“Ow!” Phoebe protested.
“Why didn’t I hear from you, Phoebe? I mean, I know why I didn’t hear from Aaron—he was always secretive, even as a child. Always watching. Lurking. He was absolutely brilliant at hiding games. But,” she continued, “that is not the point. The point is that I am mad at you but also very, very happy.”
“Very clear,” Phoebe said.
“Do shut up,” Ariadne said, then hugged her. This put pressure against the sore spot where Ariadne had been hitting her, but Phoebe didn’t protest.
“So,” Ariadne said when she was finished with her embrace, pushing back to hold Phoebe by the shoulders, “what in God’s name happened here?”
“You,” Phoebe said, “left town. That will no longer be allowed, thank you very much.”
“Ha!” Side by side, the two women leaned against the wall to look out over the wedding breakfast. “That’s what you think. David and I went to a house party that was hosted by a gentleman with… expansive tastes. There was much to see. I think we got at least a dozen ideas for our next party.”
“Please enumerate none of them,” Phoebe said immediately. She had no moral qualms about the kind of parties that the Duke and Duchess of Wilds were famous for throwing, but that did not mean that she wanted to know the details of what her dear friend got up to with her husband.
Ariadne shot Phoebe a sly, sidelong glance.
“Oh, very well,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “I will spare your innocent ears. Although…” The look grew wicked and razor-sharp. “You’re a married woman now. Not so innocent for much longer, eh?”
“Ariadne Nightingale,” Phoebe said sternly. “Need I remind you how we met?”
Phoebe and Ariadne had encountered one another at a rather risqué theatrical performance in a seedier side of London than what most young ladies of their class frequented.
But Ariadne and Phoebe were not typical young ladies, having both been blessed with far more than their fair share of curiosity. This had led Phoebe to explore daring dramas, scandalous soirees, and shocking salons. She was always an observer while she gathered that Ariadne and David’s parties were rather more… interactive.
But still. That didn’t mean that she was aninnocent.
“I’ve seen plenty of things,” she protested.
“All right, I will grant you that,” Ariadne allowed. “And I don’t mean to pull the experienced card?—”
“There’s still time to stop yourself.”
“—but marriagedoeschange a person,” Ariadne concluded, talking directly over Phoebe. Ah. Such familial affection. It was almost as though they’d been cousins all along, not just for the past hour or so.
Phoebe cast her friend a skeptical look. “You just told me about going on a research trip to plan your next bacchanal. You’re going to have to try a little harder to convince me that the legendary Duke of Wilds has given up his wayward lifestyle because he’s married.”
Ariadne waved a hand.
“No, not that. I wouldn’t want him to change that.” She blushed at the mere thought. Good Lord. “But there’s something… grounding about knowing that someone is by your side, no matter what. It’s stabilizing. And I think that Aaron could use some stability like that.” She paused. “As could you, I think.”
There were so many things to protest in this little assessment, but Phoebe chose the most material one.
“It’s not like that,” she said. “It’s not like you and David. The Duke and I?—”
“Oh myGod, do not call him ‘the Duke,’” Ariadne protested, horrified. “He’s my grouchy cousin and your new husband. Besides, in this family, if you say ‘the Duke,’ you’ll get about fourteen people responding. It’s absolutely ridiculous. Call him Aaron, I beg you.”
“Oh,” Phoebe said. “Right. Aaron.”
“Wow. That sounded like it hurt you.”
“Oh, shutup. Anyway. Things are not like that between me andAaron. It’s a… mutually beneficial arrangement. He gets a wife, and I get to be a duchess. Everyone wins.”
It sounded thin. Phoebe knew it sounded thin. And she knew that Ariadne would never let her get away with such a thin, thin excuse.
“There are two things,” Ariadne said mildly, “that make that unconvincing.”
“Go ahead,” Phoebe said wearily.
