Page 4 of Duke with a Deception
He hadn’t felt this alive.
Not once.
Not ever.
And King wanted, quite suddenly and with shocking clarity, to believe himself capable of being the man Lady Verity Saunders saw when she looked at him.
Even if it was another man’s ghost.
He turned back to Riverdale, a calm settling over him, sinking deep into the marrow of his bones and residing there. “Because your sister and I are getting married.”
Riverdale couldn’t have looked more alarmed if King had announced his intention to set himself aflame in the next ten seconds right there in the drawing room.
“The devil you are,” his friend said grimly. “I know you like your sallies, Kingham, but this one goes too far.”
Not nearly far enough, in King’s estimation.
This was not a lark. He was going to take Lady Verity as his wife—Hades stealing away with Persephone, et cetera. Yes, he rather liked the notion of that. Quite dramatic.
He held his friend’s gaze, unflinching. “It’s no joke.”
Indeed, he, who delighted in living his life as flippantly as possible, was more serious than he had ever been.
“Why would you think otherwise, brother?” Lady Verity asked, her eyes wide and guileless.
If King had possessed a soul, he might have experienced a twinge of guilt right then at the clear evidence of her confusion. The blow to her head had addled her wits beyond his ken. But he didn’t experience so much as a pinch.
“Yes,” King added calmly, making certain his face was expressionless. “Why would you think otherwise, old chum?”
Riverdale’s nostrils flared. “Because it isn’t?—”
The duchess stayed his denial with a warning hand on his arm, halting his words. They exchanged a telling look.
“It looks as if the two of you have finished tea in our absence,” the duchess announced brightly. “Verity dearest, the physician has said you must rest often. Now that you and His Grace have had the opportunity to speak, perhaps you ought to have a lie down.”
The duchess had good intentions, King knew, but he bristled at her words. She was treating Verity as if she were an invalid. As if she didn’t know how to properly care for herself. The Verity he had come to admire was not just capable and intelligent; she was fearless. She didn’t require anyone to tell her what to do.
“Lady Verity can decide for herself whether she wishes to be excused from the conversation,” he intervened smoothly. “Do you not think, Duchess?”
The duchess turned a shocked gaze upon him, her lips parted. He could well understand her confusion. Theirs had been an easy relationship thus far. King liked her. She was the perfect foil for Riverdale, daring enough to keep him in order, and a witty conversationalist. But if there were to be lines drawn between them, King knew without a doubt that his side was Lady Verity’s.
“O-of course she can,” the duchess stammered. “I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise. I only thought… Well, it hardly matters, I suppose.”
She turned with a troubled frown to her husband, who was eyeing King as if he were contemplating the best means of dispatching him.
“I don’t understand why everyone is suddenly so serious,” Verity interjected with her customary effervescence. “Onewould think you would be happy. Weddings are a cause for celebration.”
Weddings made King bilious. But he didn’t say so. It wasn’t the wedding that mattered, after all. It was what came after the ridiculous ceremony. It was making Verity his. Now that he had made his decision, the notion of claiming her was becoming something of an obsession. It filled his mind, raging and hot, like a fire unleashing its fury across the dry and brittle rib cage of an old building. It was positively incendiary.
“They are indeed a cause for celebration,” the duchess agreed, her tone placating.
King might have pointed out that the duchess’s own wedding to Riverdale had not been a cause for celebration, given that his chum had married her in secret haste. But he was feeling magnanimous. He would have Verity. He didn’t need to prod at the bear in his cage as well.
King gave Verity’s fingers a reassuring squeeze and then raised her hand to his lips for another kiss. “How are you feeling, darling? I shall defer to you.”
“A bit tired,” she admitted, her lush lips turning down at the corners. “My head is aching again.”
“Then you should have your rest,” he decided. “I will see you another day.”
