Page 19 of To Dare a Duke

Prue was just toying with the advantages of finding herself a glass of lemonade, versus the effort required to make it to the refreshment room, when she noticed the atmosphere change. The room quietened, voices dipping to murmurs, and as though a path had been cleared by an invisible force, the Duke of Bedwin appeared before her.

Prue’s heart did an odd little flutter in her chest; odd because she’d described such a thing in her writing, yet she’d never experienced it. Scrutinising the sensation before it dissipated, she discovered it to be a mixture, of shock, anxiety, and excitement.

How intriguing.

To her astonishment, the duke was moving forward, his sights set on her, of all people. For the life of her, she could not imagine why. Their conversation at the Marches’ ball had entertained her immensely, but the suggestion a man like the duke had given her a second thought, let alone sought her out… it was preposterous.

Yet, there he was, moving towards her with single-minded purpose.

Prue swallowed, wondering if it might be sensible to make a run for it in the circumstances, but Baron Fitzwalter’s voice rang in her ears.

“Give him a chance, my dear. For an old man’s sake.”

“Good evening, Miss Chuffington-Smythe.”

Prue took a moment to look the man over. He was splendid. The most marvellous looking villain a woman could ever wish for. Thick dark hair that curled in unruly waves, eyebrows that were simply made for glowering, and those cool, green eyes. His expression was aloof, the curve of his mouth a little cruel, and yet she felt certain there was amusement in his voice, just the slightest twitch of humour at his lips.

“Good evening, your grace,” she said, endeavouring to curtsey in the crowd without treading on anyone’s toes. “Were you in the market for some more odd conversation?” she demanded with a smile.

He stared down at her, his expression unreadable. “Well, it was either that or kick my heels in my lair all evening,” he replied with the utmost seriousness.

Prue gave a delighted bark of laughter. The duke smiled, for the first time a proper smile that lit up his face… and all the breath left her lungs in a rush.

Good lord.

The smile transformed him, chasing away any suggestion of villainy and leaving in its place something boyish and rather charming. In a moment it had vanished, his expression returning to its usual appearance of cool disinterest, but Prue had seen it and felt her world would never be quite the same again.

Well, what a ridiculous thing to say, she thought, trying to laugh at her own whimsy, but finding herself unconvinced. A villain with the smile of an angel.

Possibly the most dangerous creature on earth.

“Aha. So, you admit you have one,” Prue said, a teasing note to her voice. Why on earth the man was speaking to her at all she couldn’t fathom, let alone why he allowed her to speak to him in such an insolent manner, but if he didn’t complain, she wasn’t about to stop. It was too tempting an opportunity to pass up.

“I never said otherwise,” he pointed out. “I only suggested that dungeons, caves, and remote castles were not to my taste.”

Prue bit back a grin and schooled her expression into something thoughtful, tapping her chin with a fingertip. “Ah, yes. I remember, a villain with a taste for the finer things in life.”

“I am a duke,” he said, all seriousness.

“And have you tempted many innocent victims into the dark recesses of this secret place?” she asked, the laughter apparent in her voice.

Prue faltered, for a moment wondering if she’d gone too far, if he wouldn’t answer. There had been a flicker of something in his eyes that might have been hurt but then he spoke, his tone mocking.

“Perhaps it was I who was tempted in, did you ever consider that? Perhaps I await rescue?”

Prue raised her eyebrows, staring at him in surprise. She opened her mouth, to say what she wasn’t sure, but wanting to know what he meant by the comment, when a familiar voice sounded beside them.

“Your grace! How lovely to see you, no doubt you’ve been looking for Minerva. So good of Prunella to keep you company. Run along and fetch us a glass of lemonade, there’s a dear. Such a nice girl, an orphan you know. I took her in when her father died….”

And like that Prue was dismissed. She seethed a little but found she didn’t have the effrontery to refuse her aunt, even though the slight of being sent off in such a manner stung. Like she was a servant or a poor relation. The latter of which, of course, she was. Just because Minerva and Phyllis were equally poor would not change people’s perception.

She glanced around once she was halfway across the room to see if she could catch another glimpse of the duke, but he’d gone. Minerva and Aunt Phyllis were still there, heads bent in conversation, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Chapter 6

He’s fascinated with you Prue, darling. There’s no other explanation for seeking you out. Surely you can see that? He spoke to no one else that night, he practically cut your aunt dead and left immediately after he’d spoken to you. I think you’ve made a conquest!

―Excerpt from a letter from Miss Matilda Hunt to Miss Prunella Chuffington-Smythe.