Page 107 of Duke of Wickedness

“Youcan’t believe it?” Catherine asked. “I remember the day she was born!”

Ariadne fought against an affectionate eye roll. They’d been like this all morning long.

But no matter how slowly the morning passed—and, as far as Ariadne was concerned, every minute that she was not yet married to David was a minute wasted—the hour they were set to depart did finally arrive.

Helen blew her nose noisily.

“Do you know,” Ariadne asked mischievously, because she would be a married lady the next time she saw Helen, so it was prudent to get as much little sisterly chaos out of her system before she achieved such a lofty, mature status, “the last time you were this weepy, we met Cornelia six months later.”

Helen paused mid-blow and gave Ariadne the wide-eyed, shocked look of someone who was realizing something very important.

“Do you know,” she said absently, “I think I shall have to meet you at the church. There’s something pressing I must check in my diary…”

She scampered off toward the interior of the house, leaving Ariadne with Catherine, who gave her an indulgent look.

“That was very naughty of you,” she said. Catherine, too, was enjoying Ariadne’s last moments as an unmarried woman by being as motherly as possible.

“Thank you,” Ariadne said pertly.

Catherine’s smile was genuine as they loaded up into the Seaton carriage; the Lightholder conveyance had taken the gentlemen to the church ahead, partially so the women could primp a little longer, partially so that Xander could try to bully David.

“Do you know,” she said, settling herself in next to her younger sister and holding her hand, “I like this change that has come over you of late.”

“You can thank David for that,” Ariadne said, sighing happily at the mere thought of her betrothed.

Catherine shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Oh, he might have encouraged this side of you to come out, but I remember you being like this when you were very small—before you realized that other people were watching. That made you shy. And then you spent all that time trying to act so prim and proper—yes, I knew what you were doing,” Catherine said caustically at Ariadne’s shocked look.

“I’m your elder sister; I practically raised you. I know when you’re not being authentic.” She patted Ariadne’s hand consolingly. “You really aren’t a very good liar, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know why people keep saying that to me,” Ariadne grumbled without any real heat. Then, quizzically, she added, “If you knew, why didn’t you say something?”

Catherine shrugged. “It seemed to make you happier than you’d been when you were so nervous about Society events. But I see now that happiness was a candle to the sun compared to what you have now.”

“You shan’t hear any arguments from me,” Ariadne said agreeably.

The streets outside St. James’ Church were crowded. Half thetonhad come out to see the last of this generation of Lightholders married, while the other half had come to see if the legendary Duke of Wilds really, truly planned to wed. Ariadne wouldn’t have been surprised to find ladies lying prostrate with grief over David’s vanished eligibility, but she admitted that she was, perhaps, just the tiniest bit biased. As far as she was concerned, after all, he was theonlyman in England worth marrying.

But the only response to her arrival was some excited murmuring among the crowd, and a few muttered words about bets about how it seemed to actually be happening.

Ariadne ignored it all. Who cared what they had to say? She and David would be happily wed after all this. Let them printthatin the Society papers.

Inside the church, Percy happily greeted his own wife, while Xander muttered irritably about Helen’s delay. Even so, her brother pulled himself together when the time came, offering her his arm gallantly.

“Are you ready?” he asked her, looking down at her with a fond smile.

“Absolutely,” she agreed without hesitation.

They pushed through the doors of the church; dozens—no, hundreds—of eager watching faces turned in their direction.

Ariadne didn’t have eyes for any of them. For, standing at the head of the church, was David, her beloved, her shining, beautiful man. The rake, reformed—but nottooreformed, she hoped.

She stepped forward, not at all caring that she moved too quickly for propriety, as she hurried toward him—and toward their future.

The End?