Page 46 of Duke of Wickedness (Regency Gods #4)

David had been given very strict instructions.

“You are going to stay in bed until at least noon tomorrow,” Ariadne told him sternly as she did what she could to re-don her gown after he’d taken her home from the ball and made love to her thoroughly.

If he had thought that things were good between them previously, those experiences paled in comparison to how marvelously they came together after they’d admitted their feelings to one another.

When David had finally allowed himself to take his own pleasure—after wringing as much from his little bird as he could—it had taken him so powerfully that his vision had gone dark for a moment.

“I do have things I need to do,” he protested half-heartedly.

He was very tired. And he was very excited to sleep in his own bed again, particularly now that it held hints of Ariadne’s light, floral scent.

He would have liked it better if she was going to sleep there with him, but he supposed he could be patient. At least a little.

It was easier, he found, to be separated from her now that he knew she would return. How annoying, to learn that Percy had been right.

“They will keep until you don’t look as though you are at death’s door,” she said unyieldingly as she gave up on sorting her gown properly and hid the whole mess under her cloak. “You will sleep, and when you wake up, you will eat something.”

He was not interested in arguing with her.

Not only did both those things sound good—and what a relief that was, as neither had held any appeal for so long—but he had been convinced, over the course of the evening, that Ariadne was a genius and he was an idiot, and he should likely defer to her in more things.

After all, if he’d won their argument in the garden, he would be sitting at home, alone and miserable, instead of slumping back into a sated, post-orgasmic bliss. There was no contest between the two, really.

“As my lady commands,” he had agreed with the indolent ease of a man who had suddenly found everything going his way.

This proved another good decision, for she gave him a warm, fond smile and kissed him one more time before departing. He could still taste her on his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

The next thing he knew, he was being roused by someone barging into his rooms.

If David had been awake enough to experience anything besides shock and panic, he would have expected it to be Percy.

After all, Percy had made the very annoying habit of bursting in quite a lot recently.

He would have hoped for it to be Ariadne.

She could burst in on him any time. She would do so, hopefully. Very frequently, if he was lucky.

Alas, it was neither to these people. Instead, David blinked open bleary eyes and found himself staring up at a visibly irate Xander Lightholder, the Duke of Godwin.

David snapped to full wakefulness in a heartbeat, scrambling up to a seated position, gathering fistfuls of sheets to ensure that his more sensitive parts were covered. Behind the duke, David’s housekeeper was wringing her hands.

“I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” she said frantically. “He insisted—He wouldn’t be stopped.”

David waved her off, making a note to reassure her later.

Xander was practically fuming where he was standing at the foot of David’s bed.

David was frankly surprised that there wasn’t steam rising visibly from his skin.

He would be unreasonable in the extreme if he expected his housekeeper to—what? Tackle the man?

“It’s fine, Mrs. Cunningham,” he said. “I’m sure His Grace just has something earnest to discuss.”

Godwin undermined this reassurance considerably by saying, “I am going to murder you.”

The housekeeper hesitated at this, but when David gave her another nod, she fled. He would have to give the poor thing an extra day off, with double pay.

David dug deep for his recesses of charm. They were not easy to access when he had been awake for less than a minute and was achingly aware of his own nudity beneath the thin layer of coverings.

He would not, prior to this last minute, have professed himself frightened of Xander Lightholder. Oh, everyone was sort of vaguely afraid of Godwin, but that was because it was just good sense to be afraid of someone with so much power that they could destroy you with a flick of their hand.

But David hadn’t had any negative run-ins with the man, and even Percy—who had once hated the Dukes of Godwin with all the fury of the fires of hell—thought Xander was a fine enough fellow.

Now, though, David felt distinctly…concerned.

He blamed the nakedness. Surely this whole thing would feel quite a bit more manageable if he were wearing trousers.

“How can I help you, Godwin?” he asked cheerfully.

“Why,” Godwin said, with a deeply alarming sort of calmness about him. “Are there rumors circulating this morning that you left a ball with my sister last night?”

Part of David paused to be impressed with Godwin's information network. He’d have made a bloody good spy, with channels like that.

A much larger part of him, however, paused and weighed the merits of lying in this situation. It took very little time to decide against it.

“Probably because I left a ball with your sister last night,” he said, trying not to sound too flippant about it. That absence of flippancy felt like the difference between Lightholder making good on that promise to murder him or not.

And maybe Godwin respected honesty—or maybe he was just considering how to make that murder really hurt—because he hesitated.

“And why,” Godwin asked, voice lower and no longer quite so calm—but still deeply, deeply disconcerting, “would you think that was an acceptable thing to do?”

“Because I was fortunate enough to have Lady Ariadne accept my offer of marriage,” he said before realizing, to his utter horror, that he hadn’t actually asked her . This much, he decided, was best kept to himself. There was honesty, and then there was stupidity.

Godwin went very still, like a lion considering its prey.

“If that is true, then why haven’t you come to me to discuss matters? Ariadne has reached her majority, it’s true, but I remain the head of the family.”

David risked a little sarcasm in his tone as he gestured at himself. If Xander didn’t murder him right now, they would be family in very short order, so it was better to begin as he meant to go on.

Unless it got him killed.

“I was sleeping,” he said pointedly.

Godwin looked displeased, though David couldn’t tell if this was because he’d put forth a good point or a bad one.

“It’s half two in the afternoon,” he retorted.

Good sense intervened in time to stop David from saying, Your sister told me to get some rest , because it had not yet seemed to occur to Godwin to ask where, exactly, David had taken her when they’d left the ball the night before, and he didn’t want to give his future brother-by-marriage any reason to ask such a thing.

“I’ve been feeling unwell,” he said diplomatically instead. “Though I feel much improved this morning.”

He was very pleased to note that both of these things were true.

Godwin looked like he wanted to stay angry but was struggling to find a good reason to do so. He narrowed his eyes at David.

“Fine. Get dressed. We are going to sign the papers immediately.”

This was what David had been hoping to do with his morning—er, afternoon—anyway, so it was easy enough to agree. Besides, he might get to see Ariadne, which was the main thing he was interested in doing for, oh, the next thirty or so years.

“I would be happy to,” he said graciously. “Do you think I might have some privacy to get dressed for the day?”

Godwin looked like he wanted to argue, just to be difficult, but he stalked out, leaving David alone with his extremely nervous valet, who scurried in the moment the Duke of Godwin was gone.

Damn, David was going to have to give his entire staff a paid free day, wasn’t he?

He found, however, despite that inconvenience—not to mention his rude awakening—that he was in too good a mood to mind. Nor did he get particularly fussed about the stony silence he faced from Godwin as they journeyed to Oldhill House, the Godwin London residence.

Ariadne was worth it. She was more than worth it.

He would have suffered a great deal more in order to see the way Ariadne’s face lit up when he entered the house.

“David,” she said happily, turning to stride in his direction. Then, she paused, and her expression grew thunderously dark. “Xander,” she said mutinously.

“Don’t you ‘Xander’ me,” Godwin said.

“Don’t I —?” She made an outraged noise. David found that her temper was highly diverting when it wasn’t pointed at him. “Why did you drag my betrothed over here?”

David felt his shoulders loosen at the word betrothed .

Good. He would have cleared things up with Ariadne—now that she’d convinced him of the wisdom of marrying her, he was bloody well going to do it, and he’d like to see anyone try to stop him—but it was very nice to be able to present a united front against her brother.

“Ah, yes,” Godwin said tersely. “About that. Why didn’t you tell me that Nightingale here asked you to marry him?”

Ariadne crossed her arms and got a very smug look on her face.

“He didn’t,” she told her brother arrogantly.

Oh, well, that was nice while it lasted, David thought. I guess I will just get murdered instead, after all.

But then Ariadne continued.

“ I told him that we are to be married,” she went on. “I was the one who decided.”

This time, when Godwin looked over at David, he wore an expression that was not entirely hostile. David shrugged. It was essentially true, and he found that he didn’t mind a bit.

Godwin looked at Ariadne, then back at David, then at his sister again.

He let out a long, heavy sigh.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine. I consent to this marriage.”

“Thank you,” said David.

“I didn’t need your permission,” scoffed Ariadne.