Page 103 of Duke of Wickedness
It was easier, he found, to be separated from her now that he knew she would return. How annoying, to learn that Percy had been right.
“They will keep until you don’t look as though you are at death’s door,” she said unyieldingly as she gave up on sorting her gown properly and hid the whole mess under her cloak. “You will sleep, and when you wake up, you will eat something.”
He was not interested in arguing with her. Not only did both those things sound good—and what a relief that was, as neither had held any appeal for so long—but he had been convinced, over the course of the evening, that Ariadne was a genius and he was an idiot, and he should likely defer to her in more things.
After all, if he’d won their argument in the garden, he would be sitting at home, alone and miserable, instead of slumping back into a sated, post-orgasmic bliss. There was no contest between the two, really.
“As my lady commands,” he had agreed with the indolent ease of a man who had suddenly found everything going his way.
This proved another good decision, for she gave him a warm, fond smile and kissed him one more time before departing. He could still taste her on his lips as he drifted off to sleep.
The next thing he knew, he was being roused by someone barging into his rooms.
If David had been awake enough to experience anything besides shock and panic, he would have expected it to be Percy. After all, Percy had made the very annoying habit of bursting in quite a lot recently. He would havehopedfor it to be Ariadne. Shecould burst in on him any time. She would do so, hopefully. Very frequently, if he was lucky.
Alas, it was neither to these people. Instead, David blinked open bleary eyes and found himself staring up at a visibly irate Xander Lightholder, the Duke of Godwin.
David snapped to full wakefulness in a heartbeat, scrambling up to a seated position, gathering fistfuls of sheets to ensure that his more sensitive parts were covered. Behind the duke, David’s housekeeper was wringing her hands.
“I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” she said frantically. “He insisted—He wouldn’t be stopped.”
David waved her off, making a note to reassure her later. Xander was practically fuming where he was standing at the foot of David’s bed. David was frankly surprised that there wasn’t steam rising visibly from his skin. He would be unreasonable in the extreme if he expected his housekeeper to—what? Tackle the man?
“It’s fine, Mrs. Cunningham,” he said. “I’m sure His Grace just has something earnest to discuss.”
Godwin undermined this reassurance considerably by saying, “I am going to murder you.”
The housekeeper hesitated at this, but when David gave her another nod, she fled. He would have to give the poor thing an extra day off, with double pay.
David dug deep for his recesses of charm. They were not easy to access when he had been awake for less than a minute andwas achingly aware of his own nudity beneath the thin layer of coverings.
He would not, prior to this last minute, have professed himself frightened of Xander Lightholder. Oh, everyone was sort ofvaguelyafraid of Godwin, but that was because it was just good sense to be afraid of someone with so much power that they could destroy you with a flick of their hand.
But David hadn’t had any negative run-ins with the man, and even Percy—who had once hated the Dukes of Godwin with all the fury of the fires of hell—thought Xander was a fine enough fellow.
Now, though, David felt distinctly…concerned.
He blamed the nakedness. Surely this whole thing would feel quite a bit more manageable if he were wearing trousers.
“How can I help you, Godwin?” he asked cheerfully.
“Why,” Godwin said, with a deeply alarming sort of calmness about him. “Are there rumors circulating this morning that you left a ball with my sister last night?”
Part of David paused to be impressed with Godwin's information network. He’d have made a bloody good spy, with channels like that.
A much larger part of him, however, paused and weighed the merits of lying in this situation. It took very little time to decide against it.
“Probably because I left a ball with your sister last night,” he said, trying not to sound too flippant about it. That absence offlippancy felt like the difference between Lightholder making good on that promise to murder him or not.
And maybe Godwin respected honesty—or maybe he was just considering how to make that murder really hurt—because he hesitated.
“And why,” Godwin asked, voice lower and no longer quite so calm—but still deeply, deeply disconcerting, “would you think that was an acceptable thing to do?”
“Because I was fortunate enough to have Lady Ariadne accept my offer of marriage,” he said before realizing, to his utter horror, that hehadn’t actually asked her. This much, he decided, was best kept to himself. There was honesty, and then there was stupidity.
Godwin went very still, like a lion considering its prey.
“If that is true, then why haven’t you come to me to discuss matters? Ariadne has reached her majority, it’s true, but I remain the head of the family.”
