The Debonair Duke (30 page)

“It was you?” Pamela cried, aware that it
was unlikely that
the guests would hear a sound from the paneled room so removed from the rest of the house.

“You never guessed, did you?” Lord Raeburn said, walking toward Pamela, his hands rising to remove the necklace from her throat.

“Why was the necklace delivered to me?” Pamela managed to say, frightened to death and wishing that someone would rescue her at once.

“A mistake,” Raeburn said. “My entrusted man confused the streets, although he had the correct number. Sheer ill luck that there was a Pamela at both numbers. You see,” he boasted, “my lady had given me the necklace to have it appraised. I was returning it to her for safekeeping. We were astounded to see the necklace at your throat, learn of your supposed great-uncle. You wished to lure us, we wished to conceal our identity. Pity we could not.”

Pamela backed away from him, coming to a halt against the sill of the window. There was nowhere else to turn. Lady Vane stood close by
,
her sweet smile looking slightly twisted now, and her eyes glittering with malice.

“Perhaps you might prefer to remove the necklace of your own accord,” she said in a low, dulcet tone that sent chills down Pamela’s spine.

“How did you acquire the necklace in the first place?” she demanded of Raeburn, making a pretense of removing the necklace while praying she might find a way to prevent what she knew was to happen.

“Chudleigh came over quite handsomely,” Lady Vane said smugly. “Julius thought it would make a splendid addition to our cache, and it will. The baron contributed matching ear-bobs, you know, as well as a number of other lovely pieces. It was a pity that he became so possessive. I truly hated to kill him. He’d been so useful.”

Lady Vane
had killed the baron? Also been Chudleigh’s mistress. Pamela darted a look at the woman, wondering how she could do such things. She had shown no remorse at the baron’s death. What manner of woman was she? How could
Lord Raeburn permit the woman he obviously cared for to place herself in another man’s arms? Commit murder!

“It
was you who climbed into my room,” Pamela accused Lady Vane. “And you also tried to steal the necklace, shooting at the duke. And you deliberately led us to where you had left the baron dead at the inn—or did you murder him while we hovered below on the stairs? I sensed something odd about the robber, but couldn’t figure out what it was!” Pamela cried in vexation.

“The necklace,” Raeburn demanded. “We do not have all night.”

Deliberately fumbling with the catch, Pamela murmured, “This may take a few moments. Sometimes the catch is stubborn.” When Raeburn moved as though to assist, Pamela shook her head. “Leave be. I’d as soon do it myself.”

“Independent miss, are you not? I thought you such a proper young lady,” Lady Vane sneered. Her soft voice had acquired a hard edge to it. “Why, butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.”

“No words, my love,” Raeburn admonished, holding out his hand for the necklace.

Both Raeburn and Lady Vane took another step closer to her, facing her in a most menacing manner. Pamela prayed that someone would come.

At that moment she saw the door soundlessly inched open. The duke slipped inside, motioning Pamela to remain silent. She gave no indication that she’d seen him, instead pretended to be intent upon removing the necklace. The pistol in his hand was trained on Lord Raeburn
.

“I cannot imagine how you think you will get away from here with the jewels.” Pamela finally undid the clasp, knowing there was only so long she could stall.

“Quite simple. After you’re bound, gagged, and hidden behind the desk, I pocket the necklace, and we walk out of here, down the hall, and out to our waiting carriage. We will drive to Dover and take a boat to Brussels. From there the world is at our feet. You see,” he boasted, “this is the culmination of a highly successful Season. It has been so easy to take what we wanted—until you. We have a tidy fortune tucked away by
now, and this necklace will cap it. It is time for us to leave.” He held out his hand.

Instead of handing the necklace over to Raeburn, Pamela slipped it down inside the neck of her gown, allowing the precious stones to nestle against her breasts, certain that her ample cleavage and snug fit of the dress would keep them there.

“You little fool,” Raeburn snarled, stepping forward to place a hand at the neckline of Pamela’s gown as though to rip it open.

“That is quite enough, my lord,” the duke said. “Step away from her if you wish to remain alive.” His words were a sharp retort in the room.

Raeburn spun around, breathing in sharply when he saw the duke facing him, pistol in hand. “You wouldn’t shoot,” he scoffed. “You might hit Lady Pamela.”

Lady Vane moved to Pamela’s side in a trice, reaching toward her bodice to pull the jewelry from its hiding place.

“If you touch her, I will not hesitate to shoot. I’m accounted a dead aim and will have as little mercy for you as you did the baron. Forget the necklace,” the duke warned.

“No! I’ll not leave it. I have worked hard for it, and it’s mine!” Lady Vane ripped the bodice of Pamela’s satin gown with fearsome ease, allowing the jewels to spill forth.

Her ladyship grabbed them while Pamela helplessly clutched at her gown, for the jewels weren’t all that had spilled forth.

The shot was not as loud as one might expect, given the size of the room, but it hit its target with deadly aim. Lady Vane crumpled to the floor in a sigh.

Whipping a pistol from an inner pocket, Raeburn grabbed Pamela, thrusting her in front of him. “
I
will take the necklace, and you’ll not stop me,” he said in a cold, hard voice. “Lady Pamela will be between us at all times. You’ll not shoot her!”

“This is insane,” Pamela cried. She gave the duke a beseeching look, bending down when Raeburn tugged at her, then rising when he’d retrieved the necklace from the unconscious Lady Vane. Pamela kept her hands at the top of her
gown, in part to hold it together and partly to calm her racing heart.

They edged toward the door, always with Pamela before him. The silence in the room was broken only by Lady Vane’s faint moans and the soft scuffling sound of shoes sliding sideways on the wooden floor.

They had reached the table where Pamela had spent hours poring over the peerage to discover who the other Pamela might be. And now that other woman lay a few feet away. Angry past caution, Pamela wrenched her arm from Lord Raeburn’s grasp, then dropped to the floor, scrabbling away from Raeburn, knowing that he couldn’t have his pistol aimed at the duke and herself at once and praying it wasn’t aimed at her now.

A shot rang out, and Pamela felt as though her heart might stop until she realized that the figure who slumped to the floor was behind her. Twisting around she saw Raeburn clutching his right arm, the pistol now dangling loosely from his fingers. Quick as may be, she grabbed the pistol from Raeburn and aimed it at him.

“Good girl,” the duke muttered as he stooped to check Raeburn, rising when he was satisfied that the wound was not mortal. “You, sir, will stand trial. Although it will be at the House of the Lords and the outcome is dubious, for all that robbery is a hanging offense. But perhaps when your victims learn how numerous they are, they will demand satisfaction. Newgate is not a pretty place, I understand,” the duke concluded in a great understatement of the truth, “especially when you do not have the funds to purchase a private room on the State side.”

The necklace tumbled to the floor, escaping from Raeburn’s loosened clasp. Pamela grabbed it, then clutched her bodice again at the gleam she saw in the duke’s eyes when he looked at her. She prudently rose to her feet, then backed toward the desk, unwilling to leave the duke alone. She didn’t trust Raeburn in the least, even if he’d been shot.

A loud rap at the door announced the entry of a man in the garb of a Bow Street Runner. “Sorry it took me so long, Your Grace. Was detained. ‘Pears you done fine wi’out me.” He looked at one, then the other of the robbers and shook his head, before turning to arrange for transport.

Soon Lady Vane had been silently removed to another room. The physician in attendance determined she would live to stand trial. The bandaged Lord Raeburn was discreetly taken in hand by the Bow Street Runner. Finally, Robert was at last alone with Pamela.

Mercifully, the Radcliffes, absorbed in their ball, had been in blissful ignorance of all that had transpired. They would learn soon enough.

“At last we are free to settle our own affairs,” His Grace said, studying Pamela’s face.

“We are?” she asked, her expression wary.

“Now, as to our future,” he said, enfolding her in his arms, where he’d wanted his brave darling this long and dangerous evening, resolving never to allow her far from him again. “We shall be married in six weeks, I believe, if that meets with your approval,” he said, mindful of what she’d said about his always having his way. “I find the thought of parting from you totally insupportable. You will have me, dearest Pamela?”

“Yes, I believe I shall,” she replied with a smile, satisfied at that hint of anxiousness she’d detected in his face.

“Precious girl,” he said with approval. “Sensible, daring, generous-hearted, delightful. I could spend long minutes cataloging your many fine qualities, but I would far rather do this instead.” And “this” turned out to be a most passionate and exquisite kiss, causing Pamela to melt quite shamelessly against him, wishing that the coming six weeks would whirl past as quickly as these last days had.

“We shall have to think of a way to settle the matter of the necklace, I suppose,” she murmured against the comfort of his chest within the clasp of his strong, protective arms. “I am certain it is not proper for me to keep it, no matter that I adore it.”

The duke, thinking of the many charms of his dearly beloved girl and how he relished the sight of the sapphires and diamonds twinkling against her lovely skin replied, “There are times when propriety can go hang, my love. Since Lord
Chudleigh refused to acknowledge his purchase of the jewels, why you will simply inherit the gems from your great-uncle after all. And they do you exceedingly great credit,” he finished with his mouth against the tenderness of her throat. He leaned back a moment to glance down at the unmended gown and the treasure it no longer concealed, and dared to kiss the bare flesh that had recently cushioned the necklace.

“I believe you have a superfluity of naughtiness, Your Grace,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. Then she slipped her arms about his neck, turned her face up to receive his kiss, and proved that he was right again.

Dashing, debonair, he always had his way.

Fondly dedicated to Elane Osborn for help with things mysterious and to Patricia Wing for a pair of discerning eyes.

Copyright © 1996 by Doris Emily Hendrickson

Originally published by Signet (0451188276)

Electronically published in 2011 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.