Anything But a Duke

by Christy Carlyle

  He frowned, contemplating her argument. But she knew before he spoke again that he wouldn’t give way. “If we find a buyer for your device and I have some indication of a return on my investment, I shall release you from the guarantee. You do believe in your device, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  He said no more. Words weren’t needed. She knew the options before her.

  “Will you provide assistance once my devices are ready to sell?”

  “Help finding buyers?” He offered one firm nod. “Of course. I will assist however I’m able. As an investor, your success will be mine.”

  Diana weighed it all in a moment. “I agree, Mr. Iverson.”

  He offered her his ungloved hand and she laid her palm against his. His skin was deliciously warm.

  “When do we begin?” he asked quietly.

  Diana’s head began to throb. She had no experience playing matchmaker but she knew at least one of her school friends well enough to know where she might be on a Tuesday morning.

  “Can you meet me in Regent’s Park tomorrow at ten?”

  “I can.”

  “That’s when we will begin.”

  “Very good, Miss Ashby.” He held her hand a moment longer, keeping his gaze fixed on hers. Finally, he pulled away.

  Diana curled her hand into a fist to hold on to his heat.

  The hint of a smile tilted the edge of his mouth. “You don’t negotiate much, do you?”

  There was no mockery in his tone, just amusement. Still, Diana couldn’t help but bristle.

  “No, but I was successful with this one.”

  “There’s one essential element we’ve yet to address.” He ducked his head and looked up at her through thick auburn lashes. “We’ve yet to discuss an amount.”

  Diana let out a gust of breath and a blush warmed her cheeks.

  “My investment in your invention, Miss Ashby? At the Den, we generally begin at one hundred pounds.”

  “Then I’d prefer two hundred.” She was trembling inside and prayed whatever her expression, it gave none of her uncertainty away.

  Rather than challenge her or negotiate any further, Iverson simply smiled. His grin took her breath away. It softened his square jaw and drew creases at the corners of his green eyes.

  “We have a deal.” He glanced down at her hand but didn’t reach for her again. “I’ll bring a check tomorrow. Until then, Miss Ashby.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Tell me again. More slowly this time. What precisely have you agreed to, Di?” Dom’s question echoed in the confines of the brougham, but Diana refused to let her brother’s early morning churlishness quash her joy.

  Leaning toward the carriage window, she closed her eyes and soaked in a bit of the sun’s warmth.

  Dominick slouched in the center of his bench, yanked his collar up, and did his best to avoid the light streaming in from either side.

  “Mr. Iverson is going to fund my pneumatic device.” She’d been up most of the night, sick with excitement and trepidation. Everything she’d dreamed of achieving was in front of her. She could taste victory and knew precisely how success would feel.

  She breathed in the prospect like fresh morning air.

  “I don’t understand, and it’s not because I’m awake on three hours of sleep.” Dominick pressed a thumb to his brow and winced. “Why is he now doing what he refused to do a week ago?”

  “People change their minds.” Diana turned her gaze out the carriage window and prayed her brother couldn’t see through her as he often did.

  She’d rushed through her explanation for their morning outing. Convincing him to accompany her as chaperone had been quite the challenge. Early hours didn’t suit her brother.

  “There’s a great deal you’re not telling me,” he said accusingly. “I can see all of it churning in your head.”

  “Good. Then you don’t need me to explain.”

  “Diana. Why are we headed to Rotten Row when you’ve never given a toss about promenading with London’s debutantes?”

  “We’re going to Regent’s Park, not Hyde Park.” Apparently he’d been too busy complaining about the early hour to listen when she’d given directions to the cabbie.

  “Where’s the fun in that? I won’t know a single soul in Regent’s Park.”

  “You’ll know me and Lady Sophie.” Diana cleared her throat and added quickly, “And Mr. Iverson.”

  Dom squinted at her for a long silent moment before leaning forward on his bench. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I think Sophie and Mr. Iverson might suit.”

  Her brother tipped his head one way, then the other, a bit like their cat when a dapple of sunlight flickered across the carpet.

  “Suit? Each other?” He drew out each word slowly, as if he doubted the meaning of every syllable.

  Diana nodded and pulled out the notes she’d begun making as soon as she’d gotten out of bed. What she knew about Mr. Iverson one side, what she knew about Sophie on the other, and any areas that might intersect. They were woefully few.

  Dom’s large gloved hand gripped the edge of her foolscap and he yanked it out of her grasp.

  “Hey!”

  “You’re playing matchmaker with the man who’s funding your device?”

  “I am engineering an introduction.” Diana snatched her notes back. “Sophie wishes to marry. Mr. Iverson is seeking a bride. Introducing them is logical.”

  Her brother crossed his arms and glared at her. “People aren’t like your inventions, Di. You can’t fix them together with a bit of wire and glue.”

  “I don’t plan to fix anyone.” She bit down hard to keep from telling him everything. He didn’t need to know yet. Perhaps not ever.

  Luckily, the carriage stopped before he could ask anything more.

  “Here we are,” she said brightly.

  Her brother glowered almost as fiercely as she grinned.

  “This is ridiculous,” Dom mumbled before exiting the carriage and offering a hand to help her down. “Matchmaking is a terrible business. If it goes pear-shaped, they’ll blame you. And any man who sets his heart on Sophie Bales is bound to be disappointed.”

  “I disagree. Sophie is a charming young lady. Let’s hope it goes well, shall we?”

  She’d long wondered about Dom’s feelings about Sophie. They’d developed an instant antagonism the first time they’d met and bickered during every encounter thereafter. But it was odd that he’d never reacted as vehemently to any of her other friends.

  They entered the park on the south end and Dom immediately gestured vaguely toward a young lady dressed in yellow at the far side of the promenade.

  Diana lifted a hand to shade her eyes, squinting to be sure it was Sophie.

  “You’re right,” she told him. “It’s definitely her.”

  “The hair is unmistakable. A strange color. Not a simple cornflower blond, more like a polished guinea coin.”

  Diana stared at her brother until he met her gaze. He only spared her a glance before weaving his way toward a line of oaks with benches underneath.

  “I’ll be over there, trying not to singe under that fiery orb in the sky.”

  “We call that the sun, Dominick.”

  “Call it what you like. It’s relentless and I’m more suited to London’s gloom. I need darkness to thrive.”

  What he needed was a desire to do anything other than gamble and carouse and drink himself into a nightly stupor. But he’d admonished her against trying to fix others, and he was the most resistant to aid of anyone she’d ever known.

  After he settled onto a bench, Diana started off toward Sophie, looking down once more at her notes. What did Mr. Iverson like besides making money and investing in order to make more? She’d listed engineering, science, and the opera, since he’d encountered an earl’s daughter there often enough to make the gossip rags take notice.

  The man was quite brawny. She wondered if he spent time at sport. Visits t
o Gentleman Jackson’s salon perhaps?

  Images flashed in her mind. Visions of Aidan Iverson sparring in a boxing ring, his muscles flexing as he moved. She imagined the feel of him, the hard plane of his chest, the sculpted muscles of his arms. If she touched him after such exertion, he’d be warm, probably breathless.

  Footsteps crunched on the pebbled path, and she looked up just in time to avoid bumping into the man whose half-naked physique still lingered in her mind’s eye.

  She reached out to keep from tumbling and her palm landed on his waistcoat, plastered against fabric heated from his body and snugged within an inch of its life against his broad chest.

  “Mr. Iverson.”

  “Have you been researching me again, Miss Ashby?” He stared down at the sheet of foolscap crumpled between her fingers and trapped against his stomach.

  His given name was printed on one creased edge of the paper.

  Diana stepped back, flattened the page against her skirt, and handed him the notes.

  He kept his gaze fixed on hers as he took the paper, then glanced down quickly before looking up again. “You’re wrong about one thing. I hate the opera.”

  Diana narrowed an eye at him. When he attempted to hand the notes back to her, she indicated the other list. “You may wish to review a few details about Lady Sophie.”

  Diana started toward Sophie and he followed, his head bowed to read her notes.

  “Hmm, she’s fond of botany, I see.”

  “Do you like botany?” This might be easier than she’d imagined.

  “No, not at all.”

  Diana glanced at him, pointlessly noting how a strand of reddish-gold hair had fallen over his brow. “Do you see anything else there that might assist you?”

  “Assist me?”

  “To woo Lady Sophie.” Sophie wasn’t too far ahead of them and Diana lowered her voice lest her friend overhear.

  “I have my own methods for wooing, Miss Ashby.”

  “Do you?” His claim stoked her curiosity.

  “Of course I do.”

  “How well do they work?”

  He didn’t answer, just cast her one intense glance that she felt like the sweep of his fingers against her face that night in Belgravia.

  She fought the urge to ask him to detail his methods, but she lost the battle. “Which did you try on Lady Alice Ponsonby?”

  “You mention her so often, Miss Ashby. Perhaps you’d like me to introduce you?”

  Diana let out a surprised chuckle. “That won’t be necessary. I merely mean to point out that the methods used on her didn’t work, Mr. Iverson. You’ll need others to woo Sophie.”

  He made a little grumbling sound. His jaw was set and a muscle ticked near the sharp, clean-shaven edge.

  “I merely wish to see our arrangement to a successful end,” Diana told him. “Perhaps you could pretend to like botany.”

  “Why on earth would I?”

  “To be more appealing to Lady Sophie, of course.” Diana had lowered her voice to a whisper. Sophie sat on a bench and seemed thoroughly engaged with her sketchbook, but she preferred her friend didn’t hear them scheming behind her back.

  Mr. Iverson shocked her by stepping off the path and into the shade of a leafy maple tree. He reached out, hooked a hand around her arm, and gave a gentle tug until she stepped closer.

  “I think there may be some part of our agreement you don’t understand, Miss Ashby.”

  He released her, but Diana felt a band of heat where he’d touched her and couldn’t stop herself from rubbing her fingers over the spot.

  “Our terms are clear to me, Mr. Iverson.”

  “Not our terms. My intentions.” He pursed his mouth and glanced away before looking at her again. “I will not pretend to be anything other than what I am. I have little to offer a lady like Lady Sophie, so my intent is to be honest about what I can provide.”

  “Which is?”

  He started to speak, then held his breath. His gaze captured hers, and for a long, pulse-racing moment they stared. Diana got lost in imagining him as a husband. He didn’t seem like the domestic sort. There was an energy about him, as if he loathed standing still. Yet here he was, still and watching her. Waiting. Though she was the one who’d asked the question.

  “Wealth,” he finally said. “That’s all I have.”

  “Is that true?” She didn’t know him well, but she knew it wasn’t.

  “What else do you see, Miss Ashby?”

  “Resolve. Intelligence.” Diana bit her lip a moment before adding, “Kindness.” The overcoat he’d given her that night in Belgravia still hung in the back of her wardrobe.

  “You’re the kind one. You rushed into danger and likely saved my life.”

  Somehow he knew where her thoughts had gone.

  “Perhaps I’m reckless.”

  He tipped his head. “It’s quite an appealing combination.”

  The longer he looked at her with admiration in his gaze, the harder it was to recall why they were here.

  “She’s just there.” Diana pointed toward Sophie, needing to remind him and herself about the business at hand.

  But he didn’t go off in the direction of the young woman he was here to meet. He took one step closer to Diana.

  “Do you truly think a man woos a woman by affectation and pretending to share her interests?”

  They were standing too close. As close as they had that stormy night. She remembered all of it, every minute, far too vividly.

  “I possess no expertise in wooing,” he admitted quietly, “but I won’t play act. Lady Sophie needs a rich husband?”

  Diana nodded sharply.

  She’d been taught that speaking of other’s circumstances wasn’t seemly. But it was no secret that Sophie’s father was much like her own. A man with a creative mind and no interest whatsoever in managing his finances. If anything, Sophie’s circumstances were worse, since her father was an earl with an estate to manage and a mother known for her spendthrift ways.

  “Then a rich husband is what I’ll offer her.” Iverson reached up to tighten the knot of his neck cloth and swept a hand through his tumbled auburn waves. “Presentable?”

  “Yes, you’ll do,” Diana said, when in fact he looked ridiculously appealing. Sunlight loved him, finding all the gold in his hair, all the flecks of amber in his green eyes.

  One of his brows winged up, and she realized he was staring at her cheek. “You have a . . .” He gestured toward his own ear. “Your hair has come undone.”

  Before she could reach up, he swept two fingers gently across her cheek and tucked a long strand behind her ear. Heat kindled in every patch of skin he touched and when he hesitated, letting his fingers linger at the sensitive spot behind her ear, a shiver swept down her body.

  “There,” he whispered. He lifted his hand and stepped away, but her skin still tingled everywhere his fingers had been.

  When he turned back, she realized he was waiting for her. She was, after all, the one who’d agreed to make this introduction.

  She stepped out from under the tree and approached her friend, calling out softly so as not to give her a fright.

  “Sophie, I thought I might find you here.”

  Sophie turned and let out a squeal of excitement. “Diana!” Her enthusiasm had always been contagious. “What’s lured you out of your laboratory?” Tossing her sketchbook aside, she stood and took Diana’s hands, giving her a quick kiss on each cheek. “Say you have the day free and can join us for dinner this evening. We can take in the shops and stroll Hyde Park and have more fun than you can imagine.”

  Diana’s throat went oddly dry and she longed for a sip of tea. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, “I came to find you and to introduce you to Mr. Iverson.”

  In her enthusiastic greeting, Lady Sophie had somehow failed to notice the large, broad, auburn-haired man a few steps behind Diana. But she noticed now and her gaze warmed appreciatively. Sophie always had an eye for a pretty face.<
br />
  “How do you do?” Sophie smiled and offered her hand.

  Dutifully, Diana performed the niceties. “Lady Sophronia Bales, may I present Mr. Aidan Iverson.”

  Iverson took her friend’s hand and offered a curt bow. “My pleasure, Lady Sophronia, I assure you. Miss Ashby speaks highly of you and has mentioned your fondness for botany.” He stepped toward the bench and looked down at Sophie’s sketchbook. “You’re quite proficient at drawing too, I see.”

  “Do you think so, sir?” Sophie batted her eyelashes a bit too obviously.

  Diana struggled not to roll her eyes. “Mr. Iverson is an investor who—”

  “Oh, I know who Mr. Iverson is,” Sophie put in. “You once met my father, the Earl of Caldwell, but you may not remember him. He spoke of your cleverness. You advised him on an investment.”

  “Ah, yes, I recall quite clearly, my lady. He wished to invest in the railroads.”

  Sophie’s titter of laughter didn’t quite match the flash of sadness in her eyes. “If only he had taken your advice.”

  “There’s still time. A few opportunities remain to invest in solid railroad enterprises.”

  “Are there?” Sophie stepped closer and laid a hand on Iverson’s arm in her eagerness. “Would you speak to him?”

  Diana found herself watching the two of them as one watches strangers on an omnibus, fascinated with a conversation that she felt she had no right to observe. She looked at the trees, at the grass, shaded her eyes and glanced up into the cloudless sky. Anywhere but at her friend and the man whose body she’d just been imagining so vividly.

  She stepped away and caught only a few words of their conversation. But as they walked, they strode back toward the spot where she’d retreated.

  “If you wish it,” Iverson said in the warmest tone she’d ever heard him use.

  “Tomorrow evening?” Sophie clapped her hands together excitedly. “My mother is hosting a very small dinner party. But you must come. You too, Di. We have so much to catch up on. Both of you must join us.”

  “And me too?” Dominick spoke from where he leaned against the trunk of a thick oak.

  Diana hadn’t noticed that he’d abandoned his bench on the far side of the park, but she had a sneaking suspicion why he had. She narrowed her gaze at her brother, but he pointedly ignored her.