How to Dazzle a Duke (23 page)

most noble effort on his part not to call attention to this highly

unusual conversation. Of course, it would be all over the room

in a quarter hour, but the effort, the nicety of it, was a thing worth

noting.

“That sounds a most logical conclusion, Miss Prestwick,”

Iveston said, “but I do wonder if you have the required experi

ence to make it.”

“Required experience? What can that mean, Lord Iveston?”

she said, moving her truly lovely ivory-bladed fan a bit more

briskly. “What sort of experience could possibly be required of

a properly reared, unmarried woman?”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Lady Lanreath said, taking her sister,

Lady Paignton, who did look quite ready to respond to Miss

Prestwick’s question with what was certain to have been a most

entertaining reply, by the arm, quite firmly, too. “I must intro

duce Bernadette to an old acquaintance of mine.”

Bernadette did not look at all eager to leave either George

Grey or Lord Penrith, but off she went, with a sultry look for both

of them, or it might have been all of them as George Blakesley

did not appear to be completely immune to sultry looks that

happened upon him. Sophia watched for Antoinette’s response

to George Blakeley’s response, and could not see any response at

all. Which did not mean everything, but surely must mean some

thing.

“As you are clearly a properly reared, unmarried woman,”

Sophia said, “it is quite impossible to explain it more fully, Miss

Prestwick. You simply, and most appealingly, lack the requisite

experience.”

Penelope did not look at all pleased at Sophia’s insertion into

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the conversation. And who could blame the girl? She, like any

reasonable woman, wanted to keep all male attention fi rmly on

herself and was clearly prepared to do or say anything, or nearly

anything, to make that happen.

Eyeing Penelope more closely, and truly studying the gleam in

her dark eyes, Sophia amended her position. Penelope Prestwick

looked prepared to do anything at all to attain her goal, which

was quite clever of her, wasn’t it?

“Yet as you have asked about the wagers,” Penrith continued,

looking askance at Sophia in what was to be assumed was a con

spiratorial effort, “I must tell you, Miss Prestwick, that not only

is there a wager that you will marry the Duke of Edenham, but

also one that you shall soon marry the Marquis of Iveston. I

presume you know of it, Lord Iveston?”

Iveston, to his immense credit, did not so much as blink. “As

I am the author of the wager, I most definitely know of it,” he said

calmly. “I had, however, not anticipated making my suit to Miss

Prestwick here, now, and under such unusual conditions. I will,

however, not allow unusual conditions to hinder me. Miss Prest

wick,” he said, looking down at her from his very attractive

height, “shall we take a turn about the room?”

Penelope looked at Iveston quite brightly; indeed, her cheeks

looked nearly flushed. “To what purpose, Lord Iveston?”

“To win my wager, Miss Prestwick, what else?”

What else? Why to seduce her, if he had any skill at all.

Sophia smiled just thinking of it.

Thirteen

PENELOPE barely kept her grin in check. George, her George,

looked quite prepared to make a fuss of some sort, as if being a

bit daring were not required to snare her duke for life, and by her

duke, she obviously was thinking of Edenham. Iveston might be

looking down at her quite jovially and she might be smiling up

at him quite demurely, but it was all for Edenham. Who had not

yet arrived. Still, he couldn’t fail to hear about the wagers and

Iveston’s clear fascination with her.

How remarkably duplicitous he was; she wouldn’t have

thought Iveston had it in him. He certainly gave every appear

ance of being nearly captivated by her, which was perfection

itself, if only Edenham were here to witness it. The question now

remaining was whether Iveston could keep his performance in

top form for the rest of the evening. As to that, the question was

also whether she could keep herself looking at Iveston in any

thing approaching fascination.

Although, strangely, she wasn’t finding it as difficult as she

had anticipated.

He was not an unattractive man, not physically. He was quite

164 CLAUDIA DAIN

well put together, actually, and his eyes were truly an intriguing

shade of blue. Even his manner was becoming less irksome the

more time she spent in his company. Wouldn’t Edenham

be pleased that she had a friend in the future Duke of Hyde?

Alliances of that sort, the most innocent and socially appropri

ate sort, were always to be desired, were they not? Wasn’t

it very clever of her to have knitted the Hyde dukedom and

the Edenham dukedom into a pleasant bond of even the most

casual sort?

Of course, having it on White’s book for all posterity that she

had been wagered to marry one or the other of them wasn’t

precisely a casual sort of bond. And, by the look glimmering

beneath Iveston’s placid demeanor, he was thinking some

thing along those very same lines.

He had to be told the reason for the Edenham wager, and she

was the only one to do it. It would not be a pleasant duty, but as

Iveston was a relatively pleasant, if odd, man, she was fully pre

pared to face him. In fact, the sooner he understood everything,

the better.

It was for that reason alone that she said, “Why, Lord Iveston,

in the spirit of fair play, I do think you and I may walk about

the room. I would hate to deprive you of the opportunity to win

your wager.”

Iveston’s blond eyebrows raised quizzically. George, her

George, sighed heavily, which sounded nearly like a moan.

George, Sophia’s George, grinned, which did nothing for her com

posure. George, Iveston’s George, pressed his lips together and

studied her with rather more attention than was warranted. It

wasn’t warranted, was it?

What had she said? That she was trying to help Iveston win

his wager, that’s all. What was wrong with that? It was a very

reasonable, very fair-minded position, wasn’t it? Of course,

she was going to marry Edenham, but shouldn’t she at least give

How to Daz zle a Duke

165

the appearance of being open to being wooed? How else to get

Edenham into the halter? As to that, what other men had Iveston

arranged for her? She needed at least three to give a good cluster

ing effect, though five would be ideal. Anything more than

five and she knew she couldn’t manage it. Six or more men at

once were quite beyond her abilities, and she was practical

enough to admit it. She needed to make that clear to Lord Iveston

as well. Really, she had so much to discuss with him. They

needed to make a circuit of the room immediately.

“In the spirit of winning, I shall agree with you, Miss

Prestwick. You are most gracious,” Iveston said, with a casually

delivered bow.

Avoiding looking into Sophia’s clearly amused gaze, Penelope

smiled with as much innocence as she could manage and began

her circuit of the room, Lord Iveston at her side.

They were watched, obviously. But, in the spirit of London

Society and the ton’s intense curiosity over anything even re

motely scandalous, they were not approached. Who wanted to

stop the drama? Not a one of them.

Penelope understood them completely. She was one of them,

after all, and as attuned to a good scandal as the next person.

Perhaps more. She was very observant, after all.

“Imagine my surprise, Miss Prestwick,” Iveston said just as

she was opening her mouth to tell him all she expected of him

in the next few days, “to discover a wager on the book that you

would marry Edenham this Season. I thought it was your ex

press wish to not taunt the duke in that precise way, given that it

could reflect so poorly on you.”

“Poorly on me? That is not at all what I said, Lord Iveston,”

she said, lifting her chin and smiling distractedly at Lady Paign

ton, who was watching them most avidly. Such a disagreeable

woman. Why, she was nearly falling out of her dress.

“Isn’t it? That’s what I heard you to say,” Iveston said, taking

166 CLAUDIA DAIN

her rather firmly by the arm and nearly pulling her about the

room. She cast a glance at his face.

He did not look any different than he normally did, though

perhaps a bit more contained. As he was rather known for being

contained, she was not at all certain how she was able to make

the distinction in degree, but she was. Iveston was annoyed. Per

haps more than annoyed. Enraged?

Ridiculous. A man of his retiring nature didn’t have the nec

essary spirit to engage in anything as energetic as rage.

Or passion.

Where had that thought come from? It was most inappropri

ate and entirely off the point. She cared nothing for Iveston’s

passion or rage, or more truly said, lack of either, or both. Very

likely both.

She looked at him again, this time with more force, and was

nearly astonished to see that the area just below his earlobe and

just above the folds of his snowy cravat was chalk white. She had

discovered that men, when annoyed or enraged or anything in

between, had the tendency to go either red or white in their

physical responses. Iveston was clearly a white. Her father was a

red. Her brother was also a red. She, being a woman of remark

able composure and therefore with no occasion to be either an

noyed or enraged, did neither. Her complexion was as constant

as her composure.

But just looking at that tiny splash of white on his pale skin

did arouse the smallest degree of curiosity. How far down did

that miniscule display of broken composure descend? To his

neck? To his throat? As a matter of scientific discovery, surely

it was a logical question. Did Iveston even know that he was

sporting a telltale mark of white? Would he care that she had

seen it?

Of course he would.

How to Daz zle a Duke

167

And that, for entirely inexplicable reasons, made her smile.

“Find this all very amusing, do you?” he said under his

breath.

“Not at all. I merely have a cordial nature. Unlike others I

could name.”

“Go ahead. Name them,” he said. “I should like very much to

hear your entire list.”

“My entire list of what?”

“Whom, Miss Prestwick. List of whom. I should like to know

precisely which men you intend to cajole into offering for you,

by way of White’s book, of course. That does seem to be your

method, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve never cajoled anyone into doing anything in my life,”

she said on a huff of outrage. Of all the insults! As if she would

stoop to such asinine behavior. Did he think her no better than

a shopkeeper’s assistant, trying to cajole the baker’s boy into

marriage?

Iveston looked down at her with a very superior air and said,

“Trust you to be insulted by being accused of cajolery.”

“I can see that no one has ever accused you of it. It’s demean

ing in the extreme, Lord Iveston. As if, why, as if I cannot form

a logical thought and see it to fruition.”

“Thoughts do not come to fruition, Miss Prestwick. Actions,

however, do,” he said, tugging her around the room. They looked

perfectly ridiculous; she was certain of it. “You have set many ac

tions into play. How do you propose to pick all the fruit that shall

surely come of it? And by fruit, of course I mean husbands.”

“I only require one husband, Lord Iveston, as must be per

fectly obvious, even to you.”

She winced slightly as the words left her mouth. Bother it, but

if one wanted to be very particular about it, and she was quite

certain that Iveston was in a very particular frame of mind at the

168 CLAUDIA DAIN

moment, one could take her remark as being slightly, but only

slightly, insulting. She glanced up at him.

The white spot below his ear had grown slightly and was now

very defi nitely trailing down below his cravat.

It was utterly fascinating. And what else to think but that she

was making progress of a sort? She did enjoy making progress,

in any endeavor. She wasn’t at all fussy about that.

“As to that, Miss Prestwick, I should say it’s not obvious to me

or to anyone else,” Iveston gritted out, nodding politely at Mrs.

Anne Warren, who was standing next to her betrothed, Lord

Staverton. Staverton and Mrs. Warren nodded in reply, but said

nothing. How could they? Iveston was nearly dragging her

around the room. “As there are two wagers on White’s book, and

as there are two names which appear, and as the odds are cur

rently running in Edenham’s favor, I should think the only thing

that is perfectly obvious is that you have a penchant for making

a spectacle of yourself and that you have arranged for me to be

made a spectacle right alongside you. I, Miss Prestwick, have no