How to Dazzle a Duke

by Claudia Dain

  Sophia knew very well that Miss Prestwick had not. Of all the rumors that had ever been circulated about Sophia Dalby, being free and easy with her favors was not one of them.

  To her immense credit, Miss Prestwick recovered her composure quickly. She blinked hard, stared directly into Sophia’s eyes, and said, “What would you like, Lady Dalby?”

  Sophia was more than a little impressed, which happened so very rarely that she took a moment to savor the sensation. What a truly remarkable girl. Miss Prestwick would do quite nicely as a duchess.

  “What is it in your power to offer, Miss Prestwick?” Sophia responded.

  Miss Prestwick blinked once more, took an audible breath, and said, “I am afraid I can think of nothing, Lady Dalby.”

  “You have reached your majority?”

  “I have. I was twenty-one in February.”

  “You will wish your father’s consent, however, will you not?”

  “I would,” Miss Prestwick said softly. “I confess to have given no thought to an elopement.”

  “And I should not think it will come to that, so give no thought to it now,” Sophia said. Truly a remarkable girl, quite the most composed and straightforward girl of the Season. “Your father, Viscount Prestwick, should be involved in this, do you not agree? It is very much to be desired to have one’s parent fully engaged in the marital dance. He wants you to marry well, I assume, so he can have no qualms about your seeking aid from someone reliably able to induce events to take the required turn, can he?”

  “Can’t he?” Miss Prestwick asked in answer, her dark eyes glittering in suspicion. “Do you want something of my father, Lady Dalby? I can assure you that he has nothing you might want.”

  Charming. This was going to be a pure delight.

  “But, darling,” Sophia cooed, “that is flatly untrue. I’ve yet to meet a man who has nothing I might want. I want so very many things, you see, and yet not a one of them a duke, at least for a husband, so we shall not be in any competition on any item that truly matters. A most important point for allies in arms, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “In arms, Lady Dalby?” Miss Prestwick said with a sharp smile. “Shall it come to that?”

  “Dukes do not come easily, Miss Prestwick, and very rarely do they come willingly.”

  “Perhaps I will surprise you and be the exception, Lady Dalby.”

  “Darling, you are already the exception, and perfectly delightful because of it. Now, shall we not trade your exceptional qualities for a dukedom? Is that not a fair trade?”

  “And what shall we trade for your aid, Lady Dalby? What does Prestwick have that you could want?”

  “He’s a man, darling. He must have something.”

  “He has no wife, Lady Dalby,” Miss Prestwick said stiffly, rearranging herself slightly.

  Sophia laughed lightly, nearly mockingly. “Darling, can you possibly be insinuating that I am in need of a husband? And your father that fortunate man?”

  Miss Prestwick said nothing. She did not look pleased, though neither did she look entirely insulted. Such a remarkably composed girl. Would it even take a week to see her married to her duke? How to get the bet on White’s book was the question. She had quite used up the Marquis of Penrith’s usefulness there. Oh well, there was always some man or other to do whatever a woman required of him, which was really so pleasant of them.

  “I merely made an observation, Lady Dalby, not an insinuation. You do not wish to marry?”

  “I have married, Miss Prestwick. Once is sufficient.”

  “I daresay I do agree with you there, Lady Dalby. Done well, once should be more than sufficient.”

  A heart like a diamond, had Miss Prestwick. Quite a rarity in any woman possessed of less than thirty years, and not even common in women above forty. Of men and the softness of their hearts, it was nearly impossible not to be crass and observe that they were entirely both more romantic and more self-serving than should have been possible. Which brought her thoughts round to the Viscount Prestwick again.

  “Miss Prestwick, I hope I shall not embarrass you by remarking that you are quite the most sophisticated woman of your years and station that I have had occasion to meet. It is such a relief to know that some women are still capable of being both reasonable and well-informed about the state of things in general and men in particular.”

  “Thank you, Lady Dalby,” Miss Prestwick replied cordially. “I have observed that there is far too much emotional disturbance and far too little intellectual calculation in Society. I fear that makes me unusual to an unpleasant degree.”

  “By being unique? Hardly. But who has implied this is an unpleasant condition? Not the viscount.”

  “Not precisely the viscount,” Miss Prestwick said, squirming just a bit on her seat. “More a general impression from those I converse with.”

  “Such as dukes and heirs apparent?” Sophia asked.

  “Such as, Lady Dalby,” Miss Prestwick admitted with a solemn expression.

  “On the occasion of your remarkable ball during which your remarkable roses were damaged?”

  “On that occasion, yes,” Miss Prestwick said. “But this does not bring us round to what you want of my father, Lady Dalby. I can’t think that he would have anything you could want.”

  “You would likely be surprised at what I can want, Miss Prestwick. I am nearly certain your father can satisfy me.”

  If she said it with a certain suggestive overtone, she must be excused for it. Teasing Miss Prestwick was entirely too delightful as the girl was so artfully composed. One could not but wonder what, or whom, it would take to rattle her.

  “Lady Dalby, if you could find satisfaction from Prestwick and if it were in my power, I would place him entirely at your disposal.”

  Well. How very interesting.

  “A gracious offer, Miss Prestwick. Have Lord Prestwick drop round tomorrow, will you? I shall certainly be at home for him.” Miss Prestwick lifted her head, took a shallow breath, and nodded. Such a completely remarkable girl. Sophia had not the smallest doubt that she’d make a duchess who would be remembered for a full century, at the very minimum. “Now then, as you so kindly offered Lady Amelia your shawl at your memorable ball, and as it has become something of a talisman for scandal, which is absurd as any method required to bring a man to heel is bound to require some small particle of scandal, it would be such a lovely display of friendship and concern if you should decide to give Lady Amelia your shawl, torn so violently upon your roses at your ball, so that it not fall into other, less generous hands and increase the scandal. Though, I do admit to some small bias as to the size of a scandal. Can a scandal ever be too large? Not in my opinion. They can, however, be too small to do anyone any good at all. Would you not agree, Miss Prestwick?”

  Miss Prestwick smiled and said, “I confess to have not given scandal, its breadth or scope, very much thought at all, Lady Dalby. As you have done so, I will take your instruction upon its merits to heart.”

  “Miss Prestwick, you are entirely remarkable, and I am not in the habit of making such pronouncements. You will do exceedingly well and, I daresay, have all your plans and wishes bear the desired fruit.”

  Penelope Prestwick’s dark eyes gleamed with suppressed joy, and she said, “I expected nothing less, Lady Dalby, having come to you for aid. Now, you wish me to deliver my torn shawl to Lady Amelia? I shall do so. Indeed, I had attempted to do so during the Duke of Aldreth’s At Home, but could not find the opportunity.”

  “No, I should think not, what with the Earl of Cranleigh dragging darling Amelia into the mews and having his delicious way with her. Such an unexpected display, was it not?”

  “Was it?” Miss Prestwick countered, holding Sophia’s gaze. “The Duke of Aldreth did not seem either exceptionally surprised or displeased, which must also be said of Cranleigh’s parents, the Duke and Duchess of Hyde. Quite remarkable behavior for parents to display when their children are behaving so scandalously. But you are
friends with both the Hydes and with Aldreth, are you not? That was my impression.”

  “Your impressions, Miss Prestwick, are quite on the mark, which does commend you. There is very little that a woman needs beyond the ability to observe very carefully what occurs before her very eyes. It is a continual surprise to me that so few women, and indeed men, are able to see what is right in front of them. Now, in that vein, you certainly have observed the men whom must make up your list of potential husbands. Whom do you prefer?”

  “Lady Dalby, I have no preference. I do not know the gentlemen well enough to have formed one.”

  Sophia raised her brows and considered Penelope. “Is that possible, Miss Prestwick? Surely a woman is able to form a preference for the simplest item almost instantly. How not with a man?”

  “I may form an instant preference for a hat, Lady Dalby, but a husband is a far more serious acquisition. I am not in favor of either haste or carelessness.”

  “And of course, one always does try the hat on. Not every hat suits every face, does it, Miss Prestwick?”

  Penelope Prestwick raised her own dark brows and said, “I have very many hats, Lady Dalby. I am quite adept at finding ones which flatter me. And if they do not, I adjust them until they do.”

  “I’m certain you do, Miss Prestwick,” Sophia said, smiling. “Shall I take you at your word, then? Any man? The choice to lie completely with me?”

  “If he is a duke or an heir apparent, Lady Dalby, I should think myself very much a fool not to leave the choice with you. You shall, I have been convinced by observation, make the choice for me in any regard. Why not dispense with the folly that I am in control of this? Having come to you, I leave all the details in your capable hands.”

  “Miss Prestwick, if England produced even one hundred women of your caliber, it would be an entirely different country indeed, and much the better for it, I assure you. Now,” Sophia said, rising to her feet, “you will want to make your way to Hyde House to deliver that badly torn shawl to Lady Amelia. It will do much to recommend you to her and to the men of that house. If you do not tarry, you can arrive in good time.”

  “The men of that house?” Miss Prestwick said in a slightly raised tone. “Are you recommending Lord Iveston, Lady Dalby?”

  “He is an heir apparent, is he not?”

  Miss Prestwick, having stood in response to Sophia’s rise to her feet and unable to keep herself from following Sophia’s obvious lead in directing her to the door into the hall, was nevertheless obviously reluctant to leave before the Duke of Edenham’s arrival. The darling girl, quite uncommonly practical, was still disposed to seek her own way, which was also quite practical of her. Sophia didn’t fault her in the least.

  “Yes,” Penelope said slowly.

  “And you would prefer a duke in the full and luxurious possession of his title? Such as the lovely Duke of Edenham?” Sophia asked.

  Miss Prestwick blushed lightly. It looked most becoming on her.

  “He is most eligible, is he not?” Penelope asked in response.

  “You are not afraid of his reputation? He has had three wives previously, which has resulted in some perfectly ridiculous rumors about his tendency to kill off the women who share his bed.”

  “Ridiculous is the word,” Penelope sniffed, pulling at her left glove. “Women die in childbed every day. I hardly see that the duke should be held accountable for ill health and a weak constitution.”

  “You are formed of hardier stuff?”

  “Most certainly,” Penelope Prestwick huffed.

  “Miss Prestwick,” Sophia said with a smile, “I do believe you. However, I do think that a visit to Hyde House is the thing to do at this moment.” Miss Prestwick hesitated, even though Fredericks had opened the door and every physical indication was that the entire staff of Dalby House was encouraging her to the door onto Upper Brook Street.

  “At this moment? Is this a ploy of sorts, Lady Dalby? Something to intrigue the Duke of Edenham?”

  Sophia smiled and drew a deep breath before answering. “Darling, most men require ploys of various sorts. Even dukes. In point of fact, dukes more than any other sort of man. They are so very accustomed to achieving their every desire at every conceivable opportunity and not a few inconceivable ones. Do you not think it would intrigue them to be made to pause, even to stumble, if only for a moment?”

  “I confess to have given it no thought,” Penelope said. “But I suppose it makes sense, in a rather peculiar fashion. The lure of the unique, Lady Dalby? Is that what you’re suggesting?”

  “I am, darling, and you are the ideal woman to carry it off to perfection. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I would,” she said, lifting her delightful little chin. “Then I shall make for Hyde House, engage Lord Iveston’s attention if at all possible, whilst you meet with the Duke of Edenham and … what are you to do with the Duke of Edenham, Lady Dalby?”

  “Why, entertain him, darling, as innocently as I possibly can. You truly have no preference? No hidden longing for Edenham over, say, Calbourne, or the intriguing Lord Iveston?”

  Miss Prestwick fixed Sophia with a very direct look and answered, “Lady Dalby, I shall fix my longing upon the man you can best arrange, have no doubt about it. Good day.”

  “Good day, Miss Prestwick,” Sophia said with a bemused smile.

  Three

  PENELOPE exited Dalby House as slowly as she could without looking ridiculous. Even so, she still managed to miss the arrival of the Duke of Edenham. No matter what she had told Sophia Dalby, she knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was Edenham.

  He was nearly fatally handsome.

  If she were going to marry a duke, why not marry the most handsome one available to her? And he was available. He had had his three wives and he had his two heirs, but could not a duke in the prime of life do with another fetching wife? And she was fetching; she knew she was. She had a mirror, didn’t she?

  She was a fine-looking woman and she had a fine, fat settlement upon her, her father being no dullard and understanding very well that a rich purse was a nearly irresistible inducement to marry, even for a duke with a fat purse of his own. Was not having more wealth to be preferred in every circumstance?

  Of course it was. Surely a duke knew that better than anyone.

  Penelope gripped her shawl firmly and waved crisply at George, who was loitering across Park Lane, ambling with evident cheer along the northernmost rim of Hyde Park. George was often wasting time in Hyde Park; he did love a good stretch of the leg, as he put it, and walked when any other man would have ridden. Any other man who was deeply and fully accustomed to being in the upper branches of the ton, that is. She was quite certain that the Duke of Edenham or even the rather odd Duke of Calbourne did not waste time walking to no purpose.

  She did want Edenham.

  She did not want Calbourne at all. He was rather too tall, a point which Lady Amelia had made all too publicly very recently. Calbourne had not taken Amelia’s point very well at all, which was a puzzle. Didn’t he know he was too tall to be considered elegantly proportioned? Not only was he taller than was entirely appropriate, he had the most peculiar sense of humor. And, truth be told, she had not made the most stellar impression upon him at her ball, a point she was still somewhat befuddled over. Calbourne was of that particular type who did not appreciate a logical, well-informed, reasonable woman. There were, sad to say, quite a few men of similar disposition in the ton, which did make it terribly inconvenient for a woman of her particular traits, being well-informed first and foremost among them.

  What opinion the Marquis of Iveston had about women she had no idea, nor little interest. Lord Iveston was, in a word, peculiar. Or that was the rumor of him, and she paid particular attention to every rumor regarding every member of the ton. She had to. How else to know how to negotiate the twists and turns of Society? It was because of her bold observation of who was who and who did what that she had known to seek out Sophia Dalby for aid. Wh
ile she was a bit uncertain what it was Sophia actually did, she was not at all uncertain that Sophia was very good at doing it.

  Why Iveston should have been the man Sophia preferred for her was a puzzle, but she thought it might be because Sophia Dalby was on very close terms with the Hydes and thought rather more highly of the Hydes than was entirely deserved. She had, after all, seen two of their sons married in less than a week. That was not information which could be ignored.

  But just because Sophia Dalby had some notion that it might be entertaining to see all of Hyde’s sons married in the same Season, there were five marriageable sons as of last month and two had already been whisked off the marriage mart by Sophia’s sure hand and ruthless gaze, Penelope felt no obligation at all to be the fodder for marriage number three.

  Iveston was handsome, to be sure, but all the Hydes were handsome in their tall, blond way. It was only that Iveston, while only being an heir apparent and not an actual duke in the full force of his title, which was the point, after all, was so remarkably odd.

  It was a well-known fact that he was very nearly incapable of speech, which might not be a bad trait to have in a husband, but it did put him out for ridicule and she had no desire to spend her life with a ridiculous husband. Not if she could avoid it. Because of Edenham and his wifeless state, she thought she should be able to avoid it.

  At least Edenham could talk, and was quite charming about it, too.

  “What are you looking so flushed about?” George said by way of greeting. “Did Lady Dalby fluster you with her bold ways?”

  “Hardly,” she huffed, reaching out to straighten his collar. He looked pleasantly rumpled, which was perfectly fine if one were in the country but not at all the thing when one was in Town. “We have made plans, she and I, and I am about putting them into play.”