The Debonair Duke (27 page)

“Have you learned anything at all in regard to the necklace? That is, anything more than you knew last we spoke?” Lady Anne asked with a sympathetic look.

“No, worse luck,” Pamela admitted. “Would you not think
that whoever wants the necklace would make another effort to regain it, especially when that last attempt came so close to success? Had that man’s aim been better, I’d have been quite helpless. The pistols were on the duke’s side of the carriage. I’d have had my hands full trying to control the horse, let alone grope across his body for a pistol and try to fire it at someone. It was difficult enough to reload them.”

“Never say you would shoot!” Sir Cecil cried, aghast at such a display of intrepidity. He obviously never expected Lady Pamela to utter such shocking sentiments.

“I have come to realize that I would attempt a great deal if it meant saving my life,” she replied simply, as she sat with a gloved hand resting on the cushioned arm of the open carriage and her fringed parasol daintily against her shoulder in the manner of a Gainsborough portrait.

Upon arrival at Richmond Park the picnic began much as Pamela has expected. The prince and the vicomte vied for her favors with silly flummery intended to turn her head. She almost wished the two would find another woman to use as a field of competition.

“Come now, Lady Pamela,” the vicomte teased, “you must decide what color horses you would select for a team, and the sort of carriage you would choose once you set up an establishment. Your husband would naturally seek out your desires,” he concluded with that seductive voice he used when he wished to be persuasive. Had Pamela not preferred the duke’s rich baritone, she might have tumbled for the vicomte because of his velvet voice alone.

“Gray, I think,” she said, more intent upon the color of a particular gentleman’s eyes than that of a team of horses.

Across the glade the duke leisurely walked beneath the trees with the delectable Lady Smythe. Her delicate pink gown was composed of gauze panels over a pale pink slip and ought to have clashed with her deep red hair but didn’t, worse luck. Her matching parasol became a flirtatious weapon in her hand as she deftly handled it with the confidence of a professional beauty.

The duke bent his head to listen to her conversation. Pamela turned away, unable to bear the sight of those two in such
proximity. Not that she believed the duke would consider marrying Lady Smythe. Upon reflection, Pamela had realized the duchess would have a nervous palpitation or worse should her son lean in that direction. The notion that His Grace might simply take the seductive widow as his mistress seemed the most likely conclusion. Pamela was not certain what was involved in such a liaison, but she suspected it involved more intimacy than passionate kisses.

At any rate she would limit her contact with the duke to strict involvement with the necklace. It was sensible, and she was, if anything, practical-minded.

“Are you enjoying the outing, Lady Pamela?” Lord Raeburn inquired, offering his arm to her after joining the trio.

Since the prince and the vicomte still debated the best sort of carriage horses Pamela ought to purchase, she nodded agreement. “Please, I should like to stroll that way.” She gestured with her parasol in the opposite direction of the path taken by the duke and Lady Smythe.

“It has turned out to be a lovely day,” Lord Raeburn said, resorting to the neutral topic of the weather.

“Have you not noticed that bank of clouds rising in the distance? I would wager that we shall have a rainstorm before the day is over,” Pamela replied. She glanced at the kindly Raeburn, thinking him a true gentleman. Of course, he did seem to lean toward the sedate Lady Vane. Pamela wondered if he knew of her liaison with the baron. She recalled the duke’s conclusion that the widow had parted with a number of paintings and other objets d’art in order to meet expenses. One did what one must. She deserved a gentleman to care for her, and perhaps Lord Raeburn wouldn’t mind the widow’s past.

“It would be a pity to have rain spoil our party, seeing all the effort that Lady Vane has expended for our delight.” He turned to look at the lady, who busily instructed a group of servants regarding the picnic repast.

“It is difficult to control the weather, sir,” Pamela said, feeling utterly insipid and dull. Could there not be something more interesting to chat about than the weather?

“You are looking exceptionally well this day, Lady Pamela.” He spoke the words with courtly grace.

“You are too kind, sir,” she dutifully replied, uttering the proper young lady’s response to a compliment.

“I am surprised to see the duke has deserted your side for that of Lady Smythe. Of
late he has been seen deep in conversation with you quite often, it seems to me—particularly at the various balls you both attend.”

Startled by his keen observation regarding the duke’s attentions, such as they were, Pamela gave him a guarded look, then cautiously said, “I believe it amuses the duke to chat with me from time to time. You may be certain that there is nothing serious in his civilities. It is merely happenstance that we manage to attend the same balls. You and I do the same, yet I doubt that our names would be linked—if you follow my reasoning.”

“I shouldn’t mind that linkage,” he said, beaming a smile on Pamela that bordered on flirtation.

“Why, Lord Raeburn, I do believe you are teasing me,” Pamela said, chuckling at his expression of injury at her reply.

“Teasing or flirting, my lady?” he said with a charming grin.

“Ah,” Pamela said glancing at his pleasant face, “that is hard to say. Shall we explore the matter while we continue to walk?” She smiled at him as she had at the duke, that radiant grin that had caught His Grace totally by surprise as it now did Raeburn.

His look of astonishment gratified her, to say the least. Intent, no doubt, on discovering precisely what she meant, he led her toward a pond on which busily swam a number of ducks.

On the far side of the park the duke paused in his perambulations with Lady Smythe to seek out the slender form he’d tried to keep in view since she’d come with the Radcliffes. Once they arrived, Cecil had concentrated all his attention on his wife, totally ignoring Pamela. Good heavens, the chit might tumble into a bumble broth as trusting as she was. Where had she gone now?

“Find her?” the dulcet voice at his side said, breaking into his worries.

“I beg your pardon?” he said with exquisite courtesy.

“I was not born yesterday, Your Grace. You have kept an eye on a particular young lady from the moment she came with the Radcliffes. Is there some problem? I beg leave to tell you that I am not accustomed to being so treated.” Her words might have been scolding, but instead were laced with humor, for the lady undoubtedly knew that her pursuit was fruitless.

“And I thought I was being so terribly clever,” the duke replied, grinning down at her
.

“You did not answer my question, Your Grace,” Lady Smythe scolded.

“I feel responsible for her, you see. She is far too trusting, and those scoundrels seek only her fortune. Would they have a regard for the person that she is, I might feel differently.” He tossed a worried glance at his companion, then turned to again search the park for Pamela.

Relief swept over him when he spotted her slim form in the distance by the pond. She walked with Lord Raeburn. The duke couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

As did Lady Smythe, Pamela wore a simple gown with a matching parasol. Free of having to display the sapphires and diamonds on her splendid bosom, she now wore a gown of pale rose and possessed the grace of a swaying spring bloom in the breeze. In the light afternoon breeze her skirt swirled about her, clinging to the lovely form Robert knew was concealed beneath all that fabric. It was upon further acquaintance that one discovered the charming lady beneath the pretty face. Pretty? Well, there were a number of words he might use—like intrepid and sensible, daring and decorous, but above all surprisingly sensual.

“She is with Raeburn
,
” he said at last.

“I have heard nothing dubious about the gentleman,” Lady Smythe replied with a curious look at his lordship. “It seems to me that he merely chats with your friend.” Lady Smythe wisely refrained from calling Lady Pamela anything more intimate. If the girl was not the duke’s particular interest, far be it from Lady Smythe to put it into his mind. Like many widows, she never gave up hope until her goal was past praying for.

“Nor have I,” the duke murmured as he turned about and began to walk—rather purposefully, her ladyship thought—in the direction of the little pond with the ducks.

The duke and Lady Smythe strolled softly toward Lady Pamela and Lord Raeburn, where they stood watching the antics of the ducks. Poor Pamela almost landed in the water when the duke spoke, his obviously unexpected voice startling her.

“Goodness, do you always go creeping up on people?”

“You were deeply engrossed in something? The ducks, perchance?” He
gave Raeburn a look that must have made the other chap believe his collar was too tight, for he eased a finger inside to stretch it a bit.

“They are quite cunning, are they not?” Pamela said with a defiant glare at the duke.

Lady Smythe drifted over to stand close to Lord Raeburn, then began to converse in a soft, seductive voice that made Pamela positively squirm.

Seeing Raeburn and Lady Smythe thus engaged, Robert took Pamela’s hand and tucking it within his, ambled along the shore of the pond in silence. She observed that he had not said a word to Lady Smythe or Lord Raeburn upon their leaving. Was that good or bad?

“You might have asked for my permission to walk with me,” she said at last.

“True,” he agreed. “Would you have come?”

“Not likely,” she said with a faint snap in her tone.

“What have I done to deserve your censure?” he said, pausing beneath a chestnut tree that stood on a rise overlooking the pond.

Usually honest, Pamela looked straight into the eyes of the duke, studying his noble features with a critical eye. “It has something to do with what I said while at Almack’s. Perhaps,” and she plunged into the realm of fabrication, “you read something into my words that were not intended?”

“I trust not,” he replied as though unsure of what she meant.

She moistened her lips with her tongue, quite nervous, uncertain of what she ought to confess and what she must leave unsaid. “I would not have you think that I…that is, we, er, our, that is, the friendship we share is nothing more than that—friendship.”

It was not surprising that this muddled explanation left the duke even more confused than he’d been before.

“Surely, we are closer than mere friends, after all we have shared together?” he said as smoothly as a pearl sliding down satin. “Do not forget the inn. I know I have not, I could not, and that isn’t because of the baron.” He placed his free hand atop hers, stroking her gloved hand in a way that sent shivers through her spine.

“You are improper,” she whispered, flashing him a gaze that revealed far more than she might have wished.

“I am?” He gave her a quizzical look that set her heart beating in triple time.

“I believe we are being summoned for the nuncheon Lady Vane intends to serve.” Pamela began backing away from the enticing figure that stood so close to her. She would have tripped and fallen had he not reached out to calmly steady her. Restoring her hand to his arm, the couple rejoined the alfresco party.

“You were right,” she mused aloud.

“What about?” His voice was silky and possessed an intimate tone that made her quiver for some reason.

“You always get your way,” she said, somewhat vexed. “Someday, someone will give you a much deserved set-down, and then we shall see how you like it. You will join the rest of us mere mortals.”

“I certainly hope so,” he said with such a hint of laughter in his voice that Pamela longed to swat him.

She politely detached herself from the duke, aware of several speculative glances that had come her way on their return. Settling near Lady Anne in the shade of a glorious oak tree, Pamela allowed the prince to join her on the rug that had been placed on the grass to keep the moisture at bay.

* * * *

Echoing through the wooded glen the women’s high, fluting
voices blended with the lower notes belonging to the gentlemen to create a pleasant chorus, a background against which nothing much else could be heard.

“You disappeared, my sweet,” the prince observed quietly. “Can it be that you found more tantalizing matters to discuss than a probable carriage and two?”

“As a topic for discussion the weather captivates all the English, you must know,” she replied with a demure smile. “It is ever changing, never dependable, and only can be counted upon to do what you do not wish.”

“And you spoke of the weather,” he said as though digesting this remarkable circumstance. “How quaint. When I am with a lovely young woman, I do not think the weather a suitable topic of conversation. Rather”—and he gazed at Pamela with soulful eyes—“I believe it far more interesting to speak of warmer things—like beauty and love.”

“Fie, sir, you flirt with impropriety,” she scolded.

“And how does your Season go, my lady?” he asked suddenly, surprising Pamela greatly.

“My Season? Weil enough. I must say, having that necklace from my great-uncle has added unexpected moments to what would be an otherwise ordinary come-out.” She watched his face, wondering if he would reveal any possible motive for wanting the necklace. She’d not forgotten his initials, and he persisted in pursuing her in spite of her lack of encouragement.

“The necklace is magnificent, you know.” He drained the glass of wine he’d held in his hands, then set the empty glass carefully on the rug before looking at her again. “I would like to have a necklace like that.”

Pamela held her breath, wondering what he’d give as a reason, if any. “Yes?”

“There is a woman in Russia.” He looked into the distance as though he could envision this creature of his mind. “She is slim like a fairy and wears her long blond hair in a halo about her head. She would do those sapphires and diamonds great justice, you understand. I would impress her with such a gift.”