The Courtesan's Wager by Claudia Dain Page B

a sense of humor, he laughed out loud at the direction of his thoughts. Life was very fine indeed if the seduction of the most beautiful and the most infamous of women counted as a task to be accomplished.
    Calbourne arrived at Dalby House on time. A bit of reliable gossip was that Sophia did not hesitate to punish those who were not prompt. He was prompt. He was not going to start his seduction of her with a misstep of that paltry variety.
    He was shown into the yellow salon, a large and beautifully proportioned room done up entirely in sunny yellow silk damask with costly deep blue porcelains of French origin dotted about, and made to wait. He had expected nothing less.
    Calbourne was pretending to study one of the Sevres porcelains, a bit of truly remarkable artistry, but hardly something to hold his attention for more than a few seconds, when he heard Sophia enter the room. He did not turn immediately as he suspected she would expect that. He was a duke, after all, and some small measure of superiority and benign arrogance was due him.
    When he did turn to face her, he turned slowly and with all the formidable grace his impressive size would allow. He was, rather famously, he thought, the tallest and, he was not too modest to admit, the most fit man in any gathering. He used his size to intimidate and to impress whenever possible. It was nearly always possible. He found that particular vanity about himself fully as amusing as almost everything else. Calbourne, blessed with everything the world could bestow, found life almost uniformly amusing and pleasant. Why should he not?
    Sophia had indeed entered the room. She looked, as always, seductive and nearly attainable. He had given it quite a bit of thought and he had concluded that one of the reasons for Sophia’s fame was her precise degree of attainability. She maintained a certain degree of elusiveness that men, at least defined by him, found mesmerizing. He strongly suspected she found that amusing. He was not at all inclined to fault her. Did he not walk through life finding it more amusing than not?
    At Sophia’s side was Lady Jordan, related through marriage to both the Marquis of Melverley and the Duke of Aldreth. Lady Jordan, as was perfectly usual, looked slightly foxed.
    Here was an odd bit of business.
    On the heels of Lady Jordan followed Lady Amelia Caversham, Aldreth’s daughter and rather too obviously in the market for a husband. She looked completely lovely, as was her habit.
    Odd again. He could find no explanation for this parade of women into what was supposed to have been an intimate dinner between sophisticated and healthy adults.
    And the parade was still not at an end, for nearly on the skirts of Lady Amelia came Mrs. Anne Warren, a particular favorite of Sophia’s and almost something of a project with her. Mrs. Warren, a woman of no particular credentials beyond her obvious beauty, was on the cusp of being married to Lord Staverton.
    The women curtseyed. He bowed. They sat, clustered onto one side of the room, the candlelight playing delicately on their faces and across their coiffed hair, looking at him expectantly. Calbourne sat, slowly and without his usual grace.
    Most odd.
    “You look slightly bemused, your grace,” Sophia said, “which is completely understandable. If I may explain?”
    “Bemused?” he asked with a half smile. “To find myself in the cheerful company of four lovely women when only one was expected? I should not be much of a man to admit to being bemused. Say instead, Lady Dalby, that I am delighted. Explanations can proceed or not, at your discretion.”
    Sophia smiled and nodded her head once in acquiescence, or was it to hide a chuckle? One could never be completely certain of anything with Sophia Dalby.
    “How very wise you are, your grace, to count on my discretion. I am, in all things, most discreet,” Sophia said. Which truly was rare humor as Sophia was discreet in nothing, particularly where men were