Page 76 of Duke of Wickedness
Ariadne let out an incoherent sound of frustration because how was she supposed to explain that it was horrible when he was distant, but worse when he was kind? How could she tell himthat she was struggling to keep her feelings—feelings she was never supposed to have—under control?
But maybe David understood her. He somehow seemed to understand things about her—even when she didn’t want him to.
She gave him a helpless look, and he held out his hand.
She took it, no matter that it was not going to help the twisted-up feeling inside her.
“Come outside, little bird,” he said. “Let me show you something.”
She was helpless to do anything besides follow him.
On the veranda, there was a small table set for two, a candelabra on the middle casting a soft glow. To the side, a meal waited on another table, half a dozen or so dishes each covered by a silver dome.
“It’s a bit informal—we’ll be serving ourselves,” he said. “But I thought we could perhaps just…talk.”
“Talk,” she echoed, taking in the scene before her. It felt…romantic. Nothing in their agreement had included anything about romance.
He stood close behind her, one hand resting on her waist, and Ariadne was relieved—this, at least, was familiar ground. She couldn’t be certain whether or not she was pleased that she couldn’t see his expression—and he couldn’t see hers.
“Talk,” he agreed, his tone sounding easy enough. “I know you are still seeking a husband, and that you might want to focus on…a true partnership.”
Now, Ariadne wasdefinitelyglad he couldn’t see her face, as she needed a moment to control the flicker of a frown that crossed her face.
“But I do hope,” he continued, “that we can continue to be friends, after. And I thought maybe…” He paused, and it was the first indication he’d given that this was as hard for him as it was for her. “Maybe we could just talk to one another. Like friends. As practice.”
She closed her eyes briefly against the emotion that threatened to upend her. But she swallowed hard, and her voice was steady when she spoke.
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “That sounds nice.”
He led her to her chair, pulled out her seat and helped her into it. He went to the side table and retrieved a bottle of wine, then poured her a glass. It was all unspeakably gentlemanly, but this time, it didn’t feel like a show or a façade.
It was just nice. Oh, it hurt. It hurt quite a bit. But still. It was also nice.
“I realized recently,” David said when he sat across from her, looking hauntingly beautiful in the flickering firelight, “that I don’t know nearly as much about you as I ought to.”
She felt her lips tremble with a smile.
“You know…quite a lot of things about me that others don’t know, actually,” she reminded him.
He gave her a chiding look. “I am not talking aboutthat,and you know it.” He paused, and the look in his eye was sincere—though perhaps that was just a trick of the firelight, of the dimness on the veranda, or the wine that was going to her head. “I want to know you—what you want, why you want it. I just…want to know.”
The low earnestness on this last bit was a knife to her heart.
But she could not deny him.
“Right,” she said. “Well… I cannot say it issuchan interesting story. You know the broad strokes of it—my family’s home was lost to fire when I was a child, and my brother inherited. I was four years old, so I remember far less than the others.”
“That doesn’t mean you weren’t affected,” David said from behind his wineglass.
“No,” she agreed. “But I had Catherine—she practically raised me, though she was scarcely more than a child herself. She and my brothers…they were my whole life.” She wrinkled her nose, trying not to sound too piteous as she went on. “But now they’re all married. They have their own lives. And I’m…trying to understand what that means for me. About where I fit.”
“Which is why you’re seeking a husband,” David said, as though a piece of a puzzle was clicking into place.
She chuckled. “Most unmarried young ladies are seeking husbands,” she pointed out. “They don’t necessarily have a secret reason behind it.”
“They might not,” David said reasonably. “But with you… It didn’t make sense, and now it does.”
He sounded terribly satisfied by this. This warmed Ariadne in ways that it ought not.
