The Perfect Rake (11 page)

It was an outrageous thing to say, especially when she could still feel the imprint of his mouth on hers. And the taste of him. Prudence glanced from his dancing eyes to the long strong hand lightly clasping her arm.

He was quite incorrigible.

And impossibly charming. But she would
not
be charmed for the amusement of a lighthearted rake! “Oh, will you release me!” she said crossly.

“No, never, my heart. I never release my betrotheds,” he said soulfully.

“Oh stop it! I told you the truth!” she snapped, tugging unsuccessfully at her arm. She turned to the duke and explained hastily, “I am deeply sorry for the imposition, Your Grace. For the last four and a half years I truly
have
been betrothed—to a man called Phillip Otterbury and Lord Carradice knows why I was unable to tell my great-uncle about it!” She tugged again to free her hand from Lord Carradice’s grasp. “Now, will you let me go!” And with that, she swung her reticule at his head for the fourth time.

Gideon was better prepared this time. Releasing her arm, he ducked, and the cardboard sarcophagus bounced harmlessly off his shoulder. He looked up, laughing, to see her storming out of the house with not a backward glance. A moment later he heard the front door slam.

“That,” the duke said thoughtfully, “is a most unusual young lady.”

Gideon grimaced ruefully. “She is indeed.”

“I don’t believe I have ever seen a female repulse you so decidedly.”

“No.” Gideon rubbed his jaw.

“I find it rather refreshing.”

“Yes, well, you would. It is that perverse streak in the Penteiths.”

The duke smiled absentmindedly. “I collect that despite the farrago of nonsense her elderly relative was spouting, your acquaintance with the girl is of recent duration.”

Gideon chuckled and glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Yes, recent is the word. I would say I’ve known Miss Prudence Merridew for all of about forty minutes.”

The duke arched an eyebrow. “She is not one of your…er…”

Gideon laughed again. “Oh, good Lord, no, she is not one of my
ers
. You should know better than that, Edward. My
ers
may be many and various, but they are never young innocents and without doubt Miss Prudence is a young innocent. Besides, no self-respecting
er
would dream of enacting such a ludicrous scene.”

The duke nodded. “Yes, I thought she was not your usual type. Do you…ah, have an interest in her yourself, Gideon?”

Gideon looked blank for a moment. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He frowned, thought for a minute, opened his mouth again, then closed it. Then he shrugged carelessly. “You know I have no interest in innocents.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure,” Gideon snapped, irritated. “Why do you ask?”

“If you have no interest in her, I may decide to pursue my acquaintance with Miss Merridew.”

Gideon glanced up sharply. “Good God, why?”

“Have you so soon forgotten the reason for my trip to London?”

Gideon scowled, crossed one long leg over the other, and smoothed the fabric of his buff pantaloons with elaborate care. “Of course not. You have dragged yourself away from your beloved moors and mountains with some ludicrous desire to thrust your head into a matrimonial noose.”

Edward smiled gently. “If I choose properly, it will be no noose.”

Gideon snorted. “Properly! How can you choose properly? How can anyone—man or woman—choose properly? Do you and I not have the evidence of our own lives that marriage is no safe choice for anyone—man or woman?”

“Yes, but—”

“No one knows what they are getting themselves into when they wed. The mere notion of choice is one of fate’s nastier jokes.”

“Yes, perhaps, but still it must be done.”

Gideon snorted.

“Mine is an ancient name, Cousin. There is that and the dukedom to be considered. My own wishes and fears are unimportant by comparison. I have a duty to marry. So do you, though I know you have set your mind against it.”

Gideon snorted again. “Duty!”

The duke continued, “So far as choosing a wife is concerned, I have thought the matter over very carefully, in order that I may minimize the risk. Naturally, I do not want a beautiful bride—we both know why. A plain and convenient bride will suit me, someone I can simply be friends with. If there are no strong emotions on either side, all risks will be minimized. Besides, beautiful women make me nervous.”

Gideon frowned. “Yes, I know. So why do you speak of pursuing an acquaintance with Miss Merridew?”

The duke looked at his cousin in surprise. “She is no beauty, at any rate.”

Gideon sat up. “What? She’s no commonplace society belle, I’ll grant you that, but—”

“Indeed, quite the contrary. I find her most comfortably ordinary.”

“Ordinary?”
Gideon was disgusted. “Good God, man! What the devil’s the matter with you? You said yourself she was refreshingly unusual.”

“Yes, of course,” Edward murmured in a bland voice. “I mean ordinary looking. Almost plain.”

“Plain! Is there something wrong with your eyes? She’s not the slightest bit plain! Those eyes, that smile, that hair—from top to toe, Prudence Merridew is a rare little gem!”

“A gem, you say?” The duke observed his cousin thoughtfully and smiled. “Quite. I phrased it badly. At any rate, she doesn’t make me nervous.”

“More fool you, then.” Gideon rubbed his head feelingly. “She makes me damned nervous! Never know what the chit is going to do next.” He subsided into a chair with a faint, reminiscent grin.

Edward steepled his fingers carefully and said, “She seemed to have an interest in dukes. I see no reason why I should not allow her to pursue it.”

Gideon looked narrowly at his cousin. “I wouldn’t refine too much upon it, if I were you. I cannot be sure whether she thinks she wishes to marry a duke, or whether she wishes
not
to marry a duke, but whatever it is, you shall put her from your mind forthwith, Edward.”

“Oh, but if she is interested in dukes, what a happy coincidence. I am a duke, after all, come to London to further my acquaintance with the female sex. It was your idea, Gideon, if you recall.”

“I must have been castaway at the time.”

“Miss Merridew is the only female I have met in London so far.”

“That shall soon be remedied.”

“And since she is refreshingly unlike the females I have met in the past, I think I should call on her and Sir Oswald this afternoon.”

“It is a very bad idea,” Gideon said firmly.

“Why?”

Gideon groped for an acceptable reason why his very wealthy, very eligible cousin should not make a respectable call on an unmarried lady of the ton in the company of her great-uncle.

“I believe her to be deranged,” he said finally.

The duke’s mouth twitched, but he responded solemnly, “Ah. You think so?”

Gideon stood up and took several paces around the room. “Well, of course she is! She comes here, uninvited, at the crack of dawn—”

“Half-past nine.”

“Exactly! The crack of dawn! Claiming to be betrothed to
you!
Then she mistakes me for you—and then, as soon as her great-uncle arrives, she rails at me for a faithless beast, snatches up my tailor’s bills, rips them up in my face, and dashes them into the fire. Finally, not to be outdone, she stages a faint, and when I save her from falling and try to resuscitate her—what does she do? Biffs me over the ear with a hideous miniature Egyptian coffin that weighs a ton, announces she is engaged to some other blasted fellow, and storms out!”

There was a short silence as both men recalled the scene.

“Yes,” agreed the duke calmly. “As I said, refreshingly unusual.”

The cousins glanced at each other and, as one, collapsed into laughter. After a time, the duke rang for coffee to be brought in.

They drank it in silence, each man pondering the events of the morning. Gideon could not stop thinking about the kisses he had stolen from Miss Prudence Merridew. Or rather, his own reaction to them. For a few seconds, he’d felt like a callow boy, out of his depth, stirred more deeply by a simple kiss from an unknown girl than anything had ever stirred him before.

It drew him like a magnet. It fascinated him. It terrified him.

“Another cup, Gideon?”

With difficulty, Gideon forced himself back into the present. “Not for me, thank you.” He yawned. “I’m for my bed. I shall see you this evening. We go to…where is it?” He frowned and then pulled a face. “Oh Lord, yes! Almack’s.”

“No, Almack’s is tomorrow night,” the Duke reminded him. “I have a little time yet before I must gird my loins, screw my courage to the sticking place, and offer myself up to the matchmaking mamas at Almack’s.”

“Shakespeare at the crack of dawn!” Gideon shuddered. “Vile habit. And if you had any consideration, Cousin mine, you would not mention matchmaking mamas.”

“You need not go to Almack’s if you don’t care for it.”

“I don’t care for it at all, as you very well know, but we do need to go there. You want to meet eligible young ladies and Almack’s is stuffed to the ceiling with them!”

“Indeed, but I don’t need you to hold my hand, you know. I am quite capable of braving the terrors of the marriage mart by myself, though it is kind of you to offer. Besides, I may not need to brave Almack’s at all. I told you, I have a mind to further my acquaintance with Miss Prudence Merridew,” said the duke guilelessly and lifted his coffee cup to his lips.

Gideon frowned. “Miss Prudence Merridew wouldn’t suit you at all! You say you want a nice, steady, plain, quiet girl. She’s none of those. And she has a frightful temper. You should have seen the way she ripped into me only for offering an aesthetic judgment on that blasted ugly reticule, all because the damned thing was made by her little sister. I mean, if I had a sister who perpetuated such artistic atrocities, I wouldn’t go around brandishing them in public, let alone attacking harmless fellows for the crime of being honest.”

Edward chuckled.

Gideon shook his head earnestly. “No, no—you may laugh, but Edward, be warned! The girl might have a sweet face and a bucket load of charm, but underneath she’s a regular little shrew. Whereas”—he gestured with one hand like a stage magician producing a rabbit from a hat—“there are
dozens
of females at Almack’s, most of them nice, steady, quiet girls, some as dull as ditchwater, if that’s what you really want. And since you have no desire for a beautiful bride—and I don’t at all blame you for that!—I can even introduce you to some positive antidotes, if you want! And almost all of the girls at Almack’s will be plainer, richer, and altogether more eligible for your purposes than Miss Prudence Merridew!”

“Oh, I am not such a high stickler.” The duke smiled tranquilly. “And I don’t care for an antidote for a bride. No, Miss Prudence Merridew is…interesting. And you know, I formed the impression that she would like to marry a duke, so if I can avoid hurling myself into the fray of the marriage mart—”

“She has no idea of what she wants!” snapped Gideon. “And neither do you. She is not the woman for you, Edward!”

The duke clapped his hands. “Famous! I never thought to see this moment! And to think I always considered London to be so dull. Oh, Cousin mine, how the mighty are fallen!”

Gideon rolled his eyes. “Pah! You know I am not in the market for a wife. I have no taste for marriage, duty or not. I might, perhaps, indulge myself in a mild flirtation, but that is all. And you know perfectly well I do not make sport of youthful innocents.”

His cousin inclined his head. “I do know it, dear boy. That is what makes the whole thing so very interesting.”

Gideon scowled, but said nothing. Edward was wrong. Nobody had fallen anywhere. She might have stirred him unexpectedly but he was not going to pursue the matter. He did not need to be stirred. He did not wish to be stirred. He was content with his life as it was. To further his acquaintance with Miss Prudence Merridew would be courting disaster. He was far too sensible to do that.

“And then, of course, there is the Otterbury factor,” added the duke.

“You believed her?” Gideon said scornfully. “A moment before, she was claiming to be betrothed to the Duke of Dinstable, and you know how genuine that was! This is just another one of her faradiddles.”

The duke shrugged. “Sounded genuine to me. Certain note of conviction in her voice.”

“Nonsense! She was just putting me in my place.”

“Yes.” The duke smiled, adding, “It worked, too, didn’t it?”

Gideon shoved his hands in his pockets, crossed his legs at the ankle and glowered at his gleaming Hessian boots. It had worked, dammit. Their little sparring match had stirred his blood. No woman had ever repulsed him so vigorously, particularly after being kissed, and he had to admit he was intrigued. Or he might have been if he wasn’t being sensible.

The duke chuckled. “I don’t believe she pulled that name out of a hat. One doesn’t keep names like Otterbury in hats. Sounded to me like it burst out of her like…like some secret she’s been keeping for a long time. Perhaps for four long years.”

“Four and a half.” Gideon scowled and hunched down in his chair. There was substance to what his cousin said. Otterbury. She had tossed the name down like a gauntlet and stormed out. Could she really be betrothed to a man called Otterbury? Not that he was interested, of course. Merely curious, as anyone might be.

Otterbury must be completely ineligible. A cit, perhaps? Someone hopelessly below her in station. Whatever his station, he had to be someone damned special for a woman like Prudence Merridew to wait for him for four and a half years…

The duke rose and patted his cousin’s cheek provocatively as he passed. “Sweet dreams, dearest Coz.”

“Damn your eyes, Edward!” responded Gideon absentmindedly.

The duke left, chuckling softly.

Gideon, lost in thought, stared at his boots.

Chapter Six

“I hope you do not think me prone to an iteration of nuptials.”

W
ILLIAM
C
ONGREVE