The Debonair Duke (7 page)

* * * *

The next morning Pamela had no difficulty in waking at an early hour. When Rose entered with her chocolate and rolls, she again found her mistress curled up in her cozy chair and ottoman near the windows
—daydreaming.

“ ‘Tis a fine morning, my lady,” Rose said after settling Pamela with her tray. When the maid swept the draperies aside, the soft light of early day entered the room to cheer the heart and eye.

“I shall be going out directly this morning,” Pamela said briskly. “I had best wear something practical, for I shall be studying books at the house of Lady Anne Radcliffe
.
”

Pamela well knew how her maid hoped for excellent connections for her mistress, connections that might lead to being free of her mother. Pamela felt rising optimism that it might be so. Not that she expected for one moment that she might capture the eye of the duke. But where he led, others followed. And she might benefit from that interest.

A soft green walking dress with a dark green spencer piped in cream met with both Rose’s and Pamela’s approval. It was but a matter of minutes to decide on the rest of her garb for the important morning.

By nine of the clock, Pamela was at No. 6 Upper Brook Street on the steps of the Radcliffe house being ushered quietly in by the most proper butler. He escorted her through the silent house to the library, gesturing toward the other occupant. “His Grace awaits, my lady.”

* * * *

“Good, you are on time again,” the duke said, glancing up from where he was seated at a large, round library table piled with books of various shapes and sizes. “I told Perkins that you most likely would be here on the dot. No problems arose in regard to coming over here? I suspected you’d not come without your mother’s approval.”

He rose to meet her, then politely drew out a chair across the table from his seat for Pamela to use. When she was seated, he returned to his place, dropping casually into his chair to study Pamela with a most disconcerting, almost probing, gaze.

“Mama approved of my becoming better acquainted with Lady Anne.
I
fear I did not mention that you would be here this morning, nor have I mentioned the necklace as yet. I shall have to face it sooner or later, I suppose. I’d rather have it later.”

The two shared a look of total understanding regarding parents and other problems that faced young people in general.

“Still determined to locate the sender and intended recipient of the necklace?” He studied her from the depths of his gray eyes, the intentness of his gaze bringing a faint blush to her cheeks. “Any other young woman would be greatly tempted to keep those incredible sapphires and diamonds for herself. After all, it is not your fault the chap who delivered the package took it to the wrong Lady Pamela.” He picked up a pencil and began to toy with it. “And that is one thing about which I’m most curious. Why did the package come to
you,
in particular? Could there be a Lady Pamela living not far from you? Or perhaps a Lady Pamela with a house number the same as yours, but on a different street?”

“I hope to discover precisely that this morning, Your Grace.” She glanced at her neat little watch pinned to her spencer and then gave him a shy grin. “Time is flitting by.”

He became quite businesslike. “Here, you may have the Radcliffe copy of
Debrett’s
while I use my own. There is a stack of paper for making notes and extra pencils should you require them. I know they smudge, but ink can be so dreadfully messy
—especially around books.”

Gratefully, Pamela accepted the book, a portion of the stack of paper, and a neatly sharpened pencil. She needed a distraction from the duke. Fancy sitting here directly across from such a man and plowing through
Debrett’s.
It would take all her powers of concentration.

* * * *

An hour later, she sat back in her chair to rub the back of her neck. There were limits to one’s ability to pay attention to pages of names. She’d developed the ability to skim through the list with fair speed, the name Pamela seeming to leap out at her when it came. However, the names tended to blur: she hoped she’d not missed any.

“I have an impressive list of gentlemen who have the required initials. How are you coming along?” the duke asked, glancing over at the precise notes filling the top page of Pamela’s paper.

“I had no idea that my name was so popular. I imagine that Richardson’s novel had something to do with it, or so says my grandmother. At any rate, I have compiled a fair list of names, none of which are familiar to me. I fear this is not going to be as simple as I’d hoped.”

“Goodness, but you two look terribly serious,” caroled Lady Anne from the open doorway, breaking into the silence that had begun between the duke and Pamela. She turned aside to say something to someone in the hallway, then drifted into the room bringing the scent of heliotrope with her.

“Each of us are overly blessed with names. It is going to be more difficult than we expected or hoped,” the duke replied.

“Well, it is time that you took a respite from your search. I insist you join me for a light repast.” Lady Anne turned to the door, motioning the young footman to enter. He wheeled in a cart bearing a hearty meal. Ham, meat pies, deviled kidneys, fricassee of eggs, and rolls were revealed when lids were removed from the dishes. Pots of tea and coffee sat atop stands that had candles beneath to keep the contents warm. The sight was unbelievably welcome to a suddenly hungry Pamela. The way the duke tucked into the food, it would seem that he felt the same.

“Good,” Lady Anne said sometime later when an agreeable amount of food had disappeared, with Pamela and the duke wearing somewhat bemused and contented expressions on their faces.

“That was truly excellent and most welcome. How considerate you are, Lady Anne,” Pamela said warmly.

Lady Anne smiled, then turned to the duke. “Did you tell her about Tuesday?”

Pamela darted a look from one to the other. Tuesday? When the duke shook his head
,
Lady Anne turned to face Pamela, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“I trust you will join us come Tuesday morning? After you have spent a bit of time searching these books, you absolutely
must
join our waltzing party! There will be quite a number of us, you see. We desire to practice that new dance I predict will sweep the
ton.
The ladies of Almack’s will not be able to resist it once we all know how to dance it, and well.”

Pamela took a hopeful breath. Of course she had heard of the popular new dance that was being introduced all over the city. Princess Charlotte was reported enamored of it, although Pamela’s mother felt it disgraceful. And Pamela had heard about the waltzing parties held at Melbourne House, which did nothing to help, for Mama deplored that ménage. “I should like to join you,” Pamela said hesitantly.

“I hear a ‘but’ in that,” the duke said.

“I can only hope that my mother will approve.”

“She will,” Lady Anne predicted, a smug look settling over her face. “I shall call to issue the invitation in a more formal manner. I believe my mother is an old school friend of your mother’s. Mama shall join me.”

The duke chuckled. “I would say that is an unfair advantage, but since I want Lady Pamela to join us. I shan’t argue.”

“I will be pleased to meet your mother, and I feel sure that Mama will enjoy chatting with her former school chum.” Pamela exchanged a shy smile with Lady Anne, then rose, preparing to leave, thus ending this morning’s session.

“Must you go so soon?” Lady Anne inquired with what appeared to be genuine regret.

“This afternoon is my mother’s at home. I had best present myself, dressed to assist her.” Pamela paused a moment, then added, “I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your help in this
—both of you. You are truly most kind.”

“Our pleasure,” the duke replied before Lady Anne could say a word. He turned to his old friend to say, “Do you suppose it would be of help if I went along with you on the call?” He had no illusions about his power or the effect his title had on people. At times, it came in dashed handy.

“I believe it might at that,” Lady Anne mused with a perfectly straight face, although a twinkle lurked in her eyes. “We shall see you later, sometime around three-thirty?”

“I shan’t say anything to Mama; it shall be a surprise,” Pamela decided.

Lady Anne summoned a maid and footman to escort Pamela to her home, Pamela having evaded her nosy maid when she slipped from the house. The quiet moments were welcome to digest all that had occurred. A waltzing party! And she might attend? Would her mother permit it?

“Pamela, is that you, dear?” her mother said when Pamela passed the study on her way to the stairs.

“Yes, Mama.” Pamela dutifully went to stand by the doorway, adding. “I had a lovely time. I hope you may come to know Lady Anne better, for she is a most thoughtful person. Her mother went to school with you, I believe?”

“Indeed, I expect she did. I had almost forgotten that,” Lady Gresham said thoughtfully. “You were gone rather longer than I thought proper.” There was a questioning note in her voice Pamela dare not avoid.

“Lady Anne persuaded me to stay for lunch. It was simply lovely, all in excellent taste. I felt certain you would approve.”

Lady Gresham said nothing more, and Pamela escaped to her room to change into appropriate attire for her mother’s afternoon to receive callers. Pamela would sit quietly, tending to the older ladies with extra care, pour tea if required, and in general see to it that everyone who came to call had a pleasant time
—if possible. Never had her nerves been so on edge as today, however. Her mother would be secretly pleased when the duke arrived. Never mind he came with Lady Anne and the Countess of Broughton.

* * * *

The afternoon went remarkably well from Pamela’s point of view. There were an agreeable number of women present when the trio arrived promptly at three-thirty. To make matters even better, two of those attending were gossips of the first degree. The duke’s presence would do her mother nice distinction.

The Countess of Broughton and Anne were charming, with the countess happily relating a story of school mischief that turned out to Lady Gresham’s credit. The duke must have made her mother’s heart swell when he commented that he could see where Lady Pamela inherited her charm and grace, implying that they came from her mother. Pamela wryly accepted that no flattery about her looks was offered. That would have been pouring the butter boat a bit heavy.

“I wish Lady Pamela to join a small group of my friends on Tuesday morning,” Lady Anne said quietly to Lady Gresham before it was time to leave. “It is a little waltzing party, to allow us to practice in private. His Grace approves and will also attend,” she added artlessly.

Pamela almost smiled when she noted the expression on her mother’s face. The war waged within again
—decadent waltzing versus the duke and his set.

The duke won easily when he bowed over Lady Gresham’s hand, adding in his distinctive voice, “I believe Lady Pamela will shine quite well, as I feel certain you would should you choose to try the new dance.”

“Of course she may attend,” her ladyship replied with a regal nod that set the Countess of Broughton coughing into her handkerchief.

Lady Anne exchanged a nod with Pamela that might have been demure, but Pamela almost chuckled, for Lady Anne’s eyes danced with mischief. ‘Tuesday, next?”

Pamela walked with the departing trio as far as the door, pressing Lady Anne’s hand in gratitude that she should be so helpful. After all, Pamela reminded herself, this was in aid of finding the true owner of the sapphire-and-diamond necklace
—nothing more.

In the meantime, Pamela intended to pore over her father’s copy of the peerage in order to expedite the hunt. It took time to check each name and the family listed beneath each titled gentleman. What she might do when she had compiled her list, she had not quite decided as yet. Perhaps the duke would have a solution.

Her heart warmed at the memory of the kind words he had expressed on her behalf. She knew he had gone out of his way to assure her presence come Tuesday, and she thought it excessively obliging of him. Of course, he only wished her there to assist in solving the mystery.

There was a hint of “so there” in her thoughts, for as commonplace as were her looks, she had no illusions that the duke might be inclined to look in her direction for his duchess
—however lovely that notion might be.

* * * *

The weekend passed with all the usual events taking place. Pamela joined her mother at a concert, attended a rout, followed by a modest ball, then on Sunday accompanied her mother to the chapel the countess favored to hear a sermon that dealt with telling the truth.

In her mind, Pamela defended herself by insisting she
had
told the truth
—just not all of it. After all, she did not wish to make her mother ill.

* * * *

Tuesday morning Pamela was up early, as had become her habit. “I should wish to seem proper and yet have just a hint of the dashing,” she confided to Rose. “Do I have anything that isn’t depressingly proper?”

“We shall see
,
my lady.” It was clear that Rose harbored raised hopes for her mistress, especially after the duke attended the at home on Thursday.

It was decided that a simple, high-waisted frock with a crossed braid of fabric beneath the bust and little light puffs of sleeves at the shoulders would do. In a delicate printed muslin the dress was elegantly unpretentious, as only one cut by a master hand could be. Pamela worried the skirt might be a trifle short, but had been assured by Rose
—who had bothered to find out what might be proper—that that length was all the thing for the waltz.

Feeling a bit like a fairy princess, Pamela set off for the Radcliffe house in the family carriage. Her mother had naturally not come down to see her off; she was preparing to go on her own rounds.