The Debonair Duke (4 page)

Pamela saw immediately what she meant for her to do. Quickly, Pamela thrust the long handle of her parasol toward the boat. The duke grabbed it and levered the boat closer to shore while his friend shooed the aggravating ducks away by flapping his hands at them. Within seconds the boat bottom scraped the shoreline.

“Well done, dear lady,” the duke said most heartily. “I thought for a moment we were to be buried in a flurry of feathers.” He smiled at Pamela, an endearing sort of smile that lit his eyes and made him seem less formidable.

She had thought him handsome at a distance; close up he was quite awesome. His eyes held the most engaging twinkle in their gray depths, while his dark hair was tousled about his head in a manner his valet would likely deplore and Pamela thought charming. There was something of the freshness and brisk quality of a summer wind about him. He quite took her breath away. She spared little notice for his impeccable garb of biscuit pantaloons and claret coat over a most elegant waistcoat of embroidered cream linen.

“Those ducks thought you ought to feed them,” Lady Anne said, a hint of laughter in her voice.

“It quite escapes me how
—no scraps. May I know the identity of the lady who so gallantly came to our rescue?” He glanced at Lady Anne, then at Pamela with a speculative look in his eyes.

“Your Grace, I thought you would know; you are usually so clever,” Lady Anne said with a coy lift of her brows. “Lady Pamela Taylor, may I present His Grace, the Duke of Wexford. The gentleman at his side is Algernon Thynne.” Without waiting for acknowledgment from any of them, other than polite bows
,
Lady Anne bubbled on, “Lady Pamela and I have spent a delightful time becoming acquainted. She knows a good deal more about roses than I do,” Lady Anne said fervently. Then she exclaimed with alarm, “My dear duke, your boat is about to sail away without you.”

At these words, Algie nimbly caught the trailing ropes and expertly turned the boat around so as to go downstream again. “Would you care for a ride, Lady Pamela?” The expression of hope on his face was rather flattering.

Allowing herself another swift look at the duke’s handsome face, Pamela nodded shyly and walked to the edge of the river, wondering how she would manage to enter the boat without disgracing herself by lifting her skirts too high or falling into the water.

Instead of disgrace, she found herself picked up in strong arms and gently plunked down on the rear seal of the boat with great dispatch.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, tossing a startled look into those rich gray eyes. “Thank you, Your Grace. Most kind,” she murmured. Algernon Thynne shoved off from the bank, and they more or less drifted down the river with an occasional assist of the remaining oar.

“Nice chap, really.” Mr. Thynne said by way of explanation regarding his friend’s behavior in picking up a young lady he had just met.

“Actually, he was recently of great help to my father. I have read about his exploits in the papers,” Pamela dared to say. “Does he actually solve so many mysteries?”

“Indeed he does. Has his pick, I expect.”

* * * *

Pamela would have inquired more closely as to what was meant by that remark, but they had arrived at the landing and Mr. Thynne was absorbed in securing the boat and reporting the loss of an oar because of the plaguey ducks upriver.

Pamela climbed from the boat without any assistance
—Algernon Thynne being occupied with his explanations and directions to the man who tended the boats—then shook out her skirts. First checking to see if she might discover her mother’s whereabouts, she darted a glance in the direction from whence she had come. Pamela did not wish to have Lady Anne think that she had expected to rejoin her, for that would be pushing. But, Pamela thought wistfully, Lady Anne was quite the nicest person she had met here so far, and she had enjoyed her company enormously. Most of the girls were rather silly and foolish, and Pamela had little desire to spend time with such widgeons.

Some distance away, strolling along the bank of the river, the duke bent his head to better hear Anne speak. “What is your opinion of the girl?”

“I must say, I found her well-spoken, intelligent in her conversation, and not the least silly. I wish you would tell me why you want to know, but you will not, I suspect.”

“You would say that she does not appear as one given to flights of fancy?”

Clearly startled at this odd question, Anne frowned, looking up at the duke with puzzled eyes. “She seems a sensible girl, quite proper in her manners, and as I said, not the least silly as one would be who is given to fits and starts.”

Robert raised his head to see Lady Pamela clamber from the boat unassisted. Apparently, she was not one given to sitting around until someone remembered to help her. Her determined little chin would account for that trait, he expected. All of which fell in with the message she had sent him regarding the strange parcel misdirected to her. She was not one to sit and wait. He’d have to remember that characteristic, when he became involved in solving the mystery. If he became involved, he corrected himself. Yet something told him that Lady Pamela and her mystery offered a diversion he would greatly relish.

She glanced in toward him, or more correctly, to Lady Anne. A girl that proper would not be casting out lures, even if he had a dukedom. A rare and rather pleasant change, he decided.

“She seems a nice girl. I trust you will not disappoint her or us?” Lady Anne said quietly.

The duke laughed at Anne’s carefully innocent expression. “You know I am always circumspect when around young women making their come-outs. When and if I ever marry, it will be to one of my choosing. But, my dear Anne, this particular interest has nothing to do with anything so mundane as marriage. Nothing at all,” he added in an undertone as he took another searching look at the figure in jonquil yellow.

The breeze tugged at her gown, shaping it to a very lovely and slender body. She possessed a delightful, if fuller than average, bosom that she didn’t try to hide beneath a loose-fitting spencer. He approved of her appearance. It reflected a charming person
—or was he influenced by Anne’s evaluation. Time would reveal all, he suspected.

Algernon hailed him as he and Lady Anne drew near. “Fixed the matter of the missing oar. Chap said it happens now and again. Not to worry.”

Perhaps she suspected he wished a word with Lady Pamela, for Anne began questioning Algernon about the boat and the nasty ducks. They drew slightly ahead, just enough so that Robert might have a word in private
—if one could call being in the middle of a huge party of people private.

“You ride in the morning?”

“Indeed, it is one of my pleasures,” Lady Pamela replied with a demure drop of her lashes.

“Bring whatever it is that you wish me to see along with you. I shall meet you along Rotten Row around nine of the clock, if that meets with your approval.” he added for politeness. If she were intent upon obtaining his help, she would make it a point to be on time.

Her face suddenly bloomed into a smile of purest joy lighting her eyes into the cerulean blue of a summer’s day.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I shall not disappoint you.”

At this juncture Anne turned to look at them and said, “They are serving the collation over in that tent, I believe. I do not know about you two, but I am starved.”

“A lady should not admit to being so hungry,” Sir Cecil admonished, appearing at his wife’s side with unhurried calm.

“Well, I have an excuse,” she said softly, laughing at his expression. “It is all this fresh air.”

His look of knowing amused Pamela, causing her to wonder if the Lady Anne might be in an interesting condition. While a city girl might not be so aware, Pamela had spent most of her life in the country, close to nature and folks who were more outspoken.

She decided to edge away from the group of friends, for she did not wish to intrude on the closeness she sensed within them. Pretending to have seen her mother, she excused herself and walked purposefully toward the far end of the tent
.

“Very nice manners,” Anne observed lightly.

“If you are matchmaking, you are far and away off the path, dear lady,” the duke said, looking his most formidable.

“I have given up such an occupation as hopeless,” Anne replied with a chuckle, an engaging dimple peeping out in her cheek. “You will find someone in your own good time. However, it does not do any harm to make a comment now and again, does it?”

“That depends,” he growled back before excusing himself to speak with another of his friends.

* * * *

From the shadows of the tent, Pamela watched the little group of friends break up. Algernon Thynne went off with a chap he seemed to know well. The duke fell into conversation with an older gentleman, while Sir Cecil and Lady Anne were totally absorbed in each other.

The duke had agreed to meet her come morning! He urged her to be prompt, as though she would risk losing his help by being late or missing the appointment altogether. Rotten Row would be thin of company at that hour, which was good.

Somehow she must manage to persuade her faithful and overly conscientious groom to fall behind. Surely, he knew her well enough by this point that he would understand she was not the sort of girl to go dashing off with a gentleman. But then, he had been ordered by her mother to protect Pamela from everything harmful. It was true that she would surely cook her goose should she accept the attentions of some unprincipled rake.

Perhaps the duke would think of something. She had seen a very firm expression cross his face just before he took leave of the Radcliffes. The duke was not a man to cross, it seemed.

* * * *

Later that evening Robert relaxed in his room before taking himself off to the theater. He hoped he had not committed himself to a foolish path in agreeing to meet with Lady Pamela, although she appeared disarmingly straightforward. It was not his habit to deal with young women, let alone one like her. It should prove interesting.

He finished inserting a tasteful diamond stickpin in his artfully tied cravat, then went off to gather up his guests for the evening, one of whom was the lushly beautiful Lady Smythe.

The vivacious redheaded widow would entertain him with charming tales and promised a great deal with her flashing green eyes. He hadn’t made up his mind if he would accept what she offered so generously. Perhaps not so generously, at that. His investigation had revealed that her purse was shockingly to let. Did she think to bleed him for the ready with which to repair her fortunes? She would catch cold if she depended on that.

* * * *

Pamela and her redoubtable mother occupied the theater box belonging to the earl’s mother. Although the old woman rarely attended, she likes to hold the box, just in case she took a notion to view a new offering.

The ladies seated within the box viewed those who also attended the new production of an old Shakespeare favorite. Pamela dutifully listened as her mother made known the various luminaries of society, in case Pamela had forgotten any of them.

“There he is now,” the countess pointed out with a most discreet wave of her fan in the direction of the duke, who had just entered an opposite box with a staggeringly lovely woman on his arm. “Did you see him this afternoon? The Duke of Wexford is the cream of the
ton,
my dear. Your father was most impressed with him. Pity you might not aspire to such heights, but you are a common sensical sort of girl and will not repine, I feel sure. Be content if you find someone close to his caliber. Use him as your measure, if you will; you would not go wrong.”

Then her ladyship settled back to study the performance, most likely wondering if the royal princess would benefit from a dose of Shakespeare.

Pamela pretended to pay attention to the stage, but she was far too aware of the duke seated across from her. His companion was quite, quite beautiful, her flaming locks a charming contrast to his own dark hair. They looked to be comfortable with one another, revealing an ease of familiarity.

Conventional girls did not stand a chance with someone like him, she reminded herself. Then she took another peep from behind her fan and sighed. If only he weren’t so handsome, well-mannered, and charming. She had her hands full in dealing with him, but she promised herself that she would not reveal by the flicker of an eyelash that she found him fascinating. It would be strictly business
.

And pigs might fly, too.

Chapter Three

Early the following morning Pamela slipped from her bed, sure that her maid would not come at this hour unless called, and removed the leather case from its hiding place.

Breathing a sigh of relief when she checked the jewelry inside and found it safe, she considered how best to conceal it on her person when she went to the park to meet His Grace. No pockets, no reticule when riding, and one scarcely carried packages as a rule. This was one time she would have to do what no one else did and hope that no one in the park paid the least attention to her.

Mama would expire from serious palpitations should she discover that Pamela was off to the park to meet a gentleman, never mind it was the duke and that in addition, it was merely business
—of sorts. Mama, however, need never know.

The leather case, now concealed in the original wrapping
—so uninteresting and unimportant-looking—was finally placed with Pamela’s crop and gloves. It was the best she could think of. After all, she owed no one in this house any explanations—other than her parents, and they were never around at this hour of the day.

Rose slipped into the room and nearly dropped the tray holding Pamela’s hot chocolate and rolls upon seeing her mistress up and out of bed. No explanations would be offered, she reminded herself, that could only bring problems.

“You are up betimes this morn
,
Lady Pamela,” the girl said, her gentle, country-bred voice revealing her surprise and her curiosity.