How to Dazzle a Duke (11 page)

That left Edenham, George, Sophia, and she. It was going to

be difficult enough to get Edenham to ruin her with having

to dispose of George and Sophia. She did not think she had it in

her to manage it with more than that clogging the corners of the

room, figuratively speaking. She did know that she’d have to

get him alone and arrange for him, or at the very least encourage

him, to do something scandalous to her or her clothing.

Now, how to get Edenham to rip her dress? It would be so

simple if she could get him to escort her into her conservatory

somehow, putting those roses to good purpose, to
her
good pur

pose. How Amelia had mangled her chances on those thorns, well,

it was very nearly disgraceful. Of course, when she’d arranged for

the roses to crowd her conservatory, announcing without words

her adept skill at rose horticulture to the world, she hadn’t given a

thought to using them to aid in ruining herself. Far from it. But

with Lady Amelia so boldly leading the way, albeit that she ap

peared to have lost her way from the very moment she had found

it, Penelope knew just what she wanted to happen.

She would get Edenham into her house.

She would get Edenham into her conservatory.

She would get Edenham into her clothing.

She would get Edenham.

So very simple. As to her list, it could all be rearranged, items

dropped or added or repositioned. All but the last. She would get

72 CLAUDIA DAIN

Edenham. He was simply ideal. He would make such a lovely

husband, she was completely certain of it. Why, the fact that he’d

had three wives already spoke volumes as to his eligibility and

appeal. Certainly a man who had married well thrice was a man

worth marrying. As to his killing off his wives by his . . .
um
,

prowess. Ridiculous bit of superstition. Women died in childbed

every day and certainly Edenham could not be blamed for all of

them, could he?

No, Edenham was the perfect choice. Now, how to get him

into her clothes?

Six

IVESTON had no idea what thoughts were scurrying through Pe

nelope Prestwick’s head, but the look she was giving the Duke of

Edenham was very nearly indecent. Actually, it did quite inter

esting things to her face. She looked, though she could hardly

know it, quite seductive, nearly sultry. He had not thought she

had it in her. It was becoming more than obvious that Miss Prest

wick wore her thoughts and emotions on her very pretty face,

and that she had no idea she was quite transparent.

Iveston smiled and ducked his head to hide it, just in case she

was more cognizant of other people’s expressions than she was

of her own.

What an astounding blend of blatant intent and devious cun

ning she was, for he could read both on her face. In the next

instant, her expression changed completely, becoming one of

complete exasperation. Iveston supposed the change must be

credited to the arrival of Sophia’s brother and his three sons into

the white salon.

Sophia Dalby, the dowager countess of Dalby, had a brother

who was an Iroquois warrior. As Sophia and her brother John

74 CLAUDIA DAIN

were full and complete siblings, it was therefore true that So

phia was an Iroquois.

This, it must be supposed, was a most extraordinary bit of news.

No, not quite news, for Iveston was becoming aware that his par

ents, and indeed many of their generation, of which Sophia must

be ranked among their number, had known of Sophia’s Iroquois

heritage from the start. The fact that it had become hidden, likely

upon her marriage to the Earl of Dalby, was to be expected.

Perhaps. Still, it did seem the worst sort of foul play for one gen

eration to be so familiar with a fact and keep it to themselves.

Actually, from what he could gather, Sophia and John were

the children of an Englishwoman and an Iroquois, the result ap

parently being that Sophia was the more English of the two and

John the more Indian.

Apparently
being.

Iveston, who had truly not fully met Sophia before last week

and who found her as delightful as every man of maturity did,

was not at all certain that Sophia was who she seemed to be. He

did not overmuch care, and certainly who she was or who she

wasn’t couldn’t possibly affect him, but it was interesting, a sort

of a puzzle to be worked. He did enjoy a puzzle.

Upon the thought, and rising to greet Lady Dalby’s relatives,

Iveston’s gaze swung again to Miss Prestwick. She looked posi

tively incensed. It was quite amusing.

As they all stood, bowing and curtseying to each other, the

introductions made as quickly as possible, Cranleigh whispered,

“It’s the perfect opportunity to leave. I’m certain there can’t be

enough chairs.”

Whereupon four footmen brought in four Chippendale chairs

with yellow silk damask seats. Iveston shook his head, grinning,

and sat back down. The Indians sat. They
all
sat. Miss Prestwick

looked nearly as dejected about it as Cranleigh did.

“Markham has informed me that you intend to stay in Town,”

How to Daz zle a Duke

75

Sophia said to her brother, John. John didn’t quite nod, but did

make a slight motion of assent. “I confess to being surprised. I

didn’t think the joys of Town were quite your thing, John. Don’t

tell me you have been seduced by its many pleasures.”

“I have not been seduced,” John said. He was quite a rugged,

frightening-looking fellow, which Iveston suspected was entirely

intentional. “I have been convinced.”

“Convinced? Of what? And by whom?” Sophia glanced at

her son, Dalby, who apparently was called Markham by family

intimates. Most confusing.

“By me, Sophia,” the elder son said.

George Grey was of an indeterminate age; he looked younger

than Iveston, and likely was, but he had such an air about him

of ruthless intent and abounding humor that he seemed very

much more experienced than George Prestwick, who was in all

probability the same age. George Grey, Iroquois, had dark curl

ing hair and dark gleaming eyes and the curious anomaly of a

single dimple in his left cheek. Coupled with his stature and

obvious physical strength, it gave him the appalling appearance

of being a gleeful murderer.

Iveston was not at all uncertain that the impression wasn’t

precisely on the mark.

“Of course by you,” Sophia said with a slight grin. “Not pos

sible at all for it to have been by Young.”

Young, another private name which should have surely been

kept private, was truly called John. As his father was also called

John, the appellation was explained. He was the middle brother

of the Iroquois in the white salon, which clearly was an odd con

joining of disparate words, for who could ever have anticipated

Indians in a London town house? In any regard, Iveston under

stood from the way in which Young held himself, his posture and

bearing, that he had no desire to be in Town and, indeed, no

desire to speak a word if he could help it.

76 CLAUDIA DAIN

He could help it.

In response to Sophia’s comment, Young simply looked at his

aunt, made some pleasant motion of his eyes, and then looked

down at the floor between his very large feet.

Matthew Grey, the youngest of them, was a startling-looking

young man of dark hair and complexion and piercing blue eyes.

As the Greys were cousins to Lord Dalby, they did bear a strong

resemblance to each other, though Dalby looked completely

English and the Greys looked nothing like. Although, perhaps it

was not so much their physical appearance as their demeanor.

They were very nearly pugilistic in their aspect, though almost

silently so. Certainly they did not talk a great deal, though they

appeared comfortable enough in their surroundings.

But of course they would. Sophia was their aunt.

Iveston could not quite wrap his thoughts around it.

Tannington appeared to be having the same trouble, though

the same could not be said of Miss Prestwick. Miss Prestwick, as

Iveston should have expected, was giving her complete attention

to Edenham. Even Edenham seemed to sense it now, not that he

looked at all delighted by the fact.

And who would? It was entirely too obvious of her. She really

ought to at least put on an appearance of being demure and

reticent. All the girls did, those who were not yet married. Once

married, they behaved any way they liked, which was one of the

problems of marriage, as he saw it.

Of course, he knew he would marry. It was his duty. He
must

marry. And he would. One day. There was certainly no rush

about it, was there? He had years left to him. What he would do

with those years left to him of freedom he wasn’t entirely certain.

He clearly hadn’t done much by way of excitement with his un

married years so far, but the future looked as bright as it ever had

done and he was prepared to enjoy himself, in whatever fashion

suited him.

How to Daz zle a Duke

77

At some point, he did realize, he had to find something which

suited him.

And, surely reduced to being a habit by now, he glanced again

at Miss Prestwick.

“Convinced of what, I should very much like to know,” Sophia

asked of her brother, smiling at George Grey.

“Convinced that having a London Season,” George said, “is

good fun. You’ve convinced me, Sophia, and I convinced my

father of the same. Why not stay?”

“Why not stay?” Miss Prestwick said abruptly, which was most

peculiar as no one was speaking to her. “Why not go? I can’t think

what you would gain by a London Season, Mr. Grey.”

“A wife, Miss Prestwick?” George Grey countered, smiling at

her. A girl would have to be very unusual not to be disarmed by

that single, deep dimple. Iveston watched Miss Prestwick. She

did not look disarmed in the slightest, no, nor charmed. It was

slightly gratifying, though he could not think why. “A man, just

as a woman, wants to marry.”

“Not all men, Mr. Grey,” Lord Tannington said.

“You do not intend to marry, Lord Tannington?” Sophia

asked.

“I will marry when I can avoid it no longer,” Lord Tannington

said, “but the point I believe your nephew was making is that all

men
want
to marry. I would say that while all men may marry,

very few of them actually want to.”

“That sounds very nearly tragic,” Sophia said, looking not at

all tragic, but rather flagrantly amused. “I think a poll must settle

it. Now, do answer honestly, which I know is very difficult for a

man to do.”

It was at this juncture that Miss Prestwick snorted in what had

to be assumed was suppressed laughter.

“Now, how shall we organize it? Just around the room then?”

Sophia mused.

78 CLAUDIA DAIN

“Alphabetically?” Edenham said pleasantly, his brown eyes

shining with mirth.

“Far too difficult for me to manage,” Sophia answered, smil

ing at Edenham.

“By age? Oldest to youngest?” Miss Prestwick blurted out.

“Oh, I think not,” Sophia said. “Someone could well fi nd him

self insulted.” And she looked at Edenham again and chuckled.

Was Edenham the oldest man in the room? Perhaps Ruan

and certainly John Grey were of the same approximate age.

Ruan didn’t look insulted in the slightest, in fact, he was watch

ing Sophia fl irt with Edenham with a very nearly bored expres

sion.
Very nearly bored.
He was watching, after all. And John Grey,

well, his expression was impossible to read. He simply had no

expression whatsoever.

The same could not be said of Miss Prestwick. She was watch

ing Sophia dangle charm and gaiety like a ripe plum in front of

Edenham’s face and looked completely outraged by the prospect.

Poor girl. She clearly didn’t have a particle of charm to fi ght with.

Of course,
he
was watching her and she
could
have turned some

effort upon him, but she was clearly too simpleminded to know

any better.

“By either age or alphabet, I shall not be first,” Iveston said.

“Shall it be a simple test of bravery then? Shall I not prove my

courage and stout heart by declaring that I, for one, want to

marry?”

Miss Prestwick looked struck dumb. It was a look which

suited her.

“Do you, Lord Iveston? How charming of you,” Sophia ex

claimed. He felt the distinct urge to preen under her praise. He

did not, however. “And when did the urge to mate fi rst come

upon you?”

“I believe the subject was marriage, Lady Dalby?” Iveston

countered smoothly, his brows raised in mock admonition.

How to Daz zle a Duke

79

Sophia smiled and did not look the least contrite. Miss Prestwick

looked appalled. Iveston felt the stirrings of a smile tease the cor

ners of his mouth. “But as to marriage, knowing it was to be forced