Page 24 of Duke of Wickedness (Regency Gods #4)

“ L ady Ariadne, a package has arrived for you.”

Ariadne wasn’t necessarily proud of the avaricious little flare of glee that went through her when she saw the package the footman held in his hands.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have enough pretty things; she had a wealthy, indulgent brother, not to mention a very fashionable sister who let Ariadne snoop through her things whenever she wanted.

But there was something so exciting about a surprise gift.

“I’ll take it,” she cried, startling the footman with her eagerness. Perhaps that should have been cause for embarrassment, but she was having too much fun.

Who would have sent her a present? Catherine, maybe? One of her cousins, perhaps, if they saw something they thought would suit her?

When she went upstairs and unwrapped the package, Ariadne bit her lip with pleasure. Oh, it was even better.

On top of the paper-wrapped contents of the box sat a letter.

Dear little bird , it read.

I know that my previous letters have been insufficient; I hope that I have redeemed myself with this one.

I would like to formally invite you to a masquerade of the type that we have previously discussed.

As you have noted, my further inadequacies when it comes to the nuances of ladies’ fashion terms, I have, in lieu of describing the appropriate garb, included an offering.

If this is agreeable to you, I shall see you on Thursday. My conveyance will be waiting as usual, though I regret that I cannot accompany you myself, given my duties as host. Please ensure that your mask is in place prior to your arrival.

Your humble servant,

D.

Her lips twitched. She could hear all of it in his voice all too easily—those barbed little jokes woven between the careful wording that protected her anonymity. Carefully, she set the letter aside and unwrapped the fine, thin paper that covered the gift.

And she gasped.

The mask in the package was beautiful— gorgeous . It was silver, all done in careful wire filigree that resembled…

“Feathers,” she murmured, tracing them with a fingertip. He’d given her a mask that would make her a beautiful bird.

He really was such a devil. She laughed even as her chest ached with…something.

She set aside the mask and revealed the garment beneath.

It was an opulent frock, though—curse David’s name—it wasn’t a kind that she explicitly knew how to describe.

It was as ornate as a ballgown, but visibly easier to take on…

and off, she supposed. Most of the ballgowns Ariadne had ever worn required being partially stitched in; you could not take them off and back on again, not without several servants and a well-stocked sewing basket.

But this… This she could manage by herself.

The stays closed in the front, and they had satin ribbons for their laces, so the ties wouldn’t get caught or tangled.

And the gown would wrap in a way that meant that it would go on and off more like a dressing gown than a conventional frock, though it clearly wasn’t an item meant for mere leisure.

No, it was far too beautiful for that. The base of the gown was an icy blue, but there was a sheer overskirt that was the same gleaming silver of the mask.

The skirt was embroidered in a royal blue cascade of feathers, only a few at the waist, then more and more until the bottom was nearly solid blue.

She loved it. She loved it more than was reasonable, because she should—she really should—reject it.

Giving a woman a dress… Well, Ariadne supposed it wasn’t technically more scandalous than the other things she and David had done together, but it wasn’t far off. Buying clothing for a woman was highly suggestive.

She obviously was not going to reject the dress.

She told herself that she might, though, as a way to distract herself as the minutes crawled by until Thursday night. It was a nice diversion, lying to herself.

But when she put on the dress—and good Lord, it was so easy; all dresses should be made just like this one—she knew that she’d never stood a chance of doing anything else.

It was all she could do to hold off putting on the mask until she got into David’s carriage, which waited in its usual place.

The coachman didn’t say anything. He merely offered her a genial nod, then clicked the door shut behind her.

Ariadne’s hands trembled as she tied the satin ribbons of the mask into place.

For all his protestations about hosting duties, David, unmistakable even with his mask, was waiting outside his home, leaning casually against a lamppost. The light made the top of his head light up like a halo, the light brown turned positively golden in the gleam.

No angel had ever been built like that, though, Ariadne decided as he unfolded himself from his position, his dark clothing and mask blending into the shadows, making his movements practically liquid.

An angel would not smile at her so crookedly that she could, at first, only see one pointed tooth.

What the hell would Ariadne do with an angel, though? She liked the devil she knew, thank you very much.

He opened the carriage door for her, reached out a hand?—

And froze as he took her in.

There was a pause during which Ariadne wanted to crow over the glorious feeling of having him—David Nightingale, Duke of Wilds, the man who could have anyone in London—look at her like that .

“Little bird,” he breathed after a long, long moment. “You look…incredible.”

She preened. Just a little.

“Thank you for the gown,” she said. “I may never wear anything else.”

“You never should,” he agreed. “You look…”

And perhaps he couldn’t improve on his earlier comment, for he never finished the sentence. He just shook his head as though he could scarcely even believe what he was seeing.

This whole thing was enormously good for Ariadne’s confidence.

She took his hand and let him help her down from the carriage. He didn’t let her go as they approached the door, and she found, to her surprise, that she didn’t feel terribly nervous after all.

“Ready?” he asked her.

“Yes.” There really wasn’t that much more to say.

David gave her an approving nod, which felt nearly as good as his slack-jawed appreciation of her attire, and opened the door.

Ariadne thought she might not be breathing.

Inside…

Well, everything she’d ever read about, seen in David’s dirty pictures, or imagined—it was all happening inside.

As well as dozens of things she hadn’t ever imagined and wouldn’t have believed possible if she wasn’t seeing them right before her eyes.

Directly inside the door, there was a couple kissing passionately as though they had been unable to make it any further inside the house before succumbing to their desires.

It was partially their openness that shocked Ariadne, as they seemed entirely unbothered by her and David’s proximity, and partially that the man was roughly kneading the woman’s breast as he pinned her against the wall.

Most surprising, though, was that the woman had brazenly reached her hand down to cup the man over the closed fall of his trousers. He was pushing back aggressively against her grasp.

She quickly tried to avert her eyes, but David leaned in close to her ear.

“They don’t mind you looking, dearest,” he crooned, and really, he should not be permitted to say sweet words in that voice. “They have put themselves here because they want to be watched.”

“They want to be?” she echoed. She’d assumed that they simply hadn’t minded, not that they actively wished to be observed.

David let out a low chuckle—something else that ought to be prohibited.

“Tonight, you will see a lot of things that people want,” he said darkly. “That’s the rule here—the only rule. As long as everyone involved wants what is happening, nothing is forbidden.”

The things that were happening in front of Ariadne would be forbidden anywhere else, however, that much was increasingly obvious to her with every step into the house.

Two men were seated at the piano, which wouldn’t have been remarkable in and of itself, but while one of the men was playing, the other one was kissing his neck passionately.

“Oh,” Ariadne let out quietly.

“Shocked?” David asked her, and she wondered if there wasn’t a note of defensiveness in his tone.

“Shocked isn’t the word,” she murmured.

And that was true. She was…

She was enthralled. And not a little heated under her beautiful, feathered gown.

“I didn’t realize,” she said—which, frankly, was a good description of nearly everything happening here.

“It’s quite illegal,” David said simply. “But that doesn’t deter people from following their hearts—and, occasionally, other parts that lead the way. Some men find other men attractive. For some, they exclusively find other men attractive. For others, it is part of a more expansive set of tastes.”

There was something in his tone that made her ask.

“Have you…?”

He shrugged an unconcerned shoulder. “I had a few instances of experimentation in my younger days, but alas, I find that I am one of those boring, conventional types that prefer ladies alone.”

He again sounded as though he feared her censure, so she merely shook her head at him.

“Yes, I was going to bring that up. You are far too boring and conventional for my tastes. I shall just leave then.”

She made as though to pull away from him, but he grabbed her around the waist, laughing, all the worry gone from the parts of his face that weren’t hidden by his mask. He tugged her tight against his side, then pressed a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Don’t leave yet, little bird,” he said. “There’s more to see.”

And there was. Ariadne tried to keep the surprise from her space with each new thing she saw.

She knew, for example, that the idea that men were more sensual than women was a myth—she was living proof of that herself with this little adventure of hers.

But she found the sight of two women in a passionate embrace far more surprising than the two men.