How to Dazzle a Duke (17 page)

are all clearly imbeciles.” And here she stopped herself. Barely.

“For wanting to marry a man like me?” he finished, his voice

as soft as eiderdown.

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117

“I make no presumptions as to what sort of man you are or

would be as a husband,” she said, staring at the room behind

him, clearly just now aware of how shrewish she had appeared.

Miss Prestwick’s voice carried quite well when she was impas

sioned. An interesting tidbit he filed away for later consideration.

“I only remark upon my observations as to the man you appear

to be today.”

“Caustic observations,” he said.

“As least mine were observations. Your remarks were accusa

tions, and equally caustic,” she said, taking a shallow breath and

pressing her lips together. She had quite a lovely mouth, now that

he thought about it. “I can’t think how we came to near blows,

Lord Iveston. I have no animosity toward you, but I think you

must agree that I was provoked most unfairly.”

“If I must, I must,” he murmured.

Did she realize how often she made pronouncements and

edicts? Likely not. Women never did realize those sorts of

things, the very things that made them unattractive to men. The

question now to be faced was why he didn’t find her unattractive.

With every impassioned word out of her lovely little mouth he

found himself more and more intrigued. She wasn’t the least bit in

awe of him. The only other female he could think of who wasn’t a

bit intimidated by him was his mother. And Sophia, but he really

couldn’t put Sophia in the same class as a virginal young woman

out in Society looking for a titled husband. And Penelope was

looking for a husband, that much was obvious. She’d be a fool if

she wasn’t, and at least by her own definition, she was no fool.

“Would we really have come to blows, Miss Prestwick?” he

asked. “I do suppose you would assume that I’d call Cranleigh in

to fight for me, but in this instance, I do think I should like to

fend for myself. A tussle, Miss Prestwick. To tussle with you. How

do you think I’d fare?”

She smiled, which did show such a basically amiable nature

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that he smiled in return. She was marvelous fun to tease. “I think,

Lord Iveston, that I’d not disgrace myself.”

“Miss Prestwick, do I hear a chiding note? Dare I think that

you believe I would disgrace myself?”

“Lord Iveston, you are very much maligned, I think, to be so

sensitive as to your abilities. For good cause, one must but won

der,” she countered, smirking at him, “have you been often

trounced? I find it difficult to fathom. You would outreach all

your opponents, but perhaps it is your very nature which de

feats you? Are you not a fighter, Lord Iveston? Perhaps it is that

you lack not the experience but the need, for who would attempt

Hyde’s heir?”

“You are, aren’t you, Miss Prestwick?” he countered. “I think

you are brawling with me even now, using your very quick tongue

as a sharp weapon when all I have is my long arms. What can I

do with long arms in this instance, Miss Prestwick? I lack the

swiftness of tongue you demonstrate so well. Propriety forbids

me from explaining, let alone demonstrating, what tongues and

arms may do when employed together.”

He didn’t know where that had come from. It was quite be

yond the pale. It wasn’t at all like him to taunt and tease a woman,

and certainly not a virginal one, but there was something so very

prim and superior and forthright about Penelope that he found

he couldn’t resist. What were her limits? How far could he go and

how would she respond? All he knew without doubt was that she

would respond unlike any other woman of his acquaintance. And

that alone charmed him.

She didn’t seem to want him. It was most peculiar of her,

as well as being somewhat relaxing. His guard was down and

he found it strangely refreshing. As well as more than a little

insulting.

Of course there was the wager, but it was a paltry thing. He

didn’t care what Cranleigh, or anyone else, thought of him or her

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119

or the lack of interest on her part. What did it matter? In a week,

at best, it would be forgotten forever.

But he knew even now that he would not forget. How could

he? She was his first, rejection, that is, and a man didn’t forget

his first. No, not quite rejection, nothing so strong as that, but

something almost infinitely worse. Little Miss Prestwick was not

even bothering to look him over.

How utterly inexplicable.

He considered her as she considered him, his most inappro

priate words hanging in the air between them. She didn’t look

especially alarmed, though she was looking at him more intently

than she had yet done. He found he enjoyed it.

“Lord Iveston,” she said, staring boldly into his eyes, “I do

think your nature betrays you yet again. My initial impression

was that you are not a fighter, and now I find myself adding that

you are also not a lover. If a man is neither a lover nor a fi ghter,

what is left for him to be?”

“A duke,” he said, smiling at her response. Miss Prestwick was

a fighter. What next but to wonder if she was also a lover?

What was wrong with him? He never behaved this way be

fore today. Of course, he’d never met Penelope Prestwick before

today.

“When a man is a duke, all else becomes inconsequential,”

she said, smiling. “I see you have your priorities well established

and have nothing to fear and, indeed, no action or inaction to

defend.”

“You are not angry,” he said, studying her. “I have not be

haved as I ought, said things I’ve never before said, yet you are

not angry. Why is that, Miss Prestwick? Is it because I am to be

a duke?”

“I’m sure that’s part of it,” she said, with a brief smile. “I think

it is only that you have surprised me, Lord Iveston. I have not

had many conversations with men, aside from my brother of

120 CLAUDIA DAIN

course, of such openness in both content and expression. I’ve

enjoyed myself. I hope you have as well.”

She was comparing him to her brother?

“I have, Miss Prestwick,” he said softly.

Her brother?

“In the spirit of openness, and finding you not at all what I

expected,” she said, looking around the room behind him in the

most careful manner, “I wonder if I may continue on in like man

ner, asking something of a minor favor of you.”

“Minor favors often have very long strings,” he said.

“Oh, no, not at all,” she said with some firmness. “It is only

that it would be so very convenient if you could, please, continue

on being quite attentive to me.”

He was puffing with pleasure before the word
convenient

pricked all pleasure of out him.

“Convenient, Miss Prestwick? I’m afraid I don’t under

stand you.”

“It is only that, I have found that the surest way to gain male

attention is to have one male lead the way, as it were. I was only

hoping that you might not find it inconvenient to lead the way,

only for a time, until I gain the attention of the man I would not

be at all displeased to marry. It would be the smallest of acts,

Lord Iveston, and I do believe you have all the necessary skills

to be convincing. If it would be no trouble?”

It took no effort at all to understand her words, obviously. No,

the trouble was in believing them. Was this some ploy to haul

him into marriage?

By the very earnest look in her dark eyes, it was not.

What was left was worse. She wanted him . . . no, no, that was

the problem. She didn’t want him at all. She wanted him to act

as a lure to other, more desirable men. One man in particular,

no doubt. A woman who had worked up a plan like this already

had a man in mind. And it wasn’t him.

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121

By God, why wasn’t it him?

He had no desire to marry her, obviously, why should he, but

if she had the wit to entertain a single thought in her head, she

should want to marry
him
. Perfectly obvious, wasn’t it? It had

been obvious all his life. He’d been outrunning and outmaneu

vering mamas and their avid daughters for well over ten years.

What was wrong with
this
woman? Certainly there was nothing

wrong with him.

“I assure you, Lord Iveston,” she said against the wall of his

shock and silence, “there will be nearly nothing at all for you to

do. A conversation here and there, a dance or two over the course

of the Season, nothing much beyond normal discourse between

two unmarried people enjoying their Season in Town.”

“Nothing much beyond? Yet something beyond,” he managed

to say. “How else to work the trick, Miss Prestwick?”

“It is not a trick!” she flared. “It is nothing like. It is only that

men behave in certain ways and respond to certain prompts.”

“Like trained dogs,” he said crisply.

“Rather like untrained dogs,” she snapped back, her eyes

flashing. “Even you must admit that men follow certain signals,

particularly where women are concerned.”

“Even I? Because even a dullard such as I must have experi

enced these signals? And what are these signals, Miss Prestwick?

Half-wit that I am, I must have them spelled out for me.”

“Oh, don’t be cross. It is just like a man to be cross when his

little mysteries are exposed.”

“My mystery is not little,” he said stiffl y.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Never mind,” he said, standing at his most rigid posture.

“The signals, Miss Prestwick? I live to be enlightened.”

“You know them, surely, Lord Iveston. I’ve come to think

they are almost instinctual in a man, rather like the migration of

geese in the autumn. Where one man of distinction goes, others

122 CLAUDIA DAIN

will soon follow. Men do tend to cluster around objects of interest

to them. I only ask, as a man of distinction, if you would mind

very much clustering around me for a bit, to give the other men

a chance to follow your lead?”

He knew very well that she did not truly think of him as a

man of distinction. If she did, she wouldn’t have discounted him

in her husband hunt, would she? Of course she wouldn’t. It was

a sop to his pride, and a poorly executed one, too.

Still, she did have a point about men and clustering. It was

only remarkable in that she hadn’t understood the obvious

point that it wasn’t that they clustered to be in the same group,

but that they each found the same things desirable. Did Miss

Prestwick think of men as nothing better than sheep?

The answer was obvious, insultingly so.

When one had any sort of discourse with Penelope Prestwick,

one was required to put away antiquated notions of what consti

tuted an insult.

6

“I think I ought to be insulted,” the Duke of Edenham said to

Sophia. The occupants of the room had shifted again, with the

notable exception of Iveston and Penelope Prestwick, who re

mained nearly huddled in the far corner of the room next to the

door to the dining room. Ruan was speaking with John, Markham

was talking to George Prestwick, George Grey was talking to

Cranleigh, Young and Matthew were standing together and talk

ing to no one.

“If you have to think about it,” Sophia said, “I don’t think it

possible that you are truly insulted. But, because I am, if nothing

else, a courteous and gracious hostess, what, darling Edenham,

has upset you?”

They were sitting on the matching sofas in front of the fi re,

the room gone quite dark now as it was past dusk and it was still

How to Daz zle a Duke

123

raining. The candles struggled against the gloom, fl ickering se

ductively in the shadows, dancing against the darkness. It was a

most unusual time of day to be entertaining, but what was she to

do? Throw them all out upon the street? No, too much of interest

was happening right now in her little salon. Such a surprise, re

ally, as she had anticipated none of it. A London Season had a

way of doing that, which was one reason why they all paid such

a dear price to enjoy it.

“I thought you said Miss Prestwick was mine for the taking,”

Edenham said. He did not look at all upset, mind you, he merely

looked slighted in that precise way men had of looking when

every woman in the room did not fall into a dead faint at their

feet. “She hardly looks it, does she? She’s been nearly entwined

with Iveston in the corner for fi fteen minutes now.”

“But, darling, does she look happy about it?”

“She hardly looks miserable.”

Edenham, for all that he had already had three wives and had

accomplished two children out of them, was, for a man of his

mature years, a most insecure man. Of course, it was his three

wives and two children who were most responsible for his feeling

insecure. Certainly there could be no other cause. He was hand