How to Dazzle a Duke (22 page)

very many of the most interesting, most attractive, most unat

tached men who had been invited entered the room. Lady Dalby

entered on the arm of one of those American Indian relatives of

hers everyone was talking about.

And that is when the soiree at the dowager Countess of Lan

reath’s home on the corner of Berkeley Square truly began.

6

LANREATH House had large rooms done up in the French style of

perhaps ten to fifteen years ago. The walls of each of the main

rooms, defined as the reception room, the drawing room, and the

dining room, were painted in white paint that had gone to cream

and ivory with time, and gilded trim everywhere, from the ceil

ing to the skirting boards. The floors were lightly stained parquet

in a very pleasing geometric design and the furnishings were all

French, from the gilded chairs with their rose-hued silk uphol

stery to the chandeliers hovering massively above them.

The rooms, it was perfectly obvious, set off a woman’s beauty

to perfection. It was such a pity that the dowager Countess of

Lanreath did not entertain more often as very many women in

Society would have benefited from appearing to their best advan

tage in such delicately hued rooms lit by gentle candlelight. As

the current Earl of Lanreath, the son of the late Earl’s fi rst wife,

was not married and was more interested in his hunting dogs

than in the ton, he had happily allowed Antoinette to live in the

family house in Town. He had not, nor had his father, allowed

her to redo the rooms in the more current fashion.

Well, that was a man for you.

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155

But, as the rooms looked quite well on Antoinette, Sophia

supposed it wasn’t such a bad state of affairs.

“Lady Dalby,” Lady Lanreath said, greeting her, “it is a plea

sure to see you again. Our paths seem never to cross with any

regularity at all, which is most distressing.”

“Lady Lanreath,” Sophia said, her hand on George’s arm,

“what an entirely cordial remark. It is so like you. I don’t believe

you’ve met my nephew, Mr. George Grey.”

George, with a very wicked grin, dipped his head in a very

appreciative manner. He did not bow, though he knew he should,

which was very like him.

“Lady Lanreath,” he murmured.

Poor Antoinette looked very much like she was about to melt,

which Sophia suspected she would enjoy fully. Her Lord Lan

reath had been very old and Antoinette did not seek out her own

amusements as often as she could have done. A very foolish

choice for a woman with no husband, no children, and no debts

to pay. Quite inexplicable, really.

“Lady Dalby. Mr. Grey,” Lady Paignton said in a throaty

murmur, eyeing George with blatant appreciation. “I am

delighted.”

“But of course,” Sophia said. When Bernadette’s gaze

swung to hers, she added, “It is always good to see you Lady

Paignton.”

The sisters, widows both, and the two eldest of the Earl of

Helston’s four daughters, looked nothing alike, yet looked like

sisters for all that. All four girls, by every rumor, as Sophia had

not yet met the youngest girl, shared the same coloring and were

quite stunning beauties because of it. They would have been

beautiful women in any regard, but as each had dark hair

and green eyes, they were truly remarkable. Antoinette was a

refined beauty with features leaning toward the classical, while

156 CLAUDIA DAIN

Bernadette, which surely suited her nature, was a lush siren of

blatant and carnal beauty.

George, as well he should be, was clearly delighted.

“Lady Paignton,” George said, his dark eyes gleaming in that

very specific way men had of gleaming at a woman. “A pleasure.”

He clearly meant it.

“Mr. Grey,” Lady Paignton answered, “you are new to Lon

don and its various and myriad pleasures?”

“Not that new,” Sophia interjected. “Come, George. I simply

must introduce you to . . .”

“To?” Bernadette prompted.

“Everyone,” Sophia said. “George does love to get out and

about. He simply wants to meet everyone and know every

thing.”

“And experience everything?” Bernadette said, giving George

the most obvious look.

George appeared to enjoy it immensely. He appeared to

have completely forgotten the reason he was escorting Sophia

this evening.

Things were helped considerably by the arrival of Lord Pen

rith. Penrith had such a habit of doing a good turn that he was

becoming quite invaluable to her, darling man. The greetings

were made, the bows and curtseys exchanged in a graceful dis

play of breeding and etiquette, and then Lady Lanreath said, “I

am so glad you have come, Lord Penrith. We were expecting you

and did begin to wonder if you were detained somehow.”

As Bernadette, Lady Paignton, had just spent the Prestwick

ball trying to seduce Penrith, who looked quite willing to be

seduced, and since Antoinette had not been at the Prestwick

ball, it was perfectly plain who had wanted Penrith to attend

tonight.

They all, George included, gazed at Bernadette.

How to Daz zle a Duke

157

Bernadette smiled, not a bit repentant.

George smiled, as charmed by an unrepentant female as the

next man.

Penrith smiled with just as much seductive force as Berna

dette could manage, which was considerable, and said, “I did

arrive later than planned, but then, I suspect I am not the

only one?”

“As a matter of fact, you are not,” Antoinette said evenly.

“I shouldn’t be at all surprised,” Penrith said. He did have the

most enticing voice. Bernadette licked her lips and blinked in

languid invitation. “It’s the latest wager on White’s book. Every

one wants to get their name down before the evening’s events.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such interest in a wager before, not on

such short notice. Of course, that may explain it. It came out of

nowhere, and of course, those are the best wagers of all.”

“Does it concern you, Lord Penrith?” Bernadette asked in a

sultry murmur. “Is a woman named?”

“I should say so,” he said. “But I am not involved, at least not

directly, Lady Paignton.”

“Pity,” Bernadette responded.

“What is the wager, Lord Penrith?” Lady Lanreath asked,

making every effort not to look over their shoulders at her next

arrivals.

“I shall tell you since there will be no keeping it from you, or

indeed, from anyone. It shall be all over Town by tomorrow

noon, I should think.”

“Does it involve a marriage or an affair?” Bernadette asked.

“Wagers about affairs are so much more exciting, don’t you

think?”

“I suppose that must depend upon the participants,” Sophia

said. “Yes, I’m quite certain it does. But do go on, Penrith. We

simply must know.”

158 CLAUDIA DAIN

George, to his immense credit, showed a fortitude of silence

that was quite unlike him and said nothing. He even kept his face

shorn of all emotion.

“It involves me,” Penelope Prestwick said, having come up

behind them with her brother at her side. “The wager is that I

shall marry the Duke of Edenham by the end of the Season. My

brother George made the wager, which was quite lovely of him

as it does indicate such confidence in me, and Lord Penrith took

it up, which I can’t think what it says of him. Or of me. What do

you say, Lord Penrith? Is it true you don’t think I can induce the

Duke of Edenham to offer for me?”

Sophia sighed and smiled in pure pleasure. Lovely, darling

Miss Prestwick. She did like to play her own game. It was quite

enchanting of her.

She looked wonderful, which was so clever of her. Penelope

was draped in white silk, her bodice cut tastefully low and the

train a graceful sweep at her feet. The gown was elegance at its

most pure; there was no ornamentation beyond that offered by

the sheen of the silk, but at Penelope’s throat and ears were

diamonds. She was glittering in diamonds set beautifully in

the most modern of settings. She looked like a Greek goddess,

her black hair pulled up and away from her face into a thick pile,

her black eyes glittering much like her diamonds.

This was a woman who deserved a duke. And that could not

be said of every woman, surely.

“Miss Prestwick,” Penrith answered, looking quite as beguil

ing as he was in the habit of appearing, “nothing so bold as

that. It is not that I don’t think the Duke of Edenham should be

entranced by you, or indeed, that he is not already entranced,

but that as the Season is half over, that he may not offer for you,

the details agreed upon, the license signed, the deed done, by the

end of the current Season. You will notice that I make no wagers

on what may occur between you and Edenham next Season.”

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159

Penrith was such a playful man. It was such an unusual trait in

a man that it was worth valuing as the rare commodity it was.

“Then it is not the fact of my allure that is in dispute, but the

power of it?” Penelope said, staring boldly into Penrith’s cat

green eyes. Not many women were so confident, or was it fool

hardy, as to be so bold as to engage in any sort of verbal dis

course with Penrith. The seductive power of his velvety voice was

becoming legendary. “Is that the basis of your wager, George?”

she asked her brother, turning her gaze away from Penrith’s.

Proving, if proof were needed, that she was not a stupid girl at

all. Many a young thing had come close to ruination by staring

too long into Penrith’s eyes, spellbound by his voice.

His mother, traveling in Italy with Penrith’s sister, certainly

had a beguiling son. And knew it, too. It might have been the

reason she traveled without him.

“Pen, it isn’t at all the thing for a woman to inquire as to what

appears on White’s book,” George Prestwick said, staring in a

somewhat accusatory fashion at Penrith, who had the dash not

to look at all abashed.

“Even if the wager is about her?” George Grey asked.

“Most especially then,” Lord Iveston said, having come up

behind Penelope. He towered over her. He so tall and fair, she so

small and dark. Quite a stunningly unique couple, if one cared

to make such judgments. Which Sophia most certainly did.

“Good evening, Lord Iveston,” Lady Lanreath said with a

smile of welcome.

Lady Paignton merely curtseyed her greeting; her gaze was

still all for George Grey. As previously her attention had been

completely consumed by Penrith, and as Penrith was now being

devotedly ignored, it did bespeak some rather pointed effort

to annoy Penrith. Penrith, younger and less experienced than

Bernadette, did look somewhat put out.

Ah, youth.

160 CLAUDIA DAIN

Though, Sophia was quite certain she had never been quite

that young, and certainly not in that precise way.

At Iveston’s side was his brother, George Blakesley. Three

Georges. Well, that was what happened when the King of Eng

land was a George. As to that, her own Dalby had wanted to

name their son George. She had convinced him, slowly and

quite pleasurably, that John was a far better choice. After her

brother, naturally, whom she hadn’t seen in years by then and,

truthfully, could easily have been dead. How could she have

known, separated as they were by a very large ocean? Of

course, then John had found her and everything became then

as it still was now. She lived in England as a countess and he

lived . . . as he pleased.

Sophia smiled. It was precisely the way to live, wasn’t it?

“Good evening, Lord George,” Lady Lanreath said. “It is al

ways a pleasure to see you.”

Always?

Was something afoot between George Blakesley and Antoi

nette? It would show such good judgment on Antoinette’s part if

there were. George was quite a remarkable-looking man, and

from such a lovely family, too.

The gentlemen bowed, the ladies discreetly looked them over,

and then all eyes turned toward Miss Prestwick, which did not

appear to alarm her in the least. Such a clever, resourceful girl.

Now, if she would only say the right thing to get things moving

along in the proper direction. If any young woman was up to the

challenge, it was certainly Penelope Prestwick.

“Lord Iveston,” Penelope said, gazing at him with her

composure intact, “we were just discussing, improperly or not,

the wager that has appeared on White’s book. I presume you

know of it?”

“Is it an improper sort of wager?” Iveston asked mildly, look

ing down at her with a defi nite twinkle in his eyes.

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161

“I’m quite certain it must be, as all wagers involving a man

and a woman must be improper somehow,” she answered.

Lord George Blakesley lowered his gaze and appeared to

be chewing his lower lip, likely against a laugh. It was indeed a