Page 5 of Duke of Destruction
Catherine made certain that a polite smile remained fixed on her face, even as she indulged in some mental oaths. She let no flicker of recognition pass over her features.
But she did recognize the name; she just hadn’t known that it belonged to this tall man who practically vibrated with intensity, like he was prepared to burst into a run at any moment.
Of course, she recalled the Duke of Seaton. He was the man who hated the Lightholders.
For, as far as Catherine could gather, no reason at all.
She’d heard her elder brother, Xander, complain about Seaton, whom he regularly encountered in Parliament.
“Whenever I present a bill—or even support one—he must analyze every detail in the most perverse fashion,” Xander had lamented after one particularly grueling session, throwing himself back into a chair in the cozy library of the family’s London home.
Catherine, who had been— until he’d married his beloved wife Helen— the primary person able to question Xander without him getting all ducal about it, had been pragmatic.
“Doesn’t this improve the legislation?”
Xander shot her a look that demanded to know whose side she was on, then sighed.
“Yes, very well. It does.But,” he continued, raising a finger to punctuate the point, “heonlydoes it to me. It’s all very personal.”
Catherine had frowned at this. “Did you ask him why?”
“Naturally,” Xander said. “And he scoffed at me—scoffed!—and said it was because ‘you Lightholders think you can get away with anything.’”
Now, Catherine looked tranquilly at the man who had so gotten under her brother’s skin.
“A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace,” she said, bobbing a curtsey that offered the precise amount of deference for thesister and daughter of a duke to offer another (admittedly somewhat less powerful) duke.
The duke didn’t bow in return. Not even an iota of a bow.
Instead, he kept piercing her with those intense, blue eyes.
“Hm,” he said. It was a very judgmental sort ofhm.
Catherine fought against the widening of her eyes.
Beside her, the Duke of Wilds sighed a resigned sigh, as if he’d hoped for more but had expected no less.
If the man thought Catherine the kind of person to be cowed by a self-important gentleman, he was destined to be disappointed. He might be known for his dislike of her family, but, as far as she knew, he’d associated with the Lightholder men, not the women.
And the women knew how to use social niceties like blades.
“Did you have a difficult journey, Your Grace?” she offered. It was an easy excuse for his rudeness. He really ought to take it.
He didn’t.
“No,” he said flatly.
And kept right on glowering.
Catherine’s irritation spiked.
“The beginnings of house parties can be rather overwhelming,” she went on. “Though I’m sure His Grace—” Here, she spared a smile for the Duke of Wilds, who was giving Seaton an openly unimpressed look. “—has marvelous entertainments planned for us. No doubt, soon enough, we shall all forget such unpleasantries as long journeys or bustling starts.”
“I would say such things rather depend on the company, wouldn’t you, Lady Catherine?” Seaton returned, voice tense.
Catherine allowed herself only the slightest twitch at the obvious slight. Well, well. If that was how he wanted to play it, fine. Did he really think himself the first rude man to ever cross her path? Indeed, it would make her time at the house party a little less enjoyable, but Catherine had survived unpleasant social events before. She’d hadthreeSeasons, after all. She’d lost count of the number of downright wretched evenings she’d survived eons ago.
Even so…
