How to Dazzle a Duke (39 page)

book was going to be won. But which one?

Penelope paced her bedchamber, her brow furrowed, her feet

scuffing across the carpet. Her cat, Peacock, was chasing the

train on her dressing gown, batting at her ankles. She was too

upset to be either annoyed or amused. She had to marry! Actu

ally, it was more complicated than that. She had to pick a man

to marry and then force him into it.

Of course, truly, wasn’t that always the way of it? She was

very disposed to believe, particularly now, that most men had to

be forced into it one way or another, and as long as that was how

it worked, why should she feel any shame about what she was

being compelled to do? Certainly he would be happy enough

once the deed was done and there was no undoing it. There was

nothing observable in Society that disputed that notion and, so,

it might as well be a fact.

Very well then. It was a fact.

Now, which man must she force and how was she going to go

about it?

Her initial plan, to arrange for Edenham to ruin her, seemed

the most logical, as well as being the most impractical. She had

barely spoken to Edenham. How was she going to get him to ruin

her today? For it must be today. She simply could not wait an

other week, what with all this wagering nonsense, which would

only grow worse as the hours passed, the whole of Society watch

ing, waiting to see who, if anyone, would do anything.

And they wouldn’t. No, no one, and by that she meant Edenham and Iveston, who had proved himself, hadn’t he? He was

very nearly a rake, toying with her as he had done, and clearly

so proud of himself and not one whit repentant that he had kissed

How to Daz zle a Duke

283

her passionately and done it all for a wager. It had been one thing

when they had both been doing it for a wager, and known it, too,

but to do it behind her back, that was the worst sort of behavior.

She would not have thought he had it in him. How on earth had

a man as backward and peculiar as Iveston was reputed to be

ever learned how to kiss like that?

Oh, bother, not kiss, but maneuver and manipulate, that’s

what he was so very good at. Kissing, well, kissing was not so

very difficult, was it? One simply put some effort into it and there

you were, being kissed.

Being kissed.

Penelope felt her nipples tighten just thinking of it.

She did not have time for tingling nipples now. Now, she had

to think how to get herself married. To Iveston.

To Iveston?

She shook her head violently and just barely missed kicking

Peacock a glancing blow. Peacock, being a very agile and expe

rienced cat, jumped onto the bed, glared at her, and then jumped

down and scooted under the chinoiserie chest where she took up

licking her left foot.

Practical cat, Peacock. Get out of the way and then get on

with life, which in her case meant a bath.

Peacock’s example before her, though she would deny it if

anyone ever accused her of taking advice from her cat, Penelope

made her choice. It would be Iveston. It had to be. He simply had

a leg up on Edenham, what with all their private moments be

cause of the wagers. If only Edenham had been around more,

but he hadn’t, and that left Iveston.

Penelope felt immeasurably better, that decision made. Now

the only thing left to do was to somehow arrange for him to ruin

her, and the sooner the better. She grinned and hugged herself

just thinking of it.

284 CLAUDIA DAIN

6

“THEN we are agreed,” Sophia said, eyeing Lord Prestwick ap

preciatively. She did so enjoy doing business with a man who had

a business frame of mind. Penelope became more easily under

stood after communicating with her father.

Penelope and George looked very much like each other, dark

of hair and eye, of slim frame and a sort of quickness of manner

that was nothing like Lord Prestwick. Prestwick was barrelchested and of ruddy complexion. His hair, what he had left of

it, was dark blond and frizzy. His eyes were of grayish blue. Still,

at heart, Penelope, while she clearly looked like her late mother,

was very much like her father.

“Agreed,” he said. “You seem very confident, Lady Dalby.”

“I am always confident, Lord Prestwick. It is why I succeed

so regularly.”

Prestwick chuckled and nodded his head. “That is very true.

Now, when will you begin it?”

“Now, I should think. It only requires that you summon Lord

Iveston to you. He will come and things will proceed from

there.”

“You will want to speak to Penelope, naturally.”

“No,” she said slowly, “I should think not. Your daughter is

quite able to manage Lord Iveston and, once she is certain who

it is that she wants, will get him.”

“How can you be certain it is Iveston she wants?”

Sophia smiled. “Lord Iveston will convince her of it, of course.

Isn’t that how it’s usually done, Lord Prestwick?”

Lord Prestwick puffed out his chest and grinned. Sophia

smiled encouragingly at him. He was a dear man, wasn’t he, and

so very agreeable about giving up a lovely bit of land to aid his

daughter’s matrimonial aspirations. What better thing could be

said of a father?

How to Daz zle a Duke

285

“But if you’re not going to speak to Penelope, then what is it

that you are going to do to ensure her marriage to Iveston, Lady

Dalby?” he asked, which was perfectly right of him as he surely

did not want to pay something for nothing.

“I will drop in at Hyde House now, Lord Prestwick, where

everything will be managed beautifully. You need not deliver

the deed to the land until the day of their wedding. I am that

confi dent.”

“Of course, Lady Dalby,” he said, bowing.

“A pleasure, Lord Prestwick,” she said, dipping her head, her

bonnet concealing the very satisfied expression on her face.

Twenty-three

“YOU won it,” Cranleigh said. “I can’t think how you managed it,

but you defi nitely won.”

“Of course you can,” Iveston said almost sullenly. “You can

imagine very well how I did it.”

“You don’t look the worse for wear. I trust you left Miss Prest

wick in good condition.”

“I suppose you’re trying to be amusing?” Iveston said stiffl y,

looking at Cranleigh a bit severely.

Cranleigh, who had not been smiling, looked even less as if

he were smiling. Not quite grim, but close. “Not at all, Iveston.”

“Good.”

They were sitting in the music room, Iveston at the piano

forte, picking out a tune that began nowhere and went nowhere.

It was entirely appropriate to his mood.

He’d won his wager with Cranleigh. There were not words to

express how little that meant to him. It had all stopped being

about Cranleigh and that meaningless wager from the moment

he’d first kissed Penelope, likely a few minutes before. She was

an astonishingly forthright little thing, so full of ideas and plans,

How to Daz zle a Duke

287

so blunt in her opinions. Having been hunted by every mama

with a bland daughter in tow for the past ten years, conserva

tively, he could say without qualification that Miss Penelope

Prestwick was the only honest woman he’d ever met.

It was nearly thrilling. Certainly it was shocking, at least at

first, but once one found one’s footing, and he had, it was quite a

pleasant experience. No, pleasant wasn’t quite the word. Refresh

ing. Yes, Penelope was refreshing. And exasperating. And impos

sible. And irresistible.

His tune turned quite melancholy, his fi ngers fi nding their

own way upon the keys, reflecting accurately, too accurately his

private thoughts. He knew this to be so because of the very odd

look on Cranleigh’s face.

“You don’t look at all happy to have won this particular

wager.”

“It wasn’t for very much, was it?” Iveston replied.

“Perhaps for more than you yet realize.”

Iveston looked up at Cranleigh and said, “I do realize it,

Cranleigh. Don’t be absurd.”

It was at that moment that Amelia, Cranleigh’s bride, entered

the music room looking as fresh as sunshine in white muslin with

some sort of pattern in blue thread around the hem of her skirts.

She smiled upon seeing her husband. Cranleigh grinned. Iveston

sighed and let the keys reveal his condition.

“Lady Dalby’s just arrived. She’d very much like to see you,

Iveston,” Amelia said.

“I’m not in to Lady Dalby,” Iveston said.

“You should see her,” Cranleigh said, which was a shock.

Cranleigh, for the most part, hated Sophia Dalby, though no

one could quite understand why. If Cranleigh understood why,

he was not forthright about his reasons. Forthright. Only Penel

ope was reliably forthright. Of course, she was also a woman who

had only used him to get another man. That was unforgivable,

288 CLAUDIA DAIN

wasn’t it? Obviously. He was no such man to be used that way.

Ridiculous of her not to realize that.

“I’m not in,” Iveston repeated, his gaze on the keyboard,

watching idly as his fingers moved over the keys, the music rising

to the high ceiling where it was forever trapped until wasting

away to whispers of sound, and then nothing at all.

He heard a few hushed words between Cranleigh and Ame

lia, ignored them, and then the door opened and Sophia Dalby

was admitted, his mother at her side. Words could not express

how profoundly miserable he was at this moment.

“Iveston, do stop that dreadful business at the pianoforte,”

Molly, his mother, said crisply. “I should want to jump into the

Thames if I hear one more melancholy note.”

Iveston left his seat at the pianoforte, lifted his chin, and faced

his mother. As Lady Dalby was smiling at her side, he did not

expect mercy. No, nor did he deserve it.

They sat. The music room had recently been done up in a

rather stunning shade of aqua green silk damask. The instru

ments, golden wood and a bit of gilt here and there, mostly

upon the harp, looked quite good against the pale green. So, too,

did the occupants of the room. Of course, Sophia Dalby looked

good in any room.

“Lady Dalby, what delicious
on dit
do you have for us today?”

Molly asked as Ponsonby, the butler, supervised the bringing in

of tea and cakes.

Cranleigh groaned, and quite audibly, too.

“Cranleigh,” Molly said, a scowl forming between her brows

that was almost an exact match to Cranleigh’s rather famous

scowl, “I do think you should get over this horror you have of

gossip. How is anyone to know anything without someone hav

ing talked about it? Certainly I don’t wish anyone ill, but I must

know what is going on in Society. How else am I to avoid offend

ing someone if I step into a posthole of my own ignorance?”

How to Daz zle a Duke

289

“Quite right,” Cranleigh said, nodding fractionally. “It would

be entirely possible for you to insult, why, even our dear

Iveston.”

“Oh, don’t be absurd. Iveston never does anything,” Molly

said on a bark of annoyance. It was perfectly clear that she had

meant her statement as a compliment.

“I do think you can’t have heard of his latest adventure into

Society, Molly,” Sophia said, pulling off a glove to take a cup of

tea from Molly’s hand. On her right hand she wore a ruby ring

of impressive size surrounded by seed pearls. It made a stunning

statement against her white gown and white kid gloves. “Lord

Iveston has won quite a wager. Everyone in Town had a pound

or two in it. It’s all anyone is talking about. You hadn’t heard?”

“No,” Molly said, staring first at Iveston and then at Cran

leigh. “I had not heard the fi rst word.”

Molly, born and bred in Boston, of petite frame and iron

spine, was not a woman to cross. A mother of six sons, fi ve liv

ing, she had the temperament and the inclination to deal with

any infraction as fully as she saw fi t. She often saw fi t. Not a one

of her five sons cared to find himself on the wrong side of her; as

to that, neither did her husband, the fourth Duke of Hyde.

“It was a small matter, mostly between myself and Cranleigh,”

Iveston said, refusing a cup of tea with a wave of his hand.

“Mostly? How modest you are, Lord Iveston,” Sophia said

pleasantly. “Surely you are fully aware that White’s book is nearly

in tatters because of this small wager.”

“Did you wager on it?” Cranleigh asked her.

Sophia smiled, her dark eyes twinkling. “I’m the better by

twenty-six pounds, Lord Cranleigh. And you? How much did

you lose?”

“Perhaps I won. Did you consider that?” Cranleigh said.

“Of course I considered it, but as the wager, at least the report

I had of it, was that you wagered that Lord Iveston should not be

290 CLAUDIA DAIN

able to win any sort of attention from the lovely Miss Prest

wick, and as he has done so much more than that with her, I did

think you must have lost. Was I wrong?”