Page 63 of Duke of Destruction
Percy’s laugh was a great deal hollower. He dropped his head back, closing his eyes against the sudden headache that assailed him.
“It really is,” he said.
“Oh, come now,” Matilda said in a chiding tone, like a nurse scolding a child. “You’re a duke. Who on earth could she be that she’s not for you?” When he didn’t answer, she let outa delighted, scandalized gasp. “Or—is it a man? Iwasin the theater, you know; you can’t shock me?—”
“No,” Percy said, before this went rather too far. “She’s a woman. She’s just…not the right woman.”
This wastrue,he told himself when the words rang false. It really was. Because, for all that he was attracted to Catherine, annoyingly so, he didn’tlikeher. And the only way forward with a woman like her—a woman of her class—was through marriage. And you couldn’t marry someone you disliked.
And even if he did like her, which he was not at all ready to admit, she loved her family. And her family hated him. That made anything between them impossible. Not difficult,impossible.
Now, apparently, he couldn’t have any other woman, either.
Damned Lightholders.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
Matilda really was too good for him, because she just laughed again.
“Listen here, Percy Egelton,” she said, and it was a shock to hear her use his name instead of his title. It was as though they had unlocked a new friendship this evening. What kind of womanbecamekinderafter you insulted her in the most grievous fashion?
At least Percy would have something new to torment him during his sleepless nights. A little variety in his misery might do him good.
“You,” she told him sternly, “are not going to crush me. Do you think I’m jealous that you get that tortured look on your face over someone else? Goodness, no! I’ve played a hundred tragic heroines on stage, and that is as much tormented romance as I would ever desire, thank you very much.” She shook her head, a sharp point of punctuation. “No, that’s the kind of thing that ends up with people married or murdered, and I’m not going to give up everything I’ve earned over some man.”
“To be clear,” Percy said, feeling it needed to be articulated, “I cannot marry her, but I’m not going tomurderher.”
She waved him off. “No, certainly not. You’re not in some tawdry production that won’t last past its first week. But you’d be astonished how many young actresses sigh over Ophelia.”
“Technically, that was a suicide,” he offered—and then, when she shot him a quelling glance, amended, “but I take your point.”
“My point,” she said firmly, “is that you’re not going to solve your problems by turning to someone else. Take it from someone who knows nearly all the romantic stories ever penned. It never ends well.”
“But it does end, right?” he asked, hating that he sounded a touch desperate. It was how he felt, however. If nothing else, the lack of sleep was going to kill him if things didn’t get better soon.
Matilda gave him a saucy wink. “Not if you’re lucky.”
His groan was so loud and long that she laughed aloud.
“Now,” she instructed him, “get out of my flat. You are occupied elsewhere and, well, if that is the case, I am not going to share my chocolates with you. Goodnight, Your Grace—and good luck.”
Percy left, weighted down by the dreadful certainty that he would need every spare ounce of luck that he could get.
CHAPTER 16
“Xander,” Catherine said to her brother, looking at him across the carriage, “tell me the truth. Did you bribe Lady Marley into throwing this ball?”
“What?” her elder brother asked, startling out of his previous activity—which had been staring at his wife adoringly...a wife who was now giving him a suspicious look. “No, of course not.”
“Really?” Catherine asked sweetly. “Because it is an ingenious scheme if you did. Get Lady Marley to throw a ball that is set to benefit animals and Patricia is sure to attend. If Patricia is sure to attend, then so is Helen. And then you get what you want: an evening out with your wife.”
Helen’s eyes were narrow. “That does sound suspiciously ingenious,” she agreed.
“I didn’t!” Xander insisted. “I’m happy we are leaving the house for the evening, it’s true, but I didn’tschemeto make it so.”
Catherine believed him. She hadn’t actually thought he’d had anything to do with the event in the first place.
But something about her brother’s clear domestic bliss had filled her with a sudden, sharp urge to wreak chaos. And since she couldn’t do so at a ball, when she was meant to be helping Ariadne find a husband, she had to settle for doing so in the carriage.
