Page 96 of Duke of Wickedness

This meant, all in all, that it was both extraordinarily surprising and really not surprising at all that, when they arrived in his study, Percy punched David straight in the gut hard enough that David found himself on the ground.

David still didn’t ask any questions—but this time, it was because he didn’t need to.

“I suppose you’ve figured it out, then,” he said, a touch breathlessly. For a proper, governmental sort, Percy could throw an impressive punch.

“I have,” Percy said tersely. “And—well, I’m notsorryabout hitting you. You understand why I had to do it.”

David did. It was astonishing that he hadn’t been hit more in his life, really.

“But,” Percy went on, most of the tension going out of his form, “now that we’ve dealt with that part, we can get to fixing things.”

David blinked as Percy’s hand appeared, extended, in his line of sight. The brief hope that he’d entertained that Percy would beat him bloody—thus hopefully beating this hideous obsession right out of him—evaporated.

“What do you mean,fix things?” David asked, taking the hand in hopes that this was a trick and he was going to get thrashed.

Percy, wretched reasonable person that he was, did not take the opportunity to sweep David’s legs out from under him. Instead, he lightly, almost affectionately, nudged David backward until he was seated in an armchair. Then he sat in the chair across from him and braced his elbows on his knees.

“So,” he said flatly. “You’re in love with Ariadne.”

The punch had been honestly less surprising.

“I’m not—” he started to protest.

“Oh, give it up,” Percy said, eyes narrowed and uncompromising. “I know you’ve had about a thousand liaisons in your day—” He paused. “—something that I amvery much notthinking aboutin the context of my younger sister. But I have never seen you like this, which is why I hit you only one time.”

“I’m not like anything,” David tried again. He still didn’t sound convincing.

“Icanhit you again if you want,” Percy offered menacingly.

David found that, when faced with the real possibility, being beaten senseless did not hold as much appeal as it did when only a hypothetical.

“Fine,” he said shortly. “I might… It is possible that I am experiencing some—some inconvenient emotions.”

“Love is never convenient,” Percy said. David flinched at the word, but when he tried to make himself object to it…

He couldn’t. The words didn’t come.

“It doesn’t matter,” sprang from his lips instead.

“That doesn’t sound correct,” Percy said, “but let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I am willing to entertain whatever nonsense you’re about to spout.”

Again, denial failed. David wasn’t entirely sorry for it, either. For as much as he valued discretion and felt confident that he was, somehow, doing Ariadne wrong by admitting anything…

God, it felt good to talk about it. It felt like an unburdening.

And besides, he felt as though he was doing Ariadne wrong merely by breathing these days, so what was on more sin added to his list? At least he knew Percy wouldn’t betray Ariadne to the gossip rags. He hadn’t even betrayed them to Catherine, at least not yet.

He flinched slightly. Catherine was going to hit him so much harder than her husband had.

“It doesn’t matter,” he reiterated. “I’m not right for her.”

Percy took a long, slow breath, like he had to actively hold back harsh words.

“I take it,” he said after a long moment, “that Ariadne is the same woman you’ve been mooning over these past few months.”

David waved a hand that he hoped signaled his admission. He might as well confess to it all, he supposed.

“Right,” Percy said. “Well. What was that last stupid thing you said? That she wanted… Freedom, was it? You do realize that Ariadne is—and has been, for several years—on the marriage mart?”