for himself.

“You know that bottle costs more than your entire--”

“Not now, Christian.” Gabriel took a long, hard swig, allowing himself to experience the deep burn at the back of his throat. He set the bottle against the table, eyeing his friend with a challenging look in his eye.

Christian rose a brow, offering his full attention instead as he gave his own glass a slight swirl. “Are you in need of an ear, or are you in need of advice?”

Gabriel’s fingers drumming impatiently against the arm of his chair; he wasn’t entirely sure how to answer.

Christian took a sip from his glass, setting it on the table before leaning forward in his seat. “If you simply need somewhere to stew, I’m happy to leave you be.”

Gabriel gritted his teeth, acutely aware how deafeningly quiet it was in Christian’s office. Once more, he pulled out his pocket watch, opening the lid as he focused on the ticking mechanism once more. One, two, three, four… He exhaled, not realizing he’d been holding his breath, and did his best to quell his mind.

“How… did you know Louise was someone you wished to spend your life with?” He lifted his gaze, nearly launching out of his chair at Christian’s ear-to-ear smirk.

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