Page 13 of Duke of Wickedness

“Good morning, Lady Ariadne,” he said kindly.

“Um,” she said. “Good morning?”

Helen gave Ariadne a puzzled look, and Ariadne realized that her mask hadn’t just slipped—it had dropped entirely.

“Good morning,” she tried again. “Of course, I would be happy to give you some time. Would you like to sit?”

“The weather is fine this morning; perhaps we ought to take a turn about the garden?” He said this so smoothly that it took Ariadne a moment to realize that,of course,they couldn’t justsit in the parlorand discuss her trip to his bloodyden of iniquity.

Really, what was wrong with her when it came to his man? What about him turned her into some sort of unthinking puddle? She was not a stupid woman!

And yet.

And yet this duke walked into the room and suddenly her head might as well be little more than a nice prop for her coiffure for all the good it was doing her.

“That sounds very nice,” she said.

They both turned toward Helen, and Ariadne didn’t know what was more distressing—when she and the duke butted heads, or when they found themselves in agreement.

“Oh, right,” Helen said, shoulders slumping as she cast a longing look at the place where she had been sitting. “I should be a chaperone.” She sighed heavily. “Very well.”

The trio moved toward the garden, Helen stretching the limits of propriety in her chaperonage with her dragging feet.

That was good for something, at least. Thank God for reluctant chaperones.

As soon as she was confident that Helen was far enough away that she wouldn’t overhear, Ariadne looked up at the duke.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

He gave her a bright, charming smile.

“Good morning, Lady Ariadne,” he said. “How are you this fine day? You’re looking well, if I do say so. Quite a fetching frock you’ve got there.”

“Very convincing,” she said with equal brightness. “I didn’t know you had such a passion for women’s fashions. I can get you the name of my modiste, if you would like.”

This was another slip. She should have resisted the urge to sass him back, should have murmured a polite thank you and waited until he got around to saying what he wanted to say. That was what proper young women were meant to do, after all.

But the duke did not seem put off by her snappish retort. If anything, he seemed delighted.

“You are a wonderful little mystery, Lady Ariadne,” he said approvingly. “Which only makes me more convinced that I was right to have come here.”

“Is this some sort of revenge?” she asked baldly. If he was going to permit her frankness, she was going to indulge herself at least once. “I showed up at your home, so you show up at mine? Well done. Bravo.”

Hestilllooked unruffled.

“Certainly not,” he said smoothly. “I am here because you might have transgressed in showing up unannounced, but I erredworse by sending you away. A good host welcomes guests—expected or otherwise.”

Ariadne paused. This was…a turn she had not anticipated.

“Your Grace,” she said, “I am going to be blunt.”

“Have you not been blunt already? I am absolutely delighted to see what you consider bluntness if your previous behavior did not qualify.”

She ignored this. She had brothers and too many cousins to count. Sometimes men just needed to be ignored.

Especially dukes.

“What,” she asked in lieu of response, “are you talking about? Why are you here? What do you want from me?”