The Wallflower Wager (Girl Meets Duke, #3)

by Tessa Dare

Penny believed in a great many things. She believed that education was important, books were vital, women ought to have the vote, and most people were good, deep down. She believed that every last one of God’s creatures—human or otherwise—deserved love.

Gabriel tromped along behind her. “For God’s sake, let the beast have his freedom. He’s a red-blooded . . . whatever a male otter’s called.” “Boars. The males are boars.” “He’ll build his own little house . . .” “It’s called a holt.” “. . . find a Mrs. Hubert . . .” “Otters are polygynous. The boars mate with multiple sows.” “So he’ll find multiple Mrs. Huberts. Even better. I never thought I’d envy an otter, but here I am.” She heaved a long-suffering sigh.

“There is no way in hell that your unmarried state is due to a lack of interest.” “Please, enlighten me as to the reason.” “That’s simple. You’ve been hiding yourself, and you’re good at it. A master of camouflage.” She laughed. “Camouflage?” “That’s the only possible explanation. You’ve made a frock from the same silk covering the drawing room walls, trimmed it with cat hair and feathers. Then when gentlemen visit, you stand still and blend in.” “You have a surprisingly vivid imagination.” “What I have is experience.” He stopped in the road and turned to face her. “I’ve built a fortune by spotting things that are undervalued, dusting them off, and selling them at the proper price. I know a hidden treasure when I see one.” “Oh.” Looking away, he pushed his hand through his hair. “Not this again.” “Not what again?” “Every time I speak three words, you look as though you’re going to swoon into my arms.” “I do not,” Penny objected, knowing very well that she probably did.

“Here is the point.” She stepped into his path, forcing him to meet her eyes. Man-eating sharks and all. “No one can be reduced to numbers in a ledger, or a stack of banknotes, or a single silver coin. We are humans, with souls and hearts and passion and love. Every last one of us is priceless. Even you.”

“Gabriel Duke. You are priceless.”

You are priceless. Gabe’s heart kicked him in the ribs. There were responses he’d prepared in his life—saved up for the day he might need them, no matter how unlikely. He had an acceptance speech ready for the London Business League award. He had his murderous threats well-rehearsed in case he crossed paths with that cruel bastard of a workhouse guardian someday. Gabe even knew what he’d say to his mother, if she came back from the grave to hear it. He had no idea how to respond to this. He couldn’t have possibly prepared. Nothing in his life had taught him to imagine those words. You are priceless. “Goodness, you needn’t look so panicked.” She smiled and gave his head a little shake. “It’s no more than I tell Bixby daily.” Right. Of course it wasn’t. She was only exacting a bit of revenge after he’d mocked her for blushing and so on, and he likely deserved it. Gabe hated that he felt disappointed. Even betrayed.

Her friends had been waiting. All of them. The duchess one, the freckled one, the pregnant one, the scarred duke one, and the aggravatingly charming one. Five individuals who would defy even the closest observer to find a trait they all held in common. Except, of course, for one important quality: They all cared about Penny.

The two men slammed Gabe against a wall. “What the hell did you do to her?” Ashbury snarled. His scarred face twisted with anger. “I demand answers.” “I demand answers, too,” the other one said. Chase, Penny had called him. “We were taking the otter out to the country. The carriage axle splintered, and we were delayed.” “Oh, please,” Chase said. “A carriage accident? I’ve devised a great many excuses in my life, and that’s the most hackneyed tale in the book.” “In the book?” Gabe asked. “There’s no book.” “Yes, there is,” Chase snapped, defensive. “And if there’s not, I’m writing one.” “Forget the book.” Ashbury shook him by the lapels, rattling the paintings and sketches mounted on the wall. “I want the truth.” “It is the truth. The carriage axle broke. We stopped and waited for the smith to come repair it.” “Then why is her frock a shambles?” Gabe sighed. “The otter escaped into the river. She insisted on chasing after it. She rushed into the water, tumbled onto the muddy bank, and got tangled in the reeds.” Chase looked peevish. “Well, that sounds . . . entirely too plausible, where Penny is concerned.”

“You called her sandwiches revolting?” Chase went red with anger. “How dare you.” “I told her the truth. They are revolting.” “Of course they are.” He jabbed a finger in Gabe’s face. “And that’s expressly why we never tell her so.” Gabe batted his finger away. “So you lie to her.” “Better than breaking her heart.” “Breaking her heart? Good God, man. They’re sandwiches.” “Those are not mere sandwiches,” Chase said through gritted teeth. “They’re a test. You failed it.”

“Unmannerly scut!” Ashbury shouted. “Thou reeky, burly-boned gudgeon.” Gabe had no idea how to respond to that. “He curses in Shakespeare,” Chase explained. “It’s annoying, I know. You get used to it.”

“I do see someone I know.” She lifted on tiptoe and craned her neck. “That man over there. He’s a distant cousin.” “The one dressed as a Russian prince?” “The one who actually is a Russian prince.” Of course he was. As if Gabe needed one more reminder of the vast gulf between their stations.

Wounded male pride has caused the world more destruction than the Black Death and the Great Flood put together.” Nicola’s eyebrows lifted. “Are we entirely certain men’s bruised feelings weren’t to blame for the plague and the deluge, too?”

“If men are bent on destroying the world, we women must be the ones holding it together,” a newcomer to their gathering said. “The earth hasn’t crumbled yet.”

Dueling is illegal, to begin. It’s also bloody dangerous. Men die.” “Yes,” Gabe said impatiently. “That’s the point.” “There’s a solid chance you’ll be grievously, if not mortally, wounded. And if by some miracle you do kill Lambert, your chance of dying only increases. Odds are, you’d be charged with murder and hang for it.” Gabe shrugged. “Not much I can do about it now, is there?” “There is,” Ashbury said. “Delope. Count off the paces, and when you turn, fire your pistol straight up into the air. Then pray Lambert does the same.” “Why the hell would I do that?” “It’s a sort of truce. Means honor is satisfied.” “I will not be satisfied until that villain is dead. He doesn’t deserve honor. What he did to Penny was not merely despicable. It was unforgivable.” “We know. Her suffering is unfathomable. So if you love her, don’t put her through even more pain. If you were to die, she’d be devastated. Hell, even Chase and I would be . . .” He looked to his friend for the word. “Disappointed?” Chase suggested. “Let’s go with inconvenienced,” Ashbury replied. Chase nodded. “Someone has to eat the sandwiches.”

The older woman smiled. “Now, that was satisfying. I never knew until this moment how much I wanted to have henchmen.”