Page 5 of Duke of Wickedness
Ariadne smiled politely at the duke. She had seen him around Town, here and there, in the time since she had attended that fated house party with Catherine, and the nearly two years had not diminished his handsomeness. Not that she would have expected otherwise, even if she hadn’t crossed paths with the man every so often.
The Duke of Wilds was nearly as famed for his beauty as he was for his rakish hedonism. He had never been anything but polite to Ariadne, likely due to her connection with Percy, but hislooks belied his reputation as a man who could get women to doanythinghe desired.
The Duke of Wilds was pretty—there were no two ways about it. He reminded Ariadne of nothing more than portraits of Lucifer in the fall, beautiful and heartbreaking—and dangerously tempting.
Ariadne might not be the most pious woman in England, but shehadbeen to her fair share of sermons. She knew better than to fall for that kind of alluring beauty.
Not that the duke was trying to tempther, of course.
“I simply cannot have both of you teaming up against me,” Percy said, looking faintly appalled. “There’s no hope for David, of course, but Ariadne, please. Have pity on a man.”
Ariadne tapped her chin as though she was considering this. Percy, unused to the trials and tribulations of having a younger sibling, looked genuinely concerned.
Despite Percy’s lack of faith, it was the duke who rescued his friend from this teasing.
“And who, pray tell,” he drawled, “is pursuing courtship, slow or otherwise?”
“Oh,” Catherine said doubtfully. “I’m not sure that we ought to discuss it here…”
Indeed, Ariadne didn’t necessarily wish to discuss this here and now, but she supposed shehadtold Catherine she would learn what she could about Lord Hershire.
God, keeping her word was a trial.
Besides, having a man’s point of view might be helpful, given how the viscount’s words aboutwives being the moral heartandprotection from men’s unsavory tendencieswere still ringing in her ears.
So she did what the Society mask demanded: she adopted a look of gentle curiosity, one that said she was an engaged member of thetonbut that she was not a gossip.
“Do you know Lord Hershire?” she asked with honed mildness.
The duke audibly scoffed. “Ah, yes,” he said. “George Stunton.”
Ariadne hadn’t found the man to be delightful, necessarily, but the duke’s dismissive attitude seemed a bit much for the viscount, who, if a touch clumsy, had seemed overall harmless.
She was surprised enough to let her mask slip, just the tiniest bit.
“Really? He seemed proper enough.”
Even with the slip, her comment was innocuous. She was therefore surprised again when the duke rolled his eyes.
“Oh, I’m sure he did,” the Duke of Wilds said with a little laugh.
Ariadne wasn’t going to push further; if the duke wanted to be irritating and mysterious, he was welcome to it. She had a plan. And getting lured into mischief by beautiful, rakish dukes wasnotpart of the plan.
Catherine, however, looked worried.
“Is this the kind of person we ought to keep away from Ari?” she asked fretfully.
The duke grew more serious at the query. “I wouldn’t say so, no,” he admitted slowly. “Hershire isn’t a villain, just a bit of a hypocrite, by my estimation. A bit ‘rules for thee but not for me’ as it were.”
This made sense based on what Ariadne had gathered about the viscount, but while they were on the topic…
“Elaborate,” she said. Her tone was too keen, too demanding; she’d lost the mask. She blinked it back into place.
But the duke was already giving her a look that was uncomfortablyinterested. Not in any salacious way—or, at least, not particularly salacious for him. Ariadne suspected that the duke would still look a little flirtatious if he was speaking to a rock.
But his look was worse than flirtation. It was keen. Like he saw through her.
Well, fine. The mask was a tool for finding herself a husband, and the Duke of Wilds was certainly not a candidate forthat.
