Page 73 of Duke of Wickedness

“Yes,thank you, Phoebe,” Ariadne managed as she pushed herself upright and began patting at her hair. Why was she patting at her hair?

“You look fine,” Phoebe told her. “Well, with the patting, you look a little insane, but?—”

“Phoebe!”

“He’s coming over here,” Phoebe narrated, as if Ariadne couldn’t see this for herself. “He really is handsome. Do you want me to leave?”

“Do not leave, butdostop talking,I beg you.”

“Understood,” Phoebe said, pasting herself to Ariadne’s side and adopting an expression that Ariadne thought was supposed to be nonchalant, but absolutely, definitely did not convey that.

“Lady Ariadne,” David said, approaching and giving them a polite bow. “How good to see you.”

“Your Grace,” she said, just as polite. “Might I introduce my friend, Miss Phoebe Turner? Miss Turner, this is His Grace, the Duke of Wilds.”

“Miss Turner,” David said, all charm and poise.

Even Phoebe, self-proclaimed bluestocking, she who had compared interest in men to silent fishing, blushed.

Ariadne pinched her.

“Very nice to meet you, Your Grace,” she said. “How do you know our Ariadne?”

This, evidently, was revenge for the pinch.

David’s glance at Phoebe grew assessing. Ariadne wasn’t particularly worried, something that surprised her for a moment until she realized that, of course, she ought not be surprised. She trusted them, trusted them both.

“Lady Ariadne’s sister is married to my friend, the Duke of Seaton,” he said smoothly. “And we have, of course, encountered one another socially.”

“Like at the theater,” Phoebe said knowingly.

“I changed my mind,” Ariadne told her flatly. “Go away.”

“Going away!” Phoebe said with perfect cheer. She gave David a very wobbly curtsey. “Sonice to meet you, Your Grace. I’m going to go look at—” She glanced around. “Trees!”

She skipped off.

“Trees?” David asked, a smile playing about his lips.

“She is unpredictable,” Ariadne said, smiling as Phoebe did, indeed, go over to peer at some trees as though they were perfectly fascinating. “And, as she not-so-subtly hinted, she did see us at the theater that night.”

David’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly. “Are you concerned?”

It wasn’t exactly a fierce show of protectiveness, but Ariadne felt her foolish heart warm anyway.

“No,” she said honestly. “I trust her.”

Something flickered in his expression, but she couldn’t quite read it. Then he turned back to look at her, his charmer’s look fixed in place. He looked handsome, of course, but there was something…inauthentic about it. He looked different when he was being sincere with her.

“You look lovely, Ariadne,” he said, low and silky and not at all himself.

She glanced down at her dress. “Oh, thank you… It’s actually one of my sister’s gowns.”

She cringed as soon as she said it. It was true, actually—Catherine was hideously fashionable, and though Ariadne had more than enough money for her down dresses, she liked borrowing from Catherine. It made her feel closer to her sister.

She supposed she could at least be grateful that she hadn’t admittedthat. Saying she was wearing Catherine’s castoffs made her sound like she was doing that wretched false humility thing that was so popular among ladies of theton, but at least she hadn’t confessed to the thing that made her sound truly pathetic.

Instead, she could focus on theotherembarrassing aspects of this awkward scene.