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were walking into the blue recep
    tion room that Mr. George and Miss Penelope Prestwick were
    admitted to Hyde House by Ponsonby.
    “Ten minutes, Iveston,” Cranleigh murmured as they walked
    across the spacious room. “After that, you must face Miss
    Prestwick on your own. I’ll not be waylaid in my own home.”
    Nevertheless, Cranleigh bowed crisply to Miss Prestwick’s pretty
    curtsey, accepted Mr. Prestwick’s felicitations on his marriage,
    and said most cordially, “And how are your roses today, Miss
    Prestwick? Quite as lovely as they were when I last viewed
    them?”
    Miss Prestwick, her dark eyes glittering, said a bit stiffl y,
    “Most assuredly, Lord Cranleigh. Give them not a moment’s
    worry. Whatever befell them, they have made a full recovery.”
    “How stalwart of them,” Cranleigh said, “or is it your sure
    hand with roses, Miss Prestwick?”
    “I should say the credit should go to the roses, in this in
    stance,” Mr. Prestwick said, smiling cordially. His sister did not
    appear to think him cordial in the least, to judge by her chilly
    demeanor.
    How to Daz zle a Duke
    29
    As Iveston had developed the habit of spending the better
    part of his days avoiding the rabble that was the ton, he had not
    met Miss Prestwick before the night of the ball her father, the
    viscount, had hosted. She was, either fortunately or unfortu
    nately, not quite like the other women of his scant acquaintance.
    In concert with her bold coloring, there was something about her
    manner that was equally bold, very nearly masculine in force. It
    was quite intriguing. In point of fact, he had never been looked
    over by a woman with quite so appalling a lack of subtlety since
    reaching his majority. In some strange fashion, it was very nearly
    refreshing.
    Iveston, who was by no measure a fool, knew he was the most
    eligible man in Town. He was of good house, good family, good
    fortune, good health, and good teeth. He was heir to a dukedom,
    and quite a nice one. He, without being obnoxious about it, had
    it all. Naturally, women being what they were and Society being
    what it was, nearly every unmarried woman below the age of
    forty and above the age of fifteen would be delighted if he showed
    them the slightest interest.
    It was not to be supposed that Miss Prestwick was any
    different.
    “As interesting as I find my roses to be,” Miss Prestwick said,
    glancing coolly at her brother, “I’m quite aware that others don’t
    share my passion for horticulture. I can see that you are on your
    way out. Please don’t allow us to keep you. My brother and I had
    hoped to see Lady Amelia, to return the shawl that was . . . that
    I . . . that she . . .” Miss Prestwick looked quite at a loss. Iveston
    had a most difficult time not laughing outright.
    “How very thoughtful, and indeed generous of you, Miss
    Prestwick,” Iveston said into the stilted and sudden silence.
    “Quite as generous as when you made loan of your lovely shawl
    when Lady Amelia was so in need of it.”
    30 CLAUDIA DAIN
    Cranleigh, it should be reported, looked quite red about the
    neck. As well he should, as he had been responsible for Amelia
    needing the shawl in the first place, her muslin gown quite torn
    to shreds, very nearly literally.
    “The shawl belongs rightly to you, Miss Prestwick,” Cran
    leigh said, shifting his package from hand to hand.
    “I feel that, as things stand,” Miss Prestwick replied, ignoring
    whatever attempts her brother made to enter the conversation,
    “the shawl should remain in her care. Permanently.”
    “Goodwill gesture, you might say,” Mr. Prestwick said in
    slightly cheeky fashion. Iveston found it all rather amusing. Cran
    leigh, by his expression, not as much.
    “However it is phrased,” Miss Prestwick said firmly, “we
    shall not keep you. As you are so readily available, will you
    not take the shawl, Lord Cranleigh? I will feel so much more at
    ease knowing it is in the proper hands.” Clutching her