Page 97 of Duke of Wickedness
“Yes.” The word came out of David’s throat with the harshness of gravel.
Percy paused meaningfully, as if he had hoped that this point would rouse some sense in David, then sighed even more meaningfully, as if castigating himself for ever entertaining such foolish hopes.
“Right,” he said. “Well, let me put this in very simple terms, then. You love her. You are eligible. You should marry her.”
A flinch was not enough. David surged out of his chair and began pacing.
“I can’t—I can’tmarryher,” he protested, feeling completely insane that he even had to say it.
“Given the circumstances,” Percy said, tracing David’s movements with his eyes, “I would be well within my rights to press the issue. Ariadne might not be my sister by blood, but I do havesomevested interest in her happiness.”
David felt a flash of staggering rage at the implication.
“You thinkIdon’t care about her happiness?” he demanded, whirling on Percy. “All I want—allI want—is for her to be happy. You were right. Are you pleased with yourself? You were right. I love her. I love her.”
He almost collapsed with the uncontrollable relief of saying it. He wanted to laugh, or possibly sob. Definitely he would have liked to have a drink or three in hand. But there was more to besaid, and now that he had started, he found himself unable to stop.
“I love her,” he repeated. “And I can’t—I can’tstop. And that’s why I can never have her. I feel—” He’d spent so long trying not to let these feelings out that he struggled to put them into words now. “I don’t want to share her. I want all of her smiles, all of her attention. I want her with mealways. And that—thatpossessiveness—” He spat the word. “It’s unconscionable.”
Percy looked at him with far more patience than David deserved.
“Do you think my wife is unhappy?” he asked.
David blinked at this change in direction.
“Your—? What? No, of course not,” he said. “The two of you are appalling with one another.”
Percy nodded thoughtfully. This was, David knew, building up to something he would not like.
“And do you think I never feel possessive of her attentions? Do you think that I never feel a touch sulky because she’s off doing something else and I wish she was with me?”
His prediction was correct; David did not like this.
“That’s not the same,” he protested.
“No, it’s not,” Percy agreed, much to David’s surprise. “My situation is entirely different, because I know that Catherine will come home to me every day. I know that she will smile at me soon enough, and that helps me remember that I am being a fool for that jealousy. And then, that night, when I lay my head down beside her, and in the following morning, when I wake up with her in my arms, I don’t feelpossessive—I feel content. Because that stupid jealousy is fleeting. And what we’ve built together—that lasts.”
Percy sounded so pleased that he seemed almost wistful, like he was partially envious of his own life. David still loved his friend, deep down—but that love wasverydeeply buried at the moment.
“How nice for you,” he said, not bothering to hide his bitterness.
Percy, in turn, didn’t hide his exasperation.
“My point, you idiot, is that you canhave that. I didn’t just realize that you were panting after Ariadne tonight, you know.”
David wanted to take umbrage atpanting, but he felt that he needed to reserve his argumentativeness for more important matters.
“I saw you looking at her…oh, a week ago,” Percy said. “But at first, I thought you just liked it. It wasn’t until tonight that I realized that she was the woman you’d been—” He hesitated, making a very brotherly expression of distaste. “—involved with.”
A perverse part of David wanted not to ask the question that Percy so obviously intended for him to ask, but he couldn’t resist.
“So, what happened?”
Percy smirked.
“I saw her looking back,” he said simply.
David swallowed hard. The lump in his throat remained.
