Page 43 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke

Robin nodded, message received in-full. “I’ll need to talk to some of my guys. Make an excuse if Thalia asks for me; it’ll take some time, but I can get him to that level of desperation.”

Gabriel nodded, watching as the door swung shut behind the youngest Sutton. If the marquess saw himself a snake, then he had no problem playing the role of king cobra.

* * *

Thalia ensured she’d avoid the duke for the rest of the afternoon. Her rather… intense moment with him still sent her into a distracted swoon, and it rang with her brother’s warning about the duke’s darker disposition.

She promised to find Charlotte—once she managed to recall how to walk without wobbling—to dedicate her time to the youngest of the Hardings before the eldest could ensnare her once more.

“Of course, she seemed rather distressed after her big talk…” Thalia frowned, uncertain if Charlotte even wanted to socialize at this time.

She exhaled loudly, finding the nearest chair within the library before taking a seat. Her lack of a social circle now fully pressed upon her, and she wished desperately that wasn’t the case. Going out into town would be the perfect excuse—the perfect means to avoid the duke—but she had no reason to go, nor any friend to go with.

“Gracious—why am I acting so ridiculously over him?” A furious blush quickly came as her answer, and Thalia let out another groan.

Finally, she stood and clenched her fists, shaking whatever lingering heat welled in her core.

“Oh—I don’t plan on simply gushing all day about it. You’ve made your own way before, Thalia Sutton, and you can make your own way now.”

She forced herself to think of something else—a memory that, perhaps, would steer her in the right direction. She moved towards the library windows, throwing them open as the smell of springtime swept through the dim. Thalia inhaled deeply, allowing the sharp scent of grass, the floral of flowers, the slight bitter tinge of… of…

“Wild onions?” Thalia glanced over the sill, delighted to find she was right. Bright, green stalks grew below her in a small patch, the wind catching against their leaves and wafting the notable smell her way.

“Charlotte did mention she liked them with butter,” Thalia mused. And like that, she had her purpose, immediately turning on her heel with a grin before setting off to the kitchen.

* * *

Thalia once more found herself strolling the walkway of the newly opened park, keeping towards the fringe so as to not attract too much attention. A small satchel bounced against her hip, and she walked with a distinct skip in her step.

She’d taken to a more comfortable dress, as she was certain to get rather dirty during her impromptu foraging adventure. “Not that the previous outfit wasn’t ‘dirty’ already,” she flushed, quickly cutting through the brush as she did her best to remember the route back to the Hardings’ grove. At least from there, she would have a better chance at recalling the path toward the field.

As expected, the secluded grove lacked the presence of others, and Thalia took the opportunity to reorient herself. She reached into her forager’s pouch and produced what looked to be a handmaid pocket book, stuffed to the brim with scribbles and sketches. Each page was a treasure trove of forestry knowledge, specifically focusing on the various wild edibles one could pick for later consumption.

“It would be an awful shame to rush straight to my destination… and the cook was so kind as to lend me this. I really should try and bring her something back.”

Thalia flipped through what felt like a dozen or so pages dedicated to edible fungus alone, giving the grove a cursory glance to try and find a match. “Oh!” she gasped, scurrying towards the bank as she knelt down to peer at a white, spongy orb.

“That might be a puffball mushroom!” She eagerly reached out to grasp it, but hesitated, giving the page another look-over. “Or… it’s a death cap.”

With a grimace, Thalia skipped past the mushroom section, confidence waning. “All right, well, silverweed doesn’t seem to have any devious look-alikes…small, yellow flowers, twelve toothed leaflets…”

She stood, glancing around the grove once more before finding a large patch. Before her hopes could rise prematurely, Thalia triple-checked the notes for a good minute or two, finally nodding in approval before kneeling down to pick some. “A unique substitute for parsley—gracious, and to think this has been here my entire life, and I never thought to consider?—!”

Her voice caught as the loud crack of a stick pulled her attention behind her. Someone was moving through the brush, following another pathway into the grove. Thalia quickly stood, trying in vain to make herself presentable as she stuffed the plants into her pouch.

For some reason, she couldn’t get her heart to stop racing in her chest. Perhaps it was simply another park goer who had wandered off the trail? No one would willingly risk coming here to face the Hardings’ wrath.

“Unless…” Thalia swallowed, hands suddenly feeling quite sweaty. “It would be just my luck if the duke chose to calm his nerves here, of all places…?” Not that it would be unusual. If anything, she was the one trespassing on such a special place.

“But they don’t own it,” Thalia reasoned. “I can be here if I like.” Her bravado meant very little, however, and the nerves in her stomach tightened into knots as the figure finally revealed themself, sending an anxious skitter across her skin that rose each individual hair.

“My, my,” Giles Tilbury smirked. “What a fortuitous happenstance finding you here, my sweet Thalia.”

CHAPTER20

It was moments like these that Gabriel was thankful for his title as duke, as it often kept his schedule quite busy. Instead of allowing himself time to be overrun by thoughts of Thalia—of Miss Sutton—there was paperwork to be done, wages to be paid, and general upkeep of the manor’s overall state.

Once Robin had left his office, he got to work immediately, settling at his desk for what was certain to be hours of busywork. The methodical nature of it all was soothing to his soul, the ticking lull of his clock helping to remain focused.

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