Page 48 of Duke of Wickedness

His smile was a little gentler this time.

“Tonight,” he said, “we are going to have a lesson that’s a touch more…theoretical.”

Well, wasn’tthatintriguing. She practically hopped out of the carriage in her eagerness to follow him into the house, denials be damned.

David led her through the front—and goodness, it reallywasnice to be able to just waltz in and out of the house whenever onewanted; men really did have all the good things in this life—and straight up to the second story.

Ariadne was starting to wonder—with that same mix of nerves and desire—iftheoreticalwas some particularly opaque code for going to bed together when David led her through a door and into…

A library?

Her feet came to a stop without her mind’s permission.

David looked at her, bemused and entertained.

“This is what stops you?” he teased. “I take you to a naughty theater and you plunge right in, but when confronted with books, you balk?”

“No,” she said, balking.

He laughed. “Come on, little bird. I have something to show you.”

He twined his fingers with hers and tugged her along. They passed shelves of books, most of which were the kind of ancient tomes that lived in every aristocrat’s library and went untouched, and one that was haphazardly stacked and clearly well-used. David led her past that one, too, though, and to a small room off the back of the library.

Ariadne was working herself back around to believing thattheoreticalwas actually a secret message, and that maybe David had a special—oh, she didn’t know—some sort of secret bed in his library? Helen’s books had made Ariadne perfectly aware that one didn’t need a bedchamber in order to engage in bed sport, but maybe a professional libertine like David liked to maximize his comfort? And convenience?

The anticipation might have been driving her a little mad. Ariadne was not so far gone that she could recognize that.

But when David pushed open that extra door in the back, it was to reveal…

More books.

Ariadne paused, looked at David, looked back at the books, then paused some more.

“Am I…missing something?” she asked.

This was clearly what he had been hoping she would ask.

“Don’t you want to see my collection?” he asked, visibly enjoying himself.

There were two kinds of traps in this world, Ariadne decided as she looked at him, practically vibrating with glee. There was the kind of trap that was best avoided, the dangerous kind, the kind that snapped shut around you and didn’t let you go.

And then there was this—the kind where you walked right in, knowing it was a trap, and not caring, because the person setting it was simply enjoying themselves so very, very much.

“I do want to see your collection,” she agreed warily.

This, she decided shortly, had been thebestdecision.

“Where did yougetall these?” she asked as she pored over the volumes that David had laid out on the small table in the middle of the room, which appeared to have been placed there for just this purpose. “These are…definitely very illegal.”

“You sound impressed,” he observed.

“Iamimpressed,” she agreed. “But if the constables come knocking at your door, I know nothing and amhighlydisapproving.”

“I thought it possible that you would be actually disapproving,” David admitted.

“One of these days, you will learn to stop underestimating me,” she said, though there wasn’t any real censure to it. He could have said somethingfarmore insulting but she still would have been too distracted to offer any real anger.

Because thesebooks.