Page 45 of Duke of Destruction
If Catherine was giving out prizes for not being quite as terrible as possible, she’d have awarded the earl one for not sayingshe will makemea fine wife andmy childrena fine mother.
She was not in such a business, however, so she decided to loathe him forever instead.
“I see,” she said with the same cheer that she’d brought to this entire, odious conversation. “Well, I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Thank you!”
She made to turn her back on him.
She wasn’tthatsurprised when he reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her—but shewasfurious.
“Let goat once,” she hissed, letting every ounce of authority delivered to her through eight centuries of ducal heritage pervade her tone.
He hesitated briefly—squeezed, actually, in a truly pathetic attempt to make his point—then let go.
She didn’t back down, not even when he leaned in close enough that she could scent his sour breath.
“Listen here,” he said. All traces of the polite surface had vanished now, rubbed away beneath the rough grit of his fury. “You might think you have some authority here because of your name. But you are just some washed-up spinster who has the power to decide absolutely nothing. Youwillget out of my way.”
The words weren’t without their barbs, but Catherine knew he wanted her to get upset. He wasn’t just the kind of man who dismissed women, then. He was a bully. He liked to hurt anyone who dared get in his way.
As if she needed another reason to keep him away from her sister.
So she laughed in his face. She knew nothing would hurt him more.
His hand flashed up again, and for a second, she actually thought that he would be brazen enough to strike her in a crowded ballroom. But he just grabbed her arm again.
“How dare?—”
“Release her.”
Percy’s voice was hard as granite. The Earl of Crompton turned to face him; Percy, evidently deciding that this split second was too long for the man to comply, reached up and seized the earl by the soft bones of his wrist and squeezed until his fingers went white. The earl’s grip on Catherine’s arm fell free.
The earl backed up a few paces, chuckling nervously.
“My apologies there, Your Grace,” he said.
Catherine rolled her eyes. Of course, he would apologize to the man.
“Apology not accepted,” Percy snapped. “Nor owed to me. Apologize to Lady Catherine—” He glanced over Catherine’s shoulder. “—and Lady Ariadne at once.”
Catherine’s head whipped around. She hadn’t realized that Ariadne had stayed to hear all that—had hoped that her sister had left before she’d had to experience the bile that had poured forth from the Earl of Crompton’s lips.
But Ariadne, at Catherine’s back, didn’t look terrified. She looked furious. And determined.
“You cannot think that I would ever marry a man who was so rude to my sister,” she said.
The earl gave another nervous chuckle, then moved back another few steps.
“Of course, of course. I am sorry, my ladies. And Lady Ariadne…we shall discuss this later.” He tried to make friendly eye contact with Percy. Catherine had rarely seen an effort fail so spectacularly in all her life. “Young ladies, aye? Always changing their minds.”
“Leave,” Percy said flatly.
The earl, showing the first lick of good sense that Catherine had seen from him, left.
Any flatness in Percy’s expression vanished as he rounded on Catherine, his fingertips hovering just above where the earl had grabbed her.
“Are you all right?” he demanded. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she said reassuringly. “It wasn’t too tight. Won’t even leave a mark.”
