Page 8 of The Duke Who Dared Me
“Then it’s settled.”Her heart thundered, but she refused to show it.“We will each secure a match by the end of this Season.The first to receive a proper offer and accept it wins.Provided,” she added, with emphasis, “you actually fall in love.”
His bed was within reach now.“Fine, let’s keep this quiet between us, understood?”
“Afraid your good name will be tarnished in the gossip rags?”Verity tucked a stray curl behind her ear, waiting him out until finally she sighed.“Fine.”
Alistair rose from his seat, eager to return home at last.“And what, exactly, does the victor receive?”
She smiled sweetly.“Bragging rights.”
“And the loser?”
“You, on bended knee,” she said, standing toe-to-toe with him.“Admitting I was right and that you never stood a chance.”
Alistair stepped closer, his voice a low murmur.“Careful, Miss Baxter.I may very well win this wager.And then I’ll expect you to kneel.”
A spark of heat curled through her stomach, unwelcome and immediate.She refused to let it reach her face.
It would just mean kneeling to a man like Alistair Rutley.It would mean accepting what the world had already decided about her: That she was too much, too bold, and too odd to ever belong anywhere.
“I dare you to try.”
CHAPTER2
Miss Baxter and the Duke of Tunstall may soon be engaged… or arrested.A proud beauty, a prickly duke, and a wager no one expected?Society hasn't seen sparks fly like this since the infamous Ravensdale scandal in 1809.
- The Polite Observer
Hugh Nethercott,the Marquess of Brookhouse, was exactly the sort of man who turned heads for all the wrong reasons.Maybe it was the dimple, or mischievous light in his brown eyes, or maybe his complete disregard for the rules of society.
Either way, Verity had always liked him.Not for marrying, of course.That was for a more agreeable woman.Sweeter, maybe, who’d bend under his charm.Not the sort who collected breakable things and kept them perfectly intact while everything else in her life cracked at the edges.
“Miss Baxter,” Hugh murmured, bowing low over her gloved hand, “it’s been too long since I’ve had the pleasure of sharing a dance with you.”
Which, if she were honest, was likely for the best.The man left a wake of ruined women behind him across England and the Continent.Charming, yes.But a gentleman?Definitely not.If it weren’t for the fact that her mother had been friends with his mother, she’d have stayed away.But not unlike Verity, he shared an interest in art and a dislike of marriage.It was the basis for an amiable friendship over the years.
“Even my nephew has learned flattery gets him out of trouble, but you are a master, my lord.”Her lips curved into something like a smile as she skimmed the crowded ballroom for a particularly tall, brooding, entirely punchable duke.“You have impeccable timing.I heard you only returned from the Continent last week.”
“It was a short trip.”
“Duels have a way of interrupting plans,” she said matter-of-factly.
The marquess grinned.“I should have known.Opera singers always complicate matters, and gossip is quick to spread in Town.”
“Married ones, at least.”She heard his snicker, but she was too busy to respond.Instead, she scanned the room, disappointed she didn’t spot the duke.She wanted to make sure he watched as she smiled and laughed and danced with London’s most infamous rake.
He thought it would be so easy to secure a wife, and a title certainly helped, but she hadn’t been told she was beautiful all her life not to realize she possessed a powerful currency in London as well.
Verity shook off her disappointment and returned her attention to the handsome man in front of her, who held out a glass of champagne.
“No lemonade?”
The damn rogue smirked.“If I didn’t know better, I would guess you are up to something this evening.Should I be concerned?”
“Are you in the market for a wife?”
He tossed back his head and laughed as she swallowed a large sip from her glass.“Currently?No.”He winked at her.“Now a mistress…”
Verity drew back, all feigned shock on her face.“Lord Brookhouse, in polite company?How dare you insult?—”
