Free The Courtesan's Wager by Claudia Dain Page A

poise as a duke’s daughter ought to display, which was considerable.
    “I could not possibly agree with you more, Lady Amelia,” Calbourne said. “I also believe that I am due commendation for nearly everything. I had no idea we had that trait in common. How very pleasant to find a kindred spirit in this room.”
    “Should I add that to the list?” Mrs. Warren said, looking at Sophia over her shoulder, her mouth twitching against a grin.
    It might be possible that, at some future date, Amelia could actually develop a cordial relationship with Anne Warren. Certainly she did not mind in the least that Lord Dutton seemed so enamored of her.
    When Sophia had arranged for this interview with the Duke of Calbourne, she had insisted, in direct opposition to the entire exercise, that propriety be maintained. Therefore, at least one chaperone must be present, which for Amelia meant her Aunt Mary as Hawksworth had been disposed of in the most innocent manner imaginable. As to Mrs. Warren’s presence, Amelia had no explanation, but Sophia had insisted and that had been that. When one asked a favor from someone like Sophia, one did not look too closely into the horse’s mouth. Not unless one wanted a finger chomped off at the knuckle.
    “Oh, most assuredly,” Sophia answered languidly. “Kindred spirits. Could anyone have anticipated it?”
    Aunt Mary snorted and took a sip from her cup. She was drinking Madeira and she was drinking it very contentedly. Aldreth seldom supplied Madeira, likely because he knew it was one of Aunt Mary’s favorite drinks. Of course, Aunt Mary had many favorite drinks; indeed, it was very difficult to think of a drink which she could not be tempted to enjoy.
    “Do not pretend to modesty, Lady Dalby, for no one here shall believe it,” Calbourne said.
    “Very well,” Sophia said, “ I anticipated it. I should be very much surprised if you and Lady Amelia did not find yourselves to have much in common, your grace. She is, as you will discover, a remarkably pleasing sort of girl. As you are a man who likes to be pleased . . . though, actually,” Sophia mused, “I cannot think of a single man who does not enjoy being pleased. Can you, your grace?”
    “Not a one,” he answered briskly.
    Once more, Sophia had stolen the duke’s attention from her. She refused to tolerate it, that was all. Simply refused.
    “Actually,” Amelia said firmly, leaning forward slightly, “I do not believe Aldreth to be the sort of man who enjoys being pleased.”
    “Is that possible?” Sophia said.
    “It must be,” Amelia answered stoutly, “for I have never seen him pleased. By anything. And I know him well enough, you must agree.”
    “Oh, yes, I must agree,” Sophia said. It sounded suspiciously sarcastic, which was intolerable. Amelia did know Aldreth better than anyone in this room, certainly. He was her father, after all.
    “It’s quite true,” Aunt Mary said, looking at Sophia. “Aldreth is . . . difficult.”
    “Perhaps all dukes are difficult,” Sophia said, looking at Calbourne. “Perhaps they enjoy being difficult. Is that the source of your endless pleasure, your grace?”
    “Ridiculous,” Calbourne said. “It is a truer conclusion to state that all dukes enjoy making things difficult for others.”
    “Hardly complimentary,” Mary said.
    Oh, dear, Mary was always saying precisely the wrong thing to the exact wrong person.
    “I think Aldreth is unique,” Amelia said, “just as I believe the Duke of Calbourne is unique. Perhaps it is in being unique that the dukes of the realm make their mark upon the world.”
    It was a fine bit of calculated misdirection. She was quite proud of herself. She did, after all, have to manage both Sophia and Mary, who, she was certain, found their own perverse pleasure in being difficult. How else to explain their behavior? How to charm Calbourne with these mild insults flying about the room? No matter what anyone said about dukes, one thing was