Page 8 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke

And, though her initial plan had been horribly slapdash, and she deserved whatever punishment the duke thought fit… everything had to happen for one reason or another. It had to, or all the suffering up until this moment would have been merely that.

Slowly, she lifted her hand and removed the rabbit mask.

* * *

When Gabriel lifted his gaze after finding the new splint, he was surprised to find his little rabbit’s face revealed in its entirety. She looked terrified, yes—wide-eyed and visibly trembling—but he had expected as much.

What he hadn’t expected was how breathtaking she really was; strands of dark, ebony hair grasped against her face like briars, protecting the flowers that thrived within their barbed grasp.

Every moment that passed, he found something new that delighted him—the flush in her cheeks, the curl of her lips, the soft features of her chin—and her eyes. It was like watching spring coming to life, grass revived from the death of winter and fighting to free itself from the frozen earth.

Yes—his little rabbit was in a perpetual state of blooming. It was the only way to describe it. Gabriel had to quickly clear his throat, refusing to show whatever brief trickle of weakness she’d managed to coax out of him. Beauty. It was her appearance that took him off-balance.

She’s like any other woman,he fought to convince himself. Like every other prey he’d hunted and caught in his lifetime.

“I… appreciate you trusting me with your identity,” he began. “Though I suspect you know me already, allow me to introduce myself properly. Gabriel Harding, my lady; Duke of Stonewell, co-founder and owner of the Ton’s Orions.”

She hesitated, but that spark of courage he’d seen during their chase welled up in her throat. “Thalia.” A beat passed, and she sighed, sounding almost defeated. “Thalia…Sutton, Your Grace.”

Sutton. The name rang with familiarity, and Gabriel thought back to the idle gossip and chatter he’d picked up from within London’s inner circle. “Oslay Hall, yes? The marquess, God rest his soul—you were on everyone’s lips for quite some time, Miss Sutton.”

And she clearly knew that, given her expression.

“I recall hearing about the new lord’s interest in the Devils,” Gabriel went on, satisfied as the pieces quickly fell into place. “Did he promise you a room back in Oslay in exchange for this act of espionage, Miss Sutton?”

Immediately, her timid glance fell into a frown far darker than Gabriel expected. “Certainly not. He could promise the Queen’s palace to me, and I’d sooner return to Whitechapel.”

Interesting.

“No, I…” Thalia paused, inspecting her splinted wrist with a tinge of regret in her tone. “I’m afraid my reason for the intrusion is far more childish than that, Your Grace.” Her fingers picked at a stray strand of gauze. “You give me far too much credit. My scheme was not nearly as clever as you make me out to be.”

Anger. Again, it bubbled unexpectedly in his chest, and Gabriel fought to keep it under control. At least he had a name associated with Thalia’s pain, now. “Elaborate.”

Thalia hesitated, her splinted wrist pressed against her chest.

“You’ve come this far, haven’t you?” He had to know how much fight she had in her. How long would his little rabbit struggle in the snare life had caught her in? “Truly, I have nothing to gain from knowing of your inner machinations. And truthfully,” he offered the slightest smirk her way. “I’m curious to hear how such a strange woman’s mind works.”

That did it; a split second of anger crossed Thalia’s face, building that bravado he’d seen in her during their chase. God, but it was exhilarating to watch it unfold.

Gabriel wanted nothing more than to prod her further, explore the depths of her resilience in a more… intimate situation. But it was hardly the time or place; he was content with observing from a distance. For now, at any rate. “Let’s start simple, then. How did you manage to get in without proper invitation?” Forgery was the obvious answer, but the ‘who’ was far more interesting to Gabriel.

“I…had someone forge an invitation, your Grace.”

Gabriel waited for a beat or two, somewhat disappointed that was all she would offer up. Still, at least he knew she wasn’t capable of such an act, meaning the late Marquess’ daughter still had rather fascinating connections. “And your reason for coming tonight?”

“I,” Thalia paused, still picking at her linen dressing. “I was hoping to find information, Your Grace. Not about the Orions, but the Devils.” She sighed, seemingly fixated on her sprained wrist. “My cousin—the new lord of Oslay Hall—he’s slighted me terribly, you see. I wanted to find something about the gentlemen’s club he’s grown so interested in, but…”

Gabriel nodded slightly. “You assumed we, as their rival, would have sufficient ‘dirt’, as it were.”

Thalia chuckled bitterly. “Hearing it aloud, it all sounds so childish. I’m not even sure what I could possibly find that would help me.”

“Nothing specifically about your cousin, no,” Gabriel agreed. “And nothing about the Devils that could land him in any real trouble.”

Another soft sigh escaped Thalia’s chest, and she eased her wrist to her side. “Well… thank you, Your Grace. I certainly haven’t earned this much kindness from you.” She paused, visibly wrestling with what to say next, before settling on an apology. “I… am sorry for coming to your event without permission. It wasn’t my intention to cause so much trouble.”

“On the contrary, Miss Sutton, you’ve made my evening infinitely more… interesting.” He enjoyed her startled expression, the way her eyes quickly whipped upward to greet his gaze.

Truly, a rabbit fighting to free herself from the snare. “I find myself quite drawn to your plight; truly, you had my attention when the Devils’ name crossed your lips.” It certainly helped that she gave him an excuse to tamper with the Devils’ proceedings, but to get revenge on the man who wounded her? “I wish to offer my aid.”

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