Page 5 of To Dare a Duke

Phyllis made a waving motion with her hand, brushing the argument aside. “For heaven’s sake, Prunella, even you said you set no store by such scurrilous stories. You did say that,” she added, wagging a finger.

Prue nodded, unable to deny it. For all the stories that had circulated about his grace, she had not believed the one about his wife’s untimely demise. That he was a rake and blackguard however, the ton had circulated those stories widely enough and they were such common knowledge there had to be some truth in them. Indeed, anyone getting a glimpse of the man would be hard pressed not to conclude it without even ever having heard the stories.

Prue swallowed down a sigh as she remembered the last time she’d caught a glimpse of him. He’d looked like sin on a moonless night, dark and forbidding and full of unseen pleasures.

“Nonetheless, Aunt, he could ruin Minerva and even if he does seek a wife, surely he’d choose—”

“I told you she’s jealous,” Minerva said to her mother, before Prue could finish the sentence. “You’re jealous, Prue, because you’re plain and dull and boring, and no man will ever want you.”

Prue’s breath caught at the spite of her words, which was foolish. She ought to be used to such outbursts from her cousin by now, and besides, she knew it was true enough. Plain might have been a little harsh, but she really could not deny it, and whilst she didn’t believe herself dull or boring, she could not pretend to find enjoyment in the things most young ladies seemed to go into transports over, either.

“Now, now, Minerva, that will do,” Phyllis said, frowning a little. “That was rather uncalled for.”

“No,” Prue said. Her smile felt a little too tight, but there was no point in pretending otherwise about things that were true. “Minerva is correct, which is why I have no intention of marrying.”

Both women gaped at her.

“Well, you need not think you’ll be living off my charity till the end of your days,” Phyllis snapped, looking affronted.

“I don’t live off it now,” Prue pointed out dryly. “I pay you for my room and board, and have never asked you for a penny towards my upkeep.”

Aunt Phyllis’ face darkened, and Prue sighed. “I have no say in how you spend your money, or what plans you make for the future. It is entirely your affair and none of mine. If Bedwin is what you want, then I wish you every success with him.”

Minerva returned a dazzling and somewhat unnerving smile. “Oh, don’t fret, Prune. I’ll be a duchess before the year is out, and I’ll make sure his grace finds you a little cottage somewhere. You could keep cats,” she added, and though she kept the smirk from her mouth, Prue could hear it loud and clear.

“Yes, that sounds ideal,” Prue replied, amused that Minerva thought it such an appalling fate. The young woman’s expression faltered, a look of curiosity in her eyes as Prue got to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me.”

***

“Hell and damnation!”

Robert Adolphus, the Duke of Bedwin, flung aside the latest copy of The Lady’s Weekly Review in fury. His sister, Helena just smiled and gave a little shrug as she piled marmalade onto her toast.

“I know it’s awful,” she said, her voice full of sympathy. “But it is awfully good, too.”

Robert turned to glare at her and she blushed, giving him a rueful grin. “Well, it is, you know. I mean, if one must be thought a villain, then best to be the kind that makes women swoon and long to be debauched—”

“Helena!”

How his eighteen-year-old sister even knew such a word… good god, he’d been a terrible brother. The dreadful creature gave an unrepentant gurgle of laughter. “Well, really, Robert. You’ve done very little to disabuse people of the notion. Quite the contrary. I can’t help but think you rather enjoy your dreadful reputation.”

Robert sent her a dark look that suggested she close her mouth. As terrifying as his reputation might be among the ton, however, his baby sister was not in the least bit impressed.

“Oh, pooh. Glare all you like, it’s at least partly your own fault and well you know it.”

He folded his arms, seething even though he knew there was truth in her words. She reached out and patted his arm to soothe his prickly temper.

“I know Lavinia made a horrible mess for you, dearest, and I know it haunts you, but sooner or later you must start over. It’s time, don’t you think? The rumours already fly you’re in search of a wife. Why not make them true?”

Robert said nothing. His sister was far too mature for her years, mostly because of his idiotic actions as a young man. He knew she had suffered from his behaviour, not that she’d ever complained. That she was the one giving him good advice now though, was bad enough. He ought to have protected her, and yet all he’d done was make everything as black as bloody pitch.

Damn it.

The day had gotten off to a bad start. He was in a wretched temper and unwilling to be reasonable about anything now. If he didn’t loathe wasting a day, he’d go back to bed and be done with it. Yet that would be unproductive and it was, at least, a glorious spring morning. He’d just have to find something to take his mind off things.

“I’ll write to them,” he said, perking up at the notion. “Tell them I’ll sue if they don’t withdraw the story.”

Helena gave an impatient huff. “Honestly, Robert, you may as well admit that the Duke of Bedsin is you and hold your hands up for murder. It’s what they’ll all think.”