Page 101 of Duke of Destruction
“I knewofyou,” Catherine supplied.
“It didn’t matter what either of you knew,” the Duke of Wilds insisted, waving a wineglass between them, giving off the distinct air of a king holding court. “I knew you both, and Iknewit would be just right.”
Nobody had really believed it, but the duke had kept his story straight. He had spent the morning before the ceremony redoubling his reminders, something Catherine privately thought was a well-intentioned quest to distract Percy from nerves.
It had also made Percy threaten to punch his dearest friend many times.
“Very well,” Catherine said. “I’ll look for the duke. If you see the girls, send them to Hugh. If you see Ari, send her after the girls. If you see Percy… Oh, I don’t know, just make him stand in one spot until I loop back around and find him again.”
Xander gave her a playfully somber nod, indicating he would discharge this duty to the fullest.
When Catherine found the Duke of Wilds, he was, thank goodness, looking distinctly unpunched. Instead, he was having a cheerful conversation with Catherine’s cousin Ezra—a frankly alarming prospect, given the pair’s penchant for chaos when separated. They pointed her toward the east side of the house, then returned to their conversation, with a mischievous gleam in their eyes that might have made Catherine feel she ought to stay and intervene, if not for the incipient arrival of her cousin Aaron Warson, the Duke of Redcliff. Aaron was not the kind of person who brooked nonsense. He would keep the other two in check.
She went in the direction that the duke and Ezra had indicated, beginning to feel a bit as though she were a character in a farce, when she heard a piping little voice.
“You will simply have to change it,” the child said imperiously.
That voice came from one of the triplets—which meant one mystery was solved, at least. Where one of them went, they all went, in Catherine’s experience.
As she poked her head around the corner, she found that these were actuallytwomysteries solved. The three little girls werestanding, two with their hands propped on their hips, the third with her arms crossed defiantly.
And they were surrounding Percy (Catherine’shusband, she thought with a little shiver of delight), who was looking distinctly nonplussed.
“But it’s my name,” he protested.
Catherine didn’t interrupt at once. Instead, she settled in to watch. Usually, one had to pay a premium at the theater for the kind of entertainment this was setting up to be.
“It doesn’t matter,” said one of the triplets—the one that Catherine recognized as Lucy, the most spirited of the bunch. “We already have one, you see. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“And it isn’t your fault,” soothed Grace, the triplet who had the most visible Lightholder in her. She had the blue eyes, the ones that marked Hugh’s connection to the family. “It’s just that she came first. So, we are going to keep her. You understand.”
Percy looked as though he had never understood less in his life.
“But it’s myname,” he repeated. “And for her, it’s just a pet name. So perhaps?—”
He cut himself off when Lucy puffed up her chest. “Wegave her that name,” she said. “To show her that we love her. Do you want us to say that we don’t love her?”
Percy just opened his mouth, then shut it again without saying anything. Catherine supposed that this was her cue to intercede, no matter how entertaining this all was.
“Percy, there you are,” she said, breezing around the corner, smiling at her husband, who regarded her with naked gratitude. “And—” She feigned surprise. “Ladies! How lovely to see you there. Do you know that your aunt was looking for you? I’m meant to send you off to your Uncle Hugh.”
“We will in just a moment, Aunt Catherine,” Lucy said, smiling beatifically up at Catherine. In the instant it took her to turn back to Percy, her smile vanished, replaced by an honestly quite fearsome scowl. “Just as soon as we come to terms.”
It was extraordinarily challenging not to laugh at a seven-year-old sayingcome to terms, but Catherine persevered. It likely wouldn’t help matters, and she and Percywerestill outnumbered.
“Well,” she offered, happy when her voice didn’t catch or waver. “Perhaps I could offer my assistance in negotiating your concerns?”
Martha, the quietest of the children, raised her chin.
“He can’t be called Percy,” she declared.
“But it’s my na—” Percy stopped talking when Catherine nudged him.
“And why not?” Catherine asked Martha, as though this was a very usual sort of request.
“Well,” Martha said, apparently relieved to finally speak with a reasonable person, “we already have an Aunt Percy. So, we cannot also have an Uncle Percy. That doesn’t even make any sense.”
“Her name is Persephone!” Percy grumbled from his place behind Catherine. She nudged him again.
