How to Dazzle a Duke (38 page)

“Then I think it’s past time I talked to your father,

don’t you?”

Twenty-two

VISCOUNT Prestwick was a man who enjoyed a social outing as

well as the next man, but as he was far more interested in main

taining his fortune and, indeed, increasing it, he kept hours that

did not suit the ton. He was up at first light, working, and he was

therefore not at all disposed to attend a soiree such as the one

Lady Lanreath had hosted last night where dinner was served at

half past midnight. Being a man who wanted all that a title

implied and yet being a man who understood the cost of main

taining all that a title implied, he was eager to know everything

that happened in the upper branches of Society and yet able to

witness very little of it firsthand. So it was that he was taken

completely by surprise when Lady Dalby presented her card to

Hamilton, his butler.

Was he
in
for Lady Dalby?

He most assuredly was.

Lady Dalby knew everything that happened in Society for the

simple reason that she instigated much of it.

Prestwick instructed Hamilton to make Lady Dalby welcome

in the red drawing room, a quite sumptuous room that should

276 CLAUDIA DAIN

show her the proper respect; he was no fool. He had not got

himself a viscountcy by alienating the wrong people, and even

the right people took great care not to insult Sophia Dalby. It was

for that reason that he hurried into his bedchamber, throwing off

his coat and waistcoat, alarming his valet exceedingly. He didn’t

care a whit about his valet. It was only completely necessary that

he wear a waistcoat that was the first pitch of fashion. The green

silk ought to be just the thing.

When Harold Prestwick, the first Viscount Prestwick, entered

the red drawing room, he was as puffed up and polished as it was

possible for a man to be. Sophia Dalby, in a white muslin gown

with fitted sleeves, a pair of pearl earrings, and a straw bonnet

crisscrossed with red ribbons, looked at him admiringly. He

was quite certain it was a gaze of admiration. What else? He was

a very fit man and still in the very pink of health, and she was a

famously lovely woman. He had not heard that she was quite so

forward in choosing her companions, but he was more than will

ing to be pursued by so noteworthy a woman.

She rose to her feet in a fluid motion that was quite wonderful

to behold and greeted him with a curtsey and a fl irtatious smile.

He was utterly certain it was flirtatious. What else? She was Sophia

Dalby; she dealt in flirtation the way a baker dealt in bread.

“Lord Prestwick, how kind of you to see me,” she said. “Are

you quite recovered?”

His smile froze on his face. Recovered? Didn’t he look as fi t

as he was certain he was? Perhaps the green silk did not suit his

complexion. His valet had made some comment in that direc

tion, but he had ignored him. The green silk waistcoat had cost

him twice as much as any other waistcoat he possessed; he was

certain it must look wonderful for that reason alone.

“Lady Dalby, I could not fail to be in top form for a woman

as exalted as you. I am honored that you came to see me. What

refreshment may I offer you?”

How to Daz zle a Duke

277

“Only the refreshment of your charming company, Lord

Prestwick,” she answered, taking her seat again. The chairs

were covered in the same red silk damask as the walls, making

it quite a warm and welcoming room. To say that Lady Dalby

looked like a pearl set in a red box would have been redundant.

Lady Dalby always looked remarkably beautiful. She was famous

for it. “By your manner, I must suppose that you have not spoken

with Miss Prestwick yet? Nor Mr. Prestwick?”

“No. They are still abed.”

Why should the whereabouts of his children, his grown chil

dren as to that, matter to her? Certainly she couldn’t want George

for a paramour; he was far too young at twenty-three to be of any

interest to a woman of her mature years. Though she still looked

quite young herself. How old was Sophia Dalby? She’d been

famous for fully twenty years and yet she didn’t look to be any

where near forty. He couldn’t think how she was keeping youth

clustered about her white shoulders, unless it were in taking

young men for lovers. Well, she couldn’t have George.

Unless there was some measurable benefit to either George

or himself.

He was not an unreasonable man, after all.

“Oh, this does put me in an awkward position, Lord Prest

wick. I do not know quite how to proceed from this point. What

would you advise?”

And she looked directly into his eyes, her dark brown eyes as

provocative and mysterious as every rumor of them, and her

mouth tilted up in the smallest of smiles.

He said what any man would have said. “Proceed directly,

Lady Dalby. I promise that you will be well cared for, your every

need met, if I may be so honored.”

“How gracious you are,” she said, leaning forward slightly to

adjust her skirt. There was the slightest shadow, just a suggestion

really, of the sweep of her bosom. He felt himself harden just

278 CLAUDIA DAIN

below his green silk waistcoat. “It is certainly quite clear how

well served the viscountcy will be under your firm hand and wise

counsel.”

He lifted his chest and grinned. The buttons of his waistcoat

felt a bit tight across his chest, but he didn’t suppose that was

unusual in such a regularly fed man of his years. He looked, he

was quite certain, as prosperous as he was.

“What would you have of me, Lady Dalby. I am entirely at

your disposal.”

“Again, so gracious, but I do not require you to be at my dis

posal, Lord Prestwick. Only your daughter. And perhaps that

lovely stretch of land you own on Stretton Street?”

All thoughts of Sophia Dalby’s beauty and charm evaporated

like mist. Prestwick was, first and foremost, a man of numbers

and accounts, and he was not going to give away anything to

anyone, no matter how pretty her bosom happened to be.

“I can’t think why you’re asking, Lady Dalby. I wouldn’t give

my mother, if she lived, such a gift.”

“Would you give it for your daughter?” she said, leaning back

upon her chair, the picture of composure.

“To her or for her?” he asked.

Sophia laughed lightly and nodded her head at him in an

entirely pleasant manner. “She is very like you, Lord Prestwick.

I do like that about you both. There is something so soothing

about a direct answer. One finds so few in Society who are ca

pable of it.”

If they hadn’t been talking about money and property, he

might have taken the time to find offense in the comment. As

things stood, he felt the sting of criticism, but not the throb of

poisonous libel. After all, it was likely true.

“Miss Prestwick approached me yesterday with a request,

Lord Prestwick,” Sophia continued. “She asked that I help her

find a duke for a husband. I answered that I would, for a price.

How to Daz zle a Duke

279

As she has nothing I want, she offered you up to me, and quite

without hesitation, I might add. I do think it showed such spirit

on her part, don’t you? A fearless negotiator, your daughter. I do

think she should be commended for it.”

“She made no arrangement with me,” he said, forcibly ignor

ing the fact that his daughter had been bold enough to offer him,

bodily, one assumed, to a beautiful and dangerous woman in the

form of payment. Aside from the shock, he was almost flattered.

But that was not the point at the moment, more’s the pity.

A duke? It was a splendid idea, and if there was one woman

in ten thousand who could arrange it, it was Sophia Dalby. Pe

nelope wanted the proper husband and had gone to the proper

person to see it done. What she should not have done was left the

contract, as it were, open. One did not proceed in any business

dealings without all the particulars agreed to, and signed, be

fore the first breath of the first step was taken. A sloppy bit of

work, that.

“No, she made it with me, and as we are two adult females, I

can’t think but that it’s binding, no matter the results.”

“The results? What do you mean?”

“I mean, Lord Prestwick, that your daughter, all eagerness,

made her bargain with me without arranging for payment, and

then before I could arrange anything at all for her made a bit of

a muck of it with both the Duke of Edenham and the Marquis of

Iveston. I can’t think what’s to become of her marital prospects

now, and I did warn her against being precipitous all the while

doing what I could to aid her. Still, I did my part and, no mat

ter that her prospects on the marriage mart are exceedingly dim

at present, I do think a bargain made must be a bargain kept,

don’t you?”

“Dim? Why dim? What’s happened?”

“Darling Lord Prestwick,” she said, smiling gently at him.

It was singularly horrifying. “Miss Prestwick has made quite a

280 CLAUDIA DAIN

spectacle of herself, wagers all over the book at White’s, fi rst for

one man and then the other, and then both together. It’s all anyone

who has nothing but time in which to idle can speak of. Naturally,

as I am quite good friends with Edenham”—and here Prestwick

felt a pang of actual pain in the region where he supposed his heart

must be, for Edenham, rich as a king and in possession of his title,

would have been the perfect husband for Penelope, and So

phia would have been the ideal person to arrange it—“I was able

to keep him out of the worst of the fray, for lack of a better word,

but Iveston, whom as you must know, is not often out in Society

and is very much more inexperienced at dealing with women, fell

fully into the thick of it. He and Miss Prestwick have . . .” and she

shrugged in a female gesture of helplessness.

He had heard many things about Sophia, but helplessness was

not one of them. He didn’t quite know what to make of it.

“Have what?” he prompted. “My daughter’s reputation is in

tact, I trust? Penelope has always been a very practical girl, not

given to fits of any sort.”

“Yes, well, she hasn’t always been trying to arrange for a hus

band, has she?”

“You don’t mean to tell me she’s been ruined?”

He felt slightly cold and wet across the brow. If he fainted it

would be the end of everything. He refused to faint, simply re

fused.

“No, Lord Prestwick, she is not ruined. Not
quite
ruined.”

That didn’t sound encouraging at all. How could a woman

make
not ruined
sound like the worst possible situation?

“You are proposing something, aren’t you? You’re here

to help.”

“I’m here, Lord Prestwick, to be paid.” She smiled. “As Pe

nelope is your daughter, I have made the assumption that a bold,

straightforward approach would be most welcomed by you. As I

How to Daz zle a Duke

281

told her, I do nothing for nothing and while I am prepared to

help her gain her duke, I am not prepared to do so as a public

charity. I am quite confident that you understand completely.”

He did. He had not got where he was, being a very wealthy

viscount, by doing things for nothing. One only did things for

nothing for the right person, a person who could eventually, if

events fell into a lively order, do something for you. As Sophia

was far higher than he on the ladder of privilege and infl uence,

she was not in a position to be required to do something for noth

ing, and he knew enough about her history to know that she had

worked tirelessly to get where she was. He had nothing but ad

miration for her. Indeed, he only thought it was a very fortunate

arrangement of events that Sophia herself did not feel the need

for a duke, for surely, as she and Edenham were friends, she

could have married him without any effort at all.

What could Penelope have been thinking?

6

PENELOPE had been thinking all night, not able to sleep in

anything more than fits and starts until dawn finally broke and

she tumbled into a deep sleep that lasted for three hours. It was

going to have to be enough. She simply had to work it out, make

everything fall into place.

It was all a hopeless muddle and seemed quite impossible.

Things had looked so hopeful yesterday. She had made her

arrangement with Sophia, which was hardly an arrangement

at all, pursued Edenham with a very logical plan that had some

how landed her all over Iveston for the better part of the day,

and now had been made a laughingstock who could not win a

man on a bet.

It was simply not to be borne. She was not the sort of girl

to tolerate being a laughingstock. Simply not. There was no

282 CLAUDIA DAIN

negotiation about it whatsoever. Things must, from that specifi c

point, be remedied.

She was going to win a man. One of those wagers on White’s