The Bride Hunt by Jane Feather Page A

to keep an open mind while you attempt to prove to me that I might find it an interesting exercise.” He smiled again and Prudence steeled herself against the charm. It was, she was convinced, entirely artificial, turned on as and when it suited the barrister.
    “Have dinner with me tonight,” he said, the smile deepening. “And do your worst.” He spread his arms wide. “I swear I will come undefended, unprejudiced, open to all and any argument. What could be fairer than that?”
    Prudence was so taken aback, she was momentarily without words. He had moved the interview from a business footing to a social one, and more than that, there was something undeniably seductive in his manner. He knew the power of his smile, the deeper resonance of his voice. But why bother to turn it on her? Did he want something from her?
    There was only one way to find out.
    “I won’t turn down the opportunity to persuade you, Sir Gideon,” she said, hoping she sounded cool and collected rather than astonished and disturbed.
    “Then you accept my invitation?” He looked a little peeved, she thought, at her halfhearted response, and it gave her more confidence.
    “Certainly. Although I fail to grasp what a conversation at the dinner table could achieve that couldn’t be achieved in your chambers.”
    “Then you’ll have to wait and see,” he responded, immediately putting her back up again. “I might surprise you. If you’ll give me the address, I’ll send a motor for you at eight o’clock.”
    It would have been more courteous of him to have offered to come for her himself, Prudence thought. She was annoyed, very much so, but common sense dictated that she swallow her annoyance in the interests of another chance to win his support. Also, he intrigued her, reluctant though she was to admit it. He was on the one hand ungracious to the point of rudeness, arrogant, high-handed, and contemptuous, yet on the other he was charming, smiled readily, judging by the crow’s feet around his eyes, and was undeniably attractive when he chose. He must also have a formidable mind, a rare quality that she had always found irresistible in a man. But why was he bothering to charm a woman who had gone out of her way to present herself as a spinsterly dowd?
    “Ten Manchester Square.” She walked to the door, making no attempt to soften the curtness of her response with a smile of farewell, but he slid out from behind the table and reached the door ahead of her.
    He took her hand and bowed over it. “I look forward to the evening, Miss Duncan. I’ll show you out.” He picked up a large umbrella from the stand by the door and escorted her down to the street. The rain was coming down hard and he said, “Wait here. I’ll fetch a cab.” Before she could protest, he had left the shelter of the doorway and was dodging puddles under the protection of the umbrella.
    Prudence was yet more puzzled. From what she’d seen of his manners so far, she would have expected him to send his clerk on the errand, if he hadn’t simply left her to go off on her own in the rain. A man of curious paradoxes, and he had warned her not to rush to judgment. On such slight acquaintance it was probably a warning best heeded.
    A hackney cab swung around the street corner and drew up at the doorway. Sir Gideon jumped down and held the umbrella over Prudence until she was safely ensconced. “Where shall I tell the cabbie?”
    “Fortnum’s,” she said. “I’m having a second tea.”
    He laughed, a soft, rich sound that she hadn’t heard before. “No wonder you scorned my crumpets. Until this evening, madam.” He waved a hand and Prudence lifted hers in involuntary response, aware that she was smiling.
    Gideon, a thoughtful frown now creasing his brow, returned to his chambers. He stood just inside the door to his inner sanctum, tapping his lips with a forefinger. What on earth did he think he was doing? The case was impossible, he’d known that from the first