“You wouldn’t be interested in the best two of three, would you?” he asked with a jaunty grin.
Lucy shook her head and smiled back at him. “Twenty sounds perfect to me.”
He winked at her. “How did I know you would say that?”
She shrugged. “Lucky guess?”
“Very well,” he agreed. “I shall come up with twenty better ways to refuse a dance with a gentleman than your ‘No, thank you.’”
Lucy tapped her slipper against the parquet floor. She had no choice. He’d made the challenge and she must see it through. Wise of him actually, to keep her from being the one to use her tongue. Quite wise indeed. “Very well. I accept. Let’s hear them.”
“Ah, wait. First, we must decide. What shall be the forfeit?” he asked, plucking nonchalantly at his ivory cuff.
Lucy arched a brow. “Forfeit?”
“Yes. What shall the winner win?”
She wrinkled her nose at him, then stepped forward to whisper so their audience would not hear. “When I win, you agree to leave Cass alone.”
He appeared to consider it for a moment. “Agreed,” he whispered back. “Only because I know I will win.”
“And what do you intend to win?” she replied.
He bowed again. “Why, the coveted dance with you, my lady.” This, he said loud enough for the entire audience to hear.
Lucy had to concentrate to keep from allowing her jaw to fall open. As if that rogue truly wanted a dance with her. It was ludicrous, of course, but not much of a threat. She had every intention of winning.
“Very well, Your Grace. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
The crowd seemed to lean forward collectively, eager to watch the proceedings. “This is almost better than the theater,” she heard Jane say from somewhere in the large mass of people.
“You sound confident that I will fail, Lady Lucy,” the duke said.
“Iamconfident, Your Grace.” Lucy couldn’t help the little thrill that shot through her at the prospect of the challenge. My, but it had been an age since anyone had asked her to dance and even longer since anyone had challenged her, truly challenged her. She was used to slicing potential suitors to bits with her tongue and continuing about her affairs. But this man—oh, not that he washersuitor, no, he was Cass’s suitor—at least he challenged her. Didn’t hang his head and slink away like a wounded animal. Oh, yes, she was looking forward to this, a bit too much actually.
The duke folded his hands behind his back and began to pace around the cleared circle. “I shall begin with the obvious. ‘Dancing with a man of your charm might make me swoon, my lord.’”
Lucy rolled her eyes.
“‘I could not in good conscience accept your offer to dance when there are so many other ladies here with dance cards just begging to be filled by someone as prestigious as yourself.’”
A little smirk popped to her lips. He circled around her.
“‘It would be rude of me to dance with you, knowing my skill would only serve to cast you in a less-than-flattering light.’”
“I like that one,” she admitted.
“‘I wouldn’t dare be so presumptuous as to accompany his lordship onto the dance floor knowing the color of my gown would clash with my lord’s dashing evening attire.’”
“Preposterous,” she said, pretending to study her slipper.
“‘I’m sorry, my lord, but my maid laced my stays too tightly to possibly consider the exertion.’”
“That one’s just silly,” she replied. “Besides, I wager you’ve heard all those and more.”
“A few,” he admitted with a grin.
“I confess myself disappointed,” she said. “I thought you had more imagination than that, Your Grace.” The crowd was watching her but instead of feeling self-conscious or shy, Lucy found she relished the attention. It had been an age since anyone in thetontook any notice of her. And here was the dashing Duke of Claringdon challenging her to a verbal duel. The best part was that it seemed to beenhancingher reputation instead of shredding it to bits as Cass had feared. Everyone’s gaze was trained on her with a mixture of awe and envy.
