Page 42 of Corrupting his Duchess (A Duke’s Undoing #1)

Crompton’s eyes barely cut to her before returning to Ariadne. This was something Catherine had expected. Here, she was the chaperone—the old maid. Her sister was the one people would seek to meet.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Catherine, Lady Ariadne,” Crompton said.

He kept talking, some of the usual nonsense about the dreadful state of the roads, but a strange sense of being watched caught Catherine’s attention, pulling it away from what promised to be a lengthy lament about mud and carriage wheels not being made like they used to be.

She turned in the direction of the prickling sensation to see a man looking at her.

No, not looking. Staring.

No, that wasn’t even right, either.

Glowering . He was glowering at her with a ferocity that almost made her fall back a step.

This would have been remarkable in and of itself—Catherine had spent the better part of the last ten years ensuring that she was the kind of proper social presence that garnered nobody’s hatred, even if she didn’t garner their especial adoration, either—but even more remarkable was that she… couldn’t place him.

It did happen, of course. Look at the Earl of Crompton. Her mental version of Debretts was far from infallible.

But she didn’t think she was complimenting herself to say that it was nevertheless quite good. And two strangers at one house party? That was unusual.

“Ah.” The Duke of Wilds appeared at her elbow. There was something in his smirk that Catherine didn’t trust. “I see you’ve met my friend, Percy Egelton, the Duke of Seaton.”

Ah. Blast .

Catherine made certain that a polite smile remained fixed on her face, even as she indulged in some mental oaths. She let no flicker of recognition pass over her features.

But she did recognize the name; she just hadn’t known that it belonged to this tall man who practically vibrated with intensity, like he was prepared to burst into a run at any moment.

Of course, she recalled the Duke of Seaton. He was the man who hated the Lightholders.

For, as far as Catherine could gather, no reason at all.

She’d heard her elder brother, Xander, complain about Seaton, whom he regularly encountered in Parliament.

“Whenever I present a bill—or even support one—he must analyze every detail in the most perverse fashion,” Xander had lamented after one particularly grueling session, throwing himself back into a chair in the cozy library of the family’s London home.

Catherine, who had been— until he’d married his beloved wife Helen— the primary person able to question Xander without him getting all ducal about it, had been pragmatic.

“Doesn’t this improve the legislation?”

Xander shot her a look that demanded to know whose side she was on, then sighed.

“Yes, very well. It does. But ,” he continued, raising a finger to punctuate the point, “he only does it to me. It’s all very personal.”

Catherine had frowned at this. “Did you ask him why?”

“Naturally,” Xander said. “And he scoffed at me— scoffed !—and said it was because ‘you Lightholders think you can get away with anything.’”

Now, Catherine looked tranquilly at the man who had so gotten under her brother’s skin.

“A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace,” she said, bobbing a curtsey that offered the precise amount of deference for the sister and daughter of a duke to offer another (admittedly somewhat less powerful) duke.

The duke didn’t bow in return. Not even an iota of a bow.

Instead, he kept piercing her with those intense, blue eyes.

“Hm,” he said. It was a very judgmental sort of hm .

Catherine fought against the widening of her eyes.

Beside her, the Duke of Wilds sighed a resigned sigh, as if he’d hoped for more but had expected no less.

If the man thought Catherine the kind of person to be cowed by a self-important gentleman, he was destined to be disappointed. He might be known for his dislike of her family, but, as far as she knew, he’d associated with the Lightholder men, not the women.

And the women knew how to use social niceties like blades.

“Did you have a difficult journey, Your Grace?” she offered. It was an easy excuse for his rudeness. He really ought to take it.

He didn’t.

“No,” he said flatly.

And kept right on glowering.

Catherine’s irritation spiked.

“The beginnings of house parties can be rather overwhelming,” she went on.

“Though I’m sure His Grace—” Here, she spared a smile for the Duke of Wilds, who was giving Seaton an openly unimpressed look.

“—has marvelous entertainments planned for us. No doubt, soon enough, we shall all forget such unpleasantries as long journeys or bustling starts.”

“I would say such things rather depend on the company, wouldn’t you, Lady Catherine?” Seaton returned, voice tense.

Catherine allowed herself only the slightest twitch at the obvious slight.

Well, well. If that was how he wanted to play it, fine.

Did he really think himself the first rude man to ever cross her path?

Indeed, it would make her time at the house party a little less enjoyable, but Catherine had survived unpleasant social events before.

She’d had three Seasons, after all. She’d lost count of the number of downright wretched evenings she’d survived eons ago.

Even so…

There was something about this duke that made her want to snap back. The impulse, which had been buried so long ago that she hadn’t realized she could even still feel it, surprised her.

She wouldn’t do it, of course. She was here for Ariadne. For her family. It was the reason she did everything.

But she wanted to. And, Lord above, it would be easy .

In her time on the social circuit, she’d made a thousand allies, people who found her charming enough, pretty enough, interesting enough—but not too charming or too pretty or too interesting.

Even now, she could see a matron nearby listening in.

She was shooting Catherine faintly sympathetic looks.

Catherine could seize upon that advantage and crush the Duke of Seaton beneath the weight of his own scorn.

But something about the combative look in his eye said he wanted her to do just that. And she simply would not give him the satisfaction.

So instead, she let out a charmed little laugh, like he was being witty instead of unkind. His gaze flared with irritation.

Oh, the Duke of Seaton would have to play much harder if he wanted to play with her. If his annoyance was palpable, her delight at irking him was completely invisible.

“How right you are, Your Grace,” she said, giving her head a winsome shake. “Though I’m sure our host has chosen only the best people to invite.”

She smiled at the Duke of Wilds, who looked like he couldn’t decide if he was amused or irked. As he did not look irked at Catherine, she decided to worry about it later, mostly because the Duke of Seaton looked positively irate.

“I suppose we shall see,” he said, disdain dripping from his tone.

She smiled even more broadly.

It was going to be a long, long party.