Page 15 of Duke of Wickedness (Regency Gods #4)

W hen David saw Lady Ariadne Lightholder sitting on the settee in Percy’s drawing room, he first felt a flash of pleasure, then a flash of surprise, and finally, a self-directed reminder that he was an idiot .

He shouldn’t have been surprised to find her here, obviously. She was Percy’s little sister—by marriage, but still. She had more of a right to be here than he did.

He was, actually, an idiot in duplicate, because he shouldn’t have been surprised to see her, and he shouldn’t be starting any sort of…illicit bargain with his closest friend’s little sister .

“Good day, Your Grace,” he said to Catherine. “Lady Ariadne.”

Catherine gave him a little smile. “Oh, it’s ‘Your Grace’ again, is it?”

He couldn’t resist his own smirk in return. “I’m trying to be respectful in your sister’s presence. Indulge me.”

“Ah, yes,” she said teasingly. “You need the practice.”

His smile grew a little brittle at that.

David didn’t hold with the idea that a woman was cheapened when a man found her attractive, nor did he think that it was a sign of disrespect to have a physical relationship with a lady. Any man who thought that, in David’s opinion, was really the one who deserved no respect.

Any man who thought that was also probably a selfish and mediocre lover, too.

Therefore, David did not think it was inherently wrong to desire someone’s little sister. Many women, after all, were someone’s little sister. They didn’t deserve respect merely because their elder brothers were dukes. They simply deserved respect.

Yet, he could not deny that it was slightly…awkward that David had known this particular ducal elder brother for more than a decade.

Still, Catherine was watching, so he made himself act like his normal self. He put a hand over his heart in mock affront.

“You wound me,” he said.

She scoffed. “I do not.”

It could be a curse, having friends who knew you so well.

He only turned to Ariadne when he was certain he wouldn’t reveal anything. “Do you hear this?” he asked her. “Such a tender welcome I receive.”

Ariadne saluted him cheerfully with her teacup. “Must be hard. I was received with refreshments.”

He grinned; he liked her fiery retorts. He saw, however, that Catherine was surprised by this, if the startled way she looked at her little sister meant anything.

When Ariadne followed his glance toward her sister, she quickly smoothed over her expression and cleared her throat rapidly.

“As much as I enjoy your company,” he said hastily to Catherine, so Ariadne could have a moment to compose herself, “I am, alas, here for your husband. Is he in?”

Catherine, suitably distracted, gave him an apologetic shake of her head.

“No, sorry; we chased him away to his club so we could have some time alone as sisters. He’ll be back for supper, though, if you prefer to wait.”

David only just caught himself before he darted another glance at Ariadne. He didn’t know what time alone as sisters meant—he didn’t have one sister, let alone two of them to conspire together—but he did not blame Percy for fleeing in the face of such feminine mystery.

One of the benefits of not denigrating women for having sexual desires was that women actually spoke to him. That did not make him think that he knew all their secrets, however. It took fortitude—and a great deal of sneakiness—to get by in a society that offered little besides constant judgment.

He did not want to wait, therefore. And not just because he would likely reveal something he oughtn’t if he spent too much time around Ariadne and her sister. Ariadne, for all her charms, did not have the makings of a good liar.

A smart man would leave immediately. Lady Ariadne had clearly not told her sister about their arrangement—all his jokes about inhospitable treatment aside, David had no doubt that Catherine would have been decidedly chillier if she’d known that he had offered to show her sister the art of sensuality, which meant that she didn’t want Catherine to know.

He would not show her the disrespect of revealing what she wished to be private.

And yet…

And yet he could not seem to just leave.

“I merely need a document from Percy,” he heard himself say. “I do need it somewhat urgently, however…”

Catherine let out a beleaguered sigh. David assumed this was the kind of sigh he would have heard from his own mother, had she ever had any particular interest in offering him parental guidance of any kind.

It was the sigh of a woman who, despite being entirely sick of one’s nonsense, still held more fondness than she thought wise.

“You are very impatient,” she scolded without any real heat. “What is it that you need?”

David hastily racked his mind. “There’s a contract that we signed with one of our partners on the piping investment.

” He and Percy worked together on a deal that helped bring farming modernization tools to remote areas.

It was good for tenant farmers throughout the country, not to mention fantastically lucrative for all the partners involved.

David had his own copy of the contract, but Catherine didn’t need to know that.

“Impatient and disorganized,” she sighed, shaking her head even as she smiled. “Fine. I will go get it for you. Wait here.” She turned to her sister. “Ari, I’ll be right back.”

There was tension in Ariadne’s smile—it was barely perceptible, but it was there.

“Of course,” she said.

Catherine didn’t even cast them so much as a suspicious glance over her shoulder as she left the room. David wasn’t sure if she was simply kindhearted enough to trust him or if she merely underestimated her sister so much that she thought Ariadne innocent and uncurious.

Ariadne, however, was all suspicious glances.

“You’re up to something,” she accused as soon as her sister was far enough away that she was guaranteed out of earshot.

He beamed at her. He found her skepticism to be delightful.

It was similarly delightful to feign innocence, however.

“Me? How could I be up to something? It wasn’t as though I could have known you would be here.”

This was true enough, which meant he found it highly intriguing when she blushed.

“Why, my lady?” he said, all scandalized shock. “Were you hoping to encounter me?” The flush deepened. “I’m flattered.”

Ariadne put her nose in the air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She really was such a dreadful liar.

“Of course not,” he said, because he could afford to indulge her pride. “Though, if you were hoping to see me, I might have suggested that this was not the best place.”

“Well,” she said briskly. “It’s good that I didn’t want to see you, then.”

Grinning, he took another step toward her. She pretended to be preoccupied with what was happening outside the window. Given that this particular window mostly revealed a tree, which could not be a novel concept to her, he had to assume that some of this fascination was inauthentic.

“If you did want to see me, however,” he went on, “I would let you know that I am free tonight.”

Her eyes darted toward him in a flicker of interest before she returned to the tree.

“Are you?” Her nonchalance was—no surprise—not very compelling.

“I am.” He drew closer. He could have reached out and touched her shoulder now if he wanted to. “In fact—and this is the strangest thing, I allow—I anticipate finding myself just around the south corner of your home. Just after midnight.”

When she turned to face him, the feigned disinterest was gone, replaced with a sly look that was all too real.

“Do you? How coincidental,” she said. She bit her lip. Christ, he wanted to bite that lip. Then, he would soothe the sting with his tongue, before delving in to taste her again, and?—

And this was not the time for that.

He couldn’t have much time left; Catherine would be back soon, and he needed to not be standing so close to her sister when the duchess returned.

He reached out just enough to wrap his fingers around Ariadne’s wrist. He felt her pulse gallop and stutter beneath his fingertips. He wanted to kiss and bite that part of her, too.

“Meet me there, Ariadne,” he urged quietly. “Please.”

She hesitated for a moment, but something made him think that this wasn’t because she was uninterested, but rather because she felt she was supposed to hesitate. She sucked in a steadying breath and then nodded.

“I’ll be there,” she promised.

He indulged himself in one more gentle squeeze, one more fleeting fantasy about how she might flush and squirm when he pinned her wrists as he held her beneath him—and then he let her go.

By the time Catherine came back, David was the one looking out the window at the oh so intriguing tree. Ariadne was back on the settee, sipping her tea, which hopefully was still warm enough to account for the lingering flush on Ariadne’s cheeks.

Ariadne didn’t know why she had spent so many useless years learning things like how to arrange flowers just so or what depth of curtsey went with what rank of noble when she should have been asking the important questions.

Questions like 'What do I wear to a midnight assignation with a notorious duke?'

This was, she reflected, really the Duke of Wilds’ fault. He had made this mad offer, and then, instead of letting her think, he had touched her wrist. With his fingers! His naked fingers. Not a single glove in sight.

Ariadne had been frustrated with the rules of propriety more than once in her day, but the feeling of the duke’s warm, rough fingers against her inner wrist had made her think that wearing gloves shouldn’t just be recommended; it should be the law of the land.

Why were his fingers even so rough? He was a duke, not a blacksmith.

“This isn’t right,” she muttered to her reflection as she tugged at the neckline of the gown she had chosen.

Fine. The fourth gown she had chosen.

She had morning gowns. She had walking gowns. She had gowns for tea parties. She had ballgowns, cursed items that they were.