Page 73 of Duke of Destruction
Before her mind could go any further downthatdoomed path, she hurried to the door and knocked.
A sleepy-looking footman answered quickly, though his expression suggested that he thought he might still be dreaming.
Catherine tried to ignore the flush of pleasure at the realization that this implied that Percy did not get many nighttime visitors. He hadn’t particularly struck her as a rake, but still. It was nice to have proof of her theory.
“Good evening,” she said, using her bestLady Catherine,nothing is amiss herevoice. “I am here to see His Grace. Is he in?”
The tone worked; the footman stepped aside on instinct, holding the door to admit her to the house.
“He’s abed, my lady,” he said, doubt coloring his tone.
She gave him a patient smile. “I’m happy to wait,” she told him kindly, not leaving him room to suggest that she go elsewhere and wait until a decent hour.
“Very well, my lady,” he said obligingly. He seemed only the slightest bit begrudging as he headed up the stairs.
Catherine waited in the quiet entry hall, trying not to fidget. This really was the most incredibly reckless thing she had ever done.
But she couldn’t go back now. And she didn’t want to, either.
Percy appeared more quickly than the footman. He looked a little wild when he approached the banister upstairs, his hair mussed and his shirt only half-tucked. He had clearly been asleep, and Catherine wondered if she should feel guiltier than she did for waking him.
He blinked at her in confusion, once, twice, then hurried down the stairs. He wasn’t wearing shoes, Catherine noticed, but had quickly pulled on socks. This cracked something open in her chest for some reason she didn’t wish to probe too intensely. She was glad he was comfortable and that his feet weren’t cold.
“Catherine, what are you doing here?” he asked. The words didn’t sound censorious, and, even if they had, the way his hands reached for her as if on instinct would have told a different story entirely.
He cupped one hand under each elbow, holding her ever so gently. She wanted to sink into him.
“I’m sorry to wake you,” she said, politeness taking hold, buying her a moment. He had to know what she wanted, didn’t he? There was really only one reason a lady came to a gentleman’s house in the dead of night, wasn’t there?
“Don’t worry about that,” he said, shaking his head. She realized that he was concerned. She tried to give him as reassuring a smile as her nerves would allow.
“I—” The footman was quietly coming back down the stairs to resume his post at the door. She lowered her voice. “I thought we could discuss our…agreement?”
Percy’s eyes flashed wide with desire before he could stop himself. He controlled the expression quickly—daring a glance at the servant, who was practicing the tried-and-true skill of feigning deafness—but Catherine saw it, that naked hunger. It reassured her. She was not alone in wanting this.
“I see,” he said briskly, though he didn’t release his gentle hold on her arms. “Very well. Let us adjourn to the library.”
She ducked her head to hide a little smile. The library was upstairs. Good. That was the direction she had been hoping for.
He laced his fingers through hers as he led her up the staircase. It wasn’t even an approximation of propriety, but Catherine didn’t care. She just wished she’d taken her gloves off before he’d taken her hand.
The thick carpet of the upstairs corridor deadened Catherine’s footsteps as they came to a halt in front of a closed door. Percy hesitated, not reaching for the handle.
“Do you wish to go to the library?” he asked quietly, not looking at her.
“No,” she said.
He led them on without a word.
When they came to his bedchamber door, he didn’t hesitate. He led her inside, then turned to face her, shutting the door and pressing her up against it in one fluid motion.
Catherine relaxed against him, her muscles crying out in relief. She had been clenched tighter than she’d realized, had been holding herself stiff as a board for…well, she didn’t even know for how long.
From the ache in her as she let him pin her, it had been a while.
“Catherine,” he murmured, his mouth already on the sensitive skin under her jaw. “Why are you here?”
The question sounded a touch tortured on this repetition. Part of Catherine thrilled to hear it, this evidence of the way she affected him. Another part of her wanted to soothe him.
