Page 62 of Duke of Destruction
But it was hideously unfair to Matilda to be thinking of another woman while he was with her. He banished the thought.
“Perhaps, but let’s not waste time on them,” he said dismissively. “Tell me about what you have been up to.”
Matilda smiled. She wasverypretty, with rich waves of golden hair, enormous bright blue eyes, and a pink little rosebud of a mouth. She was petite and slender enough that fashions suitedher, but voluptuous enough that any man’s thoughts would be bent toward the carnal. Not to mention that she was wearing a rather flimsy night rail and a dressing gown atop it that was made for seduction, not practicality. Even without knowing he had intended to come by, she’d dressed to accentuate her body. It was her natural desire for pretty things that led her to do so—and that drew so many men into her orbit.
So why wasn’t Percy’s mind tending in that direction? Why did he keep picturing a taller woman, a reedier one? With dark hair instead of burnished gold? He hadn’t evennoticedMatilda’s breasts, even though her outfit practically put them on display for him.
He made himself focus on Matilda’s mouth. She could do wicked, delightful things with that mouth. That sounded good to him. Itdid.
“Anyway,” she said with a shrug, wrapping up a story about a casting director who sounded, to Percy’s ears, like an utter louse. “I am too old to play the main roles, but too young to play the mothers and widows and the like. I suppose I shall just have to wait until I am appropriately wizened, and then I shall play every witch that the theater has to offer.”
“You are too nice,” he said abruptly, wincing when the words came out harsher than he meant them. He cleared his throat and clarified. “I mean, anyone else would have given that man a piece of their mind—or, if they dared not, at least speak ill of him now.”
Matilda shrugged again. “What’s the point?” she asked. “He can’t hear me here, and, frankly, he wouldn’t have heard me properly if I’d said it to his face. He would just grow angry, and I wouldn’t be satisfied. Nor would I get the role.”
Percy half wanted to shake the good humor out of her. He wouldn’t, of course; he would never lay a hand on a woman in a way that she didn’t expressly desire. But Christ, the frustration!
“You ought to stand up for yourself, Matilda!” he insisted.
He saw the flicker of confusion in her expression. She liked to please people, he knew. It was what had led her to the stage in the first place. She liked to entertain. And it wasn’t just an inclination, given that much of her income came from gentlemen like himself. It was a strategy, as well, one that had worked out so very well for her.
But where was the defiance? The spark? He was being a bit of an arse, he knew. And she was just letting him get away with it.
Catherine wouldn’t, the stupid voice said again.Catherine would fight with you until she was blue in the face. She would do it just for the pleasure of it.
If he should not be thinking of Catherine, however, hereallyshould not be thinking of Catherine and pleasure together.
“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you—or bored you,” Matilda said, sounding as though she meant the apology. “I did get a bit carried away, I suppose.”
Her sweetness made Percy feel like a complete bastard.
“No,” he said, deflating. “It wasn’t your fault. I should be the one apologizing. I am in a terribly peevish mood, apparently.”
Matilda gave him the alluring smile that had made her famous. Percy hadn’t known her then—he wasn’t the kind of man who kept up with trends on the stage—but even he had heard stories of her triumphs in various romantic roles.
“Shall we see, then, if I can make things better for you?” she asked.
Then she pushed up onto her knees, then leaned forward, giving him a direct glance down the front of that lacy nightdress.
He didn’t look, mostly because he was fighting the instinct to flinch back. He steeled himself, made himself stay still as she leaned further in, closer and closer, and then pressed her mouth to his.
No.It was that thrice-damned voice again.No. This is wrong. Stop this.
He did not let himself pull away—surely, if he waited, this feeling would pass and he would be able to feel the attraction that hadonce sparked between him and the actress—but after a moment in which he remained frozen, Matilda withdrew.
Her expression was thoughtful, assessing. Oh, Lord, how Percy hated it. It would have been better if she’d slapped him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Matilda smiled.
“Who is she?” she asked.
This time, Percy did flinch.
And Matilda—dear, sweet, kind, lovely Matilda—laughed.
“Oh, you poor dear,” she said sympathetically. “It’s that bad, is it?”
