Page 54 of Duke of Wickedness
She obviously was not going to reject the dress.
She told herself that she might, though, as a way to distract herself as the minutescrawledby until Thursday night. It was a nice diversion, lying to herself.
But when she put on the dress—and good Lord, it wassoeasy; all dresses should be made just like this one—she knew that she’d never stood a chance of doing anything else. It was all she could do to hold off putting on the mask until she got into David’s carriage, which waited in its usual place. The coachman didn’t say anything. He merely offered her a genial nod, then clicked the door shut behind her.
Ariadne’s hands trembled as she tied the satin ribbons of the mask into place.
For all his protestations about hosting duties, David, unmistakable even with his mask, was waiting outside hishome, leaning casually against a lamppost. The light made the top of his head light up like a halo, the light brown turned positively golden in the gleam. No angel had ever been built like that, though, Ariadne decided as he unfolded himself from his position, his dark clothing and mask blending into the shadows, making his movements practically liquid.
An angel would not smile at her so crookedly that she could, at first, only see one pointed tooth.
What the hell would Ariadne do with an angel, though? She liked the devil she knew, thank you very much.
He opened the carriage door for her, reached out a hand?—
And froze as he took her in.
There was a pause during which Ariadne wanted to crow over the glorious feeling of having him—David Nightingale, Duke of Wilds, the man who could have anyone in London—look at her likethat.
“Little bird,” he breathed after a long, long moment. “You look…incredible.”
She preened. Just a little.
“Thank you for the gown,” she said. “I may never wear anything else.”
“You never should,” he agreed. “You look…”
And perhaps he couldn’t improve on his earlier comment, for he never finished the sentence. He just shook his head as though he could scarcely even believe what he was seeing.
This whole thing was enormously good for Ariadne’s confidence.
She took his hand and let him help her down from the carriage. He didn’t let her go as they approached the door, and she found, to her surprise, that she didn’t feel terribly nervous after all.
“Ready?” he asked her.
“Yes.” There really wasn’t that much more to say.
David gave her an approving nod, which felt nearly as good as his slack-jawed appreciation of her attire, and opened the door.
Ariadne thought she might not be breathing.
Inside…
Well, everything she’d ever read about, seen in David’s dirty pictures, or imagined—it was all happening inside.
As well as dozens of things she hadn’t ever imagined and wouldn’t have believed possible if she wasn’t seeing them right before her eyes.
Directly inside the door, there was a couple kissing passionately as though they had been unable to make it any further inside the house before succumbing to their desires. It was partially their openness that shocked Ariadne, as they seemed entirely unbothered by her and David’s proximity, and partially that the man was roughly kneading the woman’s breast as he pinned her against the wall.
Most surprising, though, was that the woman had brazenly reached her hand down to cup the man over the closed fall of his trousers. He was pushing back aggressively against her grasp.
She quickly tried to avert her eyes, but David leaned in close to her ear.
“They don’t mind you looking, dearest,” he crooned, and really, he should not be permitted to say sweet words in that voice. “They have put themselves here because theywantto be watched.”
“Theywantto be?” she echoed. She’d assumed that they simply hadn’t minded, not that they actively wished to be observed.
David let out a low chuckle—something else that ought to be prohibited.
