Page 50 of Duke of Destruction
Why should I do this?
Because I very much want to.
That was, of course, the argument that convinced her.
Even at her most reckless—and this was, by far, the most reckless thing she’d ever done; the idea thrilled rather than worried her—Catherine was still Catherine. She tucked herself carefully into a dressing gown, then grabbed a random book off the shelf in her room. If anyone came across her, she would say that she’d been up late reading and wanted to return the tome to the library. Oh, the library was on the other side of the house? Oh, dear, she must have gotten turned around; she wassucha silly girl.
Satisfied with this contingency, she crept from her room on silent feet and moved down the hallway.
She knew where Percy’s room was because she knew where everyone’s room was; a good chaperone marked the layout of the entire house party. It wasn’t that Catherine didn’t trust Ariadne. Indeed, she would have keeled over dead of the shock of it if Ariadne tried to have an illicit tryst while here at the Duke of Wilds’ estate.
It was everyone else Catherine didn’t trust. That was just good sense.
She paused outside Percy’s room, tucking the book in her dressing gown pocket. There would be no way to explain away her actions if someone saw her now, but still, she hesitated, drawing in a breath.
Before she could lose her nerve, she knocked.
He came to the door with astonishing speed, yanking it open mere seconds after she’d knocked. She might have taken this as a complimentary eagerness to see her, if not for how utterly shocked he seemed to find her standing there.
“May I come in?” she said, feeling a touch shy but refusing to show it.
For a few seconds, he remained so frozen that it was as though she hadn’t spoken. Catherine was torn between repeating herself and dashing away in an effort to salvage her tattered pride when suddenly Percy blinked and reacted.
“Christ, yes, come in, come in,” he said hurriedly, looking either way down the corridor to ensure there was nobody else present.
She stepped through the door, feeling weightless with relief. He closed it behind her, then locked it with a quietclickthat Catherine felt all the way from her head to her toes.
She shivered, and it was like this minute movement shook loose all her courage.
“This is a fine room,” she said politely—like an idiot, since, of course, he hadn’t chosen the room, hadn’t had anything to do with the furnishings. She turned toward the armchair by the fire, which looked as though it had been recently abandoned. “And what a nice chair. Looks to be from the middle of the last century, at a guess, but uncommonly comfortable for the era. You have been lucky in that regard.”
She needed to stop talking. She normally was in such good control of her speech! Of all the times for that power to fail her, it had to be now?
“Catherine,” Percy said, laying a hand on her shoulder. That steadying weight grounded her, the nervous energy that had threatened to shake her to bits vanishing in an instant.
This is right, she thought with absolute certainty.Coming here was right.
She turned to face him.
He was frowning at her, but then again, he was always frowning at her. He had a good face for frowning, though. He was still exceptionally handsome when he frowned.
“What are you doing here, Catherine?”
The question was not so much disapproving as it sounded as though itwantedto be disapproving and couldn’t quite manage it.
He sounded like a man holding himself back.
Catherine covered his hand with hers.
“I know we had an agreement,” she said, watching the way he watched their fingers intertwine. “But I am here to propose that we…delay enacting it.”
“Delay?” he echoed, wrapping his index finger around hers, linking them together.
“Yes,” she repeated. Even this minute touch made it hard for her to think, so she was very proud of herself for managing it. “As we have discussed, I am unlikely to marry?—”
“You arenota damned spinster, Catherine?—”
She laid a finger over his lips to silence him, though she gathered that it was the surprise that cut him off more so than the touch itself.
