Page 80 of Duke with a Deception
Riverdale made a low sound of disbelief, and King chose to ignore him.
“You, reformed?” Richford whistled through his teeth. “I never thought to see the day the man who invented a chair specifically for bedding two women at once would be reformed.”
Curse Richford for bringing up the damned chair. He hadn’t made use of that storied piece of furniture in years. No doubt it was in some corner of Wingfield Hall, collecting dust. But still, Riverdale’s jaw hardened, livid fire burning in his eyes.
“I might say the same for you,” King pointed out with remarkable composure.
Richford’s reputation had been as sullied as King’s had once been. But then, they all had known their share of decadence and dissipation. Their aimless pursuit of pleasure had been what had caused them to create the Wicked Dukes Society.
“Look at us all,” Brandon intervened. “Wicked dukes no more.”
“Perhaps we should start a new club and call it Saintly Dukes Society,” Whitby joked. “We can invite some vicars and virginal spinsters to join our ranks.”
Camden chortled. “King could insult the cut of their cassocks and get the spinsters soused with one of his potions.”
“That could end with the spinsters seducing the vicars,” Richford pointed out.
“And hallucinating elephants,” Riverdale added before casting another accusatory glare in King’s direction. “You aren’t feeding your poison to my sister, are you, you scoundrel?”
“My potions are not poisonous as long as they are consumed in reasonable, measured doses,” he defended calmly.
“That’s not an answer, you treasonous swine,” Riverdale snarled.
King made a snorting pig sound in response. It was childish of him, he knew, but the urge to goad Riverdale wouldn’t be denied. He had been a good friend to Riverdale, helping him to see the wrong he had done his duchess, damn it. Indeed, he’d been a good friend to them all in one way or another over the years. He had even killed to save Camden and his duchess from Camden’s mad brother.
None of that, however, ameliorates the sin of keeping the truth from Verity, he thought.
Riverdale slammed both fists on the table. “I should beat you for that.”
“I invite you to try,” he said with a smug insouciance he didn’t feel. “I promise you that it shan’t end with you as the victor.”
“I have a suspicion it wouldn’t end with either of you as the victor,” Brandon intervened. “Your wives would not be impressed by such a foolish display.”
No, Verity would be horrified. And King owed her far better. He owed her everything, in fact.
He relented, addressing Riverdale. “You must know I would never do anything that would harm Verity.”
“How am I to know that?” his friend demanded.
“Because I love her, you dolt,” he bit out.
The room went silent and still. King imagined it was so quiet he could hear a dust mote fall. All eyes were upon him. And he knew the reason. He had just declared his feelings for Verity like a love-sick swain.
“You love her,” Riverdale repeated, some of the harshness leaching from his tone.
“Yes,” he hissed. “As I said. I love her. Which is also why I shan’t be hosting the next house party.”
It was also why he had to reveal everything to her. Sooner rather than later. The strain of keeping it from Verity weighed heavily upon King’s conscience.
“Well, then,” Brandon said awkwardly. “Can any of you think of an acquaintance or a member of the Wicked Dukes Society who would be capable of playing host?”
An idea suddenly formed in King’s mind.
“What about a hostess?” he asked.
“A hostess?” Riverdale’s eyes, pale and so much like Verity’s, narrowed. “My sister is not going to sully her good reputation by playing host to a bawdy house party.”
“I wasn’t thinking of my wife,” he snapped. “I do, however, have a friend who may be willing to carry on the house parties. I can inquire with her if you would like.”
