Page 32 of Ne'er Duke Well
“Miss Iris Duggleby,” Selina said loudly, “may I present His Grace, the Duke of Stanhope?”
Iris blinked up at them, her eyes a dreamy gray-green. “Oh. Already? That was quick.”
Selina made a slightly strangled sound, and despite Miss Duggleby’s less-than-enthusiastic reception of his arrival, he found that he wanted to laugh. He turned to look at Selina, whowas staring daggers at Iris. Evidently he wasn’t the only one who could earn that whiskey-colored glare.
He wanted it back. That fierceness. He wantedher, curse him for a fool. He wanted her so much he could barely stand the heat from her body at his side, the way her fingers held his arm through his jacket sleeve. He wanted to drag her fingers up to the back of his neck and pull her long body against his and watch the shape her lips would make just before he took her mouth.
He clenched his teeth against the hard pulse of arousal and forced himself to turn back to Iris Duggleby, who didn’t appear to want him either, but who at least didn’t send him out of his head with addled lust.
“Miss Duggleby,” he said, “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Would you like to dance?”
Iris directed a single longing glance at Selina’s reticule. Selina tucked it under her arm and glowered so powerfully that even Iris seemed to feel the heat of it.
“To be sure,” Iris said, and took his hand.
She wasn’t nearly as accomplished a dancer as Lydia Hope-Wallace, but when she made to turn the wrong direction, she didn’t appear overly perturbed. He thought she was still staring off in the direction of her book.
Hehad, in point of fact, attended a lecture about Etruscan ceramics. He’d even attempted to listen, though his knowledge of antiquities could fit in a teacup with room to spare for an entire serving of oolong. Never let it be said that Peter Kent wasn’t willing to do whatever it took for his damned ungrateful siblings.
But the introduction of the topic was enough for Iris’s attention to finally land upon him. She had, as it turned out, also attended the lecture. She worked out his total lack of familiaritywith the topic in the time it took them to exchange partners and then return to one another—that was to say, about four minutes—but he managed to ask her a reasonable question or two. Shewasclever, as Selina had said. He could discern her expertise in the subject matter, and he liked the way she spoke about the lecture—judicious and fair, even as she dismissed several of the lecturer’s conclusions with a toss of her dark head.
He was in the middle of composing a third question on the subject when she interrupted him.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Beg pardon?” He wanted to pretend he didn’t understand what she meant, but he had a sinking feeling that he did.
“Dancing with me. Talking about my interests as though they could possibly matter to you. Do you need money? Because I assure you, while I may be the daughter of a viscount, my dowry is passable at best.” She didn’t sound angry, precisely, but rather coolly factual. Maybe a little resigned, those eyes calm on his own.
Christ. What could he say? It crossed his mind for a heartbeat to try to charm. Something about her cleverness, and the way her eyes caught his gaze—it wouldn’t be a lie, not really—and yet he found he couldn’t do it.
So instead, he told her about Freddie and Lu. About Lord Eldon and the Court of Chancery and Selina’s scheme to make him less objectionable.
When he finished, Iris gave him a considering look. “I see. And you’ve selected me because you think I am desperate enough to accept you anyway?”
Peter choked. “No,” he protested. “Of course not. You—are—”
Iris tipped back her head, and to his extreme relief, laughed.“Don’t look so alarmed,” she said, her lips still curled as she looked at him. “I won’t balk at being thought desperate so long as you promise not to object to the same.”
He thought about Freddie and Lu. About Morgan and their goddamned father. “Not at all.”
She nodded. “I don’t particularly want to marry you, Your Grace. But I can’t say I don’t respect your motives. And the way you told me the truth. I have a strong aversion to men who tell me lies.”
“A reasonable objection.”
The orchestra was winding down, he could hear, and dancers were starting to fall away to the sides of the room.
“I have no illusions about my ability to attract a husband on my own merits,” said Iris. Peter started to object, but she cut him off with a lifted hand. “As a scholar of antiquities, my confidence in my own abilities is unparalleled. As a debutante—” She gave a little half shrug, and her voice stayed so stubbornly bright he wondered if she’d practiced it. “I have other talents.”
“Of that, Miss Duggleby, I have no doubt.”
“I have no special desire to marry at all. But if I were to marry, I would like it to be to someone who sees me as more than simply a means to an end.”
They’d stopped dancing, and Peter released his grip on her small fingers. “Thank you for the dance, in any case.”
She stopped him with a measured look. “However. You are more than welcome to continue to pay me your attentions. If anything, it can’t hurt my reputation. And if, in the next week or two, you can persuade me that I ammorethan an avenue to achieving your desires, then I will consider your proposal.”
Peter wasn’t sure if he was impressed or terrified. “I’ll call on you, then.”
