I Dared the Duke Page 3

  The duke coughed as though the beef were suddenly difficult to swallow. “This Saturday, you say?”

  Beth sat back and sipped her wine, eager to watch the duke try to squirm his way out of his grandmother’s simple request.

  “Yes. They are dear friends, Alexander.” The duchess blinked behind her spectacles. “And it wouldn’t kill you to put in an appearance.”

  But the pained look on the duke’s face suggested quite the opposite. “I’ll have to see if I can clear my schedule,” he said noncommittally.

  The duchess opened her mouth as if she’d say more, then pressed her thin lips together and, for her grandson’s benefit, managed a tight smile.

  Really. Was it too much to ask that he forego a few hours of debauchery this Saturday in order to make his grandmother happy? Beth felt like a teakettle on the verge of boiling over.

  But she kept her temper in check through all four courses of dinner, right up to the last bite of her pineapple ice cream.

  Then the duke leaned back in his chair like a medieval king settling himself into his throne. He laced his fingers together and rested his hands on a stomach that was impossibly flat, given he’d just eaten three times as much as she and the duchess combined.

  “Now then,” he drawled. “I believe Miss Lacey had something of import she wished to tell us.”

  Beth dragged her traitorous gaze away from the duke’s taut abdomen and shook her head. Perfect physique or no, she refused to be his puppet. If he wished to sack her, he could tell his grandmother himself.

  “Why no, your grace. I’ve nothing to share. Nothing at all.”

  Chapter FOUR

  Alex turned to his left and shot Miss Lacey a look that would have made most men shake in their boots. She simply batted her eyes and smiled sweetly.

  “Are you quite certain you have nothing to say?” he prodded.

  “I am.”

  He was in no mood for games. “I believe you had some news concerning your own situation,” he said meaningfully.

  She sipped her wine, her blue eyes thoughtful. “Situation is such a vague word, is it not? It could refer to any number of topics. I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

  “Don’t be obtuse, Alexander,” the duchess scolded.

  Miss Lacey could hardly keep the self-satisfied look off her pretty face. “Honestly, your grace,” she said as though slightly exasperated, “if you have something to share, you are at liberty to say it.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “How kind of you to grant me permission to speak at my dining room table.”

  She waved her hand as if to say, the stage is yours.

  Alex cleared his throat and prepared to inform his grandmother that Miss Lacey would return home to her uncle in the morning. But the sight of his grandmother’s sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks stopped him cold. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen her so vibrant and happy. It seemed Miss Lacey had already wormed her way into his grandmother’s affections, and if he announced he was sending her away …

  His grandmother might well be devastated.

  Damned if he could break her heart. She was the only real family he had left, and while he wasn’t particularly adept at showing it, he adored her.

  The fire that had killed his parents had almost claimed him too. His grandmother, though grief-stricken over the death of her only son and daughter-in-law, had stayed by Alex’s bed night and day, refusing to let him die. She’d followed the doctor’s instructions to the letter, changing bloody bandages and applying salve to burnt flesh, even as he’d thrashed and cried out in pain. And for every tear he cried, she’d shed ten.

  And that was why he wouldn’t hurt her.

  So he changed the subject. “I’ve decided to purchased a new coach.”

  “How exciting,” his grandmother cooed. “I’m certain it will be the height of elegance.”

  Miss Lacey was less enthused. “Is something wrong with the old one?”

  It had hit a rut, broken an axle, and flipped over, leaving one side of the cab resembling an accordion—but that was none of her concern. Still, he might have related the tale if his grandmother wasn’t present. As it was, he preferred to spare her the details. He’d been in the coach when it rolled off the road—and was damned lucky to have walked away with only a bump on the head and a few bruises.

  He shrugged. “Suffice it to say that the time has come to invest in a new coach.”

  “I see.” Miss Lacey pursed her pink lips, giving him the distinct impression she was judging him. “I suppose that means you had grown tired of the old color.”

  Yes, she was definitely judging him.

  “I am quite fond of the forest green,” his grandmother said, frowning. “What color shall the new one be?”

  “Whatever color you choose, Grandmother,” he said, glad he could indulge her.

  “Oh, that is a momentous decision.” She clasped her hands together. “I shall have to think on it. Elizabeth, I shall solicit your opinion as well.”

  She sniffed. “I’m not certain I have an opinion on the prospective color of a coach. As long as it conveys me safely from one point to another I am perfectly content.”

  Alex snorted. “So, it’s frivolous for us to debate the merits of possible colors of a coach?”

  “Please don’t put words in my mouth, your grace. However, I’m sure you agree there are weightier matters to consider.”

  Honestly, her hypocrisy bordered on the comical. He shot a pointed look at the cerulean blue silk hugging the curves of her body. “Would you mock your sisters for deliberating over the color of a new gown?”

  “Of course not!” Miss Lacey raised her chin, indignant. “But then, my sisters are truly grateful for such opportunities. Until recently, we had very few gowns.”

  How had she managed to turn the conversation around and make him sound like some sort of sheltered, pampered aristocrat?

  “Well,” his grandmother said smoothly, “I, for one, think that the gown you’re wearing tonight is perfectly lovely. Don’t you agree, Alexander?” She blinked innocently, as though she were completely oblivious to the undercurrent of the previous conversation. Alex knew better.

  “It is a fine gown.” In truth, he noticed the gown far less than the graceful column of her neck, the smooth skin of her shoulders, and the delectable swells of her breasts. But he’d sooner tie himself to a whipping post than admit he found Miss Lacey attractive.

  “You see?” his grandmother said, smiling. “It’s not so difficult to find common ground.” With a happy sigh, she placed her napkin on the table and scooted her chair back as though she wished to stand. Before he could rise, Miss Lacey leaped out of her seat and dashed over to help her.

  “Shall we go through to the drawing room?” Miss Lacey asked.

  “I’m for bed,” the duchess said. “I fear the excitement of the day has worn me out.”

  “And it’s no wonder,” Miss Lacey said. “Come. I’ll see you to your room.”

  Damn it. She was about to escape without turning in her resignation, and first thing tomorrow he had half a dozen leads to investigate. He needed this matter settled—tonight.

  “Grandmother,” he said, giving her an affectionate kiss on the cheek, “I wonder if you could you spare Miss Lacey for a few minutes.”

  “Oh?”

  “I thought perhaps she could fill me in on anything I’ve missed while I’ve been out of town.” Pure rubbish.

  Miss Lacey made a sour face. “I don’t keep up with—”

  “Of course you must stay and chat with Alexander. It’s far too early for young people like you to retire. I can make my own way to my bedchamber, and my maid will take over from there.”

  As his grandmother left the room, Miss Lacey folded her arms, making no secret of her displeasure. When they were alone, she spun on him. “You should have told her you were letting me go.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “I intended to … but I realized she’s quite f
ond of you.”

  She blew out a breath slowly. “And I am fond of her. Still, most of the time you are unfailingly blunt. Rude even. Why is it so difficult to admit you’re sacking me?”

  “She’ll be disappointed.” Crushed.

  Miss Lacey threw up her hands. “Then why do you insist on making me go? Do you fear it will reflect poorly on you or your grandmother to have me hanging about? Do you have someone else in mind for the position? Or do you just want everyone else to be as miserable as you are?”

  Hellfire and damnation. “Do you really want to know?”

  She blinked prettily. “Yes.”

  “Come with me.” He unceremoniously grabbed her hand, pulled her down the corridor to his study, and steered her to a chair flanking the fireplace. “Sit.”

  Surprisingly, she did. While he poured them each a drink, he debated how much to reveal. Not so much as to frighten her. Just enough to make her his ally.

  As he turned away from the sideboard and offered her a glass of brandy, he relaxed his shoulders and flashed his most charming grin. “May I confide in you, Miss Lacey?”

  * * *

  Beth accepted the drink, valiantly trying to act as though it were perfectly normal for an unmarried miss to be sitting in a bachelor’s study, swirling a glass of brandy. “Of course you may confide in me. But please do not waste my time with half-truths or excuses. Tell me precisely why it is you wish for me to leave.”

  The duke leaned back in his chair, directly opposite her. “I need my grandmother to move out of this house—out of London entirely—and into the dower house on my country estate.”

  Beth tried valiantly to bite her tongue—and failed. “Your grandmother is not an old piece of furniture to be moved out of the way just because you no longer find it useful.”

  His eyes flashed with anger. “You go too far, Miss Lacey. My grandmother is the most important person in the world to me.”

  An impassioned little speech, but she wasn’t about to apologize. Not when his actions belied his words. “You have an odd way of showing it, your grace.”

  “Let me assure you, I have her best interests at heart. The move is necessary, for her own well-being.”

  She sipped her brandy and shot him a skeptical look. “How so?”

  “I cannot divulge the particulars. But I am hopeful that, eventually, circumstances will allow her to return.”

  “To her home, family, and friends, you mean?”

  He glared at her, then stood and began to pace behind his chair. “I’ll admit that the situation is far from ideal. I’m not happy that I have to—”

  “Banish her?” Beth provided helpfully.

  With a withering look, he said, “Be apart from her for a while.” He threw back the rest of his drink and set the glass on a table with more force than was necessary. “I do not wish to hurt her,” he said, his voice raspy with emotion.

  It might have been that hitch in his throat, or it might have been the haunted look in his eyes that touched her.

  And made her believe him.

  She stood and faced him, toe to toe. “You must do what you think is right,” she said softly. “And you must tell her yourself.”

  “Will you help me?” He gazed at her, his eyes pleading. “Not to tell her you’re leaving, but to persuade her that the move to the dower house is necessary?”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose, incredulous. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you care about her too. And she likes you. She’ll listen to you.”

  “She might.” Beth was nothing if not persuasive. “But I’m not convinced that it’s what’s best for her. Your grandmother loves the social whirl—soirees, dinner parties, balls, and shopping on Bond Street. There will be precious little of that in the country.”

  “She has friends there … and you could go with her.”

  Beth nearly choked. “A scant few hours ago, you fired me, your grace. Have you forgotten?”

  “No. But I’ve determined you might be useful after all.”

  She leaned toward him and clenched her fists to prevent herself from throttling him with his perfectly tied neckcloth. “I must say, tales of your charm have been greatly exaggerated. If you truly wish to bend me to your will, you might at least attempt a bit of flattery.”

  The duke leveled a brooding look at her. “I’ve miscalculated then. I thought you far too levelheaded to fall prey to a few pretty words.”

  Oh, he was good, and she almost fell for it. Almost.

  “On second thought, I don’t require flattery. Respect would be preferable.” Bold words, spoken by a soon-to-be-sacked companion, to a duke known for his prowess in the bedroom. But she had the upper hand—at least for the moment.

  And she intended to use it.

  “Respect must be earned,” he said. “And I will need to know you better before I can assess your character.”

  “Fair enough. But I should tell you that I’m formulating an opinion of you as well—to determine if you are deserving of my respect.”

  He chuckled—a deep, surprisingly genuine sound that warmed her blood like too much wine. “I know better than to ask how I’m faring at the moment. But I hope I shall have time to make my case.” Thoughtfully, he rubbed the light stubble along his jaw and sat on the arm of a chair, bringing his eyes level with hers. “I would like to return to something you said earlier,” he said. “About bending you to my will. What will it take?”

  Heat crept up her neck. But she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing the vexingly heady effect of his suggestive words.

  His interest in her lay in her ability to convince the duchess to move to the country, nothing more.

  And if she could accomplish the feat, he was willing to give her something in exchange.

  Beth scrambled for an idea. Not so long ago, she and her sisters had been desperate for money. But Meg had recently married Will—a handsome, wealthy earl who not only adored her, but provided for the entire family.

  Their fortunes had changed, and Beth required neither money nor favors from the duke. But there was something valuable he could give to someone else.

  “I am willing to lend my assistance,” she said, absently twirling an errant curl around her finger. “But you may find my price too steep.”

  The duke leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, so that their faces were mere inches apart. “Name it.”

  Chapter FIVE

  Alex was far more intrigued by Miss Lacey than he should have been. He could practically see her mind racing, trying to leverage all she could out of him. And his own mind strayed to all the wildly inappropriate, yet oddly appealing possibilities. Perhaps she’d ask him to teach her to properly kiss or to take her to his bed and school her in the art of lovemaking. Or maybe she’d ask him to—

  “Grant your grandmother three wishes.”

  What the devil? “I beg your pardon?”

  “That is my price,” she said.

  “My grandmother doesn’t require three wishes,” he said, scoffing. “She has everything she could possibly want.”

  Miss Lacey propped a shapely hip on the arm of the chair beside him. The mysterious smile that lit her face sent a shiver down his spine. “These are very specific sorts of wishes,” she said. “You must indulge your grandmother on three separate occasions of her choosing.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a leprechaun.”

  “Oh, I noticed,” she said, sounding more like a skilled courtesan than a prim companion. “Have no fear, these wishes shall be well within your powers. All that is required of you is time…”

  Hell, he didn’t like the sound of that.

  “… spent in your grandmother’s company…”

  “What?”

  “… engaged in activities that please her.”

  Dear Jesus. He glanced longingly at his empty brandy glass and raked a hand through his hair. Apparently Miss Lacey wanted to teach him a lesson—and not the tantalizing
kind he’d hoped for. She’d incorrectly assumed he wanted to avoid his grandmother’s company, when all he truly wanted was to keep her safe.

  Still, a few wishes were a small price to pay in exchange for Miss Lacey’s help … and his grandmother’s happiness.

  “Very well. I spent time with my grandmother tonight, at dinner. Shall we count that as fulfillment of the first wish?”

  She laughed. And laughed. Miss Lacey had the audacity to laugh until she was wiping tears from her pretty eyes. “You misunderstand, your grace. A greater commitment of time and effort will be required.”

  He crossed his arms and waited for her mirth to expend itself. “This payment of yours borders on manipulation. I don’t like being told what to do.”

  “I can’t say I’m shocked. However, that is my price,” she said, blue eyes flashing, “and it’s a fair one. It requires you to prove your dedication to your grandmother before you send her away.”

  He clenched his jaw, biting back a curse. “I don’t have to prove anything to you, Miss Lacey.”

  “That is true. And I don’t have to convince your grandmother to relocate to the country.”

  Damn it, he needed his grandmother to move out. It wasn’t safe for her to be living with him—not when there’d already been two possible attempts on his life. The farther away from him she was, the better off she’d be.

  Miss Lacey had him by the metaphorical bollocks—and she knew it. But her price wasn’t terribly steep … and he did like spoiling his grandmother. Besides, how long could granting three simple wishes take?

  “How certain are you of your ability to persuade her?” he asked.

  “I’m confident I could help her find the silver lining in moving. I promise to do my best if you’ll do yours.”

  “And you won’t make me out to be the villain?”

  She batted her eyes sweetly. “Never.”

  “Well then, Miss Lacey”—God help him, he must be mad—“I believe we have a bargain.”

  She thrust her slender hand forward to shake on their agreement, but he shook his head. This called for something more momentous than a handshake. “We shall seal the deal with a toast.”