Page 27 of Duke of Destruction
Because shecouldn’tchange her dratted dress, because she had abruiseon her neck.
A bruisein the shape of the Duke of Seaton’s teeth.
So much for her plan to forget that anything had happened between them.
“But we’re walking down to the village,” Ariadne continued, nibbling at her lip. “And the sun is very bright today. I wouldn’t want you to overheat.”
Catherine had to take a breath before she replied.
“I’m sure I won’t,” she said. “I’ll have a bonnet, of course.”
Of course. Because she was Catherine Lightholder, perfectly proper. She wasnotthe kind of woman who would have an illicit encounter with a man on a verandah at night.
Let alone a man as unpleasant, cantankerous, and overall distasteful as the Duke of Seaton.
Even if he was handsome.
Though she was very muchnotadmitting that.
“Are you certain?—”
Catherine’s patience snapped. She blamed the lack of sleep.
“Ari! I amfine. Would you please stop pestering me?”
Catherine regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. Her only consolation was that Ariadne looked more baffled than hurt.
“Very well,” her sister grumbled. “No need to get so fussed about it.”
Ariadne wandered off toward where the group of partygoers was just starting to gather in advance of the promised trip down to the nearby village. As she went, Ariadne muttered mutinously in a very little-sisterly sort of way.
Catherine heaved a sigh, even as she castigated herself furiously for being quite so relieved to be free of her sister. She was supposed to be Ariadne’s chaperone, after all. She couldn’t do that if she was chasing the younger girl off with her poor mood.
Or, she reminded herself, if she was getting caught up in…well, not aromantictangle. There had very much been nothingromanticabout her encounter with the duke. It had been more like…mutually satisfying hostility.
Mutually satisfying hostility that wouldnotbe repeated, thank you very much, she told herself sternly. No matter what her body had to say about the matter, whenever her mind wandered back to the night prior—which was too often for her comfort.
The only reassurance, mild though it was, that the morning had to offer was that Ariadne walked over to Margaret Nightingale, the younger sister of the Duke of Wilds. Lady Margaret seemed, as far as Catherine could tell, to be a sweet girl, and she was set to debut the following year. If Catherine had thought of it before the two girls had apparently hit things off on their own, she would have encouraged the friendship. It would help Ariadne’sconfidence to be the one of the pair with more experience in Society.
For now, though, she was mostly glad that Ariadne looping her arm with Margaret’s meant that Catherine didn’t have to go chaperone, as she would have needed to do had Ariadne spoken to a gentleman.
“Might I escort you on our walk, my lady?”
Catherine turned to see the Duke of Wilds looking at her with a bright, innocent grin, one that immediately made Catherine suspicious.
Before her brother Xander had married and fallen outrageously in love with his wife and their daughter, he had been something of a rake himself. She’d seen this smile on his face before, back in those days.
But if Catherine refused this duke, she might end up walking with the other one present at the party. And that was not a risk she was willing to take.
“That would be very kind of you, Your Grace,” she said warmly.
To her surprise, the Duke of Wilds did not venture to flirt with her at all during the walk. Instead, his focus seemed as much on Margaret as hers was on Ariadne, and she caught him giving his sister a fond, brotherly smile from time to time.
Catherine still wouldn’t have said she liked him, necessarily. She certainly didn’t trust him. And she woulddefinitelystill keep him far, far from Ariadne.
But seeing his fondness for his sister did raise him in her esteem, just a little bit.
“Your sister is set to debut next year?” she asked mildly, even though she already knew the answer. The question was partially designed to distract her from the fact that, yes, shewasfar too warm in this dress, given the exercise of walking.
