How to Dazzle a Duke (40 page)

Cranleigh was silent and glaring.

Iveston was silent and sullen.

Neither one of them dared a look at their mother.

“Who did you hear this from, Sophia?” Molly asked.

“Why, from Lord Iveston. He confessed it freely to both the

Duke of Edenham and Miss Prestwick. I was standing right

there. As was Lady Richard. The poor girl was taken quite by

shock, if I am any judge.”

“
Oh!
” Amelia said, her blue eyes looking quite accusatory.

Cranleigh looked like he wanted to crawl under the rug. Little

doubt Molly would beat them both with a broom if they at

tempted any sort of escape now. “In front of Edenham? And

Lady Richard rarely goes out. It could hardly have been comfort

able for her, let alone poor Miss Prestwick.”

“
Poor
Miss Prestwick can take care of herself,” Iveston

burst out.

“Quite obviously she cannot!” Molly said, bristling, her eyes

gone quite steely grey. “I did think my sons had better manners

than to engage in wagers concerning virginal young girls in So

ciety. I would have thought that, with your natural advantages,

you would have seen fit to treat others, particularly the
weaker

vessel
, with far more care than I have seen witnessed here this

Season!” Molly was working herself into quite a rage. Iveston

and Cranleigh closed their mouths and endured it. It was not

wrong to state that they believed they had it coming. “First Blakes

pulls Louisa into a closet in my own house, with half of London

pressed against the door, ruining a girl of good lineage, though

her father is a lout. Then you, Cranleigh”—Cranleigh’s ears turned

a bit red along the outer edge—“abscond with poor Amelia into

a conservatory and do something entirely dreadful to her dress,

How to Daz zle a Duke

291

ruining her gown and very nearly the girl, and now you, Iveston,

of whom I never would have believed it, have done something

scandalous to Miss Prestwick, who I am quite certain did nothing

whatsoever to you!”

Nothing whatsoever?

No, that was wrong. That was most assuredly wrong.

She had done everything to him. Everything. Nothing was

the same now. And never would be again.

“But of course, the wager at White’s was entirely different,

Molly,” Sophia said. “The wager there, one of them, was that

Iveston would marry Miss Prestwick. Of course, I don’t suppose

he should mind losing that wager as it wasn’t for much.”

“How do you know what is on White’s book?” Iveston

asked, his voice nearly hoarse with frustrated . . . what? Rage?

Longing?

Longing?

No, not longing. Longing for what?

Or for whom?

Sophia simply shrugged, her expression entirely unconcerned.

“I find a way to always be aware of what is happening at White’s,

as well as most of the other clubs. How else is a woman to know

what is happening in the world of men and protect herself

accordingly?”

Cranleigh laughed, a short bark of abrupt male laughter.

Iveston felt absolutely no desire to laugh, abruptly or not.

“I should think so,” Molly said, eyeing her sons most severely.

“Why, Miss Prestwick is a perfect example of that. I should say

she had no idea that there was a wager with her name on it, poor

girl. She was clearly defenseless against you, Iveston. What
did

you do to that dear girl?”

“I wasn’t aware that you knew Miss Prestwick,” Iveston said

in reply. Anyone who referred to Penelope as
dear
and
poor
had

clearly never met her.

292 CLAUDIA DAIN

“I don’t,” Molly said. “But I am quite certain that she can have

done nothing to earn such treatment from my sons. Is that not a

true statement?”

Cranleigh looked at Iveston, most suitably abashed.

Iveston took a deep breath and answered, “It is most assur

edly true. Miss Prestwick did nothing. And nothing was done to

her. Nothing . . . alarming.”

“Is that what Miss Prestwick thinks, or is that just wishful

thinking on your part, Lord Iveston?” Sophia said just before she

took a sip of tea, her black eyes shining merrily at him over the

rim of her cup. It was becoming increasingly clear to Iveston why

Cranleigh had such violent thoughts about Sophia Dalby so

often. She could drive a man to anything. Even marriage. Most

especially marriage.

Marriage.
He’d thought of it before now, naturally, always in

terms of how to avoid it. Now, Penelope dragged into something

slightly sordid because of a stupid wager, he found he didn’t have

quite the same determination to avoid it.

He might have to marry her. Just to save her reputation, of

course. She did have a sterling reputation, or had, until the wager,

which had got a bit out of hand, actually.

The poor girl shouldn’t be made to suffer a lifetime on the

shelf simply because of a wager, should she?

Of course not.

He should do the right thing, the honorable thing, and marry

the girl.

If she’d have him.

There was that. She didn’t seem to want him, not in that way.

Of course, she did want him very much in the other way;

there was no hiding that fact, was there?

Iveston found himself smiling for the first time in hours. He

simply had to marry her, didn’t he? Of course he did. He’d ex

plain to her that it was for her own good, to protect her name,

How to Daz zle a Duke

293

and she would see reason, she was rather famous for that, by her

own reckoning, and she would marry him. He was the most

logical choice, wasn’t he?

Of course he was.

“I do think I should ask her, Lady Dalby,” Iveston answered.

“That would be the wisest course. When I return, I shall know

precisely what Miss Prestwick thinks. About everything.”

“I have no doubt of it, Lord Iveston,” Sophia said, taking

another sip of tea.

Molly sniffed in annoyance and said nothing.

Cranleigh laughed again, quite ruefully, too, which was ex

cessively odd, wasn’t it?

Twenty-four

PENELOPE was dressed beautifully in white muslin. The bodice

was cut modestly, but flatteringly, the sleeves fitted snugly and

ending at the elbow. A silk ribbon in scarlet, quite wide, was tied

beneath her bosom, and she was wearing diamond earrings that

resembled Spanish fans. She looked, she was utterly certain, en

chanting. Quite more than enough beauty and allure to tempt

Iveston into ruining her. He seemed on the cusp of it already,

didn’t he?

He certainly did.

Why, given his past experience, all it should take was a single

moment alone and he would be kissing her without restraint.

She could hardly wait. The thing to do, naturally, was to hunt

him down, wherever he might be hiding himself. He was either

at home or at White’s. She did so hope he was at Hyde House for

then she could call on Lady Amelia on the pretext of worrying

about the return of the torn shawl. That would do nicely. It would

give the appearance of courtesy and solicitation when all she was

after was the delicious Lord Iveston’s mouth and hands upon her

person.

How to Daz zle a Duke

295

Not that she’d changed her mind regarding Edenham at all.

Certainly not. He would have made the ideal husband, but as

Iveston, for reasons she could still not work out, had been quicker

off the mark, then Iveston would simply have to do. She did think

he might do rather well.

It was as she was arranging her hair in the hall mirror, ar

ranging a wave to fall just so, that she heard Iveston’s voice and

Hamilton’s reply. With an audible gasp, Penelope hurried to

waylay Hamilton before he could announce Iveston to her father.

She was perfectly capable of driving a man to ruin, but it would

be so much easier and quicker without her father watching on.

Obviously.

Hamilton, with a most odd expression on his normally pleas

ant face, nodded and gave every indication that he would allow

her to see to Lord Iveston. With considerable grace, if she did say

so herself, Penelope greeted Lord Iveston with a deep curtsey,

giving him more than enough time to study her décolleté, and

smiling, waited for him to bow. He did. She then waited for him

to say something. He did not.

Penelope had a very difficult time not rolling her eyes at

Iveston’s obvious backwardness, but she did it. Just. She, clearly,

was going to have to manage this ruination all on her own.

Iveston was, for whatever peculiar reason, going to be obstinate

about it. And of all things! One did think, as one had been taught

certain truths about men from a most early age, that the one

thing a man could manage with almost no thought at all was a

simple ruination of an innocent girl. As she wasn’t precisely or

perfectly innocent, that ought to have made it all simpler. With

Lord Iveston, nothing, not even getting his hand upon her breast

or a fi nger under her hemline, was going to be simple.

Penelope nearly sighed in frustration.

In fact, she did. She was frustrated. Most urgently frustrated.

She could feel it building in her like a flickering wave of burning

296 CLAUDIA DAIN

water, even though she was nearly certain that there was no such

thing as burning water. Certainly she had been more sure of that

yesterday, before Iveston and his silly wager and all those nearly

innocent kisses.

Iveston looked wonderful today. His eyes very blue, his skin

very fair, his hair shining blond. He wore his hair quite short, but

arranged forward, and it did set off his brow, which might have

been the fi nest brow of the present Season.

It was as she was admiring his face that he spoke, quite jerk

ing her out of her reflections. “Miss Prestwick, I fear I may have

caused you some difficulty. I wagered intemperately. I would not

see you hurt by it.”

Oh, yes. Quite fully jerked out of her refl ections.

“Lord Iveston, I should have thought you would have rea

soned it all out before you began. Did you not foresee some

diffi culty?”

“No, not really,” he said.

As the wager, as she gathered, was to make her want him in

some obvious fashion, she could not but find it in excessively

poor taste that he should say such a thing to her face.

“How predictably odd of you,” she said, throwing back her

shoulders just a bit. Of course it did wonderful things for her

bosom, but it also did wonderful things for her resolve. Perhaps

Edenham was not completely out of reach. Perhaps she did not

want Iveston to seduce her.

Iveston also straightened and seemed to nearly glare at her.

It was nearly funny.

“You have forgotten your own wager? Your double wagers,

Miss Prestwick. How could you have hoped to win them both?”

“It should be quite obvious, even to you, that I did not intend

to win them both. I have been entirely honest with you from the

first, Lord Iveston, which you can certainly not say to me. You

were to be a spur, that is all. If I may say so, you did not do an

How to Daz zle a Duke

297

adequate job at all. If you had been paid in coin for such a

shoddy performance, I should very much have demanded a full

refund.”

Iveston was breathing a bit more heavily than she thought

was usual for him. His eyes were cobalt blue, and most impor

tantly of all, he had two white spots on his neck, just below his

very nicely shaped ears. Really, he had quite a cunningly shaped

head and it was quite right of him to keep his hair short, the bet

ter to show it off. It also allowed her to notice whenever she had

said just the precise thing to bring him to white-hot frustration.

Suddenly, she was enjoying herself immensely.

“Perhaps I can do better,” he said quietly.

She had learned that, even though Iveston was usually quiet,

it did not mean he did not experience the full range of emotional

responses. Not at all. In fact, she did begin to think that, at his

most quiet, he was the most fully engaged. Perhaps a bit more

experimentation was due?

Why not?

“To what purpose? The wager is done, the damage as well,”

she said, prodding him. She did think she might have a talent for

it. And she did so love to acquire new talents.

“To prove myself, Pen,” he whispered, taking her arm and

leading her into the closest room, which just happened to be

the conservatory. She would have chosen better, if there had

been a way to do it and still look reluctant. The conservatory

didn’t even have a chair! It was all roses and stone fl oors and

miles and miles of windows. Hardly a place for a seduction. It

wasn’t even dark. Everyone knew that the best seductions hap

pened in the dark. “Or, if that does not serve, so that you may

prove yourself to me.”

“I beg your pardon? Prove myself to you? Whatever for, and

as what, I should like to know. I don’t have anything to prove to