Page 34 of Duke of Wickedness (Regency Gods #4)

David gave her a grim nod. “I wasn’t a child ; I was nearly old enough to be at university.

So, when I wasn’t at school, I spent my time at a property that traditionally went with the marquisate, not the dukedom.

I asked my mother to go with me, but she refused.

Said that she’d taken vows before God and she would not forsake them.

She’d always been religious, so perhaps it wasn’t a surprise, but I thought if I asked, if I begged her to leave with me, she might?—”

Again, he cut himself off.

“She didn’t,” he continued after a moment in which Ariadne didn’t dare do anything other than hold her breath. “She stayed. I only went back after my father was dead, and by then, she was sick, too. She died a few months later, never having said a bad word about my father. Not one.”

“And so you did better,” Ariadne said, unable to keep silent any longer.

He huffed a breath out through his nose. “I tried, at least.”

“No.” She had held her tongue through much of this, but this was a bridge too far.

“You did. I know not everyone in Society might approve of the way you do things, but I don’t think even your most aggressive detractors would call you a hypocrite .

And don’t forget,” she continued when he seemed as though he might argue with her, “that you do not take advantage of people who have less power than you. No, David—you open your home so that they have a safe place to be. A place where they don’t need to be afraid.

So if you try to tell me that you aren’t better than your father, I will hit you.

Don’t press me, David. I will physically strike you. ”

This was a frankly mad reaction to his admission, but she was boiling with anger on his behalf. She couldn’t think of anything more sensible, since what she really wanted to do—deliver a swift kick to his father’s bollocks—was impossible, given that the late duke was, well, late.

And maybe it wasn’t a hideous misstep, because David smiled. It wasn’t his rakish smile, his daring smile, or his playful smile. It was…full of gratitude. It made her feel as though the table between them was gone, that they were as close as people could be.

As though, for a moment or two, they were the only two people in the world.

But then there was a bark of laughter from below; people were beginning to arrive at the party. Ariadne urged herself to be pleased by the distraction.

David, too, looked torn between relief and disappointment—and how bittersweet to realize that she could read him so precisely.

“Come,” he said abruptly, pushing back from the table before she could so much as blink. “I have something for you.”

David couldn’t be certain whether the aching place inside him felt empty or full, but he was staggeringly aware of the place in his chest where his heart was beating a relentless tattoo.

He wasn’t sure what had compelled him to tell her the truth, except for the simple fact that she had asked. He didn’t talk about his parents. Percy knew some of it, but not even he knew everything that David had just revealed to Ariadne.

But it felt… Well, it felt like something. He thought it might be good.

He tried to shake himself out of his melancholy as he led Ariadne back inside the study, then across the hall to the adjoining room where he had left his gift for her.

Tonight would be his last night with her.

This might even be his last moments with her, because he would remind her that she had a choice.

It might kill him if she chose someone else. But he would give her the choice.

He would always let her choose.

It was the only thing that might make her worth the praise she’d leveled in his direction. The praise that she had—and this part did bring a little smile to his face—threatened him with.

“Now, I don’t want to sound like a spoilt little princess,” Ariadne said, a teasing lilt to her voice, like she intended to prod him out of his ill temper if he couldn’t get there himself. Which, of course, she did, the perfect little thing. “But you did mention a gift?”

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in for a quick kiss. If this was his last chance with her, he was going to make the most of it.

“I do have a gift for you. Surely you didn’t think I was going to make you wear the same gown twice?”

He said it with mock horror, just to see her smile. When she did, it lit him up.

“Now, David,” she said, leaning back against the arm that was still around his waist, her hands pressed against his chest so she could look up at him.

“I know I was the one who brought up the idea of being spoilt, but now I feel I must tell you—you do realize that dresses are reusable, no matter what Society might want you to think.”

He tucked a strand of blonde hair back behind her ear. It wasn’t about reusing the gowns, though a selfish part of him hoped she never did wear either of his gifts again. The idea of her wearing them for another man…

It burned, hot and acidic.

“My sweet,” he said, hoping the endearment didn’t give too much of himself away. “Tonight is for you, do you understand? Tonight, you get everything you want. Anything you want. And that starts with a new gown.”

“You might have sent it, like you did the last one,” she said, gesturing her hand down the gown without pulling away. “I am already dressed.”

“Ah, yes.” He pressed a kiss behind her ear. “But just because you get everything you want tonight doesn’t mean that I don’t get some of the things I want. And I want to be the one to get you ready.”

She blushed bright, and God , how he loved making her blush. He loved that he still could make her blush, even with something comparatively innocuous, given all the things they’d already done together.

He wanted to keep seeing that blush for?—

He stopped the thought before it could go any further.

“Yes,” she said, because she was his brave little bird, and she flapped her wings no matter what wind blew her way. “I—I would like that.”

David released her without a word, leading her over to where the gown was laid out and waiting. He feared that if he said anything, he would say something he shouldn’t.

Before the gown she was wearing now, the one that made her look like an elegant silver swan, he had never purchased a gown for a woman. Oh, he had given gifts to lovers, of course. Such a thing was de rigueur . But clothing…

There was an intimacy there. A line, probably one that he should not have crossed. He’d known it when he’d purchased the first gown, had felt it every second he had spent in the discreet modiste’s shop that was a favorite of the demimonde.

But he’d known she needed to have it as soon as he’d laid his eyes on the vibrant silk, just a few shades off from what she’d worn at the ball where she had lured him into the garden.

He’d asked for the feather motif to be repeated in this gown, even though he’d recognized that this touch of pride was perhaps more about him than it was about her.

So be it. She would be vibrant, gorgeous. A bird of paradise, taking flight.

“Oh,” she said when she saw it. Just the one word, and then an expectant, happy silence.

“Do you like it?” The question slipped out, too vulnerable, before he could stop it.

She bit her lip and nodded, and it felt better than the most effusive praise she could offer.

He forced himself to be quick as he took off the swan gown. If he lingered, even for an instant, he would get distracted by her beauty. And, as tempting as the idea was, he was determined to give her this night. All of it.

These good intentions failed him entirely when he saw what she was wearing beneath her gown.

“Jesus Christ, Ariadne,” he said.

She looked down at herself, all coyness and false modesty. It was astonishing how this expression, so frustrating in most situations, could be so dashed appealing on her face.

“I might have borrowed from my trousseau,” she admitted, running a finger down the elegant lace trim of her extremely sensual chemise. “It occurred to me that nobody was making me wait until I got married to use it.”

David very resolutely refused to have any feelings about looking at Ariadne in lace-trimmed underthings purchased originally for her husband. He simply did not think about it.

“You really have no supervision now that your siblings are all married, do you?” he teased, because if he didn’t make a joke, he was going to start having thoughts. Possibly feelings, as well. “You get up to all kinds of trouble.”

She gave a precious little shimmy that made the lace move tantalizingly against her bare skin.

God help him.

“Get this damn dress on before you kill me,” he breathed. It was honesty disguised as a jest.

She looked at him like she knew what she really meant. And then she turned her back and…

Well, that wasn’t any better, was it?

Unable to resist, David traced a finger along the low dip of the chemise in the back, the edges of the lace just tickling his skin as he drew a line down from her shoulder, across the rise of her shoulder blade, down over the muscles of her back.

She shivered, and he was so wretchedly undone.

“The party is starting,” he said, more for his own benefit than hers. “Let’s get you dressed, shall we?”

David scarcely breathed as he drew the fabric of the main gown over her shoulders.

It was the same style as the first gown he’d sent her, and it went on more like a dressing gown than most of the frocks that were currently in fashion.

This one, though, had more complicated ties, a series of them that the modiste had guided through tying on a dressmaker’s form, not a real person, of course.

He’d paid close attention to the ties at the time, studying the process far more closely than he’d ever attended an exam back in his university days.

And thank Christ that he had focused so intently, because now it was almost impossible to focus on anything besides the smooth curve of Ariadne’s ribs, the soft swell of her breasts as he wrapped one side of the gown, then the other, tucking the ties until she was held firmly to the waist. Below that, the skirt fluttered, the fabric so lightweight that it was nearly sheer.

He smoothed a hand over the overlapping fabric at her ribs, coming around to the front of her.

He hadn’t dared make eye contact throughout this whole process, but now…

Her pupils were wide when she looked up at him, and she looked almost dazed. Her breasts surged with each of her breaths, and she reached out a hand to his arm, as if she needed help steadying herself.

“David,” she breathed. “I…”

He was so, so grateful that she didn’t finish whatever that thought was, because this whole thing was already bad enough. He already couldn’t fully hold back the fantasy, the pernicious little what-ifs .

What if tonight didn’t have to be the end? What if he kept her, just for a little while longer? What if they explored everything she could imagine—together?

But that would be selfish. He wouldn’t deny her for his own benefit. He wouldn’t.

“You look so beautiful,” he told her. “You are so beautiful. You’re…” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “You are incredible, Ariadne.”

He opened his eyes because he needed to look at her. She stared up at him, eyes fathomless. She opened her mouth to say something to him…

And he pulled away. Like a coward.

He turned and cleared his throat. He had a plan tonight. He was going to stick to it.

“Come,” he urged her, beckoning but not quite daring to reach out a hand to her, not until they were out of this private space which was so dense with emotion.

He handed her the mask that went with the dress without looking at her.

He didn’t want to see her covering her face, as necessary as it was.

“Make certain that your mask is secure. It’s time for us to go. The party is beginning.”