Page 29 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke

As Christian continued to hold polite conversation, Gabriel began to get a sense of the Devil leader’s true feelings towards Giles, and much to his surprise, it wasn’t entirely different from his own opinion.

Giles seemed similarly interested in quiet observation, with Gabriel catching his eye every few moments or so. Of course, the little marquess would quickly find something else to occupy his sight, but it was obvious he knew exactly who Gabriel was—and what he was doing for his cousin.

Whether he would do anything about that, or simply stare at the Duke of Stonewell in hopes of intimidation, Gabriel couldn’t say. Just this time, for the sake of Thalia, he would break his rule and make first contact.

“And how do you find Oslay Halls, sir?” he asked during the conversation’s lull. “It must be quite the change for you, having suddenly acquired so much responsibility?”

It clearly stung the little marquess to not be addressed by his new title, though he hardly was going to fight about it in the presence of three dukes. Instead, Giles managed a strained smile and a slight bow to his head.

“It is… a sudden change, but I’m more than willing to step up to the occasion.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard,” Christian commented lightly. “A shame you have no family to help you with the day-to-day. Whatever did happen to the old marquess’ daughter? I would think she’d be an invaluable asset to have.”

Once more, Gabriel was reminded why he was such good friends with Christian. If he had his way, Giles would already be on the ground, bloodied and unconscious. But there was an innate satisfaction to humiliating someone in such a dignified, and acceptable, manner. Christian might have had a terrible right hook, but his silver-tongued wit was unmatched.

“I—y-yes, well,” Giles visibly sweated, pulling at his cravat while glancing Tristan’s way. The leader of the Devils seemed obviously distracted, having slipped away and talked to another member about business clearly far more important than whatever the little marquess was going through. “It—w-we had differing opinions on management, unfortunately. She decided to leave in haste—a shame, really.”

Blood filled Gabriel’s mouth as he bit his tongue. Lying, deceitful snake.

“Oh, is that so?” Christian mused. “And she willingly brought herself to Whitechapel—that must have been quite the difference in opinion.” He turned to Gabriel, offering a good-natured grin. “You hear that, Gabriel? The young lady was entirely happy to stay where she was—your invitation to Stonewell may have been all for naught, I’m afraid.”

Gabriel immediately watched as Giles’ face blanched. “I-Invitation, you say?”

Christian metaphorically took a step back, nodding for his friend to continue. Gabriel happily jumped on the opportunity, drawing closer to Giles as he spoke. “She’s been a perfectly lovely guest; I hardly regret extending my invitation. And she’s become quite close to my dear sister—I fear they’ve become thicker than thieves in the last two days.”

“O-Oh?”

Gabriel inwardly sneered, taking entirely too much pleasure in how easily he leered over the now-trembling man. “Yes—I wonder what secrets they’ve discussed between themselves? You know how ladies are—or maybe not.” He stood directly over Giles now, his scowl smoldering in dark disgust. “I suppose you don’t, do you… sir?”

A spark of rage flew Giles’ fist forward, and Gabriel caught it with ease. He slowly lowered the man’s hand, now fully trembling as his gaze bore through the marquess’.

“You should take those nice clothes off first before stepping into the ring,” Gabriel whispered. “Wouldn’t want to ruin such a… nice fitting outfit.”

He threw Giles’ fist back to his side, Tristan miraculously returning to the conversation. He gave Gabriel a slight glance and a smile, maintaining the polite facade the pair of club members upheld in public.

“Apologies for vanishing on you, Giles! Devil business and all that—you know how it is.” He clapped a hand against Giles’ back, nearly knocking the man over. “We’ve still got quite a bit to show off to the newest member, so I wish you gentlemen a good afternoon.”

“Oh, of course,” Christian beamed. “But, before you go, may I ask, is the newest Devil going to be participating in any of the up-and-coming club events? I heard a rumor that the Duke of Arkley was looking to host our competitive cards tournament this year.”

Tristan laughed a little too forcefully, his arm tightening a touch too much around Giles’ shoulder. “Well, we’ll see if this one manages to play all his dues in time. Save me a spot at your table, though—I’ve been looking to win that brooch off of you for years, Your Grace, and I feel this is finally my moment!”

With that, the pair of Devils started back towards the front of the warehouse, leaving Gabriel to seethe in still-bubbling anger. He immediately turned to a dangling sandbag and gave it a proper one-two strike, popping the seam from impact as sand began trickling free to the ground.

“That’s the third one in need of replacement,” Christian said. “Though, I prefer it being broken over one of our club members.” He glanced Gabriel’s way, watching as his friend cracked his knuckles in clear frustration. “At least Tristan sees him as the obnoxious slug he is.”

“Not that it would save him otherwise,” Gabriel grumbled, reaching for his own towel as he wiped his face clean.

“I wonder if our newest little asset took advantage of the marquess’ absence…?” Christian shrugged, shaking his arms out as he settled into his own fighting stance. “Suppose you’ll find out later tonight; for now, let’s channel some of that rage, shall we? You hardly want to take it out on your lady friend back at the mansion, do you?”

Gabriel certainly didn’t. His anger was specially reserved for Giles, and Thalia deserved none of it. With that, he broke his rule once more and lunged after Christian, throwing himself into the breathless blur of boxing.

CHAPTER14

It had been quite some time since Thalia had properly been inside a modiste’s. Indeed, it had been some time since she’d had a moment to leave their home in Whitechapel at all, given how devious some individuals could be. Simply holding the deed to a place did not outright make it yours on those streets, and there was many a weekend Thalia spent ensuring their property remained unstolen.

But to walk the downtown marketplace, to simply allow herself the pleasure of window shopping and idle conversation when one found a particularly lovely gown; Thalia had forgotten how it felt to let her guard down. More than that, she had forgotten how wonderful it felt to be among genuine friends.

“Ooh, let’s check this one, next!” Charlotte squealed, pointing to one of the smaller shops set just across the street from them. Thalia followed her gaze, observing a number of riding breeches and some equestrian gear hanging on display.

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