How to Dazzle a Duke (10 page)

“Fredericks,” Sophia said sweetly, “do bring another chair

forward for darling Lord Iveston. He appears quite miserably

uncomfortable.”

“I beg your pardon, Lady Dalby,” Iveston said stiffl y.

“Don’t be absurd. It’s perfectly understandable, Lord Iveston.

I’ve yet to meet siblings who can comfortably share anything so

personal as seating. I should never have put you in this awkward

position.”

Which of course prompted him to glance at Miss Prest

wick again, for when the word
awkward
was used, whom else to

think of?

Miss Prestwick was looking at him most strangely. Not ex

actly daggers. No, hardly that, but rather in a sort of tepid and

lethargic disbelief. In fact, she was looking at him in something

quite close to boredom.

The Marquis of Iveston, heir to the Duke of Hyde, was in no

way accustomed to inspiring boredom in eligible young women.

Or old women, for that matter, eligible or not.

Fredericks offered him a chair. Iveston, by merely a look,

indicated that Cranleigh should take it. He was keeping the

settee, precedence and all that. Cranleigh, grinning, left the set

tee and took the chair.

A small victory, but he did feel he deserved it.

How to Daz zle a Duke

65

“Perhaps I should return another time?” Tannington said

quietly to Sophia.

“If you’d like,” Sophia answered pleasantly, keeping her gaze

not on Tannington, but on Iveston. Iveston could plainly see that

Tannington did not like it in the least.

Fredericks, who had not got fully out of the white salon, stuck

his head back in, a truly abysmal bit of butlering, and said, “Are

you in for the Marquis of Ruan, Lady Dalby?”

“I do believe I am,” Sophia said, her dark gaze fl icking over

Lord Tannington, who was looking more sharkish by the second.

He did seem a most volatile sort. Not the calm eye of reason in

a storm of lunacy that Iveston knew himself to be.

The Marquis of Ruan entered the room with an elegant stride

that halted fractionally when he saw that Lady Dalby was not

alone in the white salon. Indeed, the room was becoming very

nearly cozy with people.

They all rose, Tannington the most slowly.

Bows and curtseys were exchanged, Miss Prestwick looking

very nearly annoyed as she dipped her dark head. Iveston found

that mildly amusing somehow.

“Lord Ruan,” Sophia purred. “What a surprise to see you.”

“Not a delight, Lady Dalby?” he countered, his own voice a

husky purr. “I’m devastated.”

“Have you brought money or goods, Lord Ruan?” Sophia

said, sitting down upon her sofa and arranging her muslin skirts.

“Everyone else has done, Miss Prestwick excluded, and I fi nd it

so much easier to rise to delight when I have something of value

in my hands.”

“I’m quite certain I can accommodate you there, Lady Dalby,”

Ruan purred, his green eyes twinkling devilishly. “I rise to

delight most regularly and can nearly effortlessly induce it in

others.”

Yes, well, that bit was obvious, wasn’t it? Iveston glanced over

66 CLAUDIA DAIN

to Miss Prestwick. Not a blush marred her cheek. She didn’t drop

her gaze or look discomfited in the least particular. No. In fact,

Miss Penelope Prestwick looked intrigued.

Most peculiar behavior for a virgin to display. Which did beg

the question, didn’t it?

Mr. Prestwick stood, as was most appropriate of him, and said,

“I do believe we should be off, Pen. Lady Dalby, a pleasure.”

Miss Prestwick did not rise. Miss Prestwick did not look at all

inclined to leave. Mr. Prestwick did seem to have his plate full

with his unusual sister.

“I’ve a bit of a headache, George,” Penelope said. “I do think

it best if I sit here until it passes.”

“It wouldn’t pass at home, I don’t suppose?” George said. As

they lived just down the street, it was a most logical question.

“I shouldn’t think so,” Penelope Prestwick answered in a

clipped tone.

George sighed, smiled, and sat.

“Are we hosting an event? And here I stand, with mud-spattered shoes.”

They all rose at the entry of the Earl of Dalby, Sophia’s son.

“Darling, if we are hosting an event, it is most awkward to

remark on the condition of your shoes,” Sophia said, offering her

son her cheek to kiss. Dalby kissed it most warmly. “And if we

are not, then it is most awkward to make any remark at all.”

This time, it was Cranleigh who stood.

“No event, Dalby, simply a happy confl uence of well-wishers

and gift-bringers,” Cranleigh said.

“Lord Cranleigh was of the gift-bringer variety,” Sophia said,

looking pleasantly at Iveston. Iveston had yet to stand. He did

not care to leave at present. Certainly there was no rush? “As was

Lord Tannington and the Duke of Edenham, both concerning

minor wagers.”

How to Daz zle a Duke

67

“Wagers, Mother?” Dalby asked, sitting down next to her on

the sofa. They fitted quite nicely together, looking comfortable

in each other’s sphere, as was so unusual in Society as to bear

taking note. “Is it possible that you wager too much?”

“I don’t think so,” she answered pleasantly. “Particularly as I

win so often.”

“Which would explain why some would come to the conclu

sion that you wager too often,” Ruan said.

“The losers, you mean?” Sophia asked.

“Precisely,” Ruan answered. “Lord Dalby, do you wager

against your mother?”

“Not recently, Lord Ruan,” Dalby answered. He was a hand

some man of brown hair and eyes, quite tall and fi t-looking. Still

quite young, though fully in possession of his title. “My father

warned me against taking on my mother; I thought I knew bet

ter, and lost two quid as a result.”

“You don’t mean literally,” Penelope Prestwick said. “You can’t

mean that your mother actually took money from you, your

own money.”

“He who wagers must be prepared to pay his losses,” Sophia

said, looking directly at Miss Prestwick. “I do demand that once

an agreement has been reached, even one bearing the structure

of a wager, all parties play within the fences, so to speak. I’m

quite firm about it, which I can’t think is a surprise to anyone in

this room.”

Iveston did not know Sophia Dalby well at all, but he was

quite aware in that moment that she was speaking very nearly

directly to Penelope Prestwick. One had only to observe the

slightly alarmed look on Miss Prestwick’s face to see that. But

about what?

He had no idea.

Suddenly and quite decidedly, he was determined to know all.

68 CLAUDIA DAIN

“Shall we leave, Iveston?” Cranleigh said softly.

“I should prefer to stay, if you don’t mind,” Iveston answered,

studying Miss Prestwick’s face.

“I never thought to hear it,” Cranleigh murmured.

Cranleigh sat back down with great reluctance. Iveston didn’t

care if Cranleigh were reluctant or not; he wasn’t leaving.

“What did you wager, Lord Dalby?” Iveston asked. “Can you

remember?”

“Can I remember? I can hardly think it possible that I should

forget, Lord Iveston,” Dalby answered. “I wagered that the Duke

of Aldreth’s best hound would whelp less than six pups. My mother

wagered that it would be more. The bitch delivered seven.”

“A woman has an advantage in wagers of that sort,” Sophia

said mildly.

“Regarding bitches?” Ruan asked, also mildly.

“Precisely,” Sophia answered with a languid smile.

It was quite obvious that Ruan was in the process of seducing

Sophia. It was also quite obvious that Tannington was not happy

about it. Edenham, on the other hand, seemed to find the entire

thing amusing.

Miss Prestwick did not. Not amusing at any rate, but fascinat

ing. It was most peculiar, but the girl did not seem to find any of

this behavior, and surely much of it was not proper for her, an

assault upon her sensibilities.

What to do but wonder why?

6

IT was perfectly obvious to Penelope that Lord Ruan was very

near to seducing Sophia Dalby completely. One was left to won

der, knowing what was common knowledge about Sophia, why

it was taking so long. The sooner the better, certainly.

Penelope’s greatest fear, well, perhaps not her greatest but

definitely ranked within the top ten, was that Sophia would scoop

How to Daz zle a Duke

69

Edenham up before Penelope had a proper go at him. That wasn’t

going to happen. She would not have put it beyond Sophia’s plans

to actually have decided that marrying Edenham would only en

hance her, but it was plain now, seeing them together, that they

didn’t have the slightest interest in each other that way. Which,

truthfully, was absurd as they were a most glorious-looking pair.

One never could predict the way these things would fall,

more’s the pity. There was no logic at all to coupling that she

could see, which was why she was approaching it from a truly

logical foundation: that of social prestige and monetary gain.

What other measure was as constant and precise?
Love. Passion.

Ridiculous, ephemeral notions that served playwrights and poets

and no one else.

Still, Sophia clearly being no threat to her plans, Edenham

appeared not at all interested in her. Worse, by returning to Dalby

House at a time when Sophia had expressly not wished her to

come, she had made a quick enemy of a barely made ally.

Bad bit of planning, that. Though, to be honest with herself,

and she did make it a point to be honest with herself at least, it

had not been so much of a plan as an impulse. Horribly untidy

and unproductive, giving in to impulses. She’d known that for

years and here she was, paying the price for impulse.

She’d simply have to make it up to Sophia, that’s all. It couldn’t

be all that difficult, could it? She did seem to like getting gifts, and

apparently had a passion for Chinese porcelain. She didn’t suppose

it could be that difficult to find a pretty enough, expensive enough

vase and present it, groveling if necessary, into Sophia’s lap.

Groveling was the least she was prepared to do to attain

her duke.

The very
least
.

Penelope was quite well aware that Lady Caroline, Sophia’s

daughter, and Lady Louisa, Sophia’s something or other, not to

mention Lady Amelia and the episode in the mews, had each

70 CLAUDIA DAIN

achieved perfectly respectable husbands in a matter of days, if

not hours, by getting themselves well and truly ruined.

How difficult could it be to arrange for Edenham to ruin her?

With Sophia’s aid, it should be simplicity itself.

Oh, most girls of good family, and even those of questionable

family, would look at ruination as being the worst fate that could

befall a girl. Ridiculous. The worst fate to befall a girl was not

getting what she wanted, and in her case, what she wanted was

a proper duke. If she had to get him improperly, well then. What

of it? Once she’d got him, she’d got him. What could he do about

it then?

The thing to do, naturally, was to arrange for Edenham to

ruin her before every man in the ton became aware that ruin

ation had become the new betrothal. Once they had done so, and

she was not so naïve as to believe they could be kept in the dark

about it forever, it would become nearly impossible to lure a man

into anything even resembling a compromising situation, which

surely would turn Society on its head.

How to get him to do it, that was the question facing her now.

Getting him alone was essential. Penelope surveyed the room. It

was so very difficult not to give in to dismay. Was every man in

Town going to be admitted to Dalby House today? It certainly

appeared so.

Fredericks appeared at the door again and Penelope very

nearly groaned, but he was only bringing in more tea things, so

all was saved, or at least not any worse than it had been. The

thing to do was to try and encourage some of these people to

leave. Lord Tannington most definitely. She had never before

met Tannington, but she could discern with no trouble whatso

ever that he was a complete rogue, just the sort to ruin a girl for

the fun of it. At the moment, he was staring insolently and with

overt hostility at Lord Ruan, who was ignoring him completely

to concentrate on Sophia. Lord Ruan must be got rid of as well.

How to Daz zle a Duke

71

He was, she could plainly see, a most experienced, indeed, per

haps even a dangerous rakehell. The type of man who did not

seduce girls for fun, but, worse, did so without actually trying to

at all. What was more dangerous than that?

Lords Iveston and Cranleigh should have left long ago. What

were they lingering about for? Cranleigh had delivered his gift.

Iveston had stumbled over some completely ridiculous remarks

that were in the poorest taste and without a jot of wit. What more

could they hope to accomplish in a single visit?