The Debonair Duke (12 page)

“I would be delighted
,
Lady Pamela,” the duke politely responded, his manner again wintry. He offered his arm, and Pamela sailed off with him after giving her mother another look, this one attempting to convey her helplessness, and leaving Mama to deal with the prince.

They strolled through the throng of people clustered near the door to the refreshment room, then paused before the footman waiting to serve them. The duke motioned to a servant to fill a glass with ratafia, another with wine.

“Now, tell me, please, what is going on!” he demanded quietly once they had left the table. “I thought you a proper young miss and off you go with that run-of-the-mill prince. He
looks like something out of a Covent Garden farce.”

“Why, I thought him most handsome
,
Your Grace, particularly his mustache. And his manners are quite acceptable. However, there is one thing.” She paused to take a sip of the drink he had handed her, becoming most serious.

“And that is?” the duke said, looking fierce.

“His initials.”

There was a moment or two of silence, followed by a sigh. The fierce look disappeared to be followed by an expression that might almost be considered sheepish in anyone less consequential than the duke.

“I had forgotten that for a moment.” How could he have doubted her integrity.

“But it is why we are here?” Pamela exclaimed, annoyed with her escort. This was
his
idea.

“You are right, of course,” he muttered. “I can’t think what was in my mind. Well?”

“I cannot tell on such short acquaintance whether he may be the one or not. He certainly stared at the necklace.”

“It would be difficult not to stare at it,” the duke said, following suit, observing the creamy swell of her lovely bosom rising from the daring dip of the neckline.

With his gaze warming her skin and making her feel somehow as beautiful as the prince claimed she was, Pamela sought with great difficulty to adhere to the subject at hand.

“Be that as it may, what should I do now?”

“Do?” the duke said blankly. “Oh,
do.
Well, you had better encourage the fellow. Perhaps a ride in the park some morning? Will you? If he offers?”

“I suspect he is not overburdened with money and would welcome an heiress. I could suggest a ride in the park if he wishes to see me again
—with my groom along, of course.”

“Decorous as always, naturally,” the duke said wryly, seeming to tear his gaze from the necklace with difficulty.

“Naturally,” Pamela said with a chuckle. She flipped her fan open and wafted it before her with a languid hand. “I am finding this all fascinating. I had not the least notion what a sensation the jewels would create.”

“Just concentrate on those initials. Forget the sensation,” the duke growled. She drew more admiration than he wished for, and it disconcerted him to see her bloom under so much attention
—given by other men.

He escorted Pamela back to her mother and to her next partner with what almost felt like reluctance. But that was nonsense. Perhaps he was trying to think of the prince’s background, Pamela decided as she was whisked off on the arm of the young and most presentable Viscount Darnley.

* * * *

Hours later the prince again claimed her hand, this time for a waltz. She wasn’t sure she ought to accept, but since she had danced the waltz with the duke, she could scarcely deny the prince the pleasure.

“You are a most excellent partner,” the prince declared with enthusiasm. “The Russian court would adore you,” he said while expertly circling her about in the proper degree.

“You are wonderfully kind, Your Highness,” Pamela said, finding it not at all difficult to beam a smile at him.

“I must see you again,” he insisted. “I asked your mama if I might, and she agreed. A ride in the park?”

“I usually ride in the morning when the air is crisp and fresh and there are not so many about,” Pamela said demurely.

“Delightful girl,” the prince said with clear approval in his smooth, velvety voice.

Pamela shivered a little, wondering what she might be involved in should this continue. “Tomorrow at eleven of the clock?”

“If that is not too early, my lady. I should not wish to drag you from your bed at an unseemly hour.”

That might be his spoken sentiment, but his eyes sent an entirely different message.

Pamela tried to look nonchalant about the assignation and said, “Eleven is fine, Prince Radinski. I look forward to a pleasant ride.”

“Until then, princess.” He bowed over her hand, then left the ballroom
.

Pamela mulled over his title of “princess.” She surely had never been given that appellation before. Perhaps…

Chapter Seven

“He was most particular in his attentions,” Lady Anne whispered to Pamela following the prince’s departure. “What exactly did he say?”

“Indeed,” the duke chimed in from behind Pamela, albeit quietly. “I should like to know that as well. His marked interest in you did not escape me, nor
—I fancy—most of those attending.” He gestured to those not far away, who studied Pamela and her friends with curiosity.

“He was most gracious, and while he noticed the jewels, his only remark was on the difference between what I wear and that of most of the young unmarried women,” Pamela said with a hint of asperity in her voice. “I do not like displaying the necklace while other girls wear more seemly jewelry.”

“It is time for supper. I suggest we discuss this further over our plates.” The duke took a gentle grasp of Pamela’s elbow, firmly guiding her along to where a marvelous collation had been set out. It defied description, for the food was as splendid to behold as it proved to eat.

Pamela sat with her new friends, catching her mother’s approving gaze while nibbling on a roll.

“Now, word for word as best you can recall,” the duke commanded quietly.

“We spoke little while dancing. A country-dance is not conducive to conversation, you must agree. I requested his company after the dance, for it was a trifle warm in here. He seemed most happy to comply.” Offering a crooked smile, she then continued, “He said that in Russia I would be heaped with jewels and feted, betrothed to a prince.” The twinkling look she exchanged with Lady Anne revealed what nonsense Pamela thought that to be. “However
—as I mentioned to you before—he spent more time eyeing my necklace than anything else. I concluded that was where his interest truly was fixed,” she concluded wryly.

“What else did he say?” the duke prompted, looking as though something he’d eaten was off in flavor.

“He said ‘tis important to be a prince, for to be less is unthinkable. Apparently, anything less offers little money. I suspect he is on the hunt for an English heiress.”

“When do you see him again?” the duke inquired. His manner was casual but his regard was very intent.

“I did as you suggested, and we are to ride out in the park later this morning
—about eleven.”

“Well, as he appears to be the most likely of this evening’s suspects, you may as well go home now and acquire some sleep before it is time to proceed with your encouragement of the young prince.” The duke gave a cursory look at the room, as though to see if he had missed anyone of interest in his assessment.

“He is not so very young, Your Grace,” Lady Anne teased. “I wager he is of an age with you.”

“He is an impudent puppy,” the duke said in a manner that closed the subject, and said more for Pamela’s ears than Anne’s.

“Well, I am beginning to feel as though I might find my pillow most welcome.” Pamela said, stifling a yawn that threatened.

“Then you must, by all means, head for your home,” the duke agreed, rising to assist Pamela with such promptness that it made her feel as though he couldn’t wait to be rid of her.

She was far too astute to point out that even her mother did not appear to be tired and that once revived by the delicious supper, Pamela could have danced for hours. But she’d been trained to be guided by gentlemen
—and that the duke certainly was—so she acquiesced.

When they found her mother deep in conversation with a friend, Pamela hated to interrupt, but the presence of the duke captured her mother’s attention without a word said.

“Lady Pamela has found the evening fatiguing,” the duke explained after a courtly bow. “Perhaps you are of a mind to leave as well
,
Lady Gresham? I shall, of course, see that you both arrive home safely. I noticed that Lord Gresham joined several other gentlemen who went off to White’s.”

It was an offer few mothers could resist, and Lady Gresham was no exception. To be seen leaving on the arm of the highly eligible Duke of Wexford would do Pamela great credit. Lady Gresham was too shrewd to expect His Grace to marry Pamela. If he but brought her to the notice of other eligible gentlemen, it would be quite enough to satisfy her ladyship.

Lady Gresham gathered her shawl and reticule, then smoothed her skirt after rising, all of which caught the eye of a number of peeresses nearby. She swept along to offer her appreciation for a marvelous evening to Lady Sefton, then led the way down the stairs to the entry. Since the duke had already sent a message for their carriage
—which Pamela thought a trifle presumptuous—it awaited them without.

“What a delightful ball,” Lady Gresham said with a hint of pride in her voice as she settled in the comfortable vehicle.

“Lady Pamela truly sparkled this evening, my lady,” the duke said with that debonair polish he possessed in such abundance.

“That she did,” the countess replied, sounding pleased. She then went on to make polite small talk about the people who had attended and what lovely gowns were to be seen. It was the sort of thing she did well and never had Pamela heard her in better form.

The duke left them in the entry of the Gresham home, after expressing the hope that Pamela would enjoy her morning ride.

“You accepted the prince’s company on your morning ride?” the countess queried.

“He said you had given permission, so I agreed,” Pamela said respectfully.

“Excellent, child. I do believe you are going to have a credible Season after all.” It was obvious the countess was pleased.

“I would like to place the jewels in Papa’s safe,” Pamela said before beginning the walk up the stairs to her room. She unclasped the necklace and held the glittering sapphires and diamonds in her hand, where they caught the light from the entry candles. The jewels captured a thousand tiny candles, flaming with brilliance.

“It
will have to wait until your father comes home. He failed to tell me the combination or even where the safe is located,” Pamela’s mother replied in vexed tones.

Once again, Pamela clasped the jewels about her neck.

Grimes extinguished the candles in the chandelier while mother and daughter climbed the staircase with night candles in hand. At the top, each went her own way.

Pamela had never felt less like going to bed. It had been most exciting, to be the object of such attention
—dancing with the duke, the prince. She was not quite certain how wearing the jewels could make such an enormous difference, but it had. Perhaps believing it was the jewels rather than herself that attracted attention made her less self-conscious?

“The necklace! Oh, bother,” she exclaimed, then removing the gems, she restored them to the hiding place in the bookshelf for another night, thankful Rose was elsewhere for the moment.

Before undressing, she studied the effect of her blue gown with its newly lowered neck and decided the jewels had made the difference; there was little change in her.

A huge yawn overcame her, and she crawled into her bed with more contentment than she’d expected. Assured the jewels were well hidden, she fell into a sound sleep.

* * * *

The duke had availed himself of the Gresham carriage to cover the distance to White’s. Here he found Lord Gresham. The gentleman was not gaming, but rather sitting with several friends discussing the political situation.

“I took the liberty of having your carriage wait for you, Lord Gresham.” the duke said in that way he had when he wanted someone to do something without suggesting it outright. “I saw Lady Gresham and Lady Pamela home from the ball, then thought you might wish the carriage as well.”

“Most considerate of you
,
Your Grace,” Gresham replied, rising from his chair. “It will be good to have an early night of it for a change.”

“My feelings precisely,” the duke said, turning to walk down the stairs with his lordship.

When it became apparent that the duke was leaving the club as well. Lord Gresham insisted upon giving the duke a ride to his home in Mayfair. The conversation covered many areas, not the least of which was his lordship’s attitude toward a foreign prince and the possibility of international complications were the prince to become enamored of an English lady.

* * * *

The morning brought a nasty, cold rain that pounded on the cobblestones with relentless fury.

Pamela sought the warmth of the morning room fire, wrapping a warm shawl about her for additional comfort.

“I have sent a message to the prince that I shall not ride out this morning,” she informed her mother.

“He will no doubt join you on the next presentable day,” her mother said complacently.

“No doubt,” Pamela agreed, but hardly for the same reason. If he sought her out, it would be for the sapphires and diamonds, not for her own sake.

Curious about a number of things, not the least of which were details of His Grace’s background, she found his name in the peerage and studied the entry most carefully. Under the listing for the Duke of Wexford was the information that he also carried the titles of Marquis of Huntington, Earl Stanhope, and Baron of Rathbone, which would be courtesy titles to bestow on a son if he ever married and produced one. She observed that the duke’s present heir was a first cousin once removed. His principle seat was Blythwood Park, in Oxfordshire. He also had a number of lesser homes
—a manor house in Dorset, a hunting box up north, a home near the sea, as well as his London address. It sat on a most fashionable street in the heart of Mayfair. The Musgrave family had produced prudent
investors, no spendthrifts or gamesters, and wise managers of their lands. All had married and produced heirs
—until now.