Page 24 of To Dare a Duke

She glowered over the scene before her: pretty silks and satins in every colour, whirling about the floor, each paired with a man in immaculate evening dress.

“Don’t you believe in love?”

His question echoed in her brain. No. She did not. Her mother had been in love with her father, a man who had belittled and abused her both physically and emotionally. Except then he would cry and beg forgiveness and promise it would never happen again. They would be happy for a few weeks, months even, and then it would start over afresh. If that was love, unwavering obedience and blind devotion to a man who was not fit to kiss her mother’s boots, then she wanted no part of it.

Yet, his response to her denial had surprised her. “God. How I wish that were true.” There had been real anguish in those words. Regret.

She thought back to their previous meeting, of her demand to know how many innocents he had lured to his lair.

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

Prue frowned. Was it possible he had loved his first wife? Had all the stories about his cruelty to her, his affairs, had none of them been true? His behaviour since her death had done nothing to still the tongues of the ton. He hadn’t even made a token effort to refute the stories.

Damnation. Either way, it was none of her concern. She had her own plans, her own dreams. His were nothing to bother herself with. Good lord, if he discovered she was the author of the story about him, he’d likely have her flayed alive. He wouldn’t be repeating his proposal, that was for certain.

She stared at her lap, pleating and un-pleating the folds of her gown in her agitated fingers, unable to keep them still. Just stop thinking about it, she scolded herself. She’d just have to tell him no, if he was so blind to propriety that he’d dare ask her again. It was simple enough.

Cursing herself, she tried to turn her attention to the conversations about her. The wallflowers were grumbling, cursing their parents, cursing ugly dresses, lack of funds, and the lack of anything resembling a decent dance partner. All at once, she was in a foul temper and wretchedly irritated.

“Then do something about it,” she snapped, turning to Kitty Connolly, who had been bemoaning the boredom of endless balls and being seated without dancing for hours at a stretch.

Kitty stared at her, dark eyes wide. She was a lovely girl with thick black hair and, on the face of it, she ought to be popular and never without a dance partner. She was of Irish descent, however, and this enough to put her in company with the rest of the misfits. Kitty might be in possession of a decent, if not bountiful, dowry, and chaperoned by English relatives, but her accent proclaimed her heritage.

“Do what, exactly?” Kitty demanded, her lovely eyes flashing with indignation. “Demand the English treat me with as much respect as other young ladies? Ah, yes, I’ll be off and do that right away, Miss Chuffington-Smythe, why did I not think of it before?”

Prue clamped her mouth shut before she could make things worse, aware that her ire ought to be directed at a certain irksome duke and not the surrounding ladies.

“I see you are still among our numbers,” Kitty added, a dangerous glint in her eyes as she folded her arms. “What have you done to change your lot?”

“More than you know,” Prue retorted, wishing she could tell them the truth. “But I can’t explain. Suffice to say I’m not sitting about waiting for some man to ask me to dance, or to marry. I’m taking my future into my own hands.”

Kitty snorted, shaking her head so that her black ringlets danced. “I don’t believe a word. You sit here meek and well behaved, just like the rest of us.”

“An act,” Prue said, with a deceptively sweet smile curving her lips. “I’m brave enough to know what I want, and to reach out and take it.”

The girl considered her, a challenging light in her eyes. “Prove it.”

“What?” Prue said, taken aback. “I can’t, at least not yet. By the end of this year though, then you’ll see.”

“That’s too long to wait,” Kitty said, and Prue could see the other young women watching the exchange with interest. “Show us how brave you are. I dare you.”

Prue blinked, wondering what on earth had just happened. This was the bloody duke’s fault, she decided, gritting her teeth. If he’d not put her in such a bad temper, this argument would never have arisen. However, Prue was nothing if not stubborn. She might not be able to reveal her secrets yet, but she was damned if she would back down. These girls could sit about bemoaning their lot if they wanted; she was doing something about it.

“What do you have in mind?” Prue asked, wondering just what she was getting herself into.

Kitty shrugged, considering. “We think of a dare, you do it.”

Prue shook her head. “You think you’re all as brave as me,” she said, knowing she’d been backed into a corner, but she was damned if she’d be there alone. “So, we all get a dare.”

There was no way all the girls would rise to the challenge. This ought to get her free. Poor Alice was so shy she couldn’t even open her mouth in public. A dare was certainly beyond her.

Without even looking at the other girls, Kitty nodded and held out her hand. “Agreed.”

“Don’t you need to consult with the others?” Prue asked, a little taken aback.

Kitty shook her head. “Oh, no,” she said, a blithe smile curving her lovely mouth. “We’re all up for a challenge, aren’t we girls?” She turned and glared at each young woman in turn, none of whom dared to contradict her.

At last she looked at Alice, and Prue held her breath. To her astonishment, Alice turned scarlet but gave a tiny but defiant nod.