The Debonair Duke (16 page)

“You were not there to hear them” was her only comment, one she’d not have dared say in the past.

The duke appreciated her discretion. She did not do as so many women would—confide the private conversation of others like so much trite gossip. Had their words been meaningful and important to the solution of the mystery, she would have reported it without failure.

“Have you thought about what more we shall do to lure out the villain of the piece?” she inquired, restlessly strolling about the room, glancing out the window, before turning to look at him.

“You will have to go on as you have been, I believe. Encourage them all. Sooner or later someone is bound to make a move. When he does, I will be waiting for him.”

Not understanding how this would be accomplished, Pamela gave him a nod, drawing closer to say, “I do not understand why this other Lady Pamela has not wondered where her necklace is—unless it was to be a surprise.”

“Very few chaps would send such a costly surprise gift by delivery. I would prefer to give sapphires and diamonds to my lady in person.”

“But,” she countered breathlessly, “it might be dangerous.”

“Dangerous? I suppose it might at that.”

Pamela stood still, studying the duke in his casual perfection. He always seemed so well turned out, garbed appropriately no matter what the occasion. But more than that, she admired his attitude toward her. He was the perfect gentleman.

Robert watched the expressive face so close to him. What thoughts were flitting through that pretty little head? She entranced him, beguiled by her winsome grins and her forthright speech mixed with proper manners. He had wondered for some days what it might be like to gather her in his arms and know the touch of her pretty lips. His thoughts proved irresistible in the quiet privacy of the library.

In one swift movement he swept her into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers. Her softness was like heady perfume to his senses. He deepened his kiss and thrilled to her response.

When she pulled away—or he let her free, depending on whose view one took—she gave him an adorable look, then backed away from him.

“I suspect we had best forget that happened,” she said in a quivery voice. “I want no additional complications.” She heard her voice—calm, rational, but her heart and pulse were racing wild. The delicious warmth of his kiss lingered on her sensitive mouth.

Chapter Nine

“Do forgive me for being so tardy,” Lady Anne cried, breathlessly entering the room. “I am being very remiss in my chaperonage! Time seems to pass so quickly in the morning, and though I had but a short list to do, every clerk in town seemed to be as slow as treacle.” Apparently sensing none of the tension in the room, she dropped her swansdown muff on the desk, then gracefully sank onto one of the comfortable lounge chairs placed about the little room, fanning herself with her handkerchief. “Well?” She darted little looks from His Grace to Pamela, then back again.

Pamela clutched the back of a library chair, willing herself to become calm, serene. Her cheeks still felt on fire, and her limbs still trembled. How dreadful were she to collapse in an ignominious heap. The duke might find it amusing to kiss her, but he would deplore any sign of the vapors, she felt certain.

Pamela said hesitantly, “I reported on the results of my morning ride, which was a lot of nonsense from the prince and the baron—who vied for honors, silly gudgeons.” She looked anywhere but at the duke.

“We have been discussing the matter of how best to proceed while waiting for you,” the duke said in a wild stretch of the truth. “Lady Pamela just suggested that it could have been dangerous for the fellow to present the necklace in person. Under what circumstances might that be?” One of those powerful, lean hands reached up to stroke his chin, and when she glanced at him, Pamela found she again must look elsewhere. He could unnerve her so easily.

With utter confidence, the dratted man leaned back against the table and crossed his arms over his manly chest against which Pamela had so recently been drawn.

“Perhaps she is married? Or she’s an heiress and her parents will not countenance marriage with this man?” Pamela began, thinking of her own situation and potential problems. She was determined not to permit Lady Anne to see what a ninny she’d been for allowing the situation to develop to the point where the duke felt free to take the liberty to kiss her. Why, if they had been discovered, he might have been forced into marriage with Pamela—the last thing he should wish—because he had compromised her. A gentleman did not go about kissing the daughter of an earl—or any young single woman, for that matter—in a private library without facing serious repercussions were he found out.

“Or she is watched by an evil guardian,” Lady Anne added with enthusiasm for the game.

“Who most likely wants to marry her to snabble her fortune for himself,” Pamela said darting a glance at the duke. He looked as cool as an ice from Gunter’s. “Do you have any suggestions, Your Grace?” she queried with a shrewd look at this man who had turned her world upside down with his touch.

“I submit it could be a spy who has received the necklace in payment—either for work accomplished or in progress. Or
possibly it is someone who is blackmailing another after learning a secret—and we all know that is quite a likely possibility. Scandal lurks behind every door in this town—unless one is careful.” That hand reached up to stroke his chin again.

Pamela turned from the sight, thinking there must be something amiss with her senses, for she had never felt like this before in her life.

“Why, Your Grace,” Lady Anne said with an amused laugh, “do you mean to say there could be scandal lurking even in this house? Gracious! I had no idea.”

Pamela thought he was playing with fire to skirt so close to the issue of kissing her and the danger that could so easily overtake him. She waited to hear what sort of answer he would give.

“I doubt your house could be a scene for scandal, but one never knows. For example, what if I had been found alone with Lady Pamela in this room? We are innocent of any
wrongdoing, yet because she is young and single and I am unmarried, there would be a scandal. How simple it could be for an unscrupulous person to arrange.”

Lady Anne gave him a speculative look and said, “One could think you have been subjected to precisely such an arrangement, the way you speak.”

“I am grateful that not even one of the servants has seen us unchaperoned while we waited for you,” Pamela said earnestly. At least, she amended, she had not seen anyone. Could a footman have walked silently past that door and neither she nor the duke been aware of it? They had been totally caught up in that kiss, brief though it was. Or at least, Pamela had been enraptured. She couldn’t guess what the duke had felt, but he had worn a most bemused expression on his face when she’d stepped away from him.

“And I am such a tardy soul,” Lady Anne said with a naughty grin. “Now, what have you learned that is new?”

“I have nearly finished the peerage in my search for every Lady Pamela in the book. Of course,” Pamela admitted, “I may have missed one or two. Sometimes the listings are very confusing.”

“And the type tends to blur after a time,” His Grace added with an amused look at her.

“I shall simply have to encourage the three who now dangle after me,” Pamela said with a shrug of her slim shoulders. The dainty ruff at her neck tickled her chin when she gave the duke an oblique glance to see what his reaction might be, noting that a frown was hastily replaced by the most bland of expressions.

“Lovely!” Lady Anne exclaimed somewhat gleefully, Pamela thought. “That ought not be a difficult task. Each of them is rather handsome in his own way. The prince is so romantic with his tall, blond, dashing good looks and those fabulous light blue eyes. He looks just as a prince should look—as a sort of St. George, if you know what I mean,” she concluded with a vague wave of her hand. “The vicomte is also of a height with Pamela, his black hair curls becomingly about his face and his dark eyes seem to find one’s inner person with no
effort at all. One can easily imagine having an
affaire d’amour
with such a man—were one not already happily married, that is.” She gave Pamela and the duke a serious look, then continued.

“The most distinguished of the three is the baron. Although of medium height, he has that interesting tinge of gray in his brown hair and gray eyes to enhance it. Ah, Pamela, how many women in the country would gladly exchange places with you!”

“Well, they cannot,” Pamela said sensibly. “Not that I do not wish this done and over, mind you.”

“Tonight you attend what?” the duke inquired lazily.

“The Lockhart
soiree.
Wednesday evening will find us at Almack’s per usual. Thursday evening is the opera—the baron has already requested to escort Mother and me. Friday night is the Henson rout.”

“And Saturday?” the duke prompted.

Pamela studied her gloved hands a trifle before raising her head so she might look at the duke. “Mama is having a quiet little dinner party—just some intimate friends. Of course I must attend, but I expect Mama will pair me with that general who is always trying to persuade Papa to sponsor some bill for the army.”

“It sounds dreadfully tedious, poor darling,” Lady Anne said with sympathy. Daughters and young matrons often had to perform political functions from time to time—partnering an elderly gentleman merely to please a parent or spouse.

“He is a very dashing general,” Pamela said in his defense. “I also think gray hair can be very distinguishing, and he is quite trim.”

Putting aside the Radcliffe copy of the peerage, the resolute duke exclaimed, “I expect we can proceed. I would like to look over your list, Lady Pamela. If I may?”

She handed over the neatly written list of names.

“Not as many as I expected,” Lady Anne said, peering over the duke’s arm to scan the list as well.

“Perhaps twenty. As I said before, I do not know…”

Pamela began, then halted when she heard footsteps in the hall.

“You think some may be missing,” the duke said for her.

“What ho?” Sir Cecil said, entering the room like a fresh breeze.

“We have the completed list of names to peruse, three very good candidates who have yet to stake a claim on the necklace, and one of whom has attempted to enter Lady Pamela’s bedroom,” the duke declared.

“You never said a word,” Lady Anne cried, giving Pamela an accusing look. “How horrid for you!”

“Fortunately, I had stowed the jewels in an innocuous place. I tried to hit the intruder with an iron skillet. Pity my aim was so bad, I might have been able to pick him out by the lump on his head.” Pamela grinned at her friend.

“Time I take you home,” the duke declared, looking grim. “May we continue to use your library as a meeting place should it prove necessary?” he asked Sir Cecil. “I’m beginning to have a fondness for the place.”

“By all means,” Sir Cecil replied, glancing for Pamela’s approval before turning to walk them to the door.

“What do you wear to the Lockhart
soiree
this evening?” Lady Anne demanded when they reached the entry hall.

“Silver tissue,” Pamela said with a soft smile. She had been rather pleased with the new gown, one made particularly to show off the sapphires and diamonds. “It has but the tiniest of puffs for sleeves and a pretty border of silver embroidery at the hem.”

“I cannot wait to see it,” Lady Anne said, her eyes lighting up with delight.

The duke accompanied Pamela to her home, saying little. He looked as if something said had displeased him.

“I trust you will be at the Lockhart
soiree
this evening,” Pamela said hesitantly. “As I’ve said before, I do depend on you to support me should I need it. I find the prince, in particular, rather daunting in his enthusiasm. The vicomte is also a trifle overwhelming.”

“Of course. It will be my pleasure to keep a watch over you,” he said, seeming to brighten.

“There is something especially gallant about our own English gentlemen that the foreigners simply cannot match.” She prudently ignored the duke’s kiss in the library. That was best forgotten for the moment—if possible. “Our
gentlemen”
—and she thought to remind the duke of his honor and nobility—“have a sincerity of manner not to mention a restrained elegance. As Lady Anne pointed out, the prince is dashing, the vicomte quite volatile, and the baron is, I admit, a trifle pompous or perhaps merely dignified,” she said in a considering way.

The carriage drew to a halt before her door. Alighting from the carriage, the duke placed his hand over hers and smiling down into her intent face spoke softly. “Until this evening, fair lady.”

* * * *

The silver tissue gown with its very low neckline, tiny puffed sleeves, and the exquisite embroidery in heavy silver thread was perfect, so Lady Anne declared when she admired Pamela. “Who had the making of such elegance?” she demanded while touching the fabric with gentle fingers.

“Madame Clotilde,” Pamela confided, noting the duke somewhere close behind her, although he had not said a word so far, “Mama said I must go to the best, for to do otherwise would not give proper honor to my great-uncle’s jewels.” She turned slightly and with a hint of mischief in her eyes added to the duke, “Think you that I am sufficient bait this evening?”

“Scamp,” the duke growled. “The baron is likely to offer you one of those little kingdoms in Europe for your very own once he sees you in that gown.”

“What a charming thing to say, Your Grace,” Pamela said with amusement. She tapped him lightly with her fan, then left to seek out the vicomte, thinking he would most likely appreciate her new elegance. However, the person she had most wished to impress had been the duke, and he liked the gown. Pamela knew a glow of gratification at that.

“She is definitely becoming more sure of herself,” the duke murmured mostly to himself.

Lady Anne agreed. “A lovely girl. Proper, loyal, and sensible, but with a true appreciation of beauty. She is not shallow, as are so many of the young girls today.”