How to Dazzle a Duke (9 page)

Why, the way Sophia said it, it didn’t sound like a fault at all.

How extraordinary.

Five

AN original? Is that what she was? Iveston was more than certain

she was the most ordinary of things: a woman looking for a hus

band. In this instance, the Duke of Edenham. It was more than

obvious, wasn’t it? She had that look about her. Putting on that

pretty, smiling, insipid creature that all women became when a

likely man was in the room.

Of course, Miss Prestwick was mauling the whole thing badly.

She was forever saying the wrong thing, wasn’t she? Couldn’t

seem to help herself, poor lamb, and if he were any sort of gentle

man, he’d feel some sympathy for her, perhaps even help her

along with a friendly word to soothe things over.

He’d do nothing of the sort.

She wanted Edenham? Well, let her fight to get Edenham,

like they all fought . . . like they all usually fought to get him.

He was a bit disgruntled. He could admit it. Here he was, in

the full flush of his manhood, so to speak, and there was Edenham, three wives behind him and buried, two children to take

on, and this little wisp of a girl preferred Edenham to him?

And her brother claimed logic as her fault. Logic? There was

58 CLAUDIA DAIN

nothing logical about it. Nothing logical about her either. In fact,

she might be a bloody imbecile. She gave every appearance of it,

didn’t she? Here he was, available, completely desirable in every

conceivable way, and she had nothing but disdain and scowls for

him. Why, he’d never been so dismissed in his entire life.

What was worse, Cranleigh clearly saw the situation for what

it was and was having the devil of a time not laughing out loud.

In fact, he might give way at any moment.

“How very true,” Cranleigh said, crossing his legs casually.

“There is certainly no other woman I know of who is so adept at

horticulture, and with roses, too, known to be so difficult. I saw

quite a few varieties whilst in China, yet none eclipse the perfec

tion of Miss Prestwick’s roses. When do you think the weather

will be mild enough to remove them from the house, Miss Prest

wick? Or do you keep them in all year?”

Every eye in the room was fixated upon Miss Prestwick, who

did not look at all pleased by the attention. Most peculiar girl.

Penelope Prestwick looked first at Cranleigh, then at her

brother, giving him something of an accusatory glance, then

looked stonily at Sophia Dalby. Sophia returned the look and

made no effort to reply. Indeed, the entire party was waiting in

near comical anticipation for her reply about the summer loca

tion of her roses.

They
were
very nice roses. He’d been in the conservatory

during the Prestwick ball and seen them. Very nice. It was actu

ally a point in her favor that she could tend them so well, a full

bounty of them, too. The room nearly filled to bursting with red,

pink, and blush white roses. One would think she’d be eager to

display her talent for roses, but Miss Prestwick was decidedly

unpredictable in her responses to the most straightforward of

prompts, one being her romantic and marital inclinations.

He
was
in his absolute prime.

Miss Prestwick seemed to collect herself, gathering a rather

How to Daz zle a Duke

59

firm breath, and then said in a rush, “I put them out on June the

first, Lord Cranleigh, and then promptly back in on the fifteenth

of September. I have them on a very strict schedule that is de

signed to both give them ample opportunity to flourish under the

gentle summer sun and to protect them from an erratic wind. I

have yet to lose a single bush.”

Why she sounded so martial about it, he had no idea.

Her brother coughed and straightened himself on his chair,

keeping his gaze on his feet.

Cranleigh recrossed his legs and nodded amiably. Cranleigh

never did
anything
amiably. Iveston knew in that instant that

something was very amiss regarding Miss Prestwick and the

Prestwick roses. Given that he was in his prime and she appeared

blind to that fact, he decided to probe the wound, even if

lightly.

“And your lovely roses weren’t damaged the night of your

ball, Miss Prestwick? I believe that many of your guests enjoyed

the beauties of your conservatory that night, myself included.”

Miss Prestwick fixed him with a glittering glare. Her eyes

were quite dark, nearly black, and glittered quite spectacularly.

“Roses have thorns, Lord Iveston, and therefore protect them

selves most effi ciently.”

Which, naturally, brought the subject round to Amelia’s torn

gown and the haggard mess of Miss Prestwick’s shawl. Most stu

pid of her to mention thorns, unless she wanted to muddy Ame

lia’s name. But with Cranleigh in the room? She couldn’t be that

backward, could she?

It did seem possible.

“But not from an erratic wind, it would seem,” Sophia said

into the somewhat brittle silence. Miss Prestwick did seem to

do that to a conversation. Could it possibly be intentional on

her part?

Ridiculous notion.

60 CLAUDIA DAIN

Iveston glanced at Edenham. Edenham, far from looking put

off or even bored, looked very nearly jolly. Was it possible . . .

could it be that Edenham and little Miss Prestwick had formed

an attachment of sorts? But when? And more to the point, why?

Iveston looked at her again. Yes, yes, she was pretty enough,

the shape of her face quite nice and her brow a thing of true

greatness, but her nose . . . it was a bit small and wasn’t it a bit

like a dairymaid’s in pertness? Not at all the thing. Still, her

mouth wasn’t at all bad and her bodice filled out more than

respectably.

But Edenham’s latest duchess?

Impossible.

Fredericks, Sophia’s butler, entered at that moment to an

nounce another caller.

“Viscount Tannington is calling, Lady Dalby,” Fredericks

said, surveying the room with a nearly amused gaze. How odd,

but then, Fredericks had that reputation.

“At this hour?” Sophia said. “It’s half six. But he does owe

me money, so let him enter, Freddy. A man with coin is always

welcome.”

“It’s how I got in,” Edenham said cheerfully.

“I brought the vase,” Cranleigh said, looking at Iveston.

“I brought the man with the vase,” Iveston said. “An escort,

you might say, to ensure safe delivery of the vase.”

“I brought Penelope for the very same reason,” George Prest

wick said, looking at Penelope. “An escort, ensuring safety.”

Oh, dear, another impromptu game and Miss Prestwick quite

out of her shallow element.

“I’m afraid I’ve only brought myself,” Penelope said, looking

quite miserable. Iveston could almost feel some pity for her. And

then he looked at Edenham and the thought passed.

“Which was quite more than enough,” Sophia said. “Men

How to Daz zle a Duke

61

must bring gifts. A woman need only bring herself, for her com

panionship is worth at least a small stack of gold coins.”

“Is it?” Edenham asked.

“It is to me,” Sophia said. “Oh, Tannington, how good of you

to come,” she said, rising to her feet to greet him. They all rose

with her to greet the Viscount Tannington.

He was a tallish, leanish, sharkish-looking fellow with either

a slightly sinister or slightly dangerous aspect, depending on the

lighting. At the moment, he was looking more dangerous than

sinister, but it was the sort of dangerous look that women seemed

to fi nd compelling more often than not. Iveston glanced at Pe

nelope. She did not look compelled in the slightest. He found it

strangely gratifying.

“I beg your pardon,” Tannington said softly. “I had antici

pated fi nding you alone.”

“But of course you did, darling,” Sophia said smoothly, “and of

course, I am just as surprised as you are, but here we all fi nd

ourselves.” Sophia shrugged. “Yet isn’t it always pleasant to

find oneself in such company, so unexpectedly? The unexpected

does add such a thrill to what could have been merely a drizzly,

quiet May afternoon.”

Tannington sat. They all sat. Sophia smiled seductively at

Tannington. Edenham looked on and smiled tolerantly. The look

on Edenham’s face put any thoughts of Edenham being amo

rously connected to Sophia Dalby out of Iveston’s head, not that

he’d had any thoughts of that nature to begin with, but one did

hear so many rumors about Sophia that nothing, and no one,

could be discounted.

Mr. Prestwick was watching his sister.

His sister, the peculiar Miss Prestwick, was watching Sophia.

Cranleigh cleared his throat and uncrossed his legs. Cranleigh

was preparing to leave, his gift delivered. Iveston, quite unexpect

62 CLAUDIA DAIN

edly and completely out of character, did not want to leave. He

could hardly stay if Cranleigh left; that would look most odd. But

he did want to stay, though he couldn’t have said why.

Miss Prestwick had turned her gaze from Sophia, who ap

peared unreasonably amused by Tannington, to look at Edenham,

who did not look at her.

It was a most peculiar form of entertainment, yet Iveston

found himself strangely amused. It was clearly high time he got

out of Hyde House more often; he was becoming quite eccentric

in his amusements.

“We had a bit of an amusement going,” Edenham said to

Tannington, “just before you arrived. In the spirit of the game,

and not to intrude, but are you here to give something to Lady

Dalby?”

Tannington’s pale-eyed gaze went from Edenham, circled the

room, and back to Sophia. He was in the process of going from

dangerous to sinister in his aspect, which did not speak well of

his sense of fair play and pleasant dealings, did it?

“As you do owe me on a wager of some days past, I do hope

so,” Sophia said.

Tannington looked at Sophia, nodded, and said, “As it will

please you, then I shall freely admit so, Lady Dalby. I have come

to pay my debt to you.”

“And never was anyone welcomed with more joy than upon

those words,” Sophia said with a smile.

Tannington, by every appearance, did not look the sort to be

amused at being a part of a jest that had begun before he arrived.

As to that, Iveston was not entirely certain Tannington was

capable of enjoying a jest no matter when it began. He was that

sort of man. He was not so very many years older than Iveston,

perhaps five, and perhaps five years younger than Edenham, and

a man who kept to himself more than was usual, though the same

How to Daz zle a Duke

63

could be said of Iveston. Still, Iveston had done it for Cranleigh,

not that anyone knew that, Cranleigh included. Why did Tan

nington keep such solemn and solitary company?

Tannington was a hard-featured man, though not an unat

tractive one. Quite the sort of wolfish, rakish type that women

liked to giggle over.

Iveston stole a quick glance at Miss Prestwick again. She was

looking at Edenham again. Edenham was ignoring her com

pletely. It was quite strange but Iveston almost felt like chuckling,

which was something he never did outside of the bounds of Hyde

House. He simply wasn’t the chuckling sort, never had been.

Until now, apparently.

“Another wager, Sophia?” Edenham drawled. “You are not

intemperate in that regard, are you?”

“Unless it is considered intemperate to win, which I am cer

tain it must not be,” Sophia replied.

“You do seem to make a habit of winning,” Cranleigh said.

“A lucky habit to have,” Mr. Prestwick said.

“Not so much a habit, Mr. Prestwick, as a vocation,” Sophia

replied with a smile.

“I don’t suppose you lost much,” Edenham asked of Tan

nington.

“Not more than I can afford to lose,” Tannington answered,

which was not at all friendly as replies went.

“A small wager,” Sophia said, “concerning Caroline and Ashdon. I do confess to having an advantage, though Lord Tannington was willing to take the risk.”

“More than willing,” Tannington offered with a bit more

warmth that he had as yet displayed.

That was to be expected, wasn’t it? It was Sophia, after all, and

men did react in certainly a very well-documented fashion to

ward her. Which could hardly be comfortable for Miss Prestwick,

64 CLAUDIA DAIN

could it? Iveston looked again at Miss Prestwick. She was not

looking at Edenham, which was a bit of a surprise; she was look

ing at him. That was actually nearly a shock and he did fi nd it

almost impossible not to sit a bit straighter, though Cranleigh

hogging the settee did make sitting elegantly nearly impossible.

Iveston, as discreetly as possible, elbowed Cranleigh in the ribs.

Cranleigh, which was quite like him, refused to give an inch. He

did twist his hips so that Iveston was very nearly pushed off the

end of the settee. Iveston put both feet flat on the floor and leaned

toward Cranleigh.